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#technically those two in the replies
spicybees · 2 years
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L + ratio + I tweet better than you + my followers love me for my autistic swag
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crossbackpoke-check · 19 days
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it’s all the rest of what i want with you
connor dewar/brandon duhaime :: 8k
Summary:
“Brandon,” Connor says with a sigh. “There’s no baby in there.”
“Not yet,” Brandon says. Connor feels his stomach twist, almost like what he would imagine a baby kicking to feel like.
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in these trying times of dewvorce, may i offer you 8k of pwp inspired by @stillfertile’s wonderful art which i had. several breakdowns about 🫶 anyway please enjoy!!!
#OFFICIAL FIC ANNOUNCEMENT 🗣️🗣️🗣️‼️‼️‼️ i wish i had pretty fic graphics but alas i have No Skill and also. so much work i should be doing bu#HI SHE’S HERE i would love to say this is a complete surprise drop except i have Anxiety & i needed to ask you guys about it beforehand#in my defense i started writing this in like. january far before any tragedy occurred#because square asked about my tags on their dewey2 art and she spawned like. a million more thoughts about it#including the part where i got absolutely kicked in the face with the lightning vision of those two lines.#like those two lines are the first actual lines of the fic i wrote ajdhkwdiowdjiw ANYWAY please be nice to me i know i am always like#‘this is not the first real fic i ever thought i’d post’ and if i had a nickel i’d have three but this is the first pwp i’ve ever posted#and it’s 8k and it’s not a fic for an exchange (although technically i did very much write this for the dewey^2 hivemind so.)#i have SO many things to say i have so many comments on this doc also i couldn’t pick a title for the LONGEST time and i finally decided on#this one but the full quote was too long:#all the rest of what i want with you that scares me shitless#so. i was angling SO hard to make a yung gravy lyric as a title bc i saw the video of him at a wild game but i couldn’t find a good one#and instead y’all got a very sentimental title l m a o.#liv in the replies#shout out to the extended universe this lives in and also my unhinged comments in the docs.#if you liked fun fuck a baby in him friday i’ll be here all week i promise i am the exact same in the comments as i am in the tags 🫡#the NUMBER of times i wrote something in this by pulling it out of my ass and then actually went back and did the research & was RIGHT is.#far too high. also the amount of coincidental things that dropped while i was writing this (yung gravy song about pregnancy AFTER i wheeze#laughed myself into a yung gravy title the athletic player poll confirming my restaurant & bar choices from googling ‘st. paul good bars’…)#also if anybody got advice on formatting for these little announcements. help. this is different from my miro/luka one &i’m still not happy
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sysig · 15 hours
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You’re gonna die if you keep that up (Patreon)
#Doodles#SCII#Helix#ZEX#Kayako#And Teisel's there technically#*Die again - he's sticking with his track record lol at least he's consistent#Ghost/Curse GF arc!! I enjoy seeing ZEX happy but I am Concerned for him lol#ZEX be attracted to something/one that won't brutally murder him challenge - difficulty impossible#His affection for the grotesque and monstrous - I mean while it's admirable he does regularly put himself in dangerous situations!#Runs solely on the Suspension Bridge Effect lol - attraction and fear so conflated in his mind <3#I keep thinking of his human instincts as specifically Max's instincts since it's his body - Max's self-preservation and fear and hunger#Which ZEX dutifully ignores lol Max's body tells him to bolt and privately replies like ''Yes yes in a moment'' haha#His fascination wins out! To his own detriment haha#Although I say all that as though I don't relate in my own way - I have maybe just a few too many notes relating to ZEX lol#It's always been hard for me to get into horror in the way it's intended to spook and scare because I tend to get sad :')#So many monsters and ghosts and creatures are victims of circumstance! Like Kayako! As she is here she's not even malicious just dangerous#I've never seen the Grudge so it's only speculation but it seems very sad that she was tethered as a Curse rather than a malignant spirit#Like a battery moreso than an individual - what a terrible after-existence! It makes me sad to consider!#ZEX reaching out to her in his own way is very sweet <3 He's so biased towards his darlings hehe#In a way being human does suit him - we'll packbond with anything that Might have even the slightest inclination to not maim us lol#And the way he personifies her! (VUXonifies her?) Reading intention or emotion into her actions with no proof and no understanding!#The way he ''tries to read her face'' as if he hasn't been struggling with that this entire time - with other humans who can tell him so ♪#His pride is so delicious <3 He is so easily blinded to his own shortcomings in the face of pleasure and the potential for connection!#It's no wonder DAX worries about him so much hehe ♥#It also always makes me so happy to have something fit together so perfectly like those last two hehe <3#That vine didn't exist when this happened! But there it is!! I love newer memes on older media hehehe ♪♫
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randomnameless · 4 months
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"[...] Edelgard is dead and that she will never get an education, rise above the station of her birth, or become more than a poor laborer getting taxed into oblivion by corrupt nobles [...]" aren't these issues mainly highlighted in Adrestia? With taxes being mentioned in the Hyrm paralogue (unless there are other mentions). And I know Dimitri's supports in Nopes touches on the other topics (with education being stopped by a food problem). So it's not like commoners are screwed if she dies.
TBH, being "taxed to oblivion" isn't seen in the game(s) proper save for Hrym but that's not a good look for Supreme Leader, so let's ignore that. I mean, she is running the country, and apparently doesn't bother telling Uncle to stop taxing to death the people of Hrym in the name of a guy she had in her basement for at least 5 years?
Instead... Leonie iirc complains about taxes, but when Lorenz tells her they were used to pay for Jeralt's services (and they the guy dumped everything in the nearest bottle) she doesn't push the "too much taxes!" angle anymore.
I suppose Supreme Leader's education system would work based on fruits and fresh water, so it wouldn't need money - that comes in the form of tax - to work? Unless we're supposed to understand Supreme Leader's new teachers will work for free because Hubert will kindly ask them to do so, and Doro will print books herself while Caspar will, on his own, build all the furnitures needed to get a school running.
Of course, they will do so freely, because Fodlan Adrestia became an utopia without the evil lizard lady's influence.
As for education in general, IRL (save for several states lol) people are willing to afford time and ressources to go to school or to let their children go to school if they don't have anythign "better" to do, like, idk, working to get enough money to feed said children.
or maybe Supreme Leader's Adrestia will have some sort of social minimal aid system - that isn't funded through taxes because taxes BaD - so Adrestians can send their children to school without being afraid of not being able to eat next morning thanks to that financial support?
But let's not talk too much about "semantics" and the intricacies of this totally canon version of what is going to happen after Tru Piss/when Supreme Leader kicks the bucket in non Tru Piss routes -
Anon, did you know feudalism BaD?
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strifesolution · 1 year
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Ok so I finally managed to get the time to catch up on 5r6c and holllyyyy shitt
I'm not usually a western au fan but this fic might have me changing my mind, it's so much fun to read!
Seán is so understandable with his grudge, Kevin is the best sheriff ever and Jim Pickens is obviously the best character, and Daithi and Brian's bond makes me feel soft, I'm a sucker for old friends
Also seeing the girls (and Grian!) as cameos was a delight
And Dan. DAN MAKES ME FEEL EVERY EMOTION. Oh he's so sweet and my heart absolutely aches for him, he deserves the world.
Needless to say, I'm very excited for Act 2 (and Spiff!!!)
ignore the delayed respond on this LOL anyways THIS IS SO SWEET!!!!! we’re so so glad you enjoy it and hopefully will continue to because OHHH boy there’s a lot planned. i’m not sure ive explicitly said it here, but we’ve had an ending planned out from the very beginning, it’s just a matter of actually GETTING there :>
also, like, out of the comments and asks and stuff weve gotten, everyone seems to comment on daithi and brian in this fic which i am DELIGHTED by. if there’s one thing i will say, sometimes i do get worried about our characterization, but i try not to much, because i remember the lads themselves have no established “canon.” we’re just taking the personalities we get from the videos they’re in together and turning them into characters to put in a different setting. so like, some suspension of disbelief is alright to move the plot, as long as they’re accurate enough
...that being said, daithi and brian’s interactions in this fic is the one exception to this, as in, every time we write them together i feel we are being 100% accurate in their characterization. i look at a dialogue exchange and then i open 1 (one) video with them together and i’m like “this is perfect we have their voices spot on and no one can say otherwise” (okay that’s an exaggerated humble brag but i AM proud of how much i feel we’ve got them right in this fic)
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i remember van showing this part at the beginning of chapter 9 to me and saying “well i think it’s funny but idk if we should keep it” and i was like “no we HAVE to keep this it’s fucking perfect”
also. dan. oh theres so many things i can say that i will keep quiet about for now but i am veeeery excited to get to.
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dmclemblems · 2 years
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@garlandgerard said: on the lorenz-dimitri thing, my girlfriend and i have an all-recruits post-AM AU where they do end up working together with lorenz as the head of house gloucester. theirs and claude's combined efforts also better the relationship between fódlan and almyra there
That’s basically my headcanon! I’ve also always liked the idea that since Lorenz has to work for the Empire out of concern for his land and people that the Kingdom army convinces him to join to get him out of there. Technically since Erwin is still the Count, they could play it off as Lorenz is fighting for the Kingdom now because of being forced to work for the Empire but Erwin isn’t on their side. For Erwin’s part all he has to do is stay neutral and not assist the Kingdom, and that way the Empire won’t be incited to attack Gloucester even if Lorenz is in the Kingdom army.
Also, I like how it’s only when you reach that chapter that Dimitri starts to waver in killing people he knows. It’s not until he’s faced with fighting Lorenz (and Ferdinand if you didn’t recruit him) that he starts being unable to really answer how he feels and why. I feel like even though he’s not really in his right mind, there’s still a rational part of him that knows Lorenz and Ferdinand aren’t bad people and have similar values to him. If you recruit Lorenz pre-timeskip he’s forced to leave you regardless so your army always has to fight him, and that’s the chapter where they start mentioning familiar faces in battle iirc.
I love the idea that the Kingdom army got him out of there and I also have this headcanon that he was offered the decision to stop fighting entirely and just go home (so that he wouldn’t risk an invasion from the Empire) but he chooses to fight because he’s not happy that he was forced into this war knowing if he didn’t fight for the Empire that he was risking danger to the people he protects in Gloucester. That would be when he plans to speak to his father and they make the plan for Erwin not to take up arms for either side while Lorenz is fighting for the Kingdom.
During that time I think Dimitri would see a lot of the good that Lorenz does, and we know from exploration that Dimitri does speak to people personally, such as Caspar saying he went to him and personally apologized about the Randolph situation. Caspar says he’d totally forgotten about it but he seemed happy all the same that Dimitri was getting better. I think Dimitri would have spoken to Lorenz a few times and maybe even gotten counsel from him.
When Claude goes back to Almyra, my headcanon is that Dimitri asks Lorenz to be in charge of the former Alliance territories and works closely with him to improve the lives of commoners. They’d also have Ferdinand helping and he’d be in charge of Adrestia. The former nobles from before any Crest system reforms could choose if they wanted to step down from their positions, but only after they found a suitable successor. Whoever the nobles were in each territory would work with either Dimitri, Lorenz or Ferdinand depending on where they lived to help improve Fodlan.
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heyassbuttlmao · 7 months
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trying to tell myself i've been at school for two weeks and it's normal not to have close friends yet because it's TRUE but also everyone else seems to have friends already and i don't get it
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supercutszns · 2 months
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Luke x reader where a girl, daughter of Aphrodite, flirts with him and insults the reader, causing her to avoid Luke, but later he manages to find her and confesses that he actually likes them... I don't know if they should already be together or not, but I believe in you!!! you write very well :ooo
Sorry if the idea is bad or you wouldn't want to write something like that, if that's the case please pretend you never read this 🤡🤡🫶
true colours; luke castellan
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wc + pairing: 3.6k, luke castellan x child of iris! reader
synopsis: everyone wants luke castellan, including you. curse your mother for getting your hopes up.
warnings: friends to lovers, reader is very insecure, bullying, lee fletcher & will solace cameo!! some angst with a fluffy ending
notes: thank you for the request!! as always this is longer than i anticipated but hope you like it :) i also combined it with another request for a child of iris reader (i also identify as a child of iris sometimes so i lovee writing for them) also i’m pretty sure lee + a lot of parts of this are ooc sorry but i havent read the books in about a year so hopefully everything’s fairly accurate!🌈
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You knew this summer would be different because your mother sent her wishes twice as much. On the first day of July, when children flood into Camp Half-Blood like a hive of wild bees, a rainbow always lights up the sky. 
This year, there were two. 
As a child of Iris you’re technically supposed to be in the Hermes cabin. But your love for art, for music, for fun, has made you a particular favourite of the Apollo cabin. Most of your friends are there. They tolerate you singing in your soft, often unsure voice. They love when you catch sunlight and filter it into prisms of colour on their cabin walls. 
You’d probably move in there permanently if it weren’t for Hermes. Or rather, his son.
Over the last few months, in the sticky summer heat, your mother knew you would fall in love. 
It's not any surprise you love Luke. Everyone loves Luke. A fact that's becoming more obvious every passing day. 
It used to bother you less. You’ve always been his meagre, hopeless friend, never any real competition to these girls. You’d basically taken yourself out of the running and instead decided to pine after him in the very back of your mind. A safe, deluded fantasy that would never happen. 
Until recently, where it seems less like a fantasy and more like a terrifying possibility. 
Over the past few weeks Luke has gone out of his way to be sweet to you. Or at least you think so. He’s spent extra time talking to you at lunch, laughing at your half-formed jokes almost in earnest. At bonfires he saves you a seat, grabs you a marshmallow on occasion. You even made him a friendship bracelet of sorts—admittedly a little ugly—but he’s never taken it off. Not since the day you gave it to him. 
Not to mention helping you last week before the archery competition. His hands lingering over yours as he steadied your bow, the curls of his breath on the back of your neck when he stood behind you. 
“Don’t be nervous,” he says, a tinge of mirth in his voice. “You just steady your aim and first is as good as yours.”
(You came in fifteenth.)
You don’t want to say that it’s him weakening your aim, making your pulse beat out of your neck. His nose brushes against the back of your jaw as he leans forward and you smell the pine on his skin. Is this friendly? Is he this close on purpose? Are you delusional?
It’s all you’ve been thinking about these past few days. So when Luke Castellan’s endless admirers come to the forefront of your mind, you feel like all those moments of potential buildup have been ripped away. 
“You alright there, sunshine?” 
He takes you out of your spiral with a teasing lilt you love. When you look at him, his face is a shimmering warmth, complete with boyish smile. 
“Yep,” you reply, trying to ignore the nickname making your insides flutter even though you know he’s saying it ironically.
You’ve always had a gift for identifying colour. It’s the thing you pay attention to most. Something inherited from your mother, you suppose. So you’ve memorized the way Luke’s eyes melt in the sunlight. How his scar blends with his pinking cheeks when it’s hot outside. You never told him, and you probably never will, but you’ve painted him from memory quite a few times in the Apollo cabin—always with the excuse that you were practicing. It's so blatantly obvious you're in love with him there's no point in your friends bringing it up.  
The two of you are meandering around camp before dinner, a tradition Luke started early on in the summer. You talk about high points of your day (mostly you) or share nuggets of gossip you’ve heard around camp (mostly him). It's the thing you looked forward to every morning. A time when his words are just for you. 
Idle chatter flows as you keep walking. Sometimes your arm brushes his and you have the embarrassing urge to tug yours away. You do your best not to stare at him too long or laugh too loud at his jokes. 
“Hey, Castellan!” Someone calls. 
Luke’s head turns. Your heart plummets. A beautiful girl, Aphrodite cabin, you think, is heading towards you. She’s all honey-spun hair and dazzling pink lips, and it’s obvious she knows it. You don’t know her name. But Luke does. 
They fall into conversation the second she arrives. It’s just greetings, pleasantries, but there’s a coy smile on the girl’s face that betrays any sense of disinterest. “Heard you’re not too keen on pairing up with us for the Chariot Race next week. What gives?” Her tone is pouty and playful as she taps Luke’s shoulder. She side-eyes you, lips curling imperceptibly. “I’m sure you’ll have a better chance with us.”
He lets out a strained chuckle. “Dunno, just thought it was fine to switch it up.”
Just like that, you’re out of the loop again. More of her friends flock after her, and soon Luke is tangled in a whole other world. They’re all glowing with a kind of righteousness you only get when you’re popular. You know Luke has friends, tons of them. He's the leader of the cabin with the most campers. Not to mention assertive and gorgeous. His presence is so inviting it’s a challenge not to fall in love with him. 
So you can’t blame this girl, the one that keeps touching his arm and giggling. It’s not like you’ve staked your claim on Luke—no one even knows you exist. As much as you want him to be yours, you know you’ll never stop someone from taking him first. It’s your fatal flaw, you think. Cowardice. 
You end up sidelined completely. Watching him swathed in people more charismatic than you plants an ache deep inside you. All your wishful thinking feels sour now, a pipe dream, a bedtime story to help you sleep better. Somehow it hurts more knowing that it’s nobody’s fault but yours. These people can’t be doing this on purpose. It’s just who they are. It’s who you are—always a step behind, always daydreaming. You are your mother’s daughter, after all. Just a prism reflecting everyone around you. 
Eventually, one of the boys in the group takes notice of you. He’s not nearly as captivating as Luke is—you don’t find the colours of his eyes hold as much depth. There’s also a haughtiness when he looks at you. He sneers, “What the hell do you have on your face?”
It draws the attention of others in the group. You feel like a naked sculpture in an art gallery. “Uh, what?” You stammer. 
Some of them purse their lips. The girl with Luke lets a laugh slip. You’re pretty sure you look like an idiot, waiting there with your brows wrinkled in a daze. Their gazes keep flicking over to your cheek, so your hand flies up there before you can delay any more. When you press your fingers to the side of your face, they come away tacky and pink. Mortification constricts you.
Paint. It’s leftover, half-dried paint. The colour of Luke’s cheeks in the sun. 
“Oh,” you say dumbly. It’s drowned by snickers. All you can do is find Luke, the only face you know, and ask, “Why didn’t you tell me?” without sounding too hurt. 
You know you failed when your voice comes out wrong and his ebony brows push together. “I thought it looked—”
He never gets to finish because the golden girl laughs a little louder, the pink tones in her face a little darker. “Oh my Gods, you’re that Iris kid that’s always singing, right?” She giggles sharply, cornflower eyes darting between her friends. There’s something in there you can’t quite pick up on, until it flushes the pupils of all her friends, and they all grin with a secret knowledge they want you to see. “You’re, like, really good!” The girl simpers, but her bottom lip pulls between her teeth to soften another laugh. 
“Oh, so good!” Another friend piles on. 
Their passive-aggressive chuckles start to sound like hail on a window. You shift further away from them. Dirt slides beneath your shoe, and you long to kick up more of it, displace yourself, disappear. 
You don’t look at Luke. The giggly, flaxen girl has already turned back to him, and you’re sure he’s enthralled once more. You try to stir up the image of Luke’s closeness during archery practice, the lilac bruise on his knuckles when he angled your bow, but it doesn’t take. Now, it feels like you’ve dreamed it. 
Out of the corner of your eye, you see Luke leaning down to catch a whisper from the Aphrodite girl’s ear. The boy that first commented on your cheek leans closer to you again. He’s suffocatingly smug when he grins, “Why are you still here? Shouldn’t you go … wash that off? You don’t want to look like that at dinner.” He snorts. “For an Iris kid, you really aren’t good at taking a message.” 
If you were a more confident person, maybe you’d point out how that didn’t really make sense, or how stupid it sounded coming out of his mouth. But the sentiment of it wounds you, and you’re weak enough as is. 
"Guess you're right," you mumble. You wipe your face of paint as you leave. The memory of Luke’s skin stains you until you wash your hands off in the sink. 
You haven’t talked to him since. 
It’s been a few days of you avoiding him, and it’s hard to explain to anyone why you’ve been doing it. How do you tell the truth? Luke Castellan is a work of art and you are … a weird doodle, or something. Despite your adoration, you know there’s no reason he should feel the same for you. Everyone loves him for a reason. Everyone must ignore you for one, too. 
“Why haven’t you been talking to Luke?”
The question breaks your concentrated silence in the Apollo cabin. You’ve been sitting here for a while now, humming to yourself over a mostly blank canvas. The cabin is dusted with a lilac haze, thanks to your manipulation of the light streaming through the windows. Helps you feel less like you’re at camp and more like you’re in a fairytale. 
“Helloooo, lady, I asked you a question.”
You begrudgingly look up. Lee Fletcher, head of the Apollo cabin, is at the mouth of the cabin, gazing at all your supplies strewn about the floor like they’re a bunch of unsavoury substances. “It looks like a hurricane came in here. Now why aren’t you talking to Luke?”
“How do you know I’m not talking to him?” You mutter as Lee sits beside you. 
“Uh, because you’ve been sleeping here multiple nights in a row and you never do that. And you don’t sit with him at dinner. And whenever we see him you drag me in the other direction—”
“Lee!”
“I’m just saying, you should probably talk about it. My beautiful voice can heal wounds, yes, but not of the heart.” He splays a hand across his chest in mock theatrics.
You don’t say anything. The familiar weight of the brush against your fingertips is far more comforting than trying to talk, so you busy yourself with your canvas again. “He waits for you, you know,” Lee continues, quieter. “In the morning. And before dinner. He always asks if you’re here.”
“Oh,” you say, and your wavering voice betrays your expression. But you think of everyone else at camp, their gleaming smiles and their celebrated parents, their own cabins and friends and dreams, how you don’t seem to have any of those. You think of the girl whispering in Luke’s ear. All her shades of beauty. You know it’s wrong to compare yourself, to be jealous. You’re just … sad.
The cabin darkens from a lilac to an imperceptibly gloomier shade. A blue sort of longing gets caught in your throat, blurring the colours on your canvas. But you keep your brush steady, focused on the scratch of its bristles so you don’t have to hear what you say next. 
“I think I love him, Lee.” And then, “But I don’t think he loves me.”
There’s no sound except the scraping of your brush when it’s run out of paint, and a sniffle when a tear rolls down your cheek. 
“Oh,” Lee fills the silence the way you did just moments before. Then he says your name, laced with pity, and hugs you on the floor of his lavender cabin. 
“You want to help me lead the bonfire song tonight?” He asks after a minute. “Or at least … come to the bonfire song?” 
“No to the first, yes to the second.”
You wish you said no to both. 
The spot you choose after dinner is right next to the fire so you can distract yourself with the golden flecks of flame. Fire is so fluid, so complex, from a colour perspective. But no matter how close you get, the searing warmth can’t hide Luke’s gaze peering over the embers. 
He will not. Stop. Looking at you. 
The singing from the Apollo kids usually soothes you but tonight it’s just making you anxious. All this attention so close to you. Will Solace has been sitting next to you this whole time, your unofficial assigned companion for the night thanks to Lee. One of his siblings beckons him over, and he shoots you an apologetic look, hesitating. "Just go," you wave off kindly. "It's all good." He's not entirely convinced, and you aren't either, but he squeezes your shoulder with thanks and leaves you anyway.
Now you’re acutely aware the space next to you is wide open. And so is Luke, it seems. There’s an awkward moment where your gazes slide over each other and he weaves out of his current crowd towards you. So you do the most mature, sound thing you could possibly do in this situation:
You say you have to go to the bathroom to no one in particular and get out of there. 
It’s dark, but you’ve got sharper eyes than most. Soon the noise of the campfire is behind you. You traipse through the camp towards the bathroom,but you don’t get far before you hear something that makes your stomach drop in the worst and best way. 
Luke, calling your name. 
At first you think you can get away with not hearing him. Then he calls a second, a third, a fourth time, punctuated with, “Come on, I know you can hear me, can you just turn around?”
He’s got longer legs than you so the next time he speaks it’s practically in your ear. “Hey, just look at me. Please. I want to talk to you.”
There’s something so tender in his voice that it makes you cave immediately. But you already feel so fragile, you can feel the tears behind your eyes. You know you won’t have the strength to talk to him. 
His hand curls gently around your wrist and it sends warmth all the way up your arm. He says your name again, softer, and you love the way it sounds. You can’t meet his eyes, but you already know what he looks like. Even in the dark you picture him crystal clear. 
“Look at me,” he repeats. “I just—I need to know what I did wrong.”
His dark eyes are full and apprehensive when you heed him. You notice how much you’ve missed studying his face—the slight bunch of his brows, the tensing in his jaw. And you almost delude yourself that he’s missed you just as much, the way he squeezes your wrist and rakes over your expression.
“Why are you ignoring me?” He asks. 
“I’m not—”
“You are. I know you. Just tell me why.” 
He looks so sweet, so earnest, and it kills you. You think of the way he looked when all his friends made fun of you. It all comes up before you can help it. 
“Do you always let me walk around looking like an idiot?” You ask bitingly, staring at the floor. “The thing, with the paint on my cheek—why didn’t you tell me? I looked so stupid and all your friends just laughed at me!” 
His face falls. “I tried to tell you, I thought—”
“It’s okay to say you don’t like me, or that you’re embarrassed, or whatever, but I …” You swallow, tears thick on your lower lashes. “Everyone makes fun of me. I don’t know why you don’t.”
“Because I do like you,” he states, hand moving up to your forearm. 
“Don’t say that,” you whisper. “You’re so much … better, you know you are, and I don’t want your pity, or your spare time. I just—I made something up in my head that wasn’t there and I only noticed it the other day after you talked to that girl and that guy made fun of me and I’m really, really sorry—”
“It looked cute. I was trying to say I didn’t tell you about the paint because I thought it was cute.”
There’s a lull.
“What?” You blink stupidly. 
“I know I should’ve told you about it, but I swear I was going to before dinner, I didn’t think we’d run into anyone before then.” His cheeks tinge red. “I had this whole dumb thing planned out where I’d wipe it off your cheek and tell you how cute it was once you got embarassed. I was waiting to tell you. I was thinking about it the whole time.”
His hand on your arm is a frighteningly grounding thing. You're dumbstruck by that alone. Your lips part, but all that comes out is, “Why?”
A gentle laugh tumbles out of his throat. “Why do you think?”
His other hand comes up to brush your cheekbone, where the paint had been, and you can imagine him doing it to you on that day. How you'd probably react just the way he said you would, the way you are now. A warm orange glow blooming in your chest. “But the girl—”
“She tried whispering to me how much she liked my bracelet,” he smiles fondly. “Told her you made it for me. It shut her up. I don’t know what that guy said to you but I chewed ‘em all out the second you left. They knew I wasn’t happy. I tried looking for you but you were gone. I don't like them, you know."
You don’t know what to say. It’s too difficult, too uncertain for you to jump the gun on this. So you just stare at all the shifting colours on his face as he moves closer to you. All this time going over his every detail, and there's still more to be enthralled by.
“I found the paintings,” he says, voice so close you can feel it brushing your skin. “The ones of me. I was looking for you in the Apollo cabin a week ago and you left one out. I knew it was yours because ... I mean, there’s no one in the world that can make me look that … beautiful.” 
The last word is apprehensive but it’s spoken with an unimaginable tenderness. He looks a little teary himself. You think you’re dreaming. “I knew I had to tell you after that. I’ve been trying to tell you. But you started pulling away from me so I thought I was making it all up.”
“Tell me what?” It’s a ghost of a question between you, an impossible thing, but the hand on your arm slips around to your back and he presses it there with such certainty. 
“You’re really gonna make me say it?” He cocks his head, but you nod. “I’m in love with you, I think.”
The words cascade over you in ribbons of warmth. Your brain feels fuzzy, seperate from the rest of your body. Your mouth opens multiple times but you can’t seem to control what comes out. “Luke, are you joking?”
“Not even a little.”
“But you’ve got so many other—”
“I want you.”
“I am literally the most incompetent person alive; I can’t sing, I can’t talk to people, I have a weird knee—”
"Your knee is fine!"
"I'm just saying, this makes no sense from an outsider perspective, it's—"
“Okay, clearly the telling thing isn’t working so I guess I’m just gonna have to kiss you.”
It happens so quickly you don’t have any time to think (probably for the better). You let out a surprised “oh” before his mouth silences you, stopping every other thought. He’s gentle, thumb still rubbing your cheekbone, other hand still firm at your waist. You want to panic—where should you put your hands? How do you know you’re doing this right? But he steadies you, the way he always does, and you give in. 
He starts to smile against your lips. You’re almost positive the intensity of your heartbeat could summon a storm. When he pulls away, he kisses the corners of your mouth and you think you’re going to evaporate. “I don’t think I’m very good at this,” you whisper.
“You’re perfect.” He grins a little when your hands tentatively tug at a curl on the nape of his neck. “And none of that stuff you say is true. I mean, you’re definitely a better singer than me.”
Leaning close to your ear, he warbles out a song you know but gets the words horribly wrong anyways. You can’t help but laugh. “Okay, maybe you have a point.”
He hums and chuckles with you. You swear the moon gets brighter when he wraps his arms around your waist to kiss the side of your face. “Next time you paint me, I want to be there when you do it.”
You blush harder than you ever have in your life. “Only if you try painting me,” you say quietly.
“Of course. You’re very pretty, so I’m sure my horrible artistic skills won’t even make you look bad.”
Luke lets you press your face into the crook of his neck. You soak it up for all it’s worth. 
In the morning, you wake up in the same position. Your nose tucked against his collarbone, the shade of pink you love freckled across his cheeks. You can't wait to paint him again.
When you look out the window, you say a silent, grateful prayer to your mother.
She's given you two more rainbows.
4K notes · View notes
roosterr · 3 months
Note
if ur requests are open, could we have like 141 falling asleep on the reader??? like different scenarios for each of them like price falls asleep accidentally and so does ghost while gaz and soap are like cuddling or laying on the reader :) i love ur writing so much <333
the 141 falls asleep on you
wc: 2.1k
hello!!! been struggling to love my writing for like the last month so i really hope you enjoy, and i'm sorry in advance lol its mostly fluffy but i just couldn't help myself with a lil bit of angst :)
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price
✹ when you hear the front door open in the middle of the night – or, technically, early morning – the first thought your sleep-addled mind comes up with is that you're being robbed.
✹ with your heart in your throat, you sit up in bed and stare wide-eyed at the bedroom door, but your fear is short lived when a dull thud meets your ears, followed by a familiar curse that has you breathing a sigh of relief.
✹ your husband, coming home at last from a night of drinking with the other members of the taskforce, presumably stubbing his toe on the sofa that hasn't moved an inch since you put it there all those years ago.
✹ with a deep yawn, you get back under the covers and let your eyes fall shut again, the knowledge that it was john downstairs and not a burglar putting your racing heart to rest.
✹ you don't react when he clumsily slips through the door, fighting the laugh that threatens to give you away when you hear him swear under his breath after bumping into yet another piece of furniture.
✹ the cold air sends goosebumps rippling across your skin when he lifts the covers to clamber in beside you, but the chill is quickly chased away by his hands bringing you into his chest and his enveloping warmth.
✹ "and what time do you call this?" you tease in a whisper, opening your eyes to see his guilty ones looking back at you. the slight flush in his cheeks and his half-lidded gaze gives him a boyish charm that you can't even pretend to be mad at.
✹ "sorry darlin', didn't mean to wake you..." he murmurs in return, a sheepish smile pulling at one side of his lips.
✹ "well, i'm glad you had a good time," you punctuate your reply by placing a light kiss on the bridge of his nose, which prompts his smile to grow wider as he hugs your body to his own.
✹ "i'm havin' a better time now, love." he ghosts his lips over yours as he whispers, earning another tiny chuckle from you, his fingers tracing patterns into the skin of your back under your shirt.
✹ you can smell the whisky on his breath as he leans even further into you, and taste it when he closes the distance to devour your lips in a passionate, if slightly messy, kiss.
✹ he sighs into your mouth, his lips falling from yours when he rolls you onto your back to lay his head on your chest, and like a switch, he's dead asleep.
✹ "john?" you whisper, in a sort of disbelief that he was actually asleep just like that, but he doesn't even flinch when you gently poke his cheek. "oh my god…"
✹ once the morning rolls around, you both share a laugh about his drunken state from the night before, and he makes you promise not to tell the boys he passed out in the middle of kissing you.
✹ you just laugh and file it away for future blackmail.
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gaz
✹ the two of you were watching a movie late one night, the first time you've had time to yourselves in months thanks to the never-ending workload you both seem to be under.
✹ the dim mood lighting of your flat combined with the comforting feeling of finally being alone with kyle is nearly enough to send you to sleep already, but your want to spent time with him keeps you awake.
✹ kyle watches you stifle a yawn as he presses play on the movie, and tugs you to lean against him with an arm around your shoulders and a teasing grin. "promise you won't fall asleep this time?"
✹ you look up to him from where your head rests against his collar and huff, a smile of your own playing on your lips as you nudge him lightly with your elbow. "maybe i should be the one asking that."
✹ the bags under his eyes leave no question about how tired he really is, but he was the one that insisted the two of you spend time together tonight, despite the exhaustion you knew he was hiding.
✹ "and leave you all by yourself?" he chuckles, "never, love."
✹ a comfortable quiet settles over you while you watch the movie together; kyle's choice, something action-y you've never seen before, but you know he's seen it a million times. he occasionally adds commentary to make you laugh which he, naturally, manages to do every time.
✹ as the movie plays, you gradually migrate to laying on the sofa on your back with kyle between your legs and his head on your sternum. you absentmindedly run your nails over his scalp, gently massaging his head while he hugs your waist.
✹ it's about two-thirds of the way through the movie that you realise kyle hasn't said anything in a while. you pause your ministrations, smoothing over his curls as you turn your gaze from the screen to where he lays on top of you.
✹ a soft smile lights up your face when your eyes land on his blissfully relaxed features, sound asleep and breathing in time with the steady rise and fall of your chest.
✹ you continue to watch the movie in silence, occasionally petting kyle's hair when he grumbles in his sleep. he deserves the rest, you muse, and something about how peaceful he looks means you can't even entertain the idea of disturbing him. and you would definitely tease him that he fell asleep like he said he wouldn't.
✹ even once the movie has finished, and your back has started to ache from the position against the armrest, you still don't dare wake him. tomorrow was an off day for both of you, so there was no need to go anywhere – as if you would ever want to, intertwined with your boyfriend and surrounded by his warmth.
✹ you close your eyes, give him one last squeeze, and whisper into the silence, "sweet dreams, kyle."
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soap
✹ it wasn't supposed to happen like this.
✹ everything was supposed to go smoothly, you'd get what you came for, and you'd be home in time for dinner.
✹ but it hadn't happened like that  of course it didn't. you were on your way out, with johnny by your side, when a sudden noise from behind you caught your attention.
✹ you spin around to see a dishevelled soldier aiming their gun at you, but you noticed just a second too late. you can do little more than watch as they pull the trigger, a sick sense of horror travelling up your spine as time seems to slow down.
✹ there's a split second where you brace to feel the bullet lodge somewhere in your body, but that impact never comes.
✹ with a speed you didn't know he possessed, johnny tackles you to the ground and out of the path of the bullet, landing on top of you and pushing the air from your lungs.
✹ you lay winded underneath him, the sound of him returning fire vaguely reaching your ears but it takes a second for your mind to catch up.
✹ it’s quiet by the time you come back to your senses, johnny already pulling you to stand with a strained grunt.
✹ "johnny?" you frown, taking note of how he favours one side when he urges you to start walking again, "you okay?"
✹ "fine, darlin’, let’s just–" he winces, stumbling ever so slightly and trying to play it off by pushing you in front of him, "let’s just get home, aye?"
✹ your frown deepens. you turn around and stop him with your hands on his shoulders, and it's then that you notice how laboured his breathing has become.
✹ "you're not fine, soap!" your heart sinks as you watch the patches of blood on his leg grow steadily darker, "why didn't you tell me you were hit?"
✹ he doesn't flinch at the anger in your voice, or when you haul his arm over your shoulder and resume dragging him the rest of the way to the helo. he mumbles incoherent that sounds like an apology, but your only focus is getting him to safety and stopping the bleeding.
✹ the others are already waiting for you as the exfil site comes into view, and the moment they spot you shouldering johnny's weight they spring into action to help you.
✹ johnny is dragged up the ramp and made to lay on the floor as gaz and ghost make short work of packing the bullet wound in his thigh with gauze.
✹ you lift his shoulders and head to rest in your lap, grimacing at the pained groans he lets out when ghost puts his weight on the wound.
✹ "why didn't you tell me?" you utter, tilting his head back with your hands on his cheeks and meeting his distant gaze with your brows knitted together in concern.
✹ he musters a weak smile and lets his eyes flutter shut, the muscles in his face visibly relax. "i’m fine… ‘slong as yer okay, bonnie…"
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ghost
✹ sometimes you wondered if ghost ever slept.
✹ he would always volunteer himself for the first watch, and he was up before you without fail every morning. on base he always seemed to be in the gym before everyone, and in his office after everyone else has left. he was frustratingly elusive.
✹ it worried you, that perhaps he had trouble sleeping. it made sense, however saddening, that someone like him wouldn't sleep well, but it was even worse that he brushed off your concern for him with practised ease.
✹ he made sure to take care of others, but wouldn't let you try and do the same for him. perhaps he thought you were joking, or that you were only being courteous, but your mind always goes back to one thing; the theory that, for some people, it's only possible for them to fall asleep when they feel safe.
✹ you wanted to be that for him, like he was for you.
✹ you do your best to forget about your rejected concerns for him, and the thought all but slips your mind until a mission two months later.
✹ it was long, drawn-out, and gruelling, and all you wanted to do was get home and have a shower hot enough to melt your skin. it had been almost a week since you've had a moment to catch your breath, and you were more than thankful to be on the way home.
✹ even if that meant being squashed into the back of an suv with soap passed out on your left and ghost on your right. gaz called shotgun and wouldn't give it up for anything, so here you were, shoulder to shoulder with the lieutenant you may or may not harbour feelings for.
✹ the five of you have been on the road for a couple of hours now. the conversation has died down by now and and the quiet hum of the radio was the only sound, besides soap's intermittent snores.
✹ you're on the verge of passing out yourself when a weight drops onto your shoulder, and you have to fight yourself not to jump with the start it gives you.
✹ your tired eyes look to the source and to your utter surprise, they find the dark fabric of ghost's balaclava resting against you, and when you tilt your head you can see the blond of his eyelashes against his cheeks.
✹ the sight brings a smile to your face. as subtle as possible, you shift as much as the limited space of the backseat will allow so his neck isn't bent at such an awkward angle.
✹ he fell asleep on you. perhaps it was just because of the exhaustion this mission left him with, but you like to think back on your theory from weeks ago as you admire the restful expression he wears.
✹ your stop fighting your own exhaustion and let your eyes fall shut, and with your last thread of consciousness you file this memory away for later, and hope that it really does mean that he feels safe with you.
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peachsayshi · 1 year
Text
cc x·˚ ༘₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰➳ thinking about...reader trying to break up with yandere gojo  
minors / ageless blogs / blank blogs - do not interact.
ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ tags: yandere; dub con; lovesick gojo & he’s obsessive/toxic about it; he’s mean but yummy, okay?; size kink (ish?); gojo showing off his strength; sex without protection
notes: I had this written as an idea right after I wrote my hc’s for the jjk men in their yandere version. twylm readers, please forgive me for not posting the next chapter. I am working on it but I am really struggling - I had the worst burn out after the last chapter, and have been having a hard time trying to get back into the story >.< 
wc: 1,228
gojo plays with the hem of your skirt - the flat expression on his face telling you that he’s listening but appears unbothered by your statement. you can see the annoyance in his eyes, the irritation that you would say something so ridiculous in the middle of a make out session. 
his hands find the back of your thighs and with one swift motion he pulls you over his long legs so you’re hovering above his lap. the imbalance forces you to clutch onto his shirt with frustration, and he mindlessly reaches to undo his belt before tugging your underwear aside with his long, slender digits. 
“toru, are you listening to me?” you whisper in a small voice. 
“you want to take a break?” he repeats calmly, but those last two words are laced with disgust, barely slipping through his clenched teeth, and he lowers you down just enough for him to press the tip of his swollen cock against your slit. 
“I need to slow things down...” you breathe, lashes fluttering at the sensation from the contact. 
your thighs naturally start to tense up when he holds you there, and the pads of his fingers dig roughly into your hip to keep you in place. you hiss against the harsh touch, gazing down to find your lover pouting at you like a disappointed child.
any stranger would consider this an adorable expression with the way his big eyes widen while his brows upturn sorrowfully. 
to you, however, it was an entirely different message. 
“are you unhappy?” he asks, his words weighed down by hurt. 
a warm sensation travels up your calves as you try to maintain the pose and you shake your head no while squeezing him gently with reassurance. satoru flickers his attention back to the point of contact. your pelvis feels tight from holding this awkward position, and the ache to have him inside you naturally makes the space between your legs pulse with need. 
satoru gojo has given you everything and more. there is no reason for you to be unhappy. 
he made sure of that. 
“okay,” he confirms with a sigh, one palm moving to grope the curve of your ass while the other stabilizes your leg as he draws you down his length. “do you not love me?” 
a hard lump forms in your throat. 
you’re careful never to actually say those words to him. 
satoru’s devotion consumes your entire your soul - you can’t help but feel like you would be making a deal with a devil if you decided to admit your true feelings. 
you managed to keep his peace of mind this far by reassuring him with deep, promising kisses and strong acknowledgements of his feelings. 
technically you aren’t lying, but the reality is that you’re afraid to love him...and of what your love does to him.
giving him another silent reply, you nod your head as your fear creeps up the back of your spine. the only relief you find is the stretch between your legs, and your lips part into a circle as satoru gives himself to you inch by glorious inch.
your skirt flaps over you both, concealing him buried inside you. he arches forward to kiss your jaw, his large hands finding your breasts and he massages them over your fitted tank. 
he delicately trails his fingers down your waist to latch onto your hips once more. “then why...” he murmurs into your neck, “do you want to take a break?” 
your hand finds the back of his head, a moan leaving your parted lips when you feel him lick a stripe up the column before lightly nipping at your earlobe. 
“it’s just...” you gasp, feeling flowers of heat bloom in all the places he’s touching you, “I just feel like we are getting ahead of o-ourselves..ah...” 
he rocks your hips back and forth, moving at such a languid pace that you can’t help but clench your thighs around his own. your fingers curl around the snowy threads of his white hair, tugging at it gently before pulling his face away so you can meet his eyes. 
he looks smug - but he always does because he knows that you’re just addicted to him as he is to you. 
“isn’t that what we want?” he questions, the corner of his mouth twitching into a lazy smile as he takes off your top and unfastens your bra, “we’re already so perfect...” 
“satoru,” you whine, “that’s not the point-” 
this time he ruts his pelvis upward, interrupting your thoughts as he hits you at the right spot that makes your eyes disappear into the back of your head. he leans against the chair, maintaining full eye contact with you as he casually lifts you up before dropping you back down on his cock. “just want to make you m’pretty wife, is all...fuck you like this every single night...” 
you bite your bottom lip, frustrated with how wet he’s making you with his words. your body subconsciously succumbs to his demands and you slowly start bouncing up and down over his length. 
“that’s right, angel,” satoru grunts with approval, his hungry hands grab your ass roughly, and you squeak when you feel a slight sting from behind as the sound of his palm slapping against your skin echoes around the room. “see? I’m making you feel s’fucking good, your pussy’s so wet f’me...just for me...” 
when his mouth finds yours, you know you’ve lost the battle. his scalding kisses leave your lips swollen but you still search for him out of desperation to feel the fire. he’s reminding you how hard it would be to let go of him, reiterating that there is no man in this world who could ever love you as much he does. you feel silly for bringing this up, questioning your own trepidations about him and wondering if this is simply you sabotaging what you already have. 
you are in a daze from the way he fucks you but he isn’t slowing down his movements and you feel like he might actually split you in two. he would never speak to you with angry words, but you can feel it in his movements.
“gonna c-cum, gonna cum, gonna cum...” 
it comes out of you like a warning, but it only makes satoru go deeper and before you know it your vision is white. your body feels everything all at once, and the coil that’s been tightening around your lower belly loosens from the intense orgasm. the pleasure is euphoric, sinfully so, and it drains you of all the energy you’ve preserved. your body goes limp in satoru’s arms, and he keeps them wrapped securely around your waist as he pumps his cum inside you.
he holds you in this embrace, allowing the seconds to pass. his breath fans your collar bone while he tries to catch himself. your eyes feel heavy when you blink them open, and you cup his face in your hands as you seek to cool yourself down with his azure eyes.
“I’m never going to let you go,” he confesses with a sweet kiss to the inside of your palm, before placing another on your cheek while he tightens his grip, “so stop trying to push me away.” 
15K notes · View notes
satoruhour · 7 months
Text
a/n: technically a fic but too lazy to edit a header. tagging @slttygeto @crysugu @omgeto @ohmygetou @lvlybee @hyomagiri @jabamin ☆
warnings: roommate!geto, soft dom!geto, semi-public sex (the public being gojo & shoko lol), exhibitionism, praise, finger sucking, pet names, fingering, clit stimulation, oral (m receiving), reader chokes a little, cum shot, unprotected sex, riding, creampie / breeding kink, n*sfw under the cut
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thinking about roommate!geto and having those dormitory movie nights like i mentioned in the roommate fic but now that you’re together and cuddling on the couch, gojo and shoko can’t help but playfully gag and tease the two of you — geto is smooth, always stroking your hair while his honeyed eyes only stay staring at you as they play some stupid lovey song like spandau ballet’s true in the background.
but what geto loves more than feeling your skin burn from the teasing and your soft sighs of love through your kisses is snaking his hand over your lap with the blanket that’s covering the both of you. it’s winter in tokyo, anyway, so at least you had the excuse of that over your bodies while geto teases the skin above your waistband.
“but they’re right there—” fingers clasped around his wrist as a warning. the movement is so quick the snack bowl almost topples over.
“relax...” geto lands a peck to your temple, smiling when he feels your hand loosens as soon as the warmth of his hand meets with the warmth of your cunt, “be quiet for me and i’ll let you cum.”
you hum in reply, wrapping an arm around his bicep now to stay closer to him, making a show that nothing sinister is going on under your pants and blanket. with one peek to shoko and gojo who’s engrossed with the movie (geto planned this, didn’t he?), you’re melting into the couch when an experimental finger rubs a lazy circle on your clit.
geto smiles at the way you nuzzle closer to him, hearing the whisper of a soft moan before his finger moves down, down, down, letting out a small groan when he feels that you’re already so wet.
“how’re you going to cum now, princess?” geto plays with your juices, your senses on end and wishing the fabric on you wouldn’t move so much, “you’re so wet that they could probably hear your cum drip down my hands.”
you tsk and pinch his bicep softly, “meanie. and who did this to me?”
geto chuckles, catching your lips in a soft kiss, “okay, okay. touché.”
the first push into your warm, wet pussy is phenomenal, both of your eyes closing as you squeeze around his thick finger. it reaches just like you remember the last time, mouth dug into his shirt sleeve to prevent any noise.
“second,” he whispers softly, eyes staying on the screen but not really digesting anything: he’s more fixated on the tightness of which you hang onto his side, the tightness of your walls, nudging past your folds with a second finger, “that’s it, good girl.”
geto mumbles into your hair and ignores the twitch of his cock, but he makes the mistake of pulling his eyes away from the television to you, who already has sweat lining your brow and your chin making an indent in his arm so that you’re staring up at him. your eyes are pleading, swirling with clouds of lust that suguru instinctively curls his fingers and has the pleasure of seeing your eyes widen and your mouth fall open in silence.
“doing so well, baby. you close?” geto cannot pull away from your hypnotising stare, so he holds it and finds himself getting weaker and weaker, “you’re throbbing.”
and you laugh lightly, ragged breaths leaving your person as his hands speed up just a little but like he said — you’re just too wet that they’d hear the squelch of your cunt so he continues to curl his fingers instead while your hand rubs at your clit. you’re squeezing suguru’s arm so tight your knuckles are probably white, heating up his skin with your irregular pants and whines.
your hips start to grind into his despite your initial caution and geto shoots you a cheeky smile before his fingers hit that spot and you’re making the move to moan and geto crashes his lips into yours — that gesture alone makes you cum, hands impatiently playing with your bundle of nerves as the coil in your tummy releases and you thank the heavens geto’s taking the bulk of your sounds.
“oh— just like that, sweetheart.” his voice strains a little as he lets you ride his fingers through your orgasm until you’re catching your breath, “still with me?”
you nod against his arm and sigh when his fingers leave your clenching hole; “always with you.” geto denies the flutter of his heart when you say that, pecking your forehead gently.
and all is well until you four are on your third movie and gojo and shoko are nodding off because they technically did have a tiring day ushering in freshmen today so once they knock out, geto’s surprised when your hand also travels over his body. they go over his arms, his pecs and to his torso and a single finger traces the happy trail right down to his cock and geto swallows.
“what happened to my shy girl?” he bites his lip, the dialogue on the movie now lost to him while you take the fingers that were in you before and shove them in your mouth — they still vaguely tasted like you, the websites were correct, you fear — twisting your tongue over his digits.
“gone.” you grin before you’re moving under the blanket, but not before giving your friends one last glance and they’re knocked out cold, “lemme suck your cock, su.”
suguru smiles, “slut.”
you shrug at the name; you know it’s done playfully and jokingly, “only f’r you.”
and geto hopes that’s true because when you’re the cutest when you tug off his underwear and his fat, throbbing cock slaps his abdomen from how painfully hard he was. you’re the cutest when you wrap your hands around him and even then it’s not enough to cover his length. you’re the cutest when you look up at him through your lashes and give the smallest kiss to his tip which is leaking so much pre-cum he’s a little embarrassed.
it’s a shame he had no chance of experiencing this the first time but then, he was focused solely on you and your pleasure, so seeing you between his legs now was a treat, especially the way your tongue swirls around his tip and scoops up his arousal.
“didn’t know you took dick so well,” geto breathlessly mumbles when you start to bob your head, brushing fingers through your hair and pulling the strands away from your mouth. you moan at that, squeezing his length and forcing him down your throat until—
“woah, woah, easy baby,” geto calms you down through your coughing fit and all you do is hide in his thighs, face hot.
“sorry.” is all you mutter and your lover brings you from your hiding place where there’s a pout on your face and tears lining your eyes when you’ve gagged earlier.
suguru tilts your chin up with a hand and kisses you gently, “nothin’ to be sorry bout, my love,” playing with your bottom lip and places another peck, always not being able to resist your lips, “i’ll train you next time,” that sends a thrill down to your core, “but for now, take it slow.”
“’kay,” you’re meek now, taking his shaft with more consideration but your mouth’s still as hot as ever. geto lets out a small moan, letting you go at your own pace no matter how much he wanted fuck your face. you run a long stripe up the bottom of his length, thumb playing with his tip while his eyes stay fixated on you taking him down your throat so well.
“use your hands— y-yes, fuck,” geto encourages, as you use your hands to pump the areas you’re not able to reach, the little stutters in his voice sending tingles down to your centre. “hollow your cheeks, baby— that’s righttt... mouth’s warm, huh?”
you slurp your saliva off his dick and come off, smiling at him, “yeah.”
he hums while you continue the bobbing of your head and the moans that you let out around his shaft send vibrations up his body. suguru twitches in your mouth and his thigh tenses.
“close—” geto’s moans get breathy and choked the closer he is to his high, hips bucking up into your mouth. there’s drool that drips from the corners and the sounds of your mouth being so full of his cock sends him into overdrive, “wanna— wanna cum all over your face, princess.”
you whine, the slurping and gawking noises getting faster before you’re letting his cock with a gasp, pumping him while your dilated eyes look up to him and him only. tongue out and soft, warm hands, and they all belong to you — truly the only person to get him so riled up and hard — he pulls on your hair before he spills all over your face. his seed’s so much, hitting your tongue and cheeks and you jolt slightly in surprise.
“f—fuck yesss... look s’pretty with my cum all over your face,” geto’s mouth hangs open at the sight, hips still jerking as your hands stroke and milk him until he’s got nothing left, grip loosening and then tightening when you gather his cum and then eat it all up, “attagirl.”
“you taste good, sugu,” you giggle, letting him pull you over and you take it as a sign to do away with the blanket altogether. with one more glance you now see shoko slouched over gojo and both of them drooling from the mouth; yeah you could fuck.
“that so?” geto pulls you in for a kiss, “guess i’m healthy then.”
“hm... don’t know, need your cum in me to do a proper check,” suguru’s hands fly to your hips instantly when you tease his cockhead along your folds, not even having the energy to comment on your little joke, eyes fluttering close and he stammers—
“b—baby, still sens’tive.”
you whine playfully, “please?”
there’s no answer from him when you slide down on him easily, and he sighs when his eyes open — the backlight of the television makes him think that maybe you were an angel to descend upon him, “y’know i can never say no to you, sweetheart.”
and you’re losing yourself in him after, his hands helping you ride him while you bounce on his lap. your head hangs forward, foreheads connected as your breath fans over his face. with each time his cock bottoms out of you, there’s the spill of your juices all over his torso and pelvis, entranced with your gummy walls until the shift of the two people beside you make you freeze.
they’ve both changed positions now: shoko’s head thrown back over the back of the sofa while gojo hangs over the side arm rests — you both share a little giggle and a breath of relief before suguru seizes your chin and forces you to look down.
“can’t last long, your pussy’s just too good,” your lover rasps out, your thighs burning, “so i want you watch to how you take my cock, baby.”
and you could cum from those words alone, yet you follow his orders before he starts to thrust up into you, whining right into his neck. his hips are relentless and his hands knead at your ass, eyes focusing on the way you watch your sopping cunt suck him up.
“s’good, s’good— fuuckk...” you whimper softly, chin hitting your chest as you watch the drag of his cock, in and out, in and out before seeing him twitch and your moans consist of his name only, “suguru, suguru, suguruuu....”
“almost there, cum with me sweetness,” geto groans when your body collapses onto him and he can feel your perk nipples poke into his chest, reminiscent of the very first time you thanked him for letting you room with him. how thankful he was, now. he lets you hide in his neck despite disobeying his request — you’re the only one he’d let do that — and he has an easier time ramming into you from below anyway.
it’s obscene, the slaps of his pelvis against the fat of your ass cheeks, coupled with the slickness of your drooling pussy, it’s got the both of you moaning softly into each other’s mouths before geto’s rutting into you hurriedly and messily. he continues his thrusts, fucking his cum into you until it starts to spill out the sides and you’re cumming right after when his tip kisses your cervix oh, so lightly, sending your thighs trembling and pussy fluttering.
“clenching ’round me so bad— shit, you’re cumming so much,” suguru laughs, cut off by a choked moan when your hips adjust. there’s a filthy shlick! that is sounded out when geto removes his cock from you and the mixture of your cum comes dripping out. he licks his lips when he watches it dribble out of your entrance.
“you’re so gross—” you grin, brushing the sweat-filled hair out of his face.
“like you’re not,” geto purses his lips and clicks his tongue, “sucking me off in front of friends.”
“it’s hot.”
the gears are turning in suguru’s head, and you just know you’re in for it when he picks you up swiftly, shoving your body into the sofa and he drags his weeping tip along your cum-filled cunt.
“oh yeah? let’s go till we wake the neighbours, baby.”
the next morning, you’re waking up with a pounding headache and aching legs, reaching over the bedside table (a gentleman like suguru would never leave you on the couch) before a text from gojo lights up the phone and you’re mortified.
[satoru (loser) 🧿👄🧿]: i heard u btw
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3K notes · View notes
yesimwriting · 2 months
Text
something about bestfriend!felix who's so used to the world bending over backwards to please him that he seems entirely separated from the concept of boundaries.
it's one of the few things about him that remains unspoken because it reminds those in his social circle that no matter how much influence or money they might have, someone has more. and that someone is felix catton.
he's never weird about it, there's just this rule that everyone learns to pick up on and never mention. if felix wants to go out for the night or do anything socially with someone, it's customary for that person to cancel any other plans.
it might be more of an issue if felix's proximity didn't feel like sunbathing on an early summer day, but it does. so he's used to not having to work to get someone where he wants them.
until you.
despite your friendship still being relatively new, the two of you have bonded enough for you to accept his presence instantly.
felix didn't call before coming over. you answered the door after two knocks, grinning as soon as you saw him standing there. you didn't even think to ask about the lack of notice, you just invited him in and made some comment about how you were just studying.
he told you he didn't mind if you wanted to keep studying, that he brought over his own textbooks just in case. even though you were set up at your desk, you moved your supplies over to your bed so that you could sit with him.
it started off as separated as the two of you ever are, just your bent knee pressing gently into his lower thigh. your shared restraint dissolved quickly.
you're practically laying down, back partially supported by a wall and two pillows, felix's head resting on your stomach as you comb your fingers through his hair. he's holding up a textbook for you with one arm, fingertips absentmindedly brushing against your bare leg.
he breaks the silence with a sigh. when you don't respond, he turns his head and presses his lips against your thigh. your nails freeze against his scalp. "felix."
"lovie," he replies, tone as scandalized as yours. you sigh, and he can practically feel your eye roll.
felix grins, turning his head look up at you. he knows he should be good about this, about you, but he's not accustomed to practicing this kind of restraint. he's preoccupied with terribly soft thoughts of closer when he blurts out the question, "come out with me tonight?"
it's only a question by technicality, his eyes bright as if you've already agreed.
you press your lips together, and the hesitance in the look jabs at him. he brushes his knuckles against the side of your leg like that might tip the decision. "i have an econ test on monday."
the excuse deflates him. it's only friday, and even if it wasn't, you don't need to worry about your grades. there's a naturalness to your schooling, you grasp everything almost immediately. any personal selfishness aside, you don't need a weekend of studying. it's objective fact.
you're still watching him, expression unsure. "y'know too much studying's bad for you." your lips part, but before you can say anything, felix is shutting the book he'd been holding up for you.
he extends his arm, his palm covering the upper half of your face with the palm of his hand. you laugh out his name. "what? your eyes need the rest." you shift, still giggling as you halfheartedly try to push him off. "you'll get a headache."
your fingers wrap around his wrist. "you're my headache."
he lets out a mock gasp before pulling away entirely. felix doesn't miss your slight pout as he sits up. "actually?"
you're chasing after him, sitting up and attempting to grab his arm. felix lets you. "no." you squeeze his arm to you. "i meant it in a you're my best friend way."
"that so?" you nod innocently, all wide eyes as if to say see? i have no intentions of being anything other than a perfect angel.
felix pretends to contemplate forgiveness, then, with no warning lays down. you're not given a chance to deliberate what that means before he's tugging on your arm. he mumbles a brief, explanatory, "c'mere," as he pulls you into his chest.
you listen, moving to rest your chin against the side of his chest. your arm's across him. felix's shirt has ridden up right where your fingertips naturally rest. the bare contact makes goosebumps break out across your arms.
"go out with me tonight," he tries, voice soft. you have to drop your gaze to keep from immediately melting and agreeing to whatever he wants. "c'mon, think it's good for you to take a break every now and then."
you lift your head up just enough to glare at him. felix shifts his leg, pressing it against yours. you push back gently, just enough to reciprocate the gesture. "so you're saying i'm a friendless loser that only ever goes out when you make me?"
"i'm saying," he extends the syllables to buy himself some time to think, "i have to go, and i won't have any fun without you."
you find it hard to imagine that felix catton ever has to do anything he doesn't want to. you're also confident in his ability to find fun at a party. "you have farleigh, and oliver, and annabel--you'll be fine without me."
his hand is on your back, fingers tracing lazy patterns against the fabric of your t-shirt. "i don't want anyone else." the soft whine in his tone paired with his slight pout makes him seem smaller, like a little kid that just needs to be wrapped up. "i want you."
"you have me."
felix frowns, "doesn't feel like it."
you're losing. "do you really want me to go that badly?"
he smiles, feeling the crack in your resolve. "we'll just go for a little. have a drink or two, then y'can sleepover if you want." you do like sleeping over in felix's dorm. "and then tomorrow we can do whatever you want--study, watch a movie, dinner."
a sleepover and a saturday. this no longer feels like a loss. you smile, "deal."
felix's available hand finds your hip. "that's my girl."
the comment makes your face feel warm, you drop your head to rest on his stomach to hide any potential signs of being flustered. he'd tease you to no end about it. "i should get up, start getting ready."
he runs his hand down your back, "it's not until later." he moves his hand back up slowly. his thumb starts traces circles against your shoulder. "we've got time."
----
omg bestfriend!felix blurbs are everything to me,, if you have any thoughts about bestfriend-verse pls lmk,,
also?? might have to write a full fic for bestfriend-verse
taglist; @vader-is-hot @spiritofbuddha @getosangie @freyafriggafrey
1K notes · View notes
valeskafics · 3 months
Text
"Helping Hand" - Michael Gavey x Bimbo!Reader
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a/n: from an anon request for teaching assistant michael combined with one for face sitting, enjoy my loves 🩷
Summary: Michael is the teaching assistant for your statistics class. After you score poorly on an exam, he's more than willing to offer a helping hand...
TW: profanity, innuendo, she/her pronouns, afab reader, alcohol consumption, slight bullying (not by reader or michael), semi public sexual activity, dry humping, cumming in pants lol, titty fucking, oral m receiving, oral f receiving, face riding, p in v sex, unprotected sex, creampie, tiddy succin
Word Count: 4,000 words
Rating: 18+, MDNI
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Saltburn characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used nor do I claim to own them.
Comments, likes, and reblogs are never required but are immensely appreciated 🩷
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Michael hears you before he sees you, the clicking of your kitten heels on the linoleum floor as you walk to the front of the lecture hall to hand in your quiz. You’re the last one to be done with yours, he notes, with the professor already having left, leaving him in charge of proctoring the exam. He looks up and gives you an awkward little smile. The two of you aren’t exactly friends, considering how close you are with Felix and Farleigh and the social circles you run in, but you’ve always been rather sweet to him. And, pathetic as it is, it’s made the poor boy harbor a crush on you over the past four years at uni.
You look adorable as ever in those low-rise skinny jeans and your cute little velour jacket, unzipped to show off the pink camisole that barely covers your upper body. Michael does his best not to stare as you lean forward to hand him your test, your tits on full display for him. He crosses his legs, doing his best to hide the tent in his pants at the sight of you, and pushes his glasses up his nose, swallowing thickly.
“How’d the quiz go for you?” Michael asks before glancing at the Crunchie bar on his desk and grabbing it, extending it to you, “Hungry?”
“Oh, no. Thank you though, you’re so sweet, Michael,” you reply, that voice of yours like honey in his ears.
You look at him with those gorgeous eyes of yours as he offers to grade your quiz right then and there. He knows Professor Kahn wants them all to be graded by Friday anyway, so this shouldn’t be too big of a deal. You nod excitedly, bouncing up and down on the balls of your feet as you watch him grab the answer key. Michael knows it’s probably technically an abuse of power as Kahn’s TA to do this, but he can’t bring himself to care. Not when he watches the subtle bounce of your tits against your camisole, the way you look at him eagerly, as if you’re waiting for much more than a stupid quiz score.
He winces slightly as he looks up at you, “You got 60% right.”
Your gloss-coated lips part in surprise, an expression that he can’t help but find adorable in spite of the circumstances, “What?”
Michael nods apologetically before asking, “Why didn’t you go to the professor’s office hours? Or you could’ve asked me for help if you were struggling.”
“You’ve got your other classes, Michael, didn’t want to bother you,” you say sheepishly, looking down at your feet, the disappointment clear in your voice, “It’s fine. I’ll just study harder next time.”
“You wouldn’t ever be bothering me,” he assures you, “You could call me up at eleven at night and I’d be willing to help you.” He pauses before adding jokingly, “Which has me wondering what you would look like at eleven in your pajamas with no makeup. Bet you look a sight.”
You giggle at his joke, shaking your head before declaring, somewhat obliviously considering you don’t seem to understand the double entendre behind your words, “I don’t sleep in pajamas, silly!”
“O-oh!” Michael says, cheeks flushing bright red as his imagination quickly gets carried away. 
Fuck, do you sleep naked? Your bare body rubbing against your sheets… God, he’d give anything to see that. You’re a little minx, and you’re completely unaware of it. His eyes move to your cleavage for a moment before going back up to those pretty lips when you speak again.
“Maybe you can help me study for the quiz on Tuesday, if that’s okay?”
Michael nods, a bit too eagerly, “I’d love to help you. And, um, maybe we can celebrate Tuesday if you do well on the exam, grab a bite to eat or something?”
You smile at him brightly, Okay, sure! Maybe you can come by my dorm around half seven? I’ll be done with my classes by then.”
He nods, doing his best to hide the grin that threatens to spread across his face, not wanting to seem like a total fool in front of you, “That sounds perfect.”
“I’ll leave my door unlocked if I’ve popped out for a moment,” you tell him, “I usually leave it unlocked anyway since Felix and Farleigh are always about.”
Michael feels a strange pit in his stomach at the thought of those two hanging around your dorm but quickly tries to dismiss it, giving you an awkward little wave as you strut out of the lecture hall, those perfect fucking hips of yours swaying effortlessly in your jeans.
How is he going to make it through the night?
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He shows up at your dorm at 7:30 on the dot, running into Felix as he leaves your building. Felix gives him a quick nod before walking away while Michael does his best not to speculate on what the two of you might have been doing before he showed up. He gives a gentle knock at your door, despite the fact that it is slightly ajar, calling out that it’s him. He hears your voice, slightly muffled from your bathroom, as you tell him to come in and make himself comfortable, that you’ll be out in just a sec. Michael nods, taking a seat at your desk, looking around your room and smiling to himself. It’s a standard dormitory but you’ve managed to make it all your own with a pink blanket, pink lamp, everything you could possibly conceive of as being pink has been made so. It’s adorable, really.
But what isn’t adorable is how fucking good you look when you come bounding toward him out of the bathroom, wearing the tiniest pair of shorts he’s seen in his life and a skimpy little tank top. The lack of heating in your dorm also makes it glaringly obvious that you’re not wearing a bra as you move to sit on your bed, cross-legged, your gorgeous body on display for him.
“Ready?”
Michael’s face is crimson red as he swallows thickly and nods, “Uh huh. Where would you like to start?”
You gesture for him to sit beside you on the bed, which he does, albeit reluctantly, not sure he can handle being so close to you when you’re looking like that, “Maybe confounding variables? I’m having a bit of trouble with those and bias. That might be a good place.”
He quickly flips through his notebook until he finds the section in question. He can smell your perfume, the scent just sweet enough to drive him mad with want, with how close you are to him, feel the heat emanating from your body. He begins explaining the principles behind confounding variables to you in as simple terms as possible, though he gets more than a bit distracted when you shift on the bed, your tits bouncing slightly as you do. Fuck, your body was just made to distract him, wasn’t it? He asks if you’ve been able to make sense of what he’s said so far and you nod, biting your lower lip as you read the notes. You lean in, your chest brushing against his upper arm, so soft and warm and against him. He knows his hard-on must be glaringly obvious, but you say nothing. And all he can think about is pinning you down on your bed and kissing you. Michael gulps, glancing down at your chest before looking into your eyes as you say that you think you understand and want to try a few practice questions.
You take the paper he gives you, standing up and pacing the room as you consider your answer. He glances at the writing plastered across your arse on those tiny little shorts. “Couch potato”, with a Hello Kitty icon on it. He resists the urge to grin, the sight of them digging into your thighs ever so slightly nearly driving him insane as you tap your pen to your lips. He can practically see your nipples through your shirt, his mouth going dry at the sight as you hand the paper back toward him, waiting for him to check your answers. And when he tells them you’ve gotten them all correct? He nearly has a heart attack at the way you throw your arms around his neck, pressing yourself squarely up against him. Fuck, he can feel every part of you, and when you sit back down? Your thigh is pressed flush up against his.
“Are you going to Felix’s party next Tuesday? You should come.”
Michael shakes his head awkwardly, scratching the back of his neck, “Not invited.”
You rest your hand on his thigh, pouting slightly, the sight and sensation of which are nearly enough to drive him crazy, “But I’ll be there?”
He blushes violently, breathing a bit faster as he questions, “Do you want me to come?”
You nod, “Maybe, if I do well on the quiz, it can be my reward for understanding what you taught me? You come to the party and dance with me?”
Michael swallows hard, the idea of grinding against you in a room filled with his fellow students being too sweet a deal to pass up. He knows in the end, he’ll probably end up humiliated. But any risk is worth the potential reward you’re offering. Though his mood sours slightly when he asks what time he should pick you up and you airily declare you’ll already be there since you always help Felix and Farleigh set up for their parties. That green-eyed monster rears its head as he presses his lips together in a thin smile and leaves your dorm.
Felix and Farleigh don’t matter. You’ve asked him to come to the party. You want to dance with him, specifically him.
And that’s all that matters.
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Unsurprisingly, you score quite well on the quiz, after all, Michael is one of the brightest minds at the university and he was personally helping you prepare. After class, you tell him to arrive around ten, a bit after the party starts. He watches you walk away, barely resisting the urge to shove Farleigh and Felix away from you when they walk beside you toward your next class. You seem so comfortable with them, it irks him a bit. Even though he knows he has no right to be jealous, he can’t help it. In his mind, in his heart? You’re already his.
When he arrives at the party, he sees everyone already drinking and dancing, rolling his eyes at one of the guys doing a keg stand. Fucking morons. You’re standing by the bar, Felix and Farleigh at your side. Michael weaves his way through the crowd, moving closer to you, seeing that the three of you are toasting to a successful party. When he reaches you, he tries to stand tall and look confident. He’s not that little Norman No-Mates from first-year anymore. He may not be popular, he may never be, but he knows his strengths.
“Hello.”
You let out a delighted little squeal, pulling Michael into a hug, “You came!”
Yeah, he thinks he might just cum if you keep rubbing your tits up against him like that. Michael wraps his arms around you, hugging you back and throwing the two boys a dirty look over your shoulder before replying to you.
“Yeah, I mean, you asked me to come, so you know.”
“Aw, thank you!” You press your lips to his cheek, something you’ve done a few times now but he doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to it, how your soft lips feel against his skin, how they linger there as you murmur, “You smell nice.”
Michael blushes, staring at the ground as he mumbles, “Oh, uh, I put on a bit of cologne.”
His eyes move along your frame, breath catching in his throat as he sees how good you look in that little pink velour dress, how it clings to your body, how all he wants is to get his hands on you-
“Felix. Farleigh. You two should take a cue from Michael and wear cologne. Stinky boys,” you giggle, pressing yourself against Michael’s side, your breasts right up against him.
He’s been dreaming of this so long, and here you are. Preferring him to your two friends. Saying how nice he smells. Cuddling up to him. It’s almost too good to be true. He wraps an arm around your shoulder, his fingers tracing your upper arm as he relaxes against you.
“Well, we can’t all be pans-”
“Farleigh, don’t be a cunt,” you say in a cheerful voice, though there’s a clear warning behind it. You’re… Defending him? Felix and Farleigh exchange a look and excuse themselves, while you? You pull Michael toward the dance floor, a cheeky grin on your face, “Let’s dance, cutie.”
Michael nods, following after you wordlessly, a moth drawn to your flame, the light and happiness you exude, as you begin moving your body against his, arms wrapped around his neck as you gaze into his eyes, grinding against him. Everything is in overdrive for him, everything around him feels too warm and yet not warm enough as his hands rest on your hips. You feel so perfect against him, look so perfect. The heat grows and grows between you two as you lean in closer and closer toward each other. His lips meets yours in a hungry, desperate kiss, bodies flush against each other as you pull him toward the corner of the room, away from prying eyes. You moan into his mouth, tongues meeting in a passionate dance as you roll your hips against his, grinding your body against his.
“Michael,” you coo softly, “You’re so fucking hot…”
He’s almost in a trance at this point as he lets out a groan, feel you rubbing up against him, the moment being more than he could ever dream of. You take his hands and bring them to your chest, letting him give you a firm squeeze as he groans against your lips. He glances over and sees Felix and Farleigh staring at the two of you with shocked looks on their faces and tosses them a snarky smile before turning back to you, rutting against you.
“I’m not wearing anything under this dress,” you whisper breathily in his ear, tongue tracing the shell of it.
Michael gasps as you bring his hand between your thighs, letting him feel how wet you are for him. He buries his face in your neck, both of you continuing to grind against each other until you reach your peak with a cry of his name, which is enough to send him over the edge, spilling himself in his pants. He glances down at the stain on his jeans in horror, looking up at you, nodding thankfully when you grab someone’s hoodie who’s been left on the sofa for him to cover up with. His mind is a blur as he takes it, gazing down at you, cheeks flushed, hair slightly mussed, feeling like his entire body is on fire.
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The walk back to your room passes by slower than either of you would like, but the minute you get inside, your lips are on Michael’s neck, teeth grazing against his throat. Michael’s entire body shudders as you push him back onto your bed, climbing on top of him, your thighs on either side of him. You tug at his tee-shirt, giggling at the text on it. “Math puns are the first sine of madness.”
“That’s funny,” you smile playfully, pulling it over his head and tossing the offending garment aside.
Michael’s breath comes out in soft pants as you kiss his chest, teeth grazing over one of his nipples before you wrap your lips around it, lips curling at the corners as he whimpers softly. Your nails rake along his chest as you move your lips lower and lower, your tongue tracing his navel, loving the way he shivers at your touch.
“You’re so sensitive,” you murmur, grinning up at him.
He closes his eyes, glasses fogging up from how hard he’s breathing as he squirms, watching as you undo his jeans and mouth at him over the fabric of his boxers. You nuzzle your face against his cock, giggling as you do, making him let out a strangled moan.
“You’re big,” you purr, “Bigger than anyone I’ve been with. Wonder if you’ll even fit,” you say, biting your lip, gazing up at him.
Michael blushes, breathing growing even more shallow, heart beating out of his chest. Your comment about his size makes him feel good about himself in a way he never has before. He watches as you tug your dress over your head, leaving you completely bare, sitting on top of him. Everything about you is fucking intoxicating. The slope of your shoulders, your stomach, God, your tits… So round and full. He moves his hands to touch them, moaning softly as he squeezes your bare flesh, kneading it between his hands.
“You like them?” You ask playfully, “You’re always staring, so I’d assume yeah.”
“Love them,” he whispers, almost shaking with excitement as you lean in to kiss him, a wet, messy, altogether obscene kiss as you grind your bare pussy against his thigh, “Been dreaming of this so long. Of you for so long.”
“Tell me every nasty thought you’ve had about me,” you whisper between kisses, nipping at his earlobe.
Michael lets out a quiet sigh, watching as your lips move to his chest, “Fantasized about you coming up to my room and begging me to take you over my desk… Begging for my cock…”
“Oh yeah?” You murmur, meeting his gaze, “Then please, Mikey, please fuck my tits.”
His jaw drops and he nods eagerly, watching as you tug his boxers all the way down, freeing his cock. He stares in wonder as you take his cock between your breasts, grinning up at him lazily as you slide up and down, the friction driving him mad with desire. You keep your eyes locked on his as you continue, moving faster and faster, your soft flesh feeling fucking incredible against him. Michael lets out a whine of protest when you slow down, sensing he’s getting close, pouting at the way you giggle before you begin moving again.
“Want to taste you too, please, Mikey? Wanna taste you so bad,” you moan softly, moving faster and faster.
He nods eagerly, watching as you move back to take him into your mouth, pink gloss-stained lips wrapping around his girth as you maintain eye contact, the sloppy wet noises you let out turning him on almost as much as the feeling of your mouth on him. You bob your head up and down, hollowing your cheeks, taking him in far enough to hit the back of your throat when he finally spills himself on your tongue with a whimper of your name, his entire body shaking with desire. You pull off of him with a lewd pop, swallowing his spend as you give him a smile that’s too sweet and innocent for the debauchery the two of you have been getting up to.
“How was that, cutie?”
“Ph-phenomenal,” he gasps, his nostrils flaring slightly as he questions, “Do you want me to… Too?”
“To what, cutie?”
He bites his lip, looking into your eyes, his own blown wide with lust, “Y-you know… I want to taste you too.”
“You’ve already kissed me,” you say, tilting your head to the side, “Isn’t that tasting me?”
“I want to taste your fucking pussy!”
You giggle at his outburst, moving to settle yourself over his face, your cunt hovering over his lips before you sink down on him, feeling his tongue fuck you with a fervor you’ve never felt before. His hands grasp at your thighs as you ride his face, grinding your clit against the cleft of his nose, mewling his name as you brace yourself against the wall. Michael can’t get over how fucking perfect you taste on his tongue, eagerly lapping at your folds, nuzzling against your sensitive nub, wanting to make you feel as good as you made him feel. His tongue swirls against you, moving in and out, dragging along your walls, fingers digging into the flesh of your ass as he feels you begin to quiver around him. He knows you’re getting close, so he begins moving even faster, as do you, grinding your hips against him as he moves his face side to side, mouthing at you like a man starved until you come undone against him with a cry of his name.
You move off of him, watching with a smile as he sits up, taking one of your tits in his mouth, squeezing at the other. You feel his cock twitching against you, realizing that he’s hard again, moaning softly as his teeth graze against your nipple.
“I don’t have a condom,” he admits.
“It’s fine, I’m on the pill. I wanna feel you,” you whisper, sinking down onto his cock, groaning as he fills you up more than any previous partner has, whining as you begin to bounce up and down on him, “Fuck, just… Oooh…”
Michael’s hands move to your hips, guiding you as you bounce up and down on his cock, the jiggle of your breasts, the breathy little moans you let out, the way you squeeze around him, so warm and wet and tight, all driving him closer to the edge. He groans, biting down on your shoulder before moving to kiss your neck, leaving his mark there. That’ll show Farleigh and Felix who you belong to.
You feel the fat head of his cock bullying against that spongy spot deep inside you, mewling his name as you continue moving up and down on his cock, every thrust feeling as if he’s going to split you in two. Michael’s hips buck up against you, meeting your movements with his own as he fucks into you. He moves one hand up to squeeze at your breast while the other continues guiding you up and down on his cock, over and over, skin slapping against skin.
Already oversensitive from your last orgasm, it doesn’t take much to send you over the edge, but Michael fucks you through your orgasm, lips latching onto one of your breasts, mouthing at it as he continues fucking you, making you squeal his name. He has no intention of stopping, and soon, that pleasure deep inside you begins to build again, his hips beginning to slow as he presses down on your clit. You throw your head back as he pulls off of your tit and grabs your hair, pulling you into a hungry kiss, moving faster and faster until he spills himself inside you, your own release finding you soon after as you collapse against him on the bed, both of you feeling utterly sated and spent.
You curl up beside him, gazing into each other’s eyes. You giggle at how his glasses are slightly askew, fixing them before tracing his upper lip with your finger and pressing a kiss to his nose.
“This means you’re mine, right?”
You nod, cuddling up against him, “Mhm. All yours.”
And to think, all it took was giving you a helping hand on your exam.
Though as a TA, he wonders if he might be able to get the keys to the classroom and fuck you right over the professor’s desk.
But, drowsiness begins to addle his mind as the two of you curl up beside each other. He slides down slightly to rest his head against your chest, your soft, warm flesh and the steady sound of your heartbeat lulling him into a dreamless, restful sleep, the best he’s had in his entire life.
Why does he need to dream, anyway, when he has you?
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fangirl-dot-com · 4 months
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Charles Leclerc - Arthur, you are not French...yeah Charles, drag his ass!
I’ve been excited to write this chapter! I know that reader is a Red Bull driver, but I am a Tifosi through and through. Charles holds such a special place in my heart (but so does Max). I feel like one of those “breaking my silence – how I got into F1,” low and behold, I got into the sport from that one Ferrari thirst trap where Charles is lying on the couch. Yeah, you know, that one. 
Anywho, I write these little things before I even get to writing the story and sometimes I don’t even know where I’m going with it. I know it's not Christmas yet, but the people spoke - SO HERE WE GO!
Sadly, the tag list is closed to do us reaching the 50 people mark! I never thought that I’d get there though with my story! So thank you to every one of you for making that happen! 
Like always, comments, questions, concerns, likes, and reblogs are always appreciated! Love you all &lt;;3 
Your beanie had started to itch. You had needed it outside due to the cold weather, but now that you were in the car with the heat cranked, it was starting to get a little too warm. As you pulled up to the red light, your hand quickly yanked the hat off. Not to your surprise, your hair was sticking in all directions. That’s ok, you could fix it before you walked into the house. The light turned green, and you had to remind yourself that this was a regular car, on a regular street. Not a hybrid-engine-ran rocket ship that exceeded 300 kilometers per hour on sweet Grand Prix asphalt. 
This year, you had finally accepted Arthur’s invitation for Christmas. Earlier, you had done Christmas morning and afternoon with Max, Kelly, and Penelope. It was everything you could have wished for. And now you were going to spend the rest of the evening with your best friend and his family. You were a tab bit nervous. Sure, you had met them on a handful of occasions, but you tried not to get too close. They were always at grand prixes for Arthur, not you. 
You glanced at the presents that were stacked on the passenger side. The most important one, however, was placed in a bag on the floor. You were not about to let that fall over and possibly break. You knew it was made to be sturdy, but you couldn’t be sure. Arthur had given you the gate key. You pulled up to the little black box and pressed the numbers. You rolled your eyes as you realized that it was just Charles’s and Arthur’s racing numbers squished together. 
Arthur had also reminded you that Lorenzo was not going to be joining due to him being at his wife’s family’s for the holiday. That was one less person to impress you had told yourself. 
You pulled into their driveway and parked your car. It was not as impressive at Charles’s custom 488 Ferrari Pista Spider. It wasn’t as if you were almost drooling at the sight of it. Knowing yourself, you’d probably be too scared to drive it to actually enjoy it. Max also had a Ferrari, maybe he’d let you drive it. 
In a parking lot and not exceeding 5 kph. You snorted. Yep, that was Max. 
You did however, have your eye on two special cars. But you wanted to wait a bit before purchasing. You Pinterest board was full of different ideas, but you had to be careful. Maybe Christian could help you out with purchasing. You technically hadn’t bought this car, it was a gift from Lorenzo. You wouldn’t trade it for the world, but it might be nice to have more than one car. Besides, multiple drivers had multiple cars. You’d just join their ranks. 
Juggling the presents, you walked to the front door and pressed the doorbell. Your face was hardly visible over the tops of the boxes. The door opened and a familiar voice sounded. 
“Mon Dieu, let me help you.” Presents were being taken from the big stack. 
“Thank you Charles.” You prided yourself on being one of the few people who could recognize the difference between Arthur’s and Charles’s voices. He didn’t reply as he took the presents farther into the house. You followed him through the door and toed off your shoes. Your eyes caught all the lights and decorations in the house. Growing up, you didn’t have such things. Your family always said that being in karting was always going to be your present. Nothing more, nothing less. There were no cookies for Santa and no tree to decorate. 
As you walked more into the warm house, the decorations just kept getting better. Where Max’s house was decorated by Kelly who like a clean Christmas aesthetic, the Leclerc household leaned towards the warmer decorations. The lights didn’t necessarily match and flickered colorful light. The stockings weren’t the same color: they showed personality that matched their owner. Even the ornaments weren’t all from the same container. You found Charles staring down at the presents that he had taken from you. 
“Who are these for?” he turned his head to look at you. 
You snorted, “They’re for your family.” His eyes widened as he rubbed his chin. 
“You didn’t have to.” 
You only shrugged as you began to take off your coat, “I felt like I did. You all have been so kind to invite me here on a holiday that I couldn’t come empty handed.” Charles gestured for your jacket and you gave it to him. 
“You can look around some more if you’d like to. Arthur and maman will be back from the store soon.”  Your cheeks heated at the thought of him catching you ogling at his home. You shook the thought away and looked at everything a little bit closer. 
Like all homes seemed to have, there was a wall filled with picture frames. Some were of each child; some had the full family. It was nice to see all 5 of them together in the center one. You cocked you head at one of them though. You all but tiptoed to get a closer look. It was one of Charles and Arthur, and then an unfamiliar but familiar man stood between them. 
“That’s Jules. If you were wondering.” 
You jumped in place, not noticed that he had snuck up behind you. You looked over and saw that a sad smile had graced his face. Arthur had told you little about him. Charles and Lorenzo would always have been much closer to him. 
“I met him once. During karting,” you trailed off. Charles raised his eyebrows. 
“Really?” It seemed as though the breath had been knocked out of him. 
You gave him a comforting smile, “Yeah. My race was right after yours. I think it was back in 2010,” you looked back at the picture, “and you won that day. I watched him cheer for you like he was the proudest person there that day. He was in a racing suit and had a helmet. I thought that he had come straight from a race or something. But, I only remember wishing that I had someone there for me like you had.” 
Charles now had a guess as to what day that was. He vaguely remembered finally beating Max and feeling so happy. But, he didn’t remember Jules having a helmet. He took the picture down so that the two of you could look closer. It was definitely not taken the day that you were talking about, but the way you talked about him intrigued Charles. He gave you a head nod, silently saying to continue. 
“That day, I also won my race. It hadn’t been the easiest, but the boys were too busy pushing each other off that they didn’t even notice me. I was able to overtake and win. The boys though, weren’t the only ones who didn’t notice. My parents weren’t around when I looked for them. I must have turned around so many times, just trying to find them, but I never did. I had taken my kart back to my station when someone tapped me on the shoulder. He scared the ever-loving crap out of me, but he held my shoulder and told me that I did a great job.” 
Your eyes were slightly watering at the confession. Charles just continued to look at you. 
“I knew who he was. He was the man who always cheered for the Justin Bieber look-a-like who liked to push a certain Dutchman off the track, into a puddle, and claim it was just an inchident.” Charles snorted. 
“I did not look like Justin Bieber.” 
“Whatever floats your boat.” He gave you a look. “American expression. Anyway, after he said that he gave me a hug before my dad came stomping over, complaining about something, I don’t even remember. But all I know is that he made my entire day. My godfather wasn’t able to visit that much or come see me race. So, it was nice to have someone in my corner, even if they weren’t truly there for me.” 
Charles hung the picture back on the wall. The two of you stood there for a quiet moment before Charles spoke up. “How’s your godfather?” 
You inhaled sharply. “He died in 2020. Caught some illness in 2018 and wasn’t able to recover.” 
It broke Charles’s heart to hear you talk about it so nonchalantly. 
“Does Arthur know?” 
You nodded your head. “He caught me crying the first year of his anniversary. Made me spill the beans about what happened. He thought he needed to go beat someone up.” You let out a wet chuckle. When did you even start crying? Looking at Charles, you saw that he was crying too. You continued, “Lorenzo, he, uh, died the day before I debuted in F2.” 
Memories hit Charles like an 18-wheeler. That was you? He remembered that most of the F1 drivers had been invited since the F1 and F2 races were so close together. Hell, even Max was given the opportunity to give the winner the trophy. He remembers watching you dominate that race. He watched you offer that trophy to the sky. He saw a hunger that he hadn’t seen in a long time. 
He finally spoke up, “You were incredible.” 
“Thank you,” you paused before adding, “he’d be proud of you. Jules, I mean.” You looked back at the picture and how it seemed right at home amongst the others. 
“Lorenzo would be proud of you as well.” You flashed him a grateful smile, full of teeth. He mirrored, dimples prominent. 
You threw your head back and laughed. Charles cocked his head. 
“What’s the matter?” he barely got out as he began to laugh as well. 
You poked his cheeks, “You and Thur have the same dimples.” Charles rolled his eyes and ruffled your hair. You pouted. “Rude.” 
He was about to reciprocate but the sound of the door opening caught the two of yours attention. Charles quickly pushed you into a dark room. You gave him a confused look before he put a finger to his lips. You smirked back and stayed silent. 
Pascale walked in first followed by Arthur. Charles greeted his mother and then brother. 
“I saw Y/n’s car in the driveway. Where is she?” Arthur looked around the house. 
“She went to the bathroom, but hasn’t come back. I think I scared her off,” Charles faked a sad look.  
Arthur flashed a comforting smile to his brother. “I’ll go find her. Hopefully she didn’t fall in or something.” That almost made you laugh. 
Arthur flipped on the lights to the hallway. This was your chance. He barely got past the doorframe before you jumped out onto him. 
His squeal echoed through the room, laughter following it. In your grand scheme, you had accidentally fallen on top of him. Your giggles continued as Arthur tried to push you off. He finally gave up after a few moments. You knew you probably looked ridiculous, but honestly you didn’t care. You swear you heard a click of a camera, but you disregarded it. 
“Are you done?” Arthur sarcastically asked. 
“No, I’m actually quite comfortable. Thank you for asking though,” you smirked. After a few more moments later, Arthur quickly rolled you off and got up. You let out a huff before making grabby hands at him. He rolled his eyes and pulled you up. 
You were finally able to greet Pascale. She brought you into a hug and did the two kisses. You reciprocated. It came naturally after being teammates with Arthur for so long. You smiled at the memory of him doing it to you for the first time. He was so embarrassed after until you calmed him down enough to say that you didn’t mind. You knew it was a part of his culture and that he shouldn’t feel embarrassed to do so. 
“Thank you for inviting me.” You shot her a shy smile. She rubbed your back before exiting the hug. 
“There is no need for thanks. Arthur has been begging for years.” A noise of protest rang through the air. 
“I have not.” 
“Non, it’s true. He has.” Charles looked at his brother. Arthur had a look of betrayal that sent you spiraling into another laughing fit. 
By the time you were finished, Arthur gave you a look. 
“Where’s you Christmas sweater?” You looked down at the one you were wearing. You thought it looked just fine. It was a nice dark green and Kelly had complimented you many times. 
“I thought this looked nice?” You were beginning to doubt. Maybe you couldn’t do this Christmas thing. 
Arthur shook his head before disappearing down a hallway. 
You glanced at Charles and whispered, “I ruined it didn’t I?” You looked down at your feet. 
“Non gosse, you didn’t ruin anything. Just look.” You looked back up and saw that Arthur now had another sweater in his hands. (translation : no kid)  
“I can’t believe I forgot to give you this. Sorry Y/n, we normally wear ‘ugly’ Christmas sweaters to celebrate. The one you have on is fine, but this is the Leclerc celebration now.” He all but shoved you towards a bathroom so that you could change. You slipped the other dark green sweater on after you took off your first one. 
The front made you laugh. It wasn’t ugly per say, Arthur must have toned it down for you. On the front was the Grinch. It was actually kind of cute if you thought about it. You folded your first sweater and walked out. Now you noticed that Charles’s had a bright orange sweater with a gamer Santa on it; Arthur’s actually lit up; and Pascale had a cute one with a reindeer on it. 
When he noticed your return, Arthur’s arms shot up. “Now you look festive!” 
“How long did it take you to find that one TurTur?” You motioned your finger up and down, pointed at his sweater. 
His arms crossed protectively around it as he let his jaw hang. “I’ll have you know that this is imported.” 
You gave him a bombastic side eye. “Sure.” 
Pascale clapped her hands, “Picture time by the tree!” 
You kind of awkwardly stood there as she took pictures of the two boys. You warmly smiled as she gushed over the two of them. You made your way to the kitchen and picked up two bottles. Were these alcoholic? You squinted at the label. 
“Y/n!” You froze and looked at the family of three. Arthur was snickering. 
“You know you’re not allowed to drink yet.” You rolled your eyes. 
Charles shot you a mischievous smile. “Gosse, come, we’ll send a picture to old Maxy. Maybe give him a heart attack.” 
You smirked back as you walked with the two bottles. You posed in front of the tree with the glasses on either side of you. The four of you laughed as you set them down. You wanted to make a run for it, as to not ruin the pictures, but Pascale insisted that she wanted one of the three of you. 
Your heart swelled as she took a picture of you in the middle of Arthur and Charles. She also insisted to get one of just you and Arthur. Your cheeks heated as you caught her muttering about a picture to show your kids one day. You only hoped that Arthur hadn’t heard. 
He did and his heart soared at the thought. 
Once the pictures were done, everyone was able to have a few snacks and drinks, yours of course being non-alcoholic. 
Then it was time for the presents. The thing you were worried about the most. You soon found yourself seated on the floor in a half circle. Pascale was the only one in a chair, but you didn’t blame her. The boys were the ones to pass out the presents. To your surprise, you had received three presents. Your eyes wanted to water, but you blinked the tears away. 
They all opened the ones from you first. 
Arthur lit up like a Christmas tree (pun intended) when he saw what you had gotten him. The two of you had been shopping earlier in the year, when you had come across a watch shop. Arthur had wanted to buy a specific one, but was heartbroken when they said that they were sold out. But, while Arthur was having a crisis about it, you secretly asked to be put on the waitlist. They had said that they couldn’t be 100 percent that you’d get one, but there was no harm in asking. 
Surprisingly, when you got back for a small break, there was a package from the store waiting for you. You had also taken it to another watch store to have something added. 
“Turn it over,” you whispered, scared of his next reaction. He inhaled sharply at what the engraving read. 
January 25, 2020 – Best Friends for the Rest of Our Live, Keep at it TurTur! 
Arthur quickly clamored over to you and wrapped you in a deep hug. Again, you heard the sound of a camera, but dismissed it. 
Next Charles opened his. It wasn’t as sentimental as Arthur’s but you tried your best. Before hand, you had asked what type of jewelry Charles likes. You knew he was a ring and bracelet guy, but had rarely seen him with a necklace. So, you got him a simple one that he could wear with any outfit. 
He thanked you with a warm smile. 
Pascale was very happy with hers. Knowing that she had a hair salon, you googled many gift ideas for her. But every sing one of them to come up was always a pair of scissors. Wanting to do better, you did some more digging. Finally, you decided on one of those fancy circle vacuums that moves by itself. You knew how your back hurt after sweeping up a floor. You couldn’t imagine how her’s might feel. She also gave you a hug. 
Now it was your turn. 
The first present was from Arthur and it had you in tears. There in a rectangular box was a new pair of Lightning McQueen crocs. 
“You know this is like my third pair right?” 
He only nodded, “Yes, but are those pairs signed by Lightning McQueen himself?” Your eyes bulged as you turned them over. 
You were expecting Owen Wilson’s signature, but when you read it, you laughed even harder. There on the bottom, in fancy script, was Charles’s signature. You looked over at Charles as you wiped your eyes. 
“I’m honored sir.” 
Charles rolled his eyes, and touched his heart, as to accept the thanks. His present wasn’t as funny, but it was appreciated. You guessed that Arthur had told him what your favorite restaurant was because his gift was a hefty gift card. Your eyes widened when you saw the total. 
Pascale’s was very sentimental though. In her present were multiple pictures in frames. Some you noticed that she must have gotten from the internet or had Arthur reach out to Vito. The one that made you tear up was one of the last pictures taken of you and Lorenzo. Your smile was so bright as you held you trophy. You were looking into the camera, but Lorenzo was looking and smiling down at you. Your fingers traced his face. 
You placed the pictures down and brought her into a giant hug. After you were done, you wiped your eyes, overcome with emotion. Arthur clapped his hands to bring everyone’s attention to him. You almost jumped out of your skin. 
“All right, party time!” He raised his arms and started to walk toward the kitchen. 
Your eyes widened as you remembered something. “Wait!” 
The three of them stared at you. You inhaled. 
“I have one more thing. For all three of you.” They looked at you with a puzzled look. You walked over to the counter where you had placed the black bag that you came with. You gestured for them to come over. 
Arthur cocked his head, “Y/n, why’d you bring a helmet bag? We swapped helmets already.” His accent got thicker as he got more confused. 
You shook your head slightly as you let out a shaky exhale. You carefully started to unzip the bag. It was true, what Arthur said. The contents were a helmet. 
“Gosse, is this your new helmet for next year? It’s very outdated and I don’t think this is safe, ” Charles questioned, confused as to why you’d bring a helmet to Christmas. 
However, Pascale let out a gasp as her eyes danced over the helmet, now in your hands. She put her hands to her mouth. She had recognized it immediately. 
“Is this?” The rest of the question went unsaid, but you knew what she was going to say. You nodded you head and handed it to her. She turned it around, expecting all the angles. She let out a wet laugh as she carefully and slowly handed it over to Charles. Arthur stood close, looking at it as well.
“Arthur, before you got here, I was telling Charles of how I was able to meet your godfather,” you started. “And I wanted to tell you how thankful I was for his encouragement. I knew that he had come straight from a race, because he was still wearing his suit and he carried a helmet.” 
Charles made a confused face, “But he didn’t have a helmet. His hands were both empty, because he caught Arthur when he ran over to him after he showed up.” You could tell that his mind was trying to connect the dots.
“Well. He wouldn’t have had the helmet,” you trailed off. Arthur’s head shot up. 
“Because he gave it to you,” Arthur finished. Charles inhaled sharply as he looked over the protective gear in his hands. 
Pascale had come close to you, a hand around your shoulder that rubbed up and down, trying to give some comfort. 
The two boys looked as if they were going to cry. Charles let Arthur hold it. 
“How? Why?” Charles questioned, tears threatening to fall. 
“Well, I thought it had gotten destroyed or thrown away. I left it at my parent’s house, and when I told them I was moving out for reasons, they didn’t react well.” You didn’t want to give too much away. “I was sure that they were going to burn all of my things. But, I went back to see just in case. I was mostly correct; except they didn’t touch my closet. It was hiding in the back behind some clothes.” You remembered crying when you found it, holding it close for comfort. It had been one of the few things that you took from the house back to your apartment in Nice. 
“I also wanted to bring it back, where it belongs.” 
Charles glanced at you and then the helmet between Arthur’s fingers. “But, he gave it to you. You need to keep it.” 
You shook your head. “Jules told me to keep it safe and to hold onto it for safe keeping. I always thought that I’d be able to give it back to him one day. I guess this is the closest thing I can do.” 
Arthur gave the helmet back to his brother and walked over to you. You looked into his big blue eyes, filled with tears. Unable to hold back, he tucked his face into your neck, holding you tight. You squeezed your eyes closed, tears falling down your cheeks. 
You knew that Arthur always felt bad about not being as close to his godfather, like Charles and Lorenzo had been. He had been 15 when Jules died, and you always wished that the family had had more time with him. Pressure was added on your other side. Looking over slightly, your eyes caught sight of Charles’s brown hair. You managed to put your other arm around him. You held the two brothers close, your heart melting. 
Is this what a family is supposed to feel like? 
Max’s family was a different dynamic. Yes, they enjoyed hugs and being close, but it wasn’t like this where you could hold each other for hours. Well, maybe Max would let you, he was so overdue for a giant group hug.
Arthur couldn’t get over the fact that you were so close. He hoped that you didn’t hear his heart racing. He’s waited this long; he can wait a little longer. His tears had dried up, but he never wanted to let you go. Your heart was too big and too fragile for anyone else to have it. But here you were, opening it up to his family. He couldn’t have asked for someone better to hold your place in his heart. He could only dream that you held him close to your heart, as he did with you to his. 
You would never tell him, but you did. 
Charles on the other hand could not stop the tears. He wondered how long you had waited. Shy, quiet you. Before this, he had seen you a couple of times before with Max at the beginning of the break. He’d often run into the two of you shopping or getting groceries. You’d always find a way to give a small wave, before turning to do something else while Max talked to him. He wondered what was so special about you. Max, in all his life, had never looked at something as he looked at you. It was different than the way he looked at Kelly. Heck, he even looked a Penelope differently. Charles had rolled his eyes a few more times than he’d like to admit whenever Arthur would bring you up in conversation. But now, as you tried to comfort him and his brother, he finally understood. You were the family that they were missing. 
Pascale watched as the three of you broke your little hug. Smiles adorned your faces as you held the other close. She wished Lorenzo would have been here to meet you. She had a feeling that he and Charlotte would like you, as her other two sons did. 
Their little celebration started moments after, the helmet at the center. Your smile never left your face for the rest of the night. You were sad that they didn’t let you sneak in one sip of the bottled drink. 
“It’s probably not even good,” you told them as you took a sip of your drink. 
“Y/n it is good. We French know what good alcohol is,” he took a sip. You raised an eyebrow and smirked as you saw Charles gawk at him. 
“Arthur, you are not French,” you watched as Charles put an arm around Arthur’s neck. You were quick to grab his drink so it wouldn’t stain the carpet. “Yeah Charles, drag his ass!” 
Arthur held out a hand, dramatically going down. “My best friend betraying me for my brother. Could this day get any worse?” 
“Charles, you should have heard all the times he said that he was French when we would do videos.” You smirked evilly at the two. 
“Y/n! You weren’t supposed to tell him!” 
“Arthur, how many times to I have to tell you? WE ARE NOT FRENCH, WE ARE MONAGUESQE!! 
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ATTENTION: TAG LIST IS CLOSED
1K notes · View notes
disneyprincemuke · 3 months
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bother figures * fem!driver
being the designated baby sister of the grid by default is never as easy as you think it would be
pairings: alex albon x fem!driver, max verstappen x fem!driver, george russell x fem!driver, lando norris x fem!driver
warnings: ugh annoying men
notes: this is hardly funny but like i've had to take inspiration from my bother-less life rn so i'm like rly going through it rn LMFAO and it's almost 5am here but as far as i'm concerned, it is night time somewhere so teCHNICALLY i'm not late to an update!
(series masterlist) | (📂 the rookie season)
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in the almost empty room, she sits in the corner seat as she taps away on her phone a message to reply to her siblings' group chat. she had arrived early for the driver's briefing and decided to take solace in the corner with a cup of hot chocolate.
she was enjoying the peace and serenity with the soft chatter in the background as she tried to lock herself in for the race weekend. that was until she felt a presence looming behind her with an aura she couldn't possibly ignore.
she slowly lifts her head up with a mean glare. she turns her head and meets max's blue eyes and sly grin. "what'cha doin'?"
she puts her phone on her lap as a scowl replaces her dead expression. "what do you want?"
"what are you doing?"
"does it hurt you when you see me and like... not do anything to annoy me?"
"yes, actually. i like talking to you."
"i just wanted to talk to ciara."
"now you can talk to me."
"but i don't really feel like doing that."
"why not? i'm here in front of you and not behind a phone screen. where's ciara?" he looks around, then at her with a beaming smile. "oh, would you look at that? not here."
"because she isn't an f1 driver."
"still not here to talk to you and provide you the joys of interacting with somebody face to face."
"max."
"(y/n)."
"times like these i remember you've got a younger sister."
"what's that got to do with anything?"
"you've mastered the practice of being annoying growing up, obviously. you're such a pro at it."
"how can you say that?" max cries, hand on his chest to feign hurt over her words. "i'm not annoying. please take that back!"
"you realise you made me stop my conversation with my lovely sisters because you saw me sitting alone."
max reaches out and pinches her cheek, grinning when blood rushes to her cheeks. "you were just looking a little lonely. just wanted to make you feel a little accommodated to, that's all."
she stares at him, lips pressed together. "okay, that's actually pretty sweet. i kinda feel bad now.”
“and you should!” max frowns, folding his arms over his chest. he leans back into his seat and rests one leg over the other. “you’re mean, you know?”
“i’m an oldest sister.”
“i’m an oldest brother.”
“i have three younger siblings that made me wanna shave my head bald.”
“that’s kinda crazy.”
“i know,” she sighs tiredly. but she smiles slightly. “but it’s kinda nice. with oscar and logan taking over those responsibilities growing up, we never had a moment of boredom at home.”
“cute!” max smiles. “if i lived with you growing up, you might’ve actually run away for good.”
“i could run away for good now if you’d like.”
“seb wouldn’t like that.”
“you’d have to deal with it. i’ll leave a note on my team’s fridge with your name on it.”
“you need to put the reason underneath. if not, your team will think you’re just naming the most handsomest driver on the grid,” max shakes his head in disappointment. “don’t wanna give off the wrong idea, you know?”
“if you say ‘handsomest’, it doesn’t need a ‘most’ before it,” she says, lips parted slightly at the atrocious grammar. if there’s one thing she can’t stand, it’s most definitely the reigning world champion making simply grammar mistakes. “you should get more sleep.”
“i do! i slept like 10 hours last night!”
“somehow i find that hard to believe with the bags under your eyes.”
“what are you two bickering about?” a hand lands itself on the back of her chair. carlos stands next to her with one hand on his hip. “i could hear you from the hallways.”
“damn, you should really keep it down, max,” she chuckles, sending him a shocked look before she clasps her hands together and rests it on her stomach. “you’re too loud.”
“i’m sure he meant you. you like… swallowed a mic as a kid,” max scoffs. he looks up at carlos. “tell me she was louder than me.”
carlos sighs. “you were loud on the same level, i believe.”
"see? i told you."
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"you're moving in with logan?" alex's jaw drops, the tiktok video no his phone left to play on repeat as the younger girl dropped the news that logan's moving into her apartment. "mate, what?"
she looks up at him with a confused stare. "what?"
"i thought you said you didn't want people talking about you like that?" alex asks, raising an eyebrow. "people will definitely talk if you move in with a man."
she presses her lips together. "you've got a point, i suppose. but logan's my best friend. we've been talking about moving in together forever! since i was 15!"
"i'm just looking out for you, kid. you should really think this through," alex sighs as he slumps his shoulders. of course, he knows just how close she and logan are on a day-to-day basis. but people tend to be quite ruthless with women and he just can't see this going any other way. "you know how people are."
she sighs, shaking her head. "i don't know. i just don't think people would pay attention to that aspect of my life. i still deserve to make decisions that wouldn't be at risk of scrutiny, right?"
she takes a step forward towards alex. she hadn't exactly thought of the public implications that this would cause her. all she knew was that they'd talked about this for years and were ecstatic when logan shyly brought up their conversation from years ago.
"that's the basic that we all hope for," alex frowns. "but you know how people are. you've seen how they treat you just being here. imagine the chaos."
"maybe i'll just keep it under wraps and hope for the best," she suggests with a small smile on her face. "that could work, right? i don't wanna have to put down something i spent forever talking about."
"if you can keep it under wraps, i applaud you," alex smiles, slinging an arm around her shoulders. "and i thought you've had enough of men - why are you still moving in with one?"
"to save money, really," she smiles. "and with kidnapper and stubby at home... i think living with another person is best."
"but doesn't logan like dogs more?"
"yeah, but kidnapper's taken a very weird liking to him. he doesn't wanna admit, but i know logan really likes kidnapper a lot."
"typical logan, really."
"you'd be surprised how much feelings that loser's holding in."
"oh?" alex smiles mischievously. "tell me more?"
"nice try," she scoffs with an eye roll. "i'm not spilling the beans about logan's love life. that's lore you've got to unlock the longer you race with him. just hope he's feeling friendly enough to share, yes?"
"so true," alex frowns. "but what if he's not friendly enough? means you are my only source for material to piss him off with. so, 'fess up!"
"can't betray my best friend like that, i fear," she frowns. though, her smile grows slowly. "but i can be bribed."
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a scowl carves her face as she stares at the roll-in whiteboard with pictures held up against it with sesame street magnets. she sinks into the plastic chair she's given and tilts her head at the men gathered around her.
"and that's why i think you should get the same car as me," lando says simply, recapping the marker in his hands. he turns to her with a proud smile after his presentation.
her lips part. "so that we can matchy and..."
"and fuel rumours," lando repeats. "i'm involved in too little drama this year. it's always 'no wins' this, and 'no podiums' that... i want more."
"that's not a very good argument," she answers slowly, confusion contorting her face that almost makes alex laugh. "i said that i want an easy car, not a supercar. i've made that clear to almost everyone on the grid, yes?"
"yeah, but like," lando whines, throwing his head back as he stomps a foot into the ground. "seriously? you can't do this one thing for me? i'm asking you a favour!"
"to spend big money on a supercar i have to drive like it's made of glass!" she laughs dryly, hands thrown in the air in disbelief. she looks around at the men that have forcefully pulled her out of her garage and put her in this private room, in this plastic chair when she could've been taking a power nap. "is this what i'm here for? you lot are trying to convince me to finally purchase a car?"
"as per logan's request," alex shrugs, sipping on his juice box. "he said you've been putting it off all year. the season's about to end."
"and you listened to that nonce?" she cries, pinching the bridge of her nose. "you guys are absolutely unbelievable. i can't believe i'm wasting my time here!"
george, sitting next to her with a picture in hand, points at the whiteboard timidly. "i really put in a lot of thought about a car you should get," he says softly, looking slightly disappointed that she's caught on a lot faster than they predicted. "can i at least show it to you? i don't have to present."
"aw, george," she sighs, shaking her head. "it's not another supercar, is it?"
"it's not, i promise!" he perks up with a small smile on his face. he turns to lando with a small scowl. "only lando did this presentation with his best interests in mind. alex and i took the task seriously - just hear us out!"
she looks between george and alex, contemplating if the brit is telling the truth. instead of getting up like she had initially planned, she leans back into her seat. "fine. if it's anything like lando's, i'm leaving immediately. i don't care who has yet to present."
"but this ferrari looks so pretty," charles frowns, turning the picture in his hand to show it to her. "it's matte black and all. i thought we could match."
"that is also a supercar."
"he's presenting last, so i really don't care what he says," george mutters, shoving lando away from the whiteboard. he picks up a big bird magnet and pastes his picture between lando and max's proposal. "so, i think you should get this super cute toyota car."
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wildwheezy · 1 month
Text
that should be me ✧ s.r.
spencer reid x fem!reader
[2.0k] summary: on a night out with the team, you find yourself bothered by spencer's newfound female attention
The bar was buzzing with loud music overhead and conversations between strangers. The lights were dim, casting a warm ambiance around the room as people ordered drinks, danced, and chatted with those around them. You scratched at the label on your beer bottle with your thumb as you looked around, eyes flitting from person to person, searching. You sat at a table over in the corner with Emily and Penelope, waiting for Spencer and Derek to return with the next round of drinks.
“Where the hell are Reid and Morgan?”
You glanced over at Emily, shrugging your shoulders, taking the last swig of your beer. They’ve been gone for almost thirty minutes. Your eyes scanned the bar again, searching for the familiar duo.
“Oh, I think I see them,” Penelope said, pointing toward the other end of the bar.
You shifted your gaze in the direction of her finger and felt your breath catch in your throat. Indeed, there they were. With two girls. Two very pretty girls.
“I am not surprised in the slightest,” Emily commented, shaking her head.
You didn’t pay much attention to the girl talking to Derek, instead staying focused on the brunette girl that was currently laughing at something Spencer said. She was on the shorter side, not even reaching Spencer’s shoulders, and was wearing a short purple dress that hugged her petite figure. You watched as she pushed her chest out, leaning in closer to him as he continued to talk, wide smile plastered on her face. Lord knows what he was even saying to her, probably something about the effects alcohol can have on the brain.
“That one girl is all over Reid,” Penelope pointed out.
“Yeah, don’t remind me,” you replied, voice tense. Then, “Do you think he looks into her?”
“It’s Reid. He probably has no idea that girl’s even into him,” Emily said, chuckling softly.
You shifted in your seat, uncomfortable with the situation occurring across the bar. Your lips tugged down in a frown, a displeased expression growing on your face.
“I mean, yeah, but do you think he’d like... go home with her?” you asked, twisting your empty beer bottle between your hands, trying to sound nonchalant.
Emily and Penelope shared knowing looks at that. They could read you like a book.
“It sounds like someone’s feeling a little upset that boy wonder’s attention isn’t all on her tonight like it usually is,” Penelope teased, eyeing you across the table. Emily hummed in agreement.
Your mouth dropped open, heat rising to your cheeks. “His attention is not always on me,” you defended weakly.
“Oh, bullshit,” Emily laughed. “We’re like chopped liver to him whenever it comes to you.”
Your relationship with Spencer was…a little complicated, to put it simply. You weren’t exactly together, but there was something between the two of you. It was kind of an unspoken thing. There was an obvious attraction there, but neither of you were brave enough to actually act on it. So, instead, you skirted around each other with flirtatious comments here and there and fleeting, accidental touches. You two were always wrapped up in each other, like you were in a bubble that shielded you from the outside world. Nothing has ever happened, though, despite how much you would like it to. It was almost painful, how much you wanted him.
You glanced back over at Spencer, watching him laugh with his new companion. They looked closer together than they were two minutes ago, and you felt your heart sink in your chest. “I guess he’s switching it up for the night,” you sighed, feeling defeated.
You technically weren’t even together, so you shouldn’t feel as hurt as you do, but you couldn’t ignore that twisted feeling in your gut.
Penelope frowned at you. “No, kiddo, don’t think like that. Try not to read too much into it, I’m sure he’s just being nice.” She reached over to rest her hand on your arm, trying her best to be comforting. “Besides, she’s not even that pretty.”
You side-eyed her. “Yeah, right,” you scoffed.
Penelope winced. “Okay, maybe that was a lie. But still, there’s no way he’s into her like that.”
“Yeah, that boy only has eyes for you,” Emily reassured, giving you a soft smile.
You appreciated your friends’ effort to make you feel better, but it was hard to believe them when he was still across the bar with this new mystery girl. “How come he’s still talking to her, then?”
“Okay, now you’re just torturing yourself. Let’s try to not focus on where Reid is and what he’s doing and go dance instead.” Penelope stood up from the table abruptly, tugging on your arm for you to do the same.
You hesitated, unsure. “I don’t know, Pen.”
“C’mon, it’ll keep you distracted,” she reasoned, voice sing-songy.
“Fine,” you said reluctantly, slowly standing up from your seat. “I’m gonna need a drink first, though.”
“Say no more. You coming, Em?”
Emily was already standing before she finished her sentence. “Of course, I am. What kind of question is that?”
________
Penelope was right: dancing was the perfect distraction. You were about four drinks in now, feeling the rhythm of the music and rocking your body in tune to it. Your clothes were starting to stick to your body, the air around you hot and thick as you moved with the people around you. You had no idea if Spencer was still with that girl but you hadn’t really thought much about it, not while you were feeling this good.
And so what if he was? Yeah, sure, it bothered you, but you really had no place to pass judgment given your current situation with each other. He was free to do whatever, and whoever, he wanted. Even if you hated it.
You downed the rest of your drink, twirling around to face your friends to let them know you needed another one. Penelope and Emily held their own drinks up in response, signaling that they were also ready for another round. You nodded then maneuvered your way through moving bodies, careful not to bump into anyone, and walked over to the bar. 
It was crowded, making it a challenge to get the bartender’s attention. You stumbled a little where you stood, feeling the effects of the alcohol more now that you were no longer dancing. You looked around trying to see if you could spot Spencer or Derek, but no luck. You tried to ignore the sinking feeling in your stomach as your mind started to wander about where Spencer could be. He probably left with her. 
A hand touched the small of your back, causing you to startle and drawing you back to the present. You quickly turned, catching a glimpse of the culprit who caused your heart to jump into your throat. Your eyes roamed over the familiar tall figure, tilting your head up to meet his eyes. Relief flooded your body as you realized who it was.
“Jesus, Spence, you scared me,” you said, slowly regaining control of your breathing. 
“Sorry,” he chuckled. His hand played with the thin strap of your shirt, fixing it from where it was sliding off your shoulder. “Where have you been? You’re all sweaty.” 
“Oh, uh,” you started, pointing over to where Emily and Penelople were. “I was dancing.”
The corners of his lips tugged up in an amused smile. “You? Dancing? Who’s idea was that?”
“Hey!” you exclaimed, teasingly elbowing him in the ribs. “I’m a good dancer.” 
His eyebrows raised, giving you a look that clearly meant he didn’t believe you. “In your dreams, maybe.”
“Shut up,” you said playfully, slightly offended. Your face dropped then, remembering why you were dancing in the first place. You turned away from him and back toward the bar, finally close enough to order your drinks. “So…where’s that girl you’ve been talking to all night?”
Spencer reached a hand up and rubbed at the back of his neck: a nervous habit of his that you've picked up on over the years. “I think she left. I told her I needed to get back to my friends.”
“Wow. I can’t believe you blew her off, she seemed like was all over you,” you replied, trying your best to keep your tone even. 
“She was nice, just…not really my type,” he said, shoving his hands into his pockets. 
“No? Why were you with her for so long then?” you asked, a hint of jealousy laced throughout your voice.
Spencer shot you a questioning look at that. “Are you okay? You seem…off.”
“You study behavior for a living and that’s the best you could come up with? That I seem off?” His eyes widened at your response and you sighed, regretting your choice of words. “Sorry, that was mean.”
You felt his hand on your arm, pulling you away from the bar and over toward the table you all were at when you first got here. 
“What are you doing? I need to get the drinks,” you protested, pouting. 
“The drinks can wait. What’s going on with you?”
You avoided eye contact with him, instead looking down at your shoes, focusing on the scuff mark near your big toe. “Nothing,” you mumbled. 
His fingers brushed along the underside of your jaw, tilting your chin upwards to look at him. “It’s not nothing,” he said softly. “Talk to me.”
It was hard not to give in with those brown eyes staring into your soul. You could fight him off as much as you wanted, but you knew you would cave eventually. You reached up to grab at the hand on your chin, pushing it away, and confessed, “It bothered me…seeing you with her.” You’re not even sure why you told him that, but you blamed it on the liquid courage currently flowing through your veins. Stupid alcohol. 
“Why?” he asked. 
You looked at him, pleading. “You know why.” 
“I know, but I wanna hear you say it.”
“Spence,” you whispered. You doubt he even heard you with all the noise around you.
As much as you would love to tell him how much he means to you and what you feel for him, it was too hard. Like telling him would ruin the cute, flirty bubble you two found yourself in a majority of the time. And what would the team think, if you two were to actually get together? How would that affect the dynamic between all of you? It was just too risky, and you weren’t sure if you were ready to take that leap. 
But then again, fuck it. 
Your eyes searched his before you reached forward and grabbed his face with both hands, surging up to crush your mouths together. Your lips slotted against his, letting out a sigh as his hands wrapped around your waist to pull you closer. Every thought you had in your head vanished, completely focused on the man in front of you. One of your hands slipped back to tangle in his hair as you explored his mouth, stomach tingling with the sensation, feeling warm all over. 
Hesitantly, Spencer pulled away, a sound of protest slipping from your lips. His chest was moving up and down, eyes hooded as he looked down at you. He opened his mouth to say something, but you beat him to it. 
“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that,” you said, breathless, smiling up at him. 
“You should’ve done it sooner.” He grinned back at you, brushing a strand of hair out of your eyes and behind your ear. “And just so you know, I haven’t been interested in anyone but you for a very long time.”
A blush rose to your cheeks, warming your face. “Yeah?” 
“Yeah,” he affirmed, nodding. 
“Good.” You leaned up to press a quick kiss to his lips, soft and gentle. “Wanna get out of here with me?”
“Absolutely. I’ve wanted to leave since we first got here,” he said, face completely serious. 
You chuckled at that, grabbing his hand and leading him out of the bar. This is not how you anticipated your night ending, but you really couldn’t complain. 
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