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papayainsectorone · 2 months ago

Text

ice baths

summary: Though young and still learning, Kimi’s natural stamina and desire to prove himself lead him to push boundaries

content: 18+! smutty smut smut smut (consider this a warning), nsfw descriptions, fingering, no protection

word count: 5,5k

pairing: kimi antonelli x fem!oc

a thought: I....I just don´t know what to say about this, i just finished writing this 30 seconds ago when Kimi came up on TV for a pre race interview in Miami on his fucking scooter and ... this feels illegal haha enjoy

The physio room was quiet, humming with low fluorescent lights and the soft, rhythmic hiss of massage oil being pumped from a dispenser. Kimi sat on the edge of the treatment table, shirtless, hair still damp from his earlier run, cheeks flushed from exertion—or maybe something else. Something he was trying not to make too obvious.

Sergi, his physio, tilted Kimi’s head carefully to the side, stretching his neck.

Kimi groaned.

"Can you already prepare the ice bath?" Sergi asked, glancing your way.

“Uh—yeah. Sure.” You blinked, caught off guard. Not by the task. By the sound Kimi had just made.

You turned away quickly, cheeks warm, pretending the ice machine required your full concentration.

Still, you felt his eyes on you again.

You smiled. Subtle. Just enough to let him know you noticed. Just enough to invite him to keep looking.

He blushed. Fully. Bright pink down to his collarbones.

God, he was a boy.

But a very, very pretty one.

“It’s done,” Sergi finally said, clapping Kimi lightly on the shoulder. “Ice bath. Four minutes.”

It wasn’t the first time you'd been in the same room like this. You’d been shadowing under Sergi all week, watching training sessions, prepping hydration, tracking recovery metrics. But this—this had been happening from day one.

Kimi had been looking.

And not the fleeting, dismissive glance most teenage boys gave when they saw someone cute. These were longer. Curious. Almost confused—like he couldn’t quite figure out how you ended up near him.

When you glanced over your shoulder, his eyes dropped instantly. Guilty. Caught. Adorable.

You stepped aside as he walked toward the tub. He looked at it, then at you. Then back at the tub.

“You staying?” he asked, voice low.

You raised an eyebrow. “Should I not?”

“No, I mean—yes. I mean… it’s cold,” he mumbled, reaching for the waistband of his training shorts.

You leaned back against the bench, arms crossed, watching with more interest than you meant to show. He hesitated, then slid the shorts down, revealing tight black boxer-briefs underneath.

Nothing left to the imagination.

He caught you looking.

His ears turned red.

But you didn’t look away.

Kimi exhaled and stepped into the tub, arms braced on either side. The water hit his thighs and his whole body jumped. “Shit,” he hissed, his fingers tightening around the edge of the plastic.

“You’re not going to die,” you teased, walking over and crouching beside the tub.

“Easy for you to say,” he muttered, trying and failing to play it cool. “You’re not sitting in ice water in your underwear.”

Your eyes drifted down to where the waterline just hit his collarbones. His abs were tight, trembling slightly, his legs visibly tensed beneath the surface. His jaw clenched and unclenched.

Then he said it. Quiet. Not even fully confident.

“Maybe you can… help me warm up again in a minute.”

He looked stunned the second the words left his mouth. Like he hadn’t even meant to say them out loud.

Your lips twitched. “Oh?”

His eyes flicked to yours, uncertain—but he didn’t take it back.

You tilted your head, crouched beside the tub, one hand resting lightly on the rim near his. “That’s a bold request, Antonelli.”

Kimi laughed—awkward and breathy. “Was it?”

“You tell me.”

He looked away for a second, eyes flicking toward the door like he was checking if Sergi might walk back in. But you both knew the physio wouldn’t return until the timer beeped.

“No one’s stopping you,” he muttered.

Your smile deepened, and your fingertips brushed the edge of his hand where it gripped the tub. Just the smallest touch—but he stilled under it.

“So you want help warming up,” you said softly, watching him squirm beneath the question. “That’s new. Weren’t you blushing two seconds ago because I looked at your legs?”

He didn’t say anything.

Just looked at you.

Really looked.

Like he didn’t know whether to make a joke or let something real crack open between you.

You leaned a little closer, enough for your voice to drop. “You think I haven’t noticed the way you stare, Kimi?”

His throat bobbed with a swallow. “It’s not just staring.”

“No?” you asked, voice sweet. “What else is it, then?”

He shook his head slightly. “I dunno. Just—whenever you’re around I forget what I’m meant to be doing.”

You bit your lip.

That earnestness. That teenage honesty that slipped past filters. He didn’t even realize how much he was giving away.

Your hand ghosted along his forearm now, the water droplets beading and running where your fingers traced. “You always this distracted in cold baths?”

“Only when you’re next to me in tight leggings.”

You laughed—he made it sound innocent, but your stomach flipped anyway. Your fingers trailed back to his hand, slipping just slightly beneath his wrist. The contact was featherlight, but it sent a visible shiver up his arm.

He sucked in a breath. “It’s only supposed to be four minutes.”

You looked at the timer. “Still got two and a half.”

Kimi’s eyes dropped to your mouth.

You moved your hand again—now along his bicep, where his skin was warmer under the water. Your knees brushed the side of the tub, your body leaning in just enough to crowd his space without touching anything essential.

“You really cold?” you whispered.

He nodded, very slowly. “Freezing.”

“Hm.” You leaned even closer now, lips near his ear. “Poor baby.”

He tensed under the teasing, like the words hit lower than they were meant to.

Then he turned his face slightly, and you realized just how close you were—barely an inch between your mouths.

His voice was quiet, rougher now. “You’re not helping.”

You smiled. “Aren’t I?”

You didn’t kiss him.

Not yet.

But your thumb traced a slow, lazy line across his inner forearm, feeling his pulse skip under your touch. His boxer-briefs were soaked and clinging, the outline of him obvious now, impossible to miss even in the cold water.

He let out the faintest, helpless sound.

And the timer beeped.

You smiled and stood. “Four minutes. You’re done.”

Kimi stared up at you, dumbfounded.

You grabbed a towel and tossed it toward him, eyes glinting. “Dry off, Antonelli. We’ll see if you still need warming up once you’re not half-frozen.”

He blinked, grabbing the towel with wet fingers, his mouth slightly open like he had words but couldn’t figure out what to say.

You didn’t wait.

You turned and walked toward the locker benches—slowly, hips swaying just a little too deliberately.

And Kimi?

You could feel his eyes on you the whole way.

You didn’t make it far.

You’d barely reached the corner of the locker room when you heard the soft thud of wet footsteps behind you.

Then: “Wait.”

You turned—and he was right there. Hair damp, towel half-wrapped around his waist, droplets trailing down his chest. His face was flushed, pupils blown wide. And he looked like he’d made up his mind in the last five seconds.

“Kimi—”

But he didn’t let you finish. Just like last time.

His mouth crashed into yours with the kind of force that only came from pure, boyish urgency. He kissed like he couldn’t stop himself—messy, too fast, breathless—but god, it made your knees go weak.

You caught the edge of the lockers behind you to steady yourself, his hands still wet as they slid to your waist. He kissed like he’d been holding back for days. Maybe weeks. Maybe since the first moment your hands brushed while you passed him the resistance bands and he blushed so hard he had to look away.

You gasped when his lips left yours to trail down your jaw. “Kimi—slow down—”

“I can’t.” He mumbled it into your neck, kissing, biting just enough to make you shiver. “I’ve been thinking about it too much. I can’t slow down.”

His towel slipped as he pressed closer, his cold and damp and very, very hard against you. There was nothing shy about him now—not in the way his hands gripped your hips or how his thigh slid between yours, grinding just enough to make you gasp.

You let your fingers tangle in his hair, tugging gently. “You’re really not holding back.”

He looked up at you then, flushed and wrecked already. “I don’t know how.”

There was something so hot about the honesty. No games. No pretenses. Just a beautiful, breathless boy who wanted you badly and didn’t know how to pretend otherwise.

You kissed him again, slower this time, tongue teasing the seam of his lips until he opened with a soft whine. He groaned when you sucked his bottom lip, his hips rocking against yours instinctively. He was desperate, but trying—trying to make it good, trying to do something right even through the haze.

“Touch me,” he said against your mouth, voice cracking just a little.

You smiled. “Where?”

“Anywhere. Please.”

That please made heat coil deep in your belly.

Your hand dropped between you, brushing the towel aside completely, reaching in his boxers and when you finally wrapped your fingers around him—hot, already leaking, twitching in your grip—his knees buckled.

“Fuck,” he choked, hips jerking forward. “Sorry—I’m—fuck—”

You laughed softly against his neck, stroking slow and deliberate.

“I haven’t—I didn’t even—fuck—” He was panting now, forehead pressed to your shoulder. “I swear, I can go again. I swear.”

That only made you hotter.

You squeezed just slightly, thumb tracing the tip, and that was it.

Kimi whimpered and came.

Fast. Hard. All over your hand, your waistband, his own stomach. His whole body shook with it, face buried against your neck like he couldn’t stand to see himself lose it that quickly.

You held him there, gentle, fingers still trailing over his sensitive skin while he caught his breath.

“Shit,” he whispered again. “I didn’t mean—fuck, I didn’t mean to come like that.”

You cupped his jaw, made him look at you. “Kimi. You’re fine.”

He looked so embarrassed.

But also so wrecked. Eyes dark, mouth swollen from kissing, chest heaving.

“I can go again,” he repeated, almost pleading. “Give me like… two minutes. I swear. Just don’t—don’t leave.”

You grinned. “I’m counting on it.”

His breath was still ragged when he finally pulled back to look at you. His lashes were damp, cheeks still flushed, but his hands didn’t leave your waist. He held you like you might vanish if he let go.

“I didn’t mean for it to be that fast,” he said again, quieter this time. “You just… you’re so—”

You kissed him gently, interrupting whatever apology was about to come. “It’s okay, Kimi. Really.”

But he still looked like he had something else to say.

After a long pause, he asked, voice barely above a whisper, “Can I… touch you?”

Your heart thudded.

There was something about the way he said it—so shy, like the thought alone made his head spin, but he wanted to. Badly. And it wasn’t just lust. It was something tender in the way his fingers skimmed your hip, how he was looking at you like you were untouchable—but he still wanted to try.

You nodded slowly. “Yeah. You can.”

His eyes flicked up to yours, searching. “You’ll tell me if I do it wrong?”

You smiled. “There’s no wrong. Just start slow.”

His hands moved tentatively, reverent almost, as he slid them beneath your shirt. The fabric rose inch by inch, baring your skin to the cool air. He kissed your shoulder, then your collarbone, lips soft, like he was still trying to prove he deserved to be this close.

“You’re so soft,” he murmured, almost like he didn’t mean to say it out loud.

You helped him tug the shirt off, and when your bra followed, his breath caught. He stared like he couldn’t believe you were real, his hands hovering like he didn’t know if he was allowed to touch.

So you took them, guided them to your chest.

And he groaned—actually groaned—when he felt you.

His thumbs brushed your nipples, watching your face as if every reaction you gave was a gift. And when you moaned softly, his eyes fluttered shut, like that sound alone could undo him all over again.

“You’re gonna kill me,” he whispered.

You leaned in, nipped his jaw. “Only if you stop.”

He didn’t.

You could now understand why they called him the wonder child in Formula 1.

Because even now—barely out of breath, cheeks still pink, hands a little shaky—he was learning. Fast. Not confident, not exactly, but observant. Focused. Like he was reading you in real time and adapting with every tiny shift in your breath, every gasp that escaped your lips.

His fingers were unsure at first—slightly clumsy, like he didn’t know whether to squeeze or stroke—but he watched your face like it was the telemetry screen of a quali lap. Every whimper you gave him, every arch of your spine, he adjusted to it. Like he couldn’t not try to be better at this too.

When his mouth dipped to your chest, his lips were soft and hesitant. He kissed there like he was still convincing himself it was okay—that he was allowed to taste. But when he drew one nipple into his mouth and you let out a sharp gasp, his confidence grew. His tongue circled, tentative at first, then firmer, guided by your breathy “yes, just like that.”

He smiled against your skin.

That little bit of feedback clearly went straight to his ego.

Still, his hands drifted lower, down your stomach, fingers brushing the waistband of your leggings. He looked up at you again, flushed and slightly wild-eyed. “Is this okay?”

You nodded, and he took that permission like a green light.

He tugged them down slowly, revealing more of you, eyes flicking down and then back up like he was making sure he didn’t miss a thing. When his fingers slipped between your thighs, he sucked in a breath.

“God…” he murmured. “You’re—wow.”

You laughed, breathless. “Not much of a compliment, but I’ll take it.”

“No, I mean—” he looked up, lips parted, eyes dark, “I’ve never—this is... crazy.”

But still, he didn’t hesitate.

His fingers explored, tracing slowly, learning what made your legs shift, what made you grip the edge of the bench. At first, too soft, then a bit too fast, but every time you moaned or murmured something back—“slower,” “right there,” “don’t stop”—he adjusted. The way he focused on your reactions made your head spin.

And when he finally found just the right rhythm—just enough pressure, just the right spot—you swore under your breath, and his jaw clenched.

“I’m doing it right?” he whispered, breath catching.

You let out a soft, broken laugh. “Very right.”

His grin was a little crooked, a little boyish—and full of wonder. He kept going, fingers slick and steady now, one hand bracing on your thigh as the other worked you. The trembling in your legs only seemed to make him more determined.

“Tell me when,” he said, voice almost reverent.

And when your hips bucked and your back arched—when you came undone on his fingers—he looked like he’d just won a Grand Prix.

You were still catching your breath, your thighs trembling around his hand, when you felt him stiffen—really stiffen. Not just his fingers now, but all of him. He was still inside you, slow and gentle with his movements, but something about the way you clenched around him—reflexively, instinctively—sent a visible jolt up his spine.

His lips parted like he was about to say something, but then he exhaled sharply through his nose, eyes fluttering closed. "Merda…"

He shuddered.

Just a small squeeze, a shift in your hips, and you felt it—the unmistakable way he tensed and gasped, like someone had pulled the air from his lungs. His forehead dropped to your shoulder for a moment, and his fingers stilled inside you.

“Cazzo…” he muttered, voice tight and ragged. “I—I —”

You blinked, and then realized. His boxers were soaked at the front. Still tight around his hips, but dark and damp now where he’d just—

He looked up at you, horrified and flushed. “I didn’t— I mean, I didn’t even—shit.”

You bit back a grin. He looked devastated, like he’d just crashed into a wall at turn one.

“Kimi.” You touched his face, gently.

He looked up at you like you’d just handed him a lifeline. “It’s not okay. I didn’t even… I didn’t get to do anything for you.”

“You did,” you said with a soft smile, squeezing his wrist where his hand still rested between your thighs. “Very much.”

His mouth opened, then closed. He looked utterly lost.

You leaned closer. “Besides,” you whispered, brushing your lips over his cheek, “you’ve got stamina, right?”

His eyes lit up, like something in him clicked. His breath caught as you kissed just beneath his ear.

“I… I do,” he said, more to himself than to you. His voice cracked a little, but his eyes held fire now.

He sat up straighter, jaw tight. “I can go again. I want to go again.”

And this time, there was no hesitation in the way he reached for you.

His mouth crashed into yours, all teeth and heat and desperation. You barely registered being lifted and eased back until your shoulder blades hit the narrow locker room bench. It wobbled beneath you, squeaking faintly against the tile, but the way he gripped your hips left no room for second thoughts.

He shoved his boxers down just enough to free himself—already hard again, thick and flushed—and lined himself up with a breathless groan. One deep thrust and he was inside you again, filling you so suddenly you gasped.

The stretch made your eyes flutter, but there was no time to settle into it—he was already moving, fast and rough, hips snapping with a kind of urgency that bordered on frantic. The bench rocked under both of you, and his hands tightened on your thighs like he was holding on for dear life.

“Fuck,” he hissed. “Too good, it’s—fuck, I’m not gonna last—”

You could feel it. He was right there on the edge again, the way his rhythm stuttered, how his thighs trembled against yours. But you weren’t there yet—your body straining for more, that tight coil inside you still winding, aching.

“Kimi,” you gasped, grabbing for his wrist. “Touch me.”

His eyes snapped to yours. Understanding hit in a rush, and he didn’t hesitate. One hand slid between your bodies, fingers slick with sweat and your arousal, and found your clit.

The moment he started rubbing—messy, desperate, but exactly what you needed—it hit you like a wave. You arched, cried out, everything tightening as the orgasm slammed into you, hard and sudden. Your body clenched around him, and that was it.

He came with a broken sound, hips jerking deep inside you as he spilled into you. Hot. Endless.

Neither of you moved for a moment. Just panting. Trembling.

Then reality hit him.

“Wait—fuck—” His voice cracked. “I didn’t use a condom. Shit. I didn’t even—”

You opened your eyes to see him staring at you, wide-eyed, breath shallow.

“I didn’t mean to,” he said quickly, his hands shaking. “I wasn’t thinking—I just—” He swallowed hard. “Are you on anything? I should’ve asked. Shit.”

You reached for him, found his face with both hands, and gently pulled him down until your foreheads touched.

“I’m on the pill,” you said softly, steadying your breath. “It’s okay.”

He blinked, stunned. Still braced above you, his chest heaving.

“I mean it,” you whispered. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

His face twisted—relief, guilt, awe, all crashing into each other—but he nodded. “I just—fuck. I don’t usually lose control like that.”

You smiled faintly. “Maybe you needed to.”

A beat passed. Then, slowly, he pulled back.

And when he did—when he slipped out of you, both of you still so wet, so raw—his breath hitched.

He stared.

Your legs were still open, thighs trembling, and his cum was already starting to spill from your lips, slow and thick, slicking down to the bench.

“Dio mio,” he whispered. His voice dropped to something low, reverent.

His fingers ghosted over your thigh, like he couldn’t believe what he was seeing.

“You’re…” He shook his head once, lips parted, still breathless. “You’re so full of me.”

You watched his face, the stunned hunger there. He looked like a man who’d just witnessed something sacred.

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suguann · 1 year ago

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Ex-husband!Gojo who doesn’t understand that the parents (mostly the moms who try to hide behind their giant sunglasses) at Mio’s soccer games talk, and he chooses today to pull you into his lap. Several sideways glances cast your way at how cozy you both must look as you watch your four-year-old daughter run in the wrong direction across the field because she got distracted by a butterfly.

He doesn’t hear what they talk about—aren’t they divorced? I’ve never seen anyone divorced act like that—or (worse) when they try to be subtle about their probing into Satoru’s dating life while you stand there with a stilted smile plastered onto your face.

(More than likely, he’s listened to every word and doesn’t give it the same amount of thought or care as you do.)

“Gojo,” you hiss, trying to move off his lap to no avail. “I have my own chair.”

“Can you still call me that if it’s your name too?”

A huff. “Go bother somebody else—”

“Shh,” he tells you, tugging you further against his chest. “You’re missing the game. Mio’s finally found her way back onto the field again.”

“But everyone’s staring at us.” You catch the eye of a mother tearing into a pack of fruit snacks.

“So? Let them stare.”

Everyone starts cheering, and you both watch Mio chase the ball down the field, her little body ducking between the taller kids.

“That’s my girl!” Gojo shouts over the other parents.

And then Mio kicks the ball into—

The wrong goal.

“Maybe we should have let her join t-ball,” you whisper, though you both clap as your daughter starts doing not-quite cartwheels in the middle of the field.

Ex-husband!Gojo who still does work around the house every Friday, and to your dismay, shirtless now that the weather is warmer.

The plate in your hands has a few scuffs, half of a cartoon character’s face scrubbed off to oblivion that Mio will have something to say about later. Doing everything to stop from staring out into the yard where he’s mowing the lawn because the window is right there, above the sink, to tempt you.

It’s difficult when his chest glistens with sweat from the early-summer heat and how those stupid gray cotton shorts (that you know he picked out with the sole purpose of torturing you) sit dangerously low on his hips—

He looks towards the kitchen window, a crooked smile stretching across his lips. The blood rushing to your brain, that must be what makes you give a sudsy wave and cause heat to creep into your middle.

Ex-husband!Gojo who strolls into your room while you’re putting away laundry one afternoon, and unsurprisingly shirtless as he crowds you against the dresser. Front to back. His mouth at your ear.

That steady resolve you pride yourself in crumbles at your feet, and you swallow the tiny, helpless sound working its way up your throat. A slippery thing that slips out. “Satoru…”

“You know, these little shorts were always my favorite,” he tells you, his fingers playing with the elastic waistband.

“Were they?”

“Don’t you remember? Couldn’t get them out of the way fast enough.”

Your mouth is dry, something playing in a loop in the back of your brain. Early morning, breakfast cooling on the stove, crumbs stuck to your cheek, these shorts dangling off the leg propped up on the counter—

“Where’s Mio?”

A kiss to your nape, a knowing smile. “Taking a nap.”

Ex-husband!Gojo who works your shorts and underwear off your legs before pulling you to the edge of the bed.

“Satoru, we—we can’t keep doing this—”

Your words trail off into a moan when he slaps your clit with the leaky tip of his cock, and wet sounds echo in the room.

“Yeah? Go on, baby,” he tells you, slowly splitting you open, stuffing you full, two puzzle pieces slotting perfectly into place like it should be (how it’s always been). “Tell me some more why we can’t keep doing this.”

You can’t, not with how he’s filling you up in the way only he knows how. Not when he hooks two thick fingers into your mouth because you’re getting too loud, pinning you against the bed with your cheek buried into your pillow, every sound choking into nothing.

You wriggle underneath him, fingers clawing at the comforter and your back arching.

“Christ, look at you,” he growls, leaning over you, teeth bared. “Fucking look at you. You needed this, didn’t you?”

Ex-husband!Gojo who presses what leaks out back inside you with his thumb after he pulls out, wet and sticky circles between your legs until you fall apart again with a soft cry. His thumb is there again, at your entrance, pushing and stopping like a plug, muttering something under his breath that sounds like, “Can’t waste it.”

And quieter, “Maybe it’ll take.”

(Who knows?

Maybe it will. Worse things have happened.)

Ex-husband!Gojo who stays for dinner for the fourth time that week, and none of the reasons have been because Mio asked if he could. It’s more about the fact that you’ve enjoyed how whole your family feels again, that you can pretend for a moment this is what you do every night.

(How it was probably always going to come back to this.)

That your wedding ring doesn’t sit in the back of your sock drawer, and his isn’t tucked away in his wallet. That you don’t feel guilty when you think about saying I love you or wishing he’d stay longer—

“Daddy, you gonna lose,” Mio tells Satoru as Mario Kart appears on the screen.

“We’ll see,” he laughs, tugging on one of her pigtails until she’s giggling and swatting his hand away.

You lean back against the couch, watching them with a small smile you share with Satoru over your daughter’s head.

#gojo satoru smut #gojo smut #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo imagine #jjk drabbles #jjk x you #jjk fic #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #fem!reader #.things i write

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myderis · 5 months ago

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on second thought ꒱ mydei 'n fem reader ᰔ fluff ⊹ word count 0.4k

The crowned prince of Kremnos 'MYDEIMOS' and also the warrior of Okhema 'Mydei’, or ‘Dried pomegranate’ as you like to call him is an undying pain in the ass.

“Do you ever think before you do anything, Princess?” he asks mockingly, once again wielding your title like a weapon while you’re draped over his shoulder as if you are the lightest thing in the world, completely at his mercy as he walks away from the remains of dead Titankins. To him, this is another mindless warm-up as he saves you from trouble almost daily. “Oh, I am so wholeheartedly sorry… Apparently, I can’t go for a walk without my hero,” you retort, that sweet voice dripped with sarcasm and arrogance but he only smirks, further fueling your annoyance.

When you both arrive at the Okhema bathhouse, you’re greeted by Aglaea, Tribbie, and Phainon. The three of them stop dead in their tracks, surprise flashing across their faces as they take in the sight of you still perched indignantly over Mydei’s shoulder. Normally, you and he can’t stand to be in the same room together, or at least that’s the lie you both cling to. Despite your constant bickering, they’ve noticed the threads that bind you. Quite literally, in Aglaea’s case. Though blind, she can sense the golden strings connecting your hearts and just then Tribbie grins.

“You two should marry already!” she exclaims, clapping her hands together when Phainon chuckles in agreement. “She’s not wrong. Someone needs to keep him grounded,”

“What!? Us? Married?” you stammer, turning your head just enough to glare at the divine heroes, still hanging awkwardly over Mydei’s shoulder. Your cheeks burn as your heart pounds uncomfortably in your chest. Mydei, as usual, handles the situation with his signature exasperation and denial. “Don’t be absurd, Deliverer. Even a god driven mad wouldn’t suggest something so ridiculous,”

Lady Aglae clears her throat, ushering Tribbie and Phainon away to attend to other matters, leaving the two of you alone with the silence that makes you question your life choices. You can feel Mydei’s grip tighten before, without any warning, unceremoniously dumps you into the steaming bath. Letting out a scream as water splashes everywhere. Hair soaked, you feel it cling to your face, obstructing your view until his fingers brush it aside.

For a moment, his fiery and intense gaze softens and you swear you can see your reflection in his eyes as both of your faces lean closer and closer, your chest tightens, and your breath hitches, until … “On second thought,” he murmurs leaning back into the water with that same smirk, “I wouldn’t mind spending all my life with you.”

Your heart skips a beat, and for once, you're at a loss for words.

#❝ MEMENTO MORI !#❝ SFW !#❝ MYDEI'S MEMENTO !#honkai star rail x reader #mydei x reader #honkai star rail x you #honkai star rail fluff #hsr x reader #hsr x you #hsr fluff #mydei x you #mydei fluff #hsr mydei #honkai star rail #hsr #amphoreus #mydeimos #mydeimos x reader #hsr amphoreus

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tokkiwrites · 6 months ago

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game show host!joel miller x contestant f! reader ▪︎summary: it's the late 1970s, and you're fresh out of college. for your graduation gift, your parents got you a special ticket to be part of your favorite game show, 'Love Jive'. They didn't know you didn't like the show itselfㅡ but it's smooth talking MC, Joel Miller. ▪︎tags: pwp, age gap (pretty hefty one), super flirty joel, shy/lovestruck reader, afab!reader, pet names galore!!, p in v (unprotected), mirror sex kind of, slight breeding kink, creampie, joel kind of has an innocence kink idk.

▪︎this has been sitting in my drafts for two months now. Hopefully, you enjoy this short and silly 2.45k words one. There is no plot for it honestly, just thought it would be a cute concept. maybe a series might come from it. Who knows? anyway!!! love ya!!

It was the summer of 1979, and the air felt heavy with possibility. You were fresh out of college, diploma in hand, and ready to take on the world—or at least that’s what you told yourself when your parents asked what came next.

Their graduation gift to you? A surprise ticket to Love Jive, the hottest game show on TV. You’d tried to hide your awkward smile when they handed it over, the envelope sparkling with glitter that matched the show’s logo. What they didn’t know was that it wasn’t the show’s ridiculous premise that had you tuning in every week.

It was him.

Joel Miller.

The man was a legend, smooth as honey and twice as sweet. The way his Texan drawl slid over those ridiculous love-related catchphrases? You swore it had ruined you for men your own age. He had to be at least twenty years older than you, but that salt-and-pepper hair, that sly smile, those broad shoulders stretching under his velvet blazer? They didn’t make men like Joel Miller anymore.

So here you were, standing nervously behind the curtain in the Love Jive studio.

“Contestants, ready?” a stagehand called.

Your stomach did a flip as the warm-up announcer's voice boomed through the speakers. The audience clapped and cheered, the excitement infectious. Before you could second-guess yourself, the curtain lifted, and the stage lights bathed you in gold.

And there he was.

Joel Miller stood center stage, microphone in hand, looking like he owned the room— and maybe he did. That million-watt smile lit up his face, his dark eyes sweeping the contestants before landing on you. He did a double take so subtle you almost missed it, but when his smile softened just a fraction, your heart skipped a beat.

“Well, well, what do we have here?” His voice rolled through the air like warm molasses, drawing chuckles from the crowd. “Looks like we’ve got ourselves some fine contestants tonight. Y’all ready to find love and maybe a little bit of fun?”

The audience erupted in cheers, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to join them. Not when Joel Miller was staring at you like you were the most interesting thing in the room.

“And what’s your name, darlin’?” Joel asked, pointing the microphone toward you.

You blinked, mouth suddenly dry. “Uh—uh, it’s—” You blurted out your name, voice cracking slightly. Joel chuckled, low and smooth, his dimples deepening as he grinned. “Well now, ain’t you just the sweetest thing. Y’all hear that? Even her name’s cute as a button.”

The crowd ooh’d and ahh’d, but Joel’s gaze stayed locked on you.

“Tell me, sweetheart,” he drawled, leaning ever so slightly closer, “what brings a lovely little thing like you to Love Jive? Lookin’ for romance? Or just here for the spectacle?” Heat bloomed in your cheeks, and you prayed the lights were too bright for anyone to notice. “Um, I—I guess you could say both?”

Joel’s eyebrows lifted, and his grin turned downright wicked. “Both, huh? Well, darlin’, I can promise you this much—you’re in for one hell of a show.” The crowd roared their approval as Joel winked at you, leaving your heart thundering in your chest. You’d come to Love Jive expecting to admire Joel Miller from afar. You hadn’t counted on becoming the center of his attention.

And as the game began, one thing became crystal clear: Joel wasn’t just hosting tonight. He was playing a game of his own— and you were the prize he had his sights set on.

Fast forward to the 15-minute commercial break.

The knock on the door came firmly, pulling you out of your flustered thoughts. You glanced at the mirror, smoothing down your blouse and trying to will away the redness on your cheeks. “Come in,” you called out, voice trembling slightly.

The door creaked open, and in stepped Joel Miller, the man of all your desires.

The sight of him so close took your breath away. He leaned casually against the doorframe for a moment, his dark eyes settling on you. His smile, warm and teasing, was the kind that made you feel like you were the only person in the world. “Well, there you are,” he drawled, his voice like velvet. “Thought I’d come check on you, see how my favorite contestant’s holdin’ up.” You blinked, trying to find your voice. “Oh, uh—fine! I’m fine,” you stammered, your hands twisting nervously.

Joel stepped fully into the room, closing the door behind him with a soft click. The dressing room wasn’t large to begin with, and his presence filled it completely, making the space feel even smaller.

“Fine, huh?” he said, leaning against the vanity, his arms crossing casually over his chest. “Can’t blame you for bein’ a little flustered. All those lights, all those people… and me.” His grin turned teasing, his gaze dropping to your lips for the briefest moment. You laughed nervously, shaking your head. “It’s not—I mean, you’re not—”

“Sweetheart, relax,” Joel interrupted, his voice a low chuckle. “I’m just messin’ with you.” His eyes softened, and he tilted his head. “But if I’m bein’ honest, you’ve got somethin’ about you. That’s got me wonderin’ if maybe I’m the one a little flustered tonight.”

Your heart skipped at his words. “Me?” you asked, disbelief clear in your voice. Joel’s grin deepened, his dimples on full display. “Yeah, you,” he said, his voice dropping slightly. He stepped closer, his hands sliding into his pockets. “Pretty little thing like you walkin’ in here, lookin’ all sweet and innocent, got every man in the audience wishin’ he was sittin' in my shoes tonight.” You felt like your face might catch fire. “I don’t think that’s true,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper.

Joel reached out, gently lifting your chin so you had no choice but to look at him. His hand was warm and firm, his thumb brushing lightly against your skin. “Well, I do,” he said softly, his dark eyes holding yours. “And I don’t say things I don’t mean, sweet girl."

You swallowed hard, your breath hitching as he leaned in just slightly, his voice dropping even lower. “I was thinkin’... maybe once this show wraps up, you and I could get outta here. Go somewhere quiet. Just you and me.” Your pulse thundered in your ears, and you felt dizzy under his gaze. “You mean… like a date?”

Joel chuckled, the sound rich and deep. “Exactly like a date,” he murmured. “What do you say, sweetheart?” You nodded before you could overthink it, your shy smile breaking free. “I’d really like that.” Joel’s grin turned downright wicked. “Good,” he drawled, his hand sliding to cradle your cheek. “’Cause I’ve been dyin’ to do this all night.”

Before you could say another word, Joel leaned in and kissed you. His lips were warm and sure, moving against yours with a perfect mix of confidence and tenderness. You felt your hands instinctively grip the vanity behind you, your knees going weak as his other hand settled lightly on your waist.

The kiss lingered, soft and sweet, but with just enough heat to leave your head all dizzy. When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested lightly against yours, his thumb brushing over your cheek.

“Damn,” he murmured, his voice rougher now, “even better than I imagined.” You couldn’t help the giggle that bubbled out of you, shy and giddy all at once. “You imagined kissing me?”

Joel grinned, pressing a quick, playful kiss to the corner of your mouth. “Oh, I imagined far more than kissing you, darlin’. Hard not to when you look at me the way you do.” Your heart felt like it might burst, but before you could respond, a sharp knock sounded at the door. “Mr. Miller, we’re back in two!”

Joel sighed dramatically, giving you a wink as he stepped back. “Guess I better get back to work,” he said, his tone light but his eyes still lingering on you. “Don’t go runnin’ off after the show, y’hear? I’m not done with you yet.” You nodded, still too flustered to form a coherent sentence. With one last smirk, Joel turned and strolled out the door, leaving you breathless.

The show had ended in a blur of applause, flashing lights, and the announcer’s booming voice thanking everyone for watching. Contestants and crew mingled briefly as everyone prepared to leave. You’d just stepped to the side of the stage when one of the other contestants, a bubbly blonde in a bright orange jumpsuit, sidled up to you with a knowing smile.

“Well, well, well,” she teased, nudging you with her elbow. “Looks like you really got Mister Smooth swooning all over ya.”

You blinked, startled. “What? No, I don’t think—”

“Oh, honey,” she interrupted with a laugh, crossing her arms. “Everyone could see the way he was devouring you with his eyes. I swear, I was worried he might forget the rest of us were even there.” Your face went hot, and you shook your head quickly. “You’re imagining things.”

“Sure,” she said with a wink, already walking away. “If by ‘imagining things,’ you mean watching him look at you like you hung the moon. Enjoy it, sweetie. A man like Joel Miller doesn’t come around every day.”

Her words echoed in your head as you made your way back to your dressing room. Closing the door behind you, you exhaled deeply, desperate for a moment to collect yourself. The quiet was a relief after the chaos of the show. You slipped out of your stage outfit and into the dress you’d brought for afterward. A soft yellow dress with bell sleeves, a cinched waist, and a flowing A-line skirt covered in a delicate floral print. It felt like something out of a sunny dream, and you hoped it might give you a touch of the confidence you sorely lacked.

You were smoothing the fabric over your hips when the door opened without warning.

“Oh, wow.” The single word made you whirl around. There he was. Joel Miller, standing in the doorway. His tie was loosened, his shirt collar slightly unbuttoned, and his dark eyes were locked on you. “You’re gorgeous,” he said, the words leaving his lips like a breath. Your cheeks warmed instantly, and you managed a shy smile. “Oh, it’s just… just a dress,” you murmured, brushing your hands nervously over the skirt.

Joel stepped inside, closing the door behind him as he approached. His gaze was unwavering, taking you in like you were the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

“Just a dress, darlin’,” he said, his voice low and rough. “But you could be wearin’ a paper bag, and you’d still be the most beautiful thing in the room.” You opened your mouth to respond, but nothing came out. Joel stopped in front of you, lifting a hand to gently cup your cheek. His thumb brushed over your skin, his touch warm and steady.

“Fuck it,” he muttered, more to himself than to you, before closing the space between you.

His lips met yours in a kiss that was anything but hesitant. Where the earlier kiss had been soft and tentative, this one was sure, filled with hunger and intent. His other hand found your waist, pulling you closer as his lips moved against yours with a passion that made your knees weak.

You couldn’t think, couldn’t speak— only feel. His touch, his warmth, the way he held you like you were something rare. “Been thinkin’ about doin’ that since the first time I saw you,” he admitted, his voice rough.

You let out a breathless laugh, your hands clutching the lapels of his jacket for balance. “You’ve kissed me twice tonight, Joel,” you teased, your voice trembling slightly. Joel grinned, his dimples making an appearance. “Yeah, I have a soft spot for sweet girls like yourself. ” he said before pausing shortly. “And if you’ll let me, darlin’, I’d be doin' a lot more than kissing you.”

Stopping him was the furthest thing from your mind.

"I'll let you.."

Without thinking, you tilt your head up, meeting his gaze with a mixture of submission and maybe a little defiance. His eyes darken, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth, as if he's won some battle. " You're a good girl," he breathes, his thumb brushing the edge of your jaw. The contact sends sparks through you, and your skin burns where he touches. Without any hesitation, he spins both of you so that you are facing the large golden mirror above the counter. Joel groans, rolling his shoulders back as he bends you over the vanity, your hips snug in his grip. "God, you're so fuckin' gorgeous, angel."

you look down. "Please.." The man shakes his head and lands a hard smack on one of your asscheeks, making you yelp in the process. He takes his time pulling up your flowy dress, finally taking a look at your soaking panties, white with laced blue details. "Fuck, look at her." His calloused thumb makes contact with your clothed folds, dragging it up and down, in painfully slow circles. In mere seconds, you hear the material rip and then feel the flimsy undergarments fall on the cold tiled floor.

"What a pretty pussy." he mutters under his breath, undoing his trousers. he pulls them a bit down, enough for his manhood to spring free and slap against his covered bellybutton. you can see it all in the mirrorㅡ it's huge, to say the least. you gasp softly as you feel him drag the wet tip of it against your swollen bud, and you hide your gaze, head hanging low in embarrassment. this doesn't last long, as his rough palm grabs at your face pulling it up again. you're making eye contact with him through the lit up mirror and you see him shake his head. "No, baby. You watch while I wreck this pussy, understand?" you shake your head, agreeing, but that isn't good enough so he slaps your cheek with the back of his hand, lightly.

"Speak, sweetheart." you breathe out. "Yes, Joel." he drags the pulsing tip up and down, up and down as if he didn't make you wait long enough. truthfully you never wanted it to end, so maybe him teasing was his way of making sure this lasts. after he thinks its sufficient, Joel starts to push inside, and godㅡ your breath gets stuck into your throat, from the feeling laden with thorns. every prick of discomfort is soon replaced by an unexpected surge of delight.

Your tears fall down onto the surface under you, little moans gripping your throat as he slips inside further. "You're alright..." he assures you, asking you to surrender.

"Take it all. Atta girl, just like that..." he praises, lifting your hips a bit to get a better angle. Joel moves gently at first, each stroke hitting deeper within your core, the pain soon converging with ecstasy right as he alerts his movements. His hips dive down with force, one of his palms snaking up and wrapping itself tightly around your throat, assuring you see how good he's destroying you.

Your head was spinning, heart pounding, as his whole weight dominated over you. "That's it, little girl, look how tight she's suckin' me in." his thrusts are rough, each hit making your body bounce, the urgency as he hit that very spot each time. your whole insides burning, too cock drunk to talk or respond, other than some pathetic whines that perfectly accompanied the wet sounds your pussy made wrapped around him.

"Oh, god, please.." You manage. pulling at your hair, he starts chuckling. "Am I your god, baby? Ya like beggin'?" While thrusting relentlessly into you, jelly like legs barely holding you up anymore, your knees buckle. Feeling you tightening, the hand that was around your throat slips down to your clit, while the other makes you spread your legs wide again for easier access, this allowed you to take in a big gulp of air before you feel him deeper in your guts.

"Want me to breed this young pussy, huh? Fill you up with my babies? let people inside this roomㅡ let them film it for the whole world to see?" the room spins around you, vision blurry with tears and brain all fuzzy. you try your best to reply. "yes, oh, p-lease, please! "

"Go ahead." the man succeeded to say, between his breathy groans. "Thank you, thank you, oh god, thank you so much, Joel!" you cry out, praying to him whilst he keeps fucking into your pulsing cunt. The man buries himself into you as you come down from your high, body almost too limp to register your surroundings. then he slaps your ass, and watches you writhe under him. You looked perfect, like a carved our porcelain doll. With a few more snaps of his hips you feel he's close, his nails digging roughly into your skin as he finally paints your velvet walls with white ropes of come. "God fuckin'ㅡ!" you know that will leave bruises.

the dressing room feels sticky, and the mirror in front of you is all fogged up, but you can just barely make out your face, all tearstained and messy. You moan as he pulls out, the sudden feeling of emptiness leaving you shivering. Joel watches intently as his seed drips out of you, your body beautifully splayed out right under him like the most beautiful piece of art.

You're both quiet for a bit, before he breaks the silence. "You're still up for that date, little lady?"

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal smut #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal fanfic #joel miller fanfiction #joel the last of us #joel x reader #joel miller fic #joel miller x you #joel miller #pedro pascal fanfiction

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amirasainz · 7 months ago

Note

Hi queen. Can you please write for little alonso one, where she is still pretty young and mostly hanging out with the spanish speaking drivers (please include Franco♥️) and one of the others accidentally uses a english cuss word in front of her and she repeats it. Thank youuuuu.

Enjoy reading and send some requests!!!

-xoxo babygirl 💚

La Niña del Paddock

The Formula 1 paddock was always alive with energy, the hum of engines, and the chatter of mechanics filling the air. Today, however, it had an extra spark of excitement. Two-year-old Yn Alonso was in attendance, her tiny form dressed in a summer outfit and her hair in two braids.

Clinging to her father’s hand, Yn looked around the bustling paddock with wide eyes. She was shy, clutching tightly to Fernando's leg every time someone tried to say hello. Not that most of them could converse with her—she only spoke Spanish, and her vocabulary was still that of a toddler.

"Papá, quiero un jugo," she murmured, tugging at his hand. ("Papa, I want juice.")

Fernando crouched to her level, brushing her cheek with his thumb. "Después, mi amor. Ahora papá tiene que trabajar, ¿vale? Carlos te cuidará por un rato." ("Later, my love. Right now, papá has to work, okay? Carlos will look after you for a while.")

Yn pouted but nodded solemnly, her grip loosening as Carlos approached with a big grin. "¡Hola, princesa! ¿Lista para pasar un buen rato con el mejor babysitter del mundo?" ("Hello, princess! Ready to spend some time with the best babysitter in the world?")

Yn tilted her head, studying Carlos. “¿Eres mejor que Papá?” ("Are you better than Papa?")

Carlos laughed, scooping her up. "Por supuesto que no, pero soy el segundo mejor." ("Of course not, but I’m the second best.")

---

Carlos wasn’t alone in his efforts. Franco and Sergio often joined in, creating a small team of Spanish-speaking drivers who adored Yn. Today, as Carlos carried Yn through the paddock, they encountered Checo, who immediately lit up.

"¡Ahí está mi amiga pequeña! ¿Cómo estás, Yn?" ("There’s my little friend! How are you, Yn?")

"Quiero jugo," Yn replied seriously, causing both men to laugh. ("I want juice.")

“Ya veo que sabes lo que quieres,” Checo teased, ruffling her hair. "Ven, vamos a buscar uno." ("I see you know what you want. Come, let’s go find one.")

As they headed to the hospitality area, they ran into Charles, who, while not fluent in Spanish, had picked up a few phrases. He knelt to Yn’s level. "Hola, Yn. ¿Cómo… cómo estás?"

Yn hid her face in Carlos’s shoulder, making Charles frown.

"She is shy," Carlos explained with a shrug. "But you can try."

Charles smiled softly. "¿Quieres… jugo? ¿O… un helado?" ("Do you want… juice? Or… ice cream?")

At the mention of ice cream, Yn peeked out, nodding eagerly. "Helado."

“That was easy!" Charles laughed, standing up and joining the group as they searched for treats.

---

Other drivers began to notice how much time Yn spent with the Spanish-speaking contingent, sparking a mix of amusement and envy.

"Why does she never come to us?" Lando complained to Max, watching as Yn giggled in Franco’s arms.

"Maybe because she doesn’t understand you," Max replied with a smirk.

"But she’s so cute! Look at her little cheeks!” Lando exclaimed. “I want a turn."

“Good luck with that,” Max muttered, though he was secretly curious too.

---

Eventually, Yn’s circle expanded, and she found herself surrounded by other drivers who, despite the language barrier, adored her. George was attempting to teach her a clapping game, while Lewis showed her pictures of his dog Roscoe. Everything was going smoothly until Max stupped his toe and muttered a curse under his breath.

"Fuck," he said, slapping his thigh.

Yn, ever the sponge, tilted her head. "Fuck."

Silence fell over the group. George gasped, and Lewis froze mid-sentence.

"Max," Lando hissed. "What did you just do?"

“It wasn’t my fault!” Max said, panicking. “She’s too quick!”

"Fuck," Yn repeated, smiling as if she’d learned a new toy.

“Nonononono,” Charles said, rushing over. "Yn, don't say that. Es malo. Muy malo." (" It’s bad. Very bad.")

"¿Por qué?" Yn asked innocently, looking up at him. ("Why?")

Checo appeared just in time, his eyes wide as he realized what was happening. "What happened?"

“She heard Max swear,” George explained, flailing his arms.

Checo groaned. "¡Ay no! If Fernando finds out, we're dead."

---

Despite their frantic efforts to distract her with other words, Yn’s new phrase stuck. When Fernando finally returned from his duties, Yn ran to him, arms outstretched.

"¡Papá!"

"¡Mi niña! ¿Te portaste bien?" Fernando asked, lifting her into his arms. ("My girl! Were you well-behaved?")

Yn beamed at him, her tiny voice ringing out. "Fuck!"

Fernando froze. The drivers around them collectively held their breath, some looking ready to bolt.

Then Fernando threw his head back and laughed, a hearty sound that echoed through the paddock. "¡Eres toda una Alonso, mi amor!" ("You’re a true Alonso, my love!")

Checo wiped imaginary sweat from his brow. "We're saved…"

Fernando looked at the guilty group, smirking. "But if it happens again, you all will be to blame."

Yn, unaware of the chaos she had caused, snuggled into her father’s chest, content as ever. And the paddock? They had learned their lesson: don’t teach a toddler new words unless you’re ready to face the consequences.

#formula 1 #formula 1 x reader #xoxo babygirl 💋#little alonso #fernando alonso x alonso!reader #fernando alonso x daughter!reader #fernando alonso x reader #carlos sainz x reader #franco colapinto x reader #charles leclerc x reader #lando norris x reader #max verstappen x reader #dad!fernando alonso #alonso!reader

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evie-sturns · 1 year ago

Text

need you - Chris Sturniolo

summary: after a lot of convincing, you finally convince your best friend, chris, to take away your biggest insecurity. being a virgin.

contains: fluff, smut, needy!reader, gentle!chris, virginity loss, a lot of praise.

-----------------└── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──┘-----------------

i lay on chris's chest, as scrolls through his phone. my eyes fixed on his long fingers, swiping across his screen.

chris puts his phone down before looking at me. "y/n..." he speaks up with a small laugh,

i sit up off his warm chest, my back now resting against the headboard. "hm?' i hum in response,

"whats up with you?" he asks, fixing my hair.

"nothing." i fidget with my hands,

a lot was up, actually. my biggest insecurity is that i'm almost 21, and a total virgin. chris doesn't know this, the subject has never really been brought up between us. but i see him so often, and i've known him forever! it wouldn't hurt to ask him to take my virginity?

"i've known you for like- 6 years, i always know when somethings up." chris smiles, pushing my shoulder lightly.

"i'm okay- i promise." i laugh nervously.

chris stares at me blankly, his eyes roaming over my face. he knows i'm lying.

the silence grows as he waits for an actual answer out of me. i fidget with my bracelet, avoiding eye contact with chris.

"can i ask you something..." i whisper, finally looking up at chris.

"uh oh." he mutters,

"shut up- i'm trying to be serious" i scoff, chris reaches out and grabs both of my hands, holding them.

"you may talk to me" chris forces a stupid voice,

"you are such an idiot." i groan, throwing my head back.

"no- tell me!" chris cuts me off,

"okay, but you have to promise to not bully me forever- like actually if you say no to this i will rot away from embarrasment" i ramble,

confusion grows on chris's face by the second.

he nods, waiting for me to say something.

"im- i'm a.. you know?" i whisper,

chris shakes his head with confusion painted across his face, "a criminal?"

"no! a virgin- chris i'm a total virgin." i sigh,

"what does this have to do with me?" chris laughs, his cheeks a light shade of pink

"i want you to fuck me." i blurt out, clasping a hand over my mouth.

"what?" he responds, his eyes widening and his chest rising and falling dramatically.

"please..?" i whisper, avoiding eye contact with him.

he runs a hand through his hair,

"i don't want things to be weird between us y/n," chris states seriously,

"they won't be, it'll just be one time-" i protest,

"look- i think you're a very attractive young woman-" chris starts but i cut him off,

"you sound like my dad!" i whine,

he grabs my chin, making me look at him, "just listen- okay?'

i nod, he lets go of my chin.

"i want you to think if this is actually what you want- because i'm thinking that just is a desperation type thing." chris says,

"i'm not desperate, i just dont want to die a virgin!"

chris looks around the room,

"please- just one time?" i ask, he stays silent

"then we don't have to speak about it again- i just need you to fuck me once" i continue,

chris lets out a chuckle,

"what. is. funny!" i say with frustration laced in my voice,

"i never thought you would be begging for me to have sex with you" he grins widely,

i let out a laugh, "shush"

"c'mon- just teach me how to-" i ramble again, but chris cuts me off,

"okay- fine- lets just do it" he smiles, covering his face

i clap, "yay!"

he scoffs, "you're stupid."

"i don't care, so- where do we start?" i smile nervously,

he stands up off the bed and walks over to the door, locking it.

"um-- do you ever do stuff with yourself?" chris asks, walking over to me and standing above me by the bed.

"yeah." i reply, chris nods understandingly,

"like what?" he asks, i hesitate before answering,

“just stuff with my hands.” i say, fidgeting with my bracelet,

“okay- yeah that’s perfect! see your not a total virgin.” chris smiles at me,

i scoff as i sit up, cross legged on the matress as i wait for some sort of instruction.

“right- well.” chris stammers,

“you’ve done this before right?” i tease earning a flick from chris,

“obviously, i’m just not sure how you want to do this.” he rolls his eyes,

“i’ll do anything you tell me to chris.” i say, locking eyes with him.

“yeah?” he grins, reaching down and tugging up my shirt.

his long, cold fingers graze against my bare skin.

i feel the fabric of my shirt slide up off my body, leaving my in my dark red, lacy bra.

his eyes just roam over my body, his chest rising and falling.

“you’re really pretty, you know that?” he breathes out, tugging off his white wife beater.

i cover my flushed face with my hands, chris pulls my hands away from me.

“let me see that pretty face.” he praises, making my heart thump.

his hand snakes to the waistband of my sweatpants, he pulls them down my body, i lift my hips off the mattress for easier access.

he drags out each touch, his fingers just grazing over my bare skin as he runs his spare hand through his locks.

i lay bare on the matress below chris, the only thing covering me being my thin panties and bra.

“can i take these off?” he asks, tracing an outline along the outside of my panties.

“yes- do anything you want-“ i almost beg,

he tugs down my underwear, shoving them in his pocket nonchalantly,

“christopher!” i laugh, he shrugs cluelessly with a guilty smile.

“i better get those back.” i state,

“we’ll see.” he says under his breath,

he stares very obviously at my soaked core, i look at his crotch, which has a very obvious tent in it.

“so pretty.” he coos, finally reaching down and dragging his middle finger across my slit.

“oh chris.” i moan lightly with his feathering touch.

“so sensitive aren’t we?” he says with a smug smile,

i nod desperately,

chris removes his hand from me to tug down his black jorts, letting them pool at his ankles.

he tugs down his boxers,

my mouth falls open gently, my eyes fixed on his length.

he’s big, bigger than what i’ve ever seen in movies and shit.

my heart rate picks up, i sit up on my elbows.

“chris- chris that’s gonna hurt- that’s not gonna work-“ i panic, words frantically spilling out of my mouth.

he sits down on the matress beside me, clasping a hand over my mouth.

“you’re boosting my ego.” he laughs, taking his hand away from my mouth.

“no chris- actually that’s not gonna happen!”

he looks at me, a small laugh exiting his moth before he speaks.

“it doesn’t have to hurt, it might be a little bit uncomfortable because it’s your first time, but i promise that i’ll go super duper slow.”

god, the man who’s about to take my virginity just said ‘super duper’

“and if you want me to stop at any time we will stop, and take a break, then see if you’re still feeling up for it. if not then there’s always another day!” he smiles warmly, rubbing my inner thigh.

“yeah?” he follows up,

“yeah.” i nod eagerly.

he stands up, before tugging me to the edge of the bed, my legs dangling off the side of the matress.

he stands between my legs, rubbing my thigh continuously.

“you’re so gorgeous.” he sighs,

his erection rests against my thigh, making this all feel so real.

he reaches between my thighs and dips a finger inside of me quite suddenly.

i gasp, his finger is a lot longer than mine.

he curls it against a spot which is driving me crazy.

“just gotta stretch you out real quick.” he says to me,

it feels so wrong, so dirty. having my bestfriend of 6 years about to be inside of me, his words making me crumble. god- if he knew how long i have been wanting this he would kill me.

he slowly teases his second finger at my entrance before pushing inside of me slowly,

“chris-“ i moan lightly,

he bends over, hovering above me so our faces are face to face, so intimate.

my hand reaches up and grips his arm, squeezing it.

he scissors his fingers apart inside of me, stretching me around his hand.

“you- are so tight.” he breathes with a small laugh,

“can’t wait to feel you around my cock, already feel so good around my fingers don’t you?” he teases, i arch my back off the bed.

he slowly pulls his fingers out of me, “chris i wasn’t finished-“ i whine,

“shh- don’t want you to cum yet.” he smiles, wiping his fingers on my thigh.

he steps out from between my thighs, walking over to his bedside table.

“where are you going?” i pant,

he holds up a condom,

“no- i don’t want that.” i protest,

“we need it sweetheart, as much as i love you i am not getting you pregnant.” he laughs,

“i’m on birth control.” i state,

he looks at me, “oh- shit okay!” he bites back a smile.

he goes back between my legs,

“just gonna give you a little bit at a time, you tell me if it’s too much or too fast.”

i nod, he lines himself up with me.

i reach out and grip his his hand, holding it tight while his tip presses against my entrance.

i squeeze my eyes shut,

“look at me, take a nice deep breath for me okay?”

i suck in a sharp breath,

chris pushes inside of me,

his tip stretches my walls slowly, a pathetic whimper escapes from my throat,

jesus christ.

christopher sturniolo, my childhood bestfriend, is inside of me.

“good girl, fuuck..” he sighs, moving the stray bits of hair infront of my face away from me.

“you can take a little more, can’t you?” he breathes,

i nod, he pushes slightly deeper inside of me.

“oh chris- fuck!” i moan softly, squeezing his hand.

“taking me so well, so so good.” he praises, making me clench around him.

a low groan falls from his mouth as he pushes further, and deeper inside of me.

tears prickle in my eyes from the burning stretch, which chris seems to pick up on.

“hey- don’t get upset, you’re doing so good, you’re not a virgin anymore!” chris smiles

he pushes the rest of the way inside of me, “look at that..” he sighs, at the closed gap between our hips.

“you okay?” he says, wiping my watering eyes with a sympathetic grin.

“i’m- full.” i whisper with a small smile,

“i know you are, aren’t you?” chris grins, just resting inside of me, allowing me to get used to his length.

“can i move?” he asks, “yes- please chris.” i reply

he slowly rocks his hips back and forth, he hovers above my face, breathing heavily into my neck.

small groans and grunts fall from his mouth, straight into my ear.

after several thrusts the pain fades into pleasured

suddenly i feel chris’s lips connect with my neck, sucking on the plush of the skin.

he gradually starts to quicken his pace, “chris! fuck- fuck chris oh my god!” i arch my back off the matress

he reaches down where our bodies meet and brushes my sensitive clit,

“you feel so good, taking me so well.” chris mutters into my neck,

“you look so pretty with me so deep inside of you.” he whispers,

i grip his back, my nails running up and down his bare skin.

the intense pressure in my stomach builds with each thrust,

i look down, a clear stomach bulge is imprinted in my stomach.

that’s enough to tip me over the edge, i clench around him, finally releasing,

“good girl- so good, let it all go.” he says in between jolted breaths.

he thrusts a few more times before finishing inside of me, my eyes widen as i feel the warm sensation.

he stays buried inside of me as he flops down on my chest

his floppy hair rests on my face, as he buries his face in my neck.

i stroke his hair as i come down from my high, too stunned to speak.

“you’re so pretty.” he mumbles,

i let out a small flustered laugh,

“are you okay? not hurt or anything?” he mutters quietly into my shoulder

“i’m- good.” i giggle,

chris slowly lifts himself off of me before pulling out with a slick pop.

i groan from the emptiness, “mooreee.” i whine,

“you are definitely too sensitive for that.” he smiles, rubbing my thigh before walking over to his closet

he pulls out a sweater and some sweatpants before walking over to me.

he redresses me slowly, his eyes still roaming over every inch of my body.

he tugs on his clothes aswell before jumping into bed beside me, launching me a couple inches into the air.

he rests his back against the headboard before tugging me onto his lap quickly.

he presses a kiss to my forehead, “you did so good.”

i smile, resting against him.

a silence grows between us,

chris breaks the silence with a bold statement

“look- i’m just gonna say this, but i think i’m gonna have to be inside of you again at some point-“ he rambles

“i thought you insisted on it being a one time thing christopherrr” i poke his chest with a grin,

“i know- i know but please? maybe like friends with benefits type thing..” he suggests fidgeting with his hands

“i don’t want things to be different between us.” i laugh

“they won’t! i promise it will be the exact same apart from the fact.. you know.. i get to fuck you..?” he protests

“weren’t you teasing me an hour ago for ‘begging to have sex with you?’” i giggle,

“okay but that was then- this is now!” he whines

“fine chris, we can fuck sooometimes.”

—————-

this taglist is actually getting insane

@sturngirly @stellasturnzz @beccaluvschris @iammattsturniolo @issysh3ll @mattssluttygf @sturnslcver @arianatheway @mattybsgroupie @sturn1ololuvr @tisiablack @jessie-essie @demzzz

@downbad4reid

sturnsdoll @obvisturns @stupid4sturniolo @meerkatzthings @witchofthehour @rosalierenee43 @gabrielle-brun1 @ilovemymannnnnnnn @sturnioloxlver @buckys-goodgirl @sturniol0s@ilovemymannnnnnnn @chr1sgirl4life @luanetaluenta @sturnsssbow @mattfangirl @luvr4miya @luvtay111 @lolasturniolo @freshloveforthefit @ruedowney @lovingchrissposts @333michelle @h3arts4harry @jamiesturniolo @chrisstopherfilmed @itzdarling @ @daddyslilchickenfingers2 @ev3rgreenxtrees @certifiednatelover @solarsturniolo @mattsenthusiast @yomamaslays4lyfe @peachmels @alinaa131 @pepsiluvr0209 @creamoncreamoncream2 @szobofc @mattscoquette @blahbell668 @sturniolo04 @bitchydragonparadise @sturni0l0 @ratatioulle @sturnsfav @mattsonly @justalittle47 @sunsetsturniolos

@sturniolo04 @similartokayyz @sturnsintrouble @ilovemattsturn @raysmayhem-72 @75sturn @sturniol0s @secret-sturniolo @hfkeclnendmwodne @sturniolosass @gxldenlush @stonermattsgf @101sara @beccaluvschris @oliviasturniolo21 @imwetforyourmom @tylerstacobell @sunsetsturniolos @aliceloveschris @jayz4dayz4 @sassysturniolo2008 @nyktoxs-lover @nathandoesgf @starsturns234 @chrissturnsss s @joemamaaa42069 @sturnthepot @zayyluvz @realuvrrr @livialifesblog @sturnioloblogs @riowritesitall @raysmayhem-72

#sturniolo #matt sturniolo #chris sturniolo #nick sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo x reader #sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo x reader #sturniolo fanfic #chris sturniolo fluff #chris sturniolo fanfic #chris sturniolo x y/n #chris sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo imagine #chris sturniolo x you #chris sturniolo angst

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writersdrug · 10 months ago

Note

Bartender Ghost when waitress reader gives someone a hurricane shot

I had to look this up and now I want to do this so badly

Slight NSFW, slapping

It wasn't a busy night; some new faces on a Thursday evening, the three regulars that practically lived on the barstools, a group of college boys in the corner...

Ghost doesn't bat an eye when you put in four shots of tequila and four waters for those punks, an excited smile on your face. He pours them quickly, eyes narrowing at them as they eye you with their own giddy expression, clapping each other on their backs.

He can't help but check in. "They botherin' ya?"

You laugh and take the tray of shots from him. "Not at all - watch this."

He grabs a glass and starts polishing it with a rag as you saunter back to the college students, ass barely contained in your high waisted shorts (he knows he said the dress code was "not your birthday suit", but you're pushing it in those shorts and that tanktop). Pauses his actions when you pass the shots around, then plant your ass on the table in front of one of the guys, thighs spread and holding a plastic solo cup of water in one hand.

The bloke takes the shot - you promptly throw the water in his face and rear your hand back, slapping him across the cheek with your open palm.

The glass nearly shatters in his grip. He's about to scale the counter and grab you by the scruff of your neck... but they were cheering. The other three men slapping his back and laughing as he wipes the water from his face - he gets up from his seat as you grab another cup of water, grinning at the new fella that sits between your legs.

You do the same thing: wait for him to take the shot, drench him in water, and smack your hand across his face. The crack echoes around the pub, followed by their laughter and loud curses. Ghost doesn't let himself yell at you from across the bar, not when he's stiffening up in his pants and wondering how best to ask you to do that to him.

Soap peeks his head out from the kitchen, right as you deliver the third smack. "Feck is goin' on?!" He asks bewilderdly.

Simon's at a loss for words, palms gripping the edges of the bar as he watches the last guy sit in the chair between your thighs, looking up at you like you're some kind of succubus - and you are, staring down at the lad with a smirk as he takes his shot, dousing him with the water and delivering the final blow.

"Shite- gonna try tha' with me after closin'?" Soap says, the both of them watching as you pluck a twenty from each of their hands and stuff them into your bra.

Ghost finds himself again, masking his sexual frustration with his usual grumpiness. "Where's tha' burger I put in fifteen minutes ago?" He says, making the Scot turn back into the kitchen with a dreamy sigh.

You make your way back to the bar and lean against it, still smiling ear to ear, your chest pushing against the counter - Simon can see the edges of the bills poking out of your tank top. "You ever seen that before?"

"Don't do tha' again." He snaps, glaring down at you with his arms folded over his burly chest, making you pout. "This ain't some college bar, I don' want tha' kinda crowd 'ere, understand?"

"They want eight more shots." You said, looking at him through your sweet, doe eyes.

Fuck - bringing in business, and getting to watch you slap the shit out of those guys? Pretending it was himself? He grumbled and snagged more shot glasses from the shelf.

#call of duty #bartender ghost #ghost #simon riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley #ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x you #ghost x you #simon riley x you #ghost cod #cod blurbs

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mywritersmind · 7 months ago

Text

ULTIMATUM - LN4

summary : Maybe you know he’ll win no matter what, maybe you hope he’ll do it for you. Either way, a silly ultimatum may be the best thing that happens to him the night his team becomes world champs.

listen up : MCLAREN IS WORLD FUCKING CHAMPIONS!! landonorris x zakbrownsdaughter!reader <33 just a short blurb to end the season with 🍾🏆🧡

words : 623

⋆｡‧˚

I downed the rest of my cocktail, slamming it back onto the table in a fit of blushing tipsiness. “I’ll tell you what, Norris…”

Lando’s eyes met mine, mischievous and glinting in the club lights. It was dangerous, I knew that. Lando was dangerous but the way he had been leaning into me all night, why not have a little fun?

“Abu Dhabi. It’s the last race of the reason.” He nodded slowly, “If you win, no…” I took back my words, “If you lead every single lap on that circuit… I'll give you what you want.”

He started smirking again, “And what do I… want?” his arm slips around the back of my chair, leaning in. I can smell his cologne as his fingers drift against my back.

My brow quirks as his gaze flicks down to my lips, then to my eyes. “Me.” I say simply.

He bit his lip, a smile pulling through, “Dangerous…”

I twirled a piece of his hair around my finger, whispering in his ear, as he breathed softly against my neck. “Win, and you get me.”

I knew that look in his eye, the same look he’s given me a hundred times before a race. Lando hates losing, but this is different. He would try for his team, but he would win for me.

⋆༺

The flash of orange zooms past me as my team screams, the garage going absolutely nuts. “We’re fucking world champs!” my dad hugs me, screaming and jumping up and down.

The adrenaline is up as papaya runs and screams, celebrating the team win. I laugh as Lando gets out of the car, shaking my head as he finds his family, his visor up and cheeks squished against the helmet.

He rips the black and yellow off of his head, his curls free as his smile shines bright. The crowd is going crazy and as Lando waves to them, I push through the sea of orange. “Norris!”

He turns at the call of his last name. His face is dented from his helmet and his hair is a mess. He points at me, throws his helmet on the floor, and runs. He doesn’t say a word, just grabs my waist as if I'm the trophy. His lips are on me in an instant, hungry and almost knocking me off my feet.

He's hot and sweaty and I wouldn’t want it any other way. My arms move to his shoulders to pull him in tighter, people around us whistling and clapping as he slips his tongue in my mouth. I’m so happy that I genuinely start crying.

Lando’s thumbs wipe my eyes as he smiles down at me. We get ripped away in a frenzy of cameras and team members congratulating him.

His hands find me again though, pulling me into a hug and laughing in my ear, “Maybe you should give me an ultimatum more often, Brown.” I teasingly push him away, shaking my head and rolling my teary eyes.

I can’t help the smile on my face, pushing against his chest I yell, “Every fucking lap! You did that, Lan!”

He kisses me again, his breath heavy and his lips smiling against me. I pull back the second I feel a stern hand on my shoulder, one I know all too well.

My dad eyes us both, “You two are lucky I’m in a good mood!” Lando’s still smiling, shaking hands with his team manager after he just kissed his daughter on live television. Twice.

I laugh, “Congratulations, dad!”

He narrows his eyes on Lando before waving us off, “Yeah yeah, go live it up or whatever! Lando! We have a podium to complete.”

#fanfic #formula 1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #f1 x reader #f1 fic #lando norris fanfic #lando norris #lando x reader #lando imagine #lando norris fluff

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marblehazel · 5 months ago

Text

Teething

dbf!Joel Miller x f!Reader

Joel was crowned as The Trusted Adult to accompany you to your wisdom teeth extraction appointment. Chaos ensued.

Tags: no outbreak, age gap, most likely exaggerated effects of sedation, sexual themes

Word count: 3.1k

The skies were painted with shades of copper and lilac when you arrived home. A familiar pickup truck was parked in the driveway next to your dad’s mud-caked F-150, and you slipped your way between the space between the two to get to the backyard through the narrow passage on the right side of your house, sticking twigs of overgrown shrub brushing against your arm. Your dad hated garden work, and it was not like you hated to prune and trim the green galore by yourself—you just hadn't found the time.

Laughter bounced against the pillars supporting rusting canopy adorned with vines and wildflowers, echoing around the tiny outdoor dining area. Around the table were three men you could discern blindfolded: your dad, and his friends, Joel and Tommy. The three looked pretty scruffy, which was not unusual. On the table were cans of beer that you just knew would leave more water stain on the undone finishing of the wood.

Tommy said something about a boat, and your dad and Joel burst out laughing again like they just heard the funniest joke in the world, and you could swear you could feel the ground vibrated underneath your shoes. Your dad said something then, about sinking and anchor, maybe, and Tommy smacked his can on the table as the three of them erupted into another laughing fit. They didn't register the new addition of their little late-afternoon get-together until you put both hands on your dad’s shoulders, kissing the top of his head. He smelled like sawdust and smoke.

“What’s so funny?” you grin.

“Sweetheart!” your dad jolted, slightly twisting his torso to see you. “We were just chatting about fishing. How was today?”

“Hi Joel, hi Tommy," you smiled at the brothers, greeted with a polite nod from Joel and a cheerful 'hey' from Tommy. “today was okay-ish.” you patted your dad's shoulders once more before letting go and starting to make your way towards the backdoor, leaving the men to their football talk and fishing jokes alone. “I'm gonna take a shower. Have fun, guys.”

"Aw, shoot—almost forgot!" your dad said, clapping his hands once. "Sweetheart, I’m real sorry, but I don’t think I can take you to the dentist Thursday. They need me over in Georgetown to look over somethin’—"

“Aw, Daaad,” you groaned, although your face showed nothing akin to annoyance, just sorry for him. You knew how much your dad overlooked his back pain, especially for work, and these frequent trips requiring a lot of driving didn't help. “I’ll see if my friend can take me, okay?”

These friends of yours... you’d have a bigger chance of losing your teeth in a car crash before you could even step into the dentist's office. You shook the thought off. Let's think about that later.

“What’s goin’ on?” Tommy asked, brow scrunched. “You alright?”

“I’m getting my wisdom teeth removed,” you pointed at your cheek, the approximate area where your upper right molar was growing sideways. “One popped out and it’s growing weirdly, so I got an x-ray. Turned out all four of them are developing in such shitty angles, so, they’re taking 'em all.”

“All at once?!” Tommy gasped, to which you nodded as you purse your lips.

“More cost-effective, or whatever.”

“Ouch. That sucks.”

“I’ll take her,” all eyes went to the source of the voice: Joel. He was staring directly at your dad. “I’m free Thursday.”

Your dad blinked, a little surprised. “Shoot, Joel, that’s real kind of you, but you don’t gotta do that. I mean it—I appreciate it, more than you know, but I don’t wanna put you out.”

Joel shrugged slightly, tone steady. “Ain’t no trouble. Got the day open, figured I could help.”

You practically bounced in place, cutting in before your dad could say anything else. “Yes! Please, Dad, can he? Joel’s like… perfect for this. Besides, you know my friends, we'd crash into something and you'd have to pay for the damage."

Your dad chuckled, shaking his head. “Well, I won't stand in the way. Joel, you sure about this?"

Joel was only halfway to a nod when you shouted, “Really?”, prancing your way towards his seat and kissed his cheek. “Thank you, Joel!”

The man raised his eyebrows and cleared his throat while Tommy laughed. Your dad shook his head slowly at your endearing antics, his eyes meeting Joel’s as they silently said ‘Thank you, and sorry’.

The next time Joel’s gray Ranger pulled up in front of your house, you had been waiting on the porch with a smile worthy enough to be a toothpaste ad.

The fog in your head started to clear just enough to let you notice the figure sitting by your side. Joel’s broad shoulders took up half the room—or at least it felt that way in your dazed state. His arms were crossed, and his brows furrowed as he watched you with what looked like mild concern. You blinked a few times, your vision wobbling like you were looking through a fishbowl. You couldn’t really register where you were or how you ended up here yet.

“Hey,” he straightened his posture up the second he realized you were awake.

“Whoa,” you slurred, pointing a wobbly finger at him. “You look good.”

Because he did. That was the first thing you noticed about him. You couldn’t remember if it was exactly true, but a voice in your head told you that Joel always looked good. You believed it. And he did right now, with clothes all ironed, beard trimmed, hair combed. Joel wouldn’t admit it, but he’d even put some styling powder on his hair today.

His lips twitched, and he scratched at his beard, unsure of the appropriate response to give. “Uh, thanks. How are you feeling?”

You ignored the question. “Does my dad know you’re here?”

“Yeah,” he said slowly, leaning closer. “He was there when I said I’d take you here, remember?”

“No.” You deadpanned, voice thick and blunt. Your tongue scraped against your gum, and it touched some soft, fibery, wet cotton balls. You almost gagged.

Joel sighed. “Alright. Uh, pain anywhere? Are you comfortable?”

You tilted your head, as if trying to access some hidden inner truth. Then, with startling conviction, you announced, “Sweaty.”

He quickly raised from his seat, reaching for a handkerchief in his pocket to wipe your forehead with when you suddenly choked into tears. You could barely get the words out through the swollen jaw, numb tongue, and spiky throat. “I miss my daddy…”

You felt like the saddest child in the world. You didn’t know where your dad was, but most importantly, your brain wasn’t able to assess where he might be. But he wasn’t here. And that alone was enough to send you spiraling into agony.

Joel looked around awkwardly, clearly out of his depth. “Sweetie,” he said, reaching out to pat your cheek gently. “I’m here.”

You blinked up at him with wide, glassy eyes, your bottom lip trembling. “Where is he? Did he sell me to you?”

“What?” if only you were sober enough to see the expression on his face.

Tears continued to pool in your eyes, spilling down your cheeks. “What am I supposed to do, being sold to a person like you?”

“Person like me—What’s that supposed to mean,” Joel withdrew, seemingly offended momentarily before he realized he was talking to a group of at most six brain cells, half of them blackout drunk.

“Hot,” you sniffled. “Hot like you.”

Joel freezed. His jaw worked soundlessly for a moment before he muttered, “O…kay. Uh, let’s call for a nurse, okay?” He stood up and looked toward the hallway.

“I don’t even know how to be a housewife!” you lamented, gesturing wildly toward a painting of sand dunes on the wall. “You’re going to dump me in the middle of a desert!”

“Honey,” Joel said, his voice strained but calm. “Nobody is dumping or selling anybody, okay? Just—wait here. I’m gonna go get a nurse. I’ll only be gone for, like, five seconds.”

You watched him disappear behind the wall, your lips quivering as you began counting on your fingers. “One… two… three… four… five…” You looked up at the hallway, waiting for Joel to come back as you realized how alone you were in the room. You didn’t want to be alone. The fluorescent light was hurting your eyes and the air smelled like a dentist’s office. You were in one, but you didn’t really register that. Panic set in like a tidal wave. “Joel?”

“Joel! JOEL!” You thrashed in the chair, trying to swing your legs over to touch the ground, ready to bolt after him like some kind of lovesick lunatic. It was hard, like you were learning controls for a video game for the first time, and your limbs didn’t move the way you wanted them to. Joel returned with a nurse moments after. She was holding a clipboard and if not for the mask hiding her expression, Joel would have seen that she was wearing a smile that looked dangerously close to a laugh.

“You’re back! I thought you were leaving me…” your voice cracked as you reached out toward Joel with snot running freely down your upper lip. “I’ll be a good wife from now on, Joel, I promise.”

“Oh,” the nurse said sweetly. “Sounds like someone’s still a little loopy.”

Joel ran a hand over his face, mortified. “Sorry about that.”

“It’s alright,” she smiled at him before checking on you. “Definitely not the worst I’ve witnessed. You’ll be okay, won’t you, sweetheart?”

You nodded.

She asked you to open your mouth, and you attempted to talk to Joel the entirety of it, moving your heavy tongue around, making barely coherent noises. At one point you reached for his hand and he took it.

“Hoew, wa ho hayhee hee hahee?” which would translate to ‘Joel, was our wedding in Bali?’, like Joel would’ve been able to decipher it. He just played along in hopes to shut you up.

“Yes, yes, of course.” he cupped your hand in his.

“Okay, now bite down with pressure, okay?” the nurse said softly after pulling the blood-soaked cotton balls out and replacing them with new ones. You did as she said. “That’s good. Thank you.”

“No, thank you.” you smiled at her. “You’re so nice.”

“And you’re so nice, too.” she said as she gathered her clipboard and metal tray. “We’re all clear here, you are free to go home. If you prefer to wait out until she’s not so disoriented anymore, please use our waiting room since we have to clean this one before the next patient.”

“Thank you.” Joel nodded politely at her.

“Any more questions you’d like to ask the doctor?”

“I think we’re all covered. Thank you for everything. Let’s go, sweetie.” he helped you stand up, and the second he let go your body leaned, craving to touch the floor. Both him and the nurse reached out to you, crashing their heads in the process.

“Ow!” she yelped.

“Sorry, sorry. I got her. I’m really sorry.” he slightly bowed down as he held you steady, one palm planted on your ribs just below your breasts.

“Sorry,” you parroted, utterly oblivious to what just happened.

“It’s alright,” she laughed lightheartedly as she reached down to fix your shoelaces. “There you go.”

“Thank you again. We’ll stay out of your hair now.”

After what felt like eighty years, Joel finally got you on the passenger seat. He could feel his lifespan shortened significantly, and his back hurt so much trying to crouch to your level as he guided you across the parking lot. He should’ve just carried you—would’ve been much quicker and better for everyone involved.

You touched the dashboard, feeling the texture underneath your fingers like it was the first time you got in a car. Joel closed the door next to you and scurried his way around the car hood to the driver’s side, sighing when he got in.

“Joel, what’s your favorite pie?” you asked as he leaned over to put your seatbelt on, hand fiddling with the belt when it got stuck and you instinctively ran your fingers through his hair.

“Pecan,” he muttered, body getting tense under your casual yet intimate touch.

“Oh, I had pecan pie at my house recently.” you withdrew your fingers as Joel straightened up and put his own seatbelt on. “We’re like, soulmates, or something.”

Joel started the car. “Yes, that was me. I brought the pie to your house.”

“Wow, you’re so kind.” you smiled, eyes tearing up, as if bringing you pie was the equivalent of saving all kittens in the world. Joel rolled his eyes and shifted the gear from neutral, and the two of you slowly moved out of the office parking lot to the road.

You cupped your own swelled cheeks, feeling the spherical cotton balls nested between your jaws. “I don’t like these, Joel.”

“Yeah? Wanna take them out? Do you think the bleeding has stopped?” his eyes ran between you and the road in front of him back and forth, getting ready to merge onto the highway.

“My mouth is so full,” you whined, and you fished one cotton ball out, all wet and slightly red, before rolling the window down and throwing it out. It bounced on the dry concrete behind you briefly before it got run over by another car.

“Hey, no littering! And keep your arm inside, my fucking god, d’ya wanna lose it?” Joel yelled, one arm leaving the steering wheel to pull your hand into the car and close the window back up, almost taking up the lane next to you. A semi-truck passed through and the driver honked their horn, deafening. You snarled at it while Joel mouthed a quiet ‘fuck’.

“I still got more inside,” you pointed at your open mouth, like Joel couldn’t tell from your slightly muffled voice still.

“I know, but either keep it in your mouth until we get home, or find some—I don’t know, plastic bag to keep it in, alright? Try the glove box.” he points at the compartment in front of you. You fiddled with the handle, and when it opened it revealed a little toolbox, a pocket knife, a folded map, and two dusty condoms from God knows when.

“Joel, what is this?” you pinched one out for Joel to see, voice thick with betrayal. “You’re cheating on me.”

Good fucking god. Joel snatched the thing out of your hand, shoving it back into the glove box before slamming it closed. He shouldn’t have been panicking like you were actually his bride and he’d been two-timing you after work, because you weren’t, and the only thing that had been in touch with his dick in the past six months was his fist. “I don’t know how it got there. It’s from a while ago.”

But the damage had been done. You covered your face with your hands, eventually took the remaining cotton balls out and let them go onto the floor mats. Joel winced.

“What should I do? Is my blowjob not good enough?”

Joel was the most uncomfortable he had ever been his whole life right now, and he once witnessed his friends’ parents hitting it crazy style with the same banana pudding that was served at dinner smeared everywhere when he was there for a sleepover, so that was saying a lot.

“You have never—what are you fuckin’ doing?!”

You had leaned over as much as your seatbelt allowed you to, fingers reaching to unbuckle his belt. “I’m gonna show you how good I c—”

Joel lost control of the steering wheel as he tried to shoo you away, but you latched your palm around his bulge like leech. He accidentally turned the truck too much to the left, switching lanes without warning, and abruptly hit the brakes for a split second when he thought he was going to crash into a Camaro, almost slamming you forward if not for the seatbelt. Three cars honked at the two of you as they passed, one was generous enough to give you the finger.

He pushed you back to your seat, both of you huffing and puffing. There was silence for about thirty seconds until Joel composed himself.

“What the fuck did they put you under, because I need some,” he muttered under his breath before speaking clearer. “Put your hands on the dashboard. Now,” he commanded, eyes flicking between you and the road.

“Why?” you mumbled, your fingers twitching like they might reach for Joel’s belt again.

“Because I said so,” Joel grunted, shifting in his seat to try to hide his hardening length, jaw tense as he kept one hand firmly on the wheel. “You wanna be a good wife, don’t you?”

You blinked slowly. Joel was right, you wanted to be a good wife.

“Yeah,” Joel continued, eyes narrowing slightly, still focused on the road. “Only good wives put their hands on the dashboard.”

“Really?” you laughed, the sound drifting lazily out of you. But you planted both palms on the dashboard anyway, sunlight pouring on the back of your hands, warming them up.

“Yeah—yeah,” he muttered. “Look it up.”

“I can’t, my hands are on the dashboard,” you frowned, chin pointing towards your splayed fingers.

Joel rolled his eyes, letting out an exasperated sigh. “You just have to believe me, then.”

You thought of it for a second before nodding. “Okay. I believe you.”

He glanced at you, eyebrows lifting. “You should. You’re my wife.”

Your head tilted, a lazy grin spreading across your face as you processed the words. You’re my wife. Somehow that was the most beautiful string of words you had ever heard. “Am I a good wife?”

“Sure. You got your hands on the dashboard. Guess that makes you a good wife,” Joel said. Your loopy grin was infectious despite his best efforts to stay stoic.

“I’m a good wife,” you repeated to yourself, beaming.

There was a beat of silence before you leaned slightly toward him, eyes bright, head swaying with the motion of the truck. “Are you a good husband?”

Joel’s grip on the steering wheel tightened for a split second, his gaze flicking to the side, then back to the road. “...I don’t know. Do you think I’m a good husband?”

“Yeah,” you said immediately, so sure of yourself as you gathered the evidence in your hazy brain. “You took me to the dentist. You got me pecan pie.”

Joel scoffed, his hands tightening on the wheel. “Driving and pies, guess that’s the key to a successful marriage.”

By dinner time you were already out of your groggy state, although the pain started to creep back in despite the painkillers that you just sat in the living room with a frozen pouch of CapriSun pressed against your cheek. Joel hadn’t said much but he did stay until your dad got home.

He had hoped you blacked out and didn’t remember anything from earlier. He wasn’t sure if he could live knowing you were able to remember that you were so eager to put your mouth on him, on top of you calling yourself his wife, on top of you casually admitting you found him hot.

And because he got hard in the car. He didn’t know if you saw it but for his own peace he would like to believe that you didn’t.

Joel was a little bit grateful that Tommy wasn’t there because he would never let this die.

He would never let this die himself.

When your dad set some burritos for Joel and applesauce for you on the counter, Joel was ready to go home and get drunk while pondering in the shower.

“You’re leaving already?” you licked the applesauce, tasting it innocently, and Joel had to remind himself that licking applesauce was not a sexually enticing act.

“Yeah, working early tomorrow. Get well soon.” he stood awkwardly as he pocketed his keys.

“Thanks a lot, man,” your dad got up to give Joel a hug with his back facing away from you, and you stared Joel dead in the eyes as you mouthed playfully: ‘Husband.’

His lips twitched. Seemed like he would never know peace ever again.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller #dbf!joel #dbf!joel x reader #dbf!joel miller x reader #tlou #the last of us #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #joel miller oneshot #dbf!joel miller #she says ‘i miss my daddy’ and he answers ‘i’m here’ btw. if you even care

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importantpuppystarfish · 2 months ago

Text

A filthy wild night with my Cousin and her bestie

Male reader or Y/N x Minji and Hanni

!Minji as your cousin and Hanni as Minji's lesbian partner.

Kinks: Incest (Cousin!Minji x you), shy!Y/N, Threesome, Lots of kissing, armpit licking, facesitting, romantic, squirt & pissing, lesbian.

Minji and Hanni are openly a lesbian couple. They live together (not so always, here Hanni stays in Minji's room for most of the times as shes her best friend. They sleep together), they have fun, and their intimacy is deep.

Y/N, his uncle married a Korean woman, which makes Minji his cousin on that side of the family. It's a beautiful day, and Y/N + his family is traveling with his family to South Korea to visit Minji’s parents. The last time Y/N and Minji met was during their childhood, when they were around 9 or 10 years old. Now, both of them are 18.

The humid Seoul air clung to Y/N’s skin as he stepped off the plane, his heart thumping with a mix of jet lag and nervous excitement.

It had been nearly a decade since he last saw his cousin Minji, back when they were scrawny kids chasing each other around their uncle’s backyard. Now, at 18, Y/N was a lanky, awkward dude with a mop of dark hair and a tendency to blush at the slightest provocation. Minji, though? She was a fucking K-pop goddess—a member of NewJeans, plastered on billboards and TikTok feeds worldwide. The thought of seeing her again, all grown up and probably drop-dead gorgeous, made Y/N’s stomach do flips.

His parents, chatting animatedly about kimchi recipes and old family stories, led the way to Minji’s family home in a sleek Seoul suburb. Y/N trailed behind, fidgeting with his backpack straps, his mind racing. What if she’s, like, too cool for me now? he thought. She’s probably got a million better things to do than hang with her nerdy cousin.

The cab pulled up to a modern house with floor-to-ceiling windows, and before Y/N could brace himself, the front door swung open. There she was—Minji, all 5’6” of her, looking like she’d just stepped out of a music video. Her long, dark hair cascaded over her shoulders, and her tight crop top and high-waisted shorts showed off a slim, sexy figure that made Y/N’s brain short-circuit. Her face, though, still had that innocent and playful spark.

“Annyeonghaseyo!” Minji chirped, her voice bright and melodic. “Auntie, Uncle, welcome to Korea!” She straightened up, flashing a megawatt smile that could’ve melted a glacier.

Y/N’s mom gasped, clutching her husband’s arm. “Oh, Minji, look at you! You’re such a young lady now, so beautiful!”

Minji’s parents appeared behind her, beaming with pride. Her mom, a petite woman with Minji’s same sharp cheekbones, hugged Y/N’s parents tightly. “Y/N, my goodness, how big you’ve grown!” she exclaimed, eyeing him up and down. “Such a handsome young man!”

Y/N felt his cheeks burn. Handsome? Me? He was skinny as a rail, with zero game and a face that was, at best, “fine.” He mumbled a shy “Thanks, Aunt Soo-jin,” avoiding Minji’s gaze.

Minji’s dad clapped Y/N’s dad on the shoulder. “Can you believe it? Our kids are all grown up! Minji’s out there conquering the world, and Y/N’s… what, heading to college soon?”

“Oh, he’s still figuring it out,” Y/N’s dad said with a chuckle. “But Minji—wow, a K-pop star! We saw your latest music video. That dance move with the…” He mimicked a clumsy hip sway, making everyone laugh.

Minji giggled, covering her mouth. “Uncle, you’re gonna need some practice!” Then, for the first time, her eyes flicked to Y/N, who was standing there like a deer in headlights. She tilted her head, her lips curling into a teasing smirk. “Hi, Y/N,” she said softly, her voice dripping with playful familiarity.

Y/N’s heart did a somersault. “H-hi,” he stammered, giving a dorky wave, his hand flapping like a fish out of water. Fuck, why am I so awkward? he cursed internally.

The parents wandered into the living room, already deep in conversation about old times and Korean barbecue plans. Minji gestured for Y/N to follow her. “C’mon, I’ll show you my room,” she said, her tone casual but with a hint of something… flirty? Nah, she’s just being nice, Y/N told himself, trying to ignore how her hips swayed as she led the way upstairs.

In Minji’s room, Y/N’s jaw nearly hit the floor. It was a K-pop stan’s dream—posters of NewJeans, LED lights casting a pink glow. There was a girl sprawled on the bed, scrolling through her phone. She was tiny—5’2” at most—with a heart-shaped face, pouty lips, and a body that, despite her petite frame, curved in all the right places. Her tank top rode up slightly, showing a sliver of toned midriff. "Holy shit", Y/N thought, his teenage brain going into overdrive, " Thats Hanni, isn't it?".

The girl looked up, her eyes sparkling with curiosity. “Hey, who's this?” Hanni asked Minji, hopping off the bed with a grin. “Oh Hanni, Thats just my cousin brother. Y/N meet my… bestie.. Hanni, you already know her ofcourse, my group mate.”..

Minji plopped onto the bed beside Hanni, patting the space next to her. “Y/N, don’t just stand there like a weirdo. Sit!” she teased, her voice light but commanding.

Y/N hesitated, his palms sweaty. Bestie, huh? he thought, noticing how close Hanni was sitting to Minji, their thighs almost touching. Guess she’s just super tight with her group members. Normal K-pop stuff, right? He perched awkwardly on the edge of the bed, trying not to stare at either of them.

“So, Y/N,” Hanni said, leaning forward, her voice playful. “What’s it like seeing your superstar cousin after all these years?”

Minji swatted Hanni’s arm, laughing. “Stop asking him stuff and talking to him Hanni!, you’ll make him blush!” She turned to Y/N, her eyes glinting. “But seriously, Y/N, you’re not a kid anymore. You’re kinda… cute, in a nerdy way.”

Y/N’s face went nuclear. “Uh, th-thanks?” he squeaked, his voice cracking. Cute? Me? From MINJI? His brain was a mess, and his body wasn’t faring much better, hyper-aware of the two insanely attractive girls inches away.

Hanni giggled, nudging Minji. “Look at him, he’s dying! Minji, you’re too much for the poor guy.”

Minji smirked, leaning closer to Y/N, her perfume—a mix of vanilla and something dangerously sweet—hitting him like a truck. “Am I too much for you, Y/N?” she purred, her tone teasing but with an edge that made his pulse race.

Y/N swallowed hard, his mouth dry. “I-I’m fine,” he lied, his voice barely above a whisper.

Y/N’s head was still spinning from Minji’s teasing and Hanni’s playful energy when his mom’s voice echoed up the stairs. “Y/N! Come down, we’re going to the market with Minji’s parents!”

“Uh, coming!” Y/N called back, scrambling to his feet. He shot Minji and Hanni an awkward smile, his face still flushed. “I’ll, uh, see you guys later?”

Minji grinned, leaning back on her hands, her crop top riding up just enough to show a sliver of her toned stomach. “Sure thing, Y/N. Don’t get lost in Seoul!”

Hanni winked, her voice dripping with mischief. “Yeah, come back soon, nerd boy.”

Y/N practically tripped over his own feet as he bolted out of the room, his heart pounding. Nerd boy? Fuck, they’re gonna eat me alive, he thought, hurrying downstairs to join his parents.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As the door clicked shut, the vibe in Minji’s room shifted instantly. Minji and Hanni exchanged a knowing look as they got some privacy. Hanni slid closer, her petite frame pressing against Minji’s side, her fingers tracing lazy circles on Minji’s thigh. “Finally, some privacy Unnie, lets kiss.~” Hanni murmured, her voice low and sultry.

Minji smirked, turning to face Hanni, their lips inches apart. “You’re so impatient,” she teased, before closing the gap. Their mouths crashed together in a deep, passionate French kiss, tongues tangling with practiced ease. The room filled with soft moans as they devoured each other, hands roaming freely. Minji tugged Hanni’s tank top over her head, revealing perky breasts and a slim waist, while Hanni yanked Minji’s shorts down, exposing her smooth, flawless skin.

They collapsed onto the bed, naked in seconds as they open each others clothes, their bodies a tangle of limbs and heat. Minji’s lips trailed down Hanni’s neck, then lower, sucking on her nipples until Hanni gasped, her fingers digging into Minji’s hair. “Fuck, Minji,” Hanni whimpered, her hips bucking as Minji’s tongue found her pussy, licking slow, deliberate circles. Hanni’s moans grew louder, her body trembling as Minji ate her out, her own fingers sliding between her thighs to rub herself.

“God, you taste so good Hanni” Minji purred, her voice muffled against Hanni’s slick folds. Hanni arched her back, squirting with a cry as Minji pushed her over the edge, their bodies slick with sweat and desire. They switched, Hanni diving between Minji’s legs, her tongue working magic as Minji moaned, her hands gripping the sheets.

Panting, they collapsed side by side, still kissing lazily, their lips swollen and wet. Hanni giggled, wiping her mouth. “Your cousin looks so nerdy and shy, lol,” she randomly says, her voice playful but with a wicked edge.

Minji laughed, propping herself up on one elbow, her naked body glistening. “I know, right? When we were kids, we’d play hide-and-seek and shit. Now? I don’t think we’d even be friendly. He’s, like, terrified of me.”

Hanni pouted, her fingers tracing Minji’s collarbone. “Why not? He’s kinda cute, in that awkward way. Like a lost puppy.”

Minji snorted, her eyes glinting with mischief. “Cute, sure, but he’s so out of his depth. Did you see him blushing? I bet he’s never even kissed a girl, let alone fucked one. Not like us with… you know.”

Hanni’s face smiled for a split second, both of them remembering their agency’s CEO—a sleazy, 50-something bastard who’d taken their virginity in exchange for promises of stardom. They’d done what they had to, but it left them jaded, craving control over their desires. Hanni shook it off, her grin returning. “Yeah, well, Y/N’s not like that. He’s… innocent. Bet I could make him cum in, like, two minutes.”

Minji’s eyes widened, a competitive spark igniting. “Oh, you think? I’d have him blowing his load before you even get his pants off. I’d just flash him, and he’d be done.”

Hanni laughed, shoving Minji playfully. “No way, bitch. I’d suck his dick so good he’d see stars. Bet he’s got a decent cock under those baggy jeans.”

Minji raised an eyebrow, her voice dripping with challenge. “Haha, bet? I’ll ride him till he’s begging, and he’ll be screaming my name, not yours.”

Hanni leaned in, her lips brushing Minji’s ear. “Okay, but why fight? We could both have him. Imagine him, all flustered, not knowing what to do with two hot girls like us. We’d ruin him.”

Minji’s smirk widened, the idea sinking in. “Fuck, that’s hot. He’s so shy, he’d probably die just seeing us naked. But… he’s my cousin. Isn’t that, like, weird?”

Hanni rolled her eyes, straddling Minji’s lap, her hands cupping Minji’s face. “Unnie, Isn't that even better? You're gonna fuck with someone you trust, your family!. Besides, he’s 18, horny as fuck, and probably jerking off to NewJeans fancams already. Why not give him the real thing?”

Minji bit her lip, her mind racing. “True. He’s probably fantasizing about me right now, the little perv. And with you there? We’d blow his fucking mind.”

Hanni grinned, grinding against Minji, their bodies heating up again. “Exactly. We’ll seduce him, tease him till he’s begging. He won’t know what hit him. Bet he’ll cum so hard he’ll thank us.”

Minji laughed, pulling Hanni into another messy kiss. “Deal. Tomorrow, we’ll play nice, get him alone, and then… we’ll fuck him senseless. Poor boy won’t stand a chance.”

By mid-afternoon, Y/N and his family, along with Minji’s parents, had returned from the bustling Seoul market, arms laden with bags of spicy tteokbokki ingredients and souvenirs. The house buzzed with laughter and the clatter of dishes as both families prepared for a big dinner. Y/N, still reeling from his earlier encounter with Minji and Hanni, kept to himself, his mind replaying Minji’s teasing smirk and Hanni’s flirty wink. They’re just messing with me, he told himself, but the way his heart raced suggested otherwise.

Dinner was a lively affair, the long table packed with steaming plates of bulgogi, kimchi, and japchae. Y/N sat across from Minji, who looked unfairly stunning in a low-cut blouse that hugged her curves, her frame just a tad taller than his when she sat up straight. Her parents and Y/N’s were deep in conversation about old family vacations.

Minji, ever the extrovert, leaned forward, her cleavage on full display as she passed Y/N a bowl of rice. “Here, Y/N, you need to eat more,” she purred, her voice sweet but laced with something dangerous. Her foot grazed his under the table, lingering just long enough to make his breath hitch.

Y/N’s face turned beet red. “Uh, th-thanks,” he mumbled, grabbing the bowl and focusing way too hard on his food. Is she doing this on purpose? he wondered, his skinny frame tensing as he tried to ignore the heat pooling in his jeans. Minji’s eyes sparkled with mischief, catching every flustered glance he tried to hide. She “accidentally” dropped her chopsticks, bending forward to pick them up, giving him a clear view down her blouse.

“Oops,” she said, smirking as she sat back up, her lips glossy from a sip of soju. Y/N nearly choked on his kimchi, coughing to cover his panic. She’s my cousin, she’s my sister literally, he chanted internally, but his teenage hormones weren’t listening.

Dinner wrapped up with the parents laughing over old stories, and Y/N was told he’d sleep in the living room since he was “a grown young man now.” As the adults gossiped in the kitchen, Y/N sprawled on the couch, scrolling through his phone to distract himself.

As he was scrolling tiktok, in the video, there was Minji, center stage, shaking her ass in tight shorts, her moves fluid and fucking mesmerizing. Y/N’s dick hardened instantly, straining against his jeans. He shifted uncomfortably, glancing around to make sure no one was nearby. Goddamn, she’s hot, he thought, guilt mixing with raw desire. He was so lost in the video he didn’t hear the parents’ conversation winding down.

Eventually, Y/N realized he needed a pillow to sleep. He trudged to the kitchen, where Minji’s mom was washing dishes. “Aunt Soo-jin, do you have an extra pillow?” he asked, scratching his neck awkwardly.

“Oh, just ask Minji, dear,” she said with a smile, nodding toward the stairs. “She’s probably in her room with Hanni.”

Y/N’s stomach flipped. Minji’s room. With Hanni. He climbed the stairs, his heart pounding, trying to psych himself up to knock. But in his nervous haze, he didn’t think—just twisted the knob and pushed the door open.

What the fuck?

The sight hit him like a freight train. Minji and Hanni were stark naked on the bed, THEY ARE LITERALLY IN WORDS HAVING LESBO! a tangle of sweaty, glistening skin. Hanni’s petite 5’2” frame was crouched between Minji’s spread thighs, her tongue buried in Minji’s pussy, licking with sloppy, eager strokes. Minji’s head was thrown back, her full lips parted in a moan, one hand gripping Hanni’s hair, the other pinching her own nipple. The room smelled of sex—musky, sweet, and fucking intoxicating.

Y/N froze, his jaw dropped, his dick throbbing painfully in his jeans. Shock gave way to raw, primal horniness. They’re… holy shit, they’re fucking?. He should’ve turned away, but his feet were glued to the floor, his eyes locked on the scene. It's his first time seeing a girl naked as well.

Minji’s eyes snapped open, catching Y/N in the doorway. “Oh!” she gasped, her face flushing as she scrambled to grab a pillow, pressing it against her chest to cover her perky tits and glistening pussy. Hanni yelped, diving for another pillow to shield her naked body, her cheeks turning pink. For a split second, the room was silent, the three of them frozen in a tableau of embarrassment.

Then Hanni burst out laughing, clutching the pillow tighter. “Oh my God, haha, your cousin boy saw us shit!” she wheezed, her voice a mix of mortification and amusement.

Minji, still red-faced, couldn’t hold back a giggle. “Bitch, he’s just standing there like a deer in headlights!” she said, her eyes flicking to Y/N, who was rooted to the spot, his face burning.

“I-I just came for a pillow,” Y/N stammered, his voice cracking as he gestured weakly, his erection impossible to hide. Fuck, why is this so hot? he thought, torn between bolting and staying glued to the scene.

Minji’s gaze dropped to the bulge in his jeans, and her embarrassed expression shifted, a sly smirk curling her lips. “Oh~” she purred, her voice dropping to a teasing lilt. “Looks like you’re bringing more than just a pillow request, Y/N.”

Hanni’s eyes widened, catching on. She stifled another laugh, her pillow slipping slightly as she leaned forward. “Minji, you seeing what I’m seeing? awwww your cousin is hard!!”

Y/N’s heart pounded, his face so hot he thought he’d combust. “I-I should go—” he started, but Minji was already moving. Dropping her pillow, she stood, her 5’6” frame just a hair taller than his, her naked body a vision of slim, sexy curves. Before Y/N could process, she grabbed his wrist and yanked him onto the bed with surprising strength, his skinny frame stumbling forward.

“Oops, too late,” Minji said, her voice dripping with mischief as she locked the door with a decisive click. Hanni tossed her pillow aside, high-fiving Minji with a cackle. “Game on, bitch!” Hanni cheered, both girls dissolving into giggles as they turned their attention to Y/N, who was now sprawled on the bed, his eyes wide with panic and undeniable arousal.

“W-wait, guys, stop!” Y/N protested, his voice shaky, but his body betrayed him, his dick throbbing as Minji straddled his legs, her hands deftly unbuttoning his jeans. Hanni tugged at his underwear, and in one swift motion, they yanked both down, his hard cock springing free, embarrassingly erect.

“Oh my God, it’s so hard!” Hanni squealed, her cute face lighting up with delight. “Nerd boy’s packing!”

Y/N’s hands flew to cover his face, mortified but secretly loving every second. “This is insane, you guys—” he mumbled, but his words dissolved into a gasp as Minji leaned down, her lips crashing into his in a deep, hungry kiss. Her mouth was hot, her tongue sliding against his with a mix of saliva and the faint, tangy taste of Hanni’s pussy from their earlier escapade. Y/N’s brain melted. I’m kissing Minji? My cousin? A K-pop star? What the fuck is happening?

It was heaven—wet, messy, and so fucking real. Minji’s hands cupped his face, her naked body pressed against his chest, her perfume and sweat driving him wild. She pulled back, her lips glossy, a string of saliva connecting them. “Not bad for a nerd,” she teased, her voice husky.

Hanni pouted, crawling up the bed. “My turn,” she whined, nudging Minji aside. She kissed Y/N next, her smaller frame curling against him, her tongue just as eager, carrying the musky sweetness of Minji’s juices. Y/N moaned into her mouth, his hands trembling as he instinctively gripped her waist, her skin soft and warm. The kiss was sloppy, tongues tangling, saliva dripping, and Y/N’s head spun with the surreal pleasure of it all.

As Hanni kissed him, Minji slid down, her eyes locked on Y/N’s throbbing cock. “Fuck, look at this,” she murmured, her fingers wrapping around it, stroking lightly. Hanni broke the kiss, glancing down and grinning. “Oh, we’re gonna have fun with this,” she said, and both girls slid lower, their faces hovering over his dick.

Y/N’s breath hitched as Minji’s tongue flicked out, licking the tip, her lips glossy with spit. Hanni joined in, her smaller mouth sucking the side of his shaft, their tongues brushing against each other as they went to work. They were like animals—licking, sucking, slurping, their moans vibrating against his cock. Minji took him deep, her throat tightening around him, while Hanni lapped at his balls, her giggles muffled by her enthusiasm.

“F-fuck,” Y/N groaned, his hands gripping the sheets, his skinny body trembling. He was losing his mind, the pleasure overwhelming, their wet mouths and eager tongues driving him to the edge. “I-I can’t—” he gasped, his voice breaking as Minji and Hanni worked him like they were starving, their lips and hands relentless.

Minji pulled back, a string of spit connecting her lips to his cock. “He’s gonna cum so fast,” she teased, her eyes glinting as she stroked him.

Hanni grinned, licking her lips. “Told you I’d make him lose it,” she said, before diving back in, her mouth sucking hard.

Y/N’s moans grew louder, his body bucking as the girls devoured him, their laughter and dirty talk pushing him over the edge. He was in heaven.

Y/N was sprawled flat on Minji’s bed, his skinny frame trembling as waves of pleasure crashed over him. Minji and Hanni were relentless, their naked bodies pressed close as they worked him over. Minji’s lips were wrapped around his cock, her tongue swirling around the tip, while Hanni kissed her way up and down his shaft, occasionally leaning up to make out with Minji, their tongues tangling over his throbbing dick. The wet, sloppy sounds of their mouths—sucking, licking, and moaning—filled the room, mingling with the musky scent of sweat and sex. Y/N’s head spun, his brain barely able to process the fact that his K-pop star cousin and her bandmate were devouring him like this.

His cock, harder than it had ever been in his 18 years, pulsed painfully. It was his first time getting sucked, and the sensation was overwhelming. Minji’s warm mouth took him deep, her throat constricting, while Hanni’s petite hands massaged his balls, her tongue flicking against the base. Their eyes met, sparkling with mischief, as they kissed each other over his cock, their lips brushing his sensitive tip in the process. Y/N’s moans grew desperate, his hips bucking involuntarily. “F-fuck, I can’t—” he gasped, his voice breaking.

With a muffled groan, he lost it. His cock twitched violently, and he came hard, a massive load shooting into Minji’s mouth. Minji takes every drop, her eyes fluttering as she swallowed. Pulling back, her lips glistened with cum, a satisfied smirk spreading across her face. “Oh gosh, it’s so delicious,” she purred, licking her lips. She turned to Hanni, her voice teasing. “Want some, babe?”

Hanni’s eyes lit up, and she leaned in, crashing her lips against Minji’s in a nasty, open-mouthed kiss. Their tongues swirled, sharing Y/N’s cum, strands of it dripping down their chins. Hanni moaned into the kiss, savoring the taste. Pulling back, she wiped her mouth and laughed. “Damn, it’s way better than that CEO’s old-ass cum, bitch,” she said, her voice dripping with playful disdain. Both girls burst into giggles, their shared history with their sleazy, 50-something agency CEO a dark joke between them.

Y/N, still reeling from his orgasm, lay there panting, his cock still twitching. “G-guys, that was—” he started, but Minji and Hanni ignored him, their laughter cutting him off.

“Oh, oppa, we’re gonna have so much fun with you,” Minji teased as she climbed up the bed. Hanni winked, her petite body bouncing with excitement.

Y/N tried again, his voice weak. “Wait, I—” but they just laughed harder, their giggles drowning him out. They're having a nice time by now.

Minji grabbed his shoulders, pulling him up to a sitting position on the bed.

“Enough talking, cousin,” she said, her tone commanding but playful.

She lifted her arm, exposing her smooth, slightly sweaty armpit, and pressed his face close. “Lick and clean it,” she ordered, her voice a mix of teasing and dominance.

Y/N’s mind reeled. What the fuck? His brain flashed to those NewJeans concert videos he’d secretly watched, zooming in on Minji’s glistening armpits as she danced under stage lights, her sweat-soaked skin glinting.

His mind gets nostagia of the video of Minji's armpit in concert. He’d always found it weirdly hot, a guilty fetish he’d never admitted. And now… I’m actually doing this? His body betrayed him, his cock twitching again despite just cumming. He leaned in, his tongue tentatively flicking against Minji’s armpit, tasting the salty tang of her sweat. It was musky, raw, and insanely intimate. He groaned, losing himself, licking and sucking like a starving man.

Minji laughed, a mix of ticklish delight and pride. “Omg, OPPA, you’re actually licking it!” she squealed, her voice giddy as she held his head closer, her armpit pressed against his mouth. “Such a good boy.”

Hanni, watching with a grin, slid down to Y/N’s lap, her small hands wrapping around his still-hard cock. “Fuck, he’s into it,” she said, her voice dripping with amusement. She lowered her mouth, sucking him off with sloppy, eager strokes, her tongue swirling around the tip as she moaned. Her petite frame bobbed as she worked, her lips stretching around him, spit dripping down his shaft.

Y/N’s moans were muffled against Minji’s armpit, his tongue lapping harder as Hanni’s mouth drove him wild. His body shook, caught in a haze of pleasure and disbelief. Minji’s laughter and Hanni’s wet sucking filled his ears, their teasing words blurring together.

Y/N’s tongue worked feverishly, lapping at Minji’s smooth, sweaty armpit, the salty tang driving him wild. His skinny frame trembled, his face buried in her skin as he licked and sucked like it was his life’s mission. Minji, her body arched slightly, moaned softly, her fingers tangled in his hair, guiding him. “Fuck, Y/N, you’re so into this,” she giggled, her voice a mix of ticklish delight and raw pleasure. “Do the other one, come on.”

She lifted her other arm, exposing her second armpit, just as sweaty and glistening from the humid Seoul night. Y/N didn’t hesitate, diving in, his tongue tracing long, hungry strokes across her skin. Minji squirmed, laughing as the sensation tickled but loving every second. “Oh my God, cousin brother, you’re nasty,” she teased, her eyes glinting with pride and arousal. “Who knew you’d be this freaky?”

Hanni, still on her knees, sucked Y/N’s cock with sloppy enthusiasm, her petite frame bobbing as she took him deep, spit dripping down her chin. She glanced up, her eyes sparkling at the sight of Y/N devouring Minji’s armpit. “Fuck, this is so hot,” she mumbled around his dick, her words muffled but her excitement clear.

Minji finally pulled Y/N’s face away, her armpits glistening from his tongue. Her cheeks were flushed, her breathing heavy. She cupped his face, her thumbs brushing his cheeks, and leaned in, kissing him deeply. It was messy, passionate, their tongues swirling, saliva mixing with the faint taste of her sweat and Hanni’s pussy from earlier. Y/N melted into it, his heart pounding, his hands trembling as they gripped her waist. This was no ordinary kiss—it was raw, intimate, and loaded with years of distance.

Minji pulled back, her forehead resting against his, her voice soft and sincere. “I love you, brother Y/N,” she whispered, her eyes shimmering. “I missed you so much over the years.”

Y/N’s breath caught, his heart swelling. “I… I missed you too, Minji,” he stammered, his voice thick with emotion. For a moment, the room felt still, the air charged with a tender, almost a romantic connection between them.

Hanni, still on her knees, paused her sucking, her lips hovering over Y/N’s cock as she watched, her small hands clutching his thighs. “Oh my God, you guys,” she sniffled, her voice shaky with exaggerated emotion. “This is so fucking romantic, I’m gonna cry! You guys are saying 'I love you' to each other!!” She wiped a fake tear, then burst into giggles, ruining the moment.

Minji laughed, shoving Hanni playfully. “Bitch, shut up, you’re ruining it!”

Hanni grinned, licking her lips. “Fine, fine, but let’s get nasty again. I’m not done with nerd boy.” She crawled up the bed, her petite 5’2” frame dripping with sweat, her eyes gleaming with mischief. “Y/N, you ready for the real fun?”

Y/N, still dazed from Minji’s kiss, barely had time to process before Hanni shoved him flat on his back. “W-what—” he started, but Minji was already moving, her smirk returning.

“Time for a treat, cousin,” Minji purred, climbing over him. She positioned herself above his face, her pussy—already soaked from Hanni’s earlier tongue work—hovering inches from his mouth. Her thighs, slick with sweat, framed his vision, and the musky scent of her arousal hit him like a drug. “You’re gonna eat me out,” she said, her voice commanding but playful.

Hanni clapped her hands, straddling Y/N’s waist, her small hands stroking his cock to keep him hard. “Oh, fuck yes, facesitting time!” she cheered, her voice dripping with excitement. “Make it messy, Minji!”

Minji lowered herself, her pussy pressing against Y/N’s mouth, hot and wet. Y/N groaned, his tongue instinctively darting out, tasting her salty sweetness mixed with sweat and traces of Hanni’s spit. He licked hungrily, his hands gripping her thighs as she ground against his face, her moans loud and unfiltered. “Fuck, Y/N, you’re so good at this,” she gasped, her hips rolling, smearing her juices across his lips and chin.

Hanni, watching from her perch on Y/N’s waist, laughed. “Look at him, drowning in your pussy! Nerd boy’s living his best life!” She leaned forward, kissing Minji sloppily, their tongues tangling as Minji rode Y/N’s face. The room filled with wet, obscene sounds—slurping, moaning, and the creak of the bed.

Minji’s body trembled, her pussy gushing as Y/N’s tongue flicked her clit. “Oh, shit, I’m gonna squirt,” she warned, her voice shaky. She didn’t hold back, grinding harder, and with a loud cry, she came, her juices flooding Y/N’s mouth, dripping down his cheeks. He sputtered but kept licking, swallowing what he could, his face a mess of sweat, squirt, and spit.

Minji laughed, lifting herself slightly to let Y/N breathe. “You okay down there, cousin?” she teased, wiping some of her juices off his chin. Y/N, panting, could only nod, his cock throbbing under Hanni’s touch.

But Hanni wasn’t done. “My turn,” she said, shoving Minji aside. Her smaller frame climbed over Y/N’s face, her pussy already dripping from the night’s chaos. “Open wide my besties's oppa~,” she giggled, lowering herself. Her pussy was tighter, her scent sharper, and Y/N’s tongue dove in, licking eagerly. Hanni was messier, her hips bucking wildly, smearing her juices and sweat across his face. “Fuck, yes, eat it!” she moaned, her small hands gripping his hair.

Minji, now at Y/N’s side, leaned down to suck his cock, her lips wrapping around him as Hanni rode his face. The double assault was too much—Y/N’s moans were muffled against Hanni’s pussy, his body shaking. Hanni’s movements grew erratic, and with a high-pitched squeal, she squirted, her juices mixing with a sudden, unexpected gush of piss, soaking Y/N’s face in a hot, messy flood. He coughed, shocked but too turned on to care, his tongue still working as Hanni laughed. “Oops, got a little carried away!” she said, not remotely sorry.

Minji pulled off Y/N’s cock, grinning. “Bitch, you pissed on him? That’s so fucking nasty, I love it!” She kissed Hanni, tasting Y/N’s cum and Hanni’s squirt on her lips. “You’re such a slut.”

Hanni smirked, climbing off Y/N’s face. “Says the girl who made her cousin lick her armpits!” She turned to Y/N, his face drenched and flushed. “You good, nerd boy? Or you tapping out?”

Y/N, gasping for air, his cock rock-hard, could barely speak. “I-I’m… fuck, this is insane,” he rasped, his voice drowned out by their laughter.

Minji straddled his waist, her pussy brushing his cock. “Oh, we’re just getting started,” she teased, her voice dripping with promise. “Ready to fuck your superstar cousin, Y/N?”

Hanni high-fived her, giggling. “Let’s ruin him!” The night was spiraling into pure, filthy chaos, and Y/N was too far gone to care.

the night was far from over. Minji’s eyes glinted with mischief as she pushed Y/N flat on his back again, his cock still rock-hard and twitching. “Time for the main event Oppa,” she said, her voice low and sultry.

Y/N is totally flat, laying in bed. Minji straddled him, her pussy—wet and glistening from earlier—hovering over his dick. She gripped him, guiding her cousin's cock into her pussy, and slowly sank down, his cock sliding into her tight, warm pussy.

Y/N gasped, a sharp mix of pleasure and pain shooting through him. It was his first time, and the sensation was intense—her walls gripped him tightly, almost too much. “F-fuck,” he groaned, his hands clutching the sheets. “It… it hurts a little.”

Minji smirked, her hips starting to move, bouncing slowly at first. “You’ll get used to it, nerd boy,” she teased, her medium tits bouncing with each thrust. “Feels good too, doesn’t it?”

Y/N’s moans grew louder, his body betraying him. Despite the initial pain, the pleasure was unreal—Minji’s pussy was hot, wet, and perfect, her movements driving him wild. His mind screamed, This is a dream, this can’t be real, but his body was in love, his cock throbbing inside her, his heart racing for both Minji and Hanni. I love them both, he thought, lost in the haze. Y/N starts moaning a little bit loud.

Hanni, not waning the people outside the room and not one to be left out, climbed onto Y/N’s face, her petite frame facing Minji as she lowered her pussy onto his mouth. “Eat my pussy, bitch!” she ordered, her voice playful but commanding, her small hands gripping his hair to keep him in place. Y/N’s moans were muffled against her wet folds, his tongue diving in, licking hungrily despite the overwhelming sensations. Hanni’s pussy was messy, dripping with sweat and her earlier squirt, the taste sharp and intoxicating.

“Fuck, he’s screaming down there!” Hanni laughed, grinding harder against his face, her juices smearing across his lips and chin. “Keep moaning, nerd boy, it’s hot!”

Minji’s bounces grew faster, her pussy slamming down on Y/N’s cock, the wet slap-slap of their bodies echoing in the room. “God, his dick feels so good,” she moaned, her hands gripping his chest for balance. “Better than that old CEO’s shriveled cock, huh, Hanni?”

Hanni cackled, her hips rolling as Y/N’s tongue worked her clit. “Fuck yeah, this is way better! Minji, your couson got game!” She leaned forward, kissing Minji sloppily, their tongues tangling as they rode Y/N’s body, their sweat-soaked skin glistening.

Y/N’s mind was a whirlwind. The pain in his cock had melted into pure ecstasy, Minji’s pussy driving him to the edge. Hanni’s pussy on his face was suffocating in the best way, her juices flooding his mouth as he licked and sucked. He didn’t truly like the intensity—it was too much, too fast—but his body loved it, his hips bucking into Minji, his tongue desperate for Hanni. I’m in love with them, he thought, his heart pounding. This is fucking heaven.

Hanni’s moans grew louder, her small body trembling. “Oh, shit, I’m gonna squirt again!” she warned, and with a high-pitched squeal, she did, her juices gushing over Y/N’s face, mixed with a hot, messy stream of piss that he couldn’t escape.

He sputtered, swallowing what he could, his face a drenched mess. Minji laughed, her own orgasm building. “Fuck, Hanni, you’re soaking him!” she gasped, her hips slamming harder. “I’m gonna cum too!”

Y/N’s moans were lost in Hanni’s pussy, as his mouth was fully covered by Hanni's ass and pussy. his cock pulsing as Minji’s pussy clenched around him. He was close, his body betraying him again, loving every second of this filthy, romantic, chaotic night.

Y/N’s body was a trembling mess, pinned to the bed under the relentless onslaught of Minji and Hanni. His skinny frame shook as Minji, her 5’6” body radiating an almost evil confidence, rode his cock with brutal intensity. Her pussy slammed down on him, the slap-slap of their sweaty bodies echoing louder, each thrust rougher than the last. Minji’s medium-sized tits bounced wildly, her face twisted in wicked pleasure, her eyes glinting with a sadistic edge. She was in control, and she loved it.

Y/N’s cock, raw from the pounding, ached with a mix of pain and ecstasy. His moans turned to screams, his voice cracking. “Ahhh, Minji, ahhhh!!” he cried, tears streaming down his face, mixing with the sticky remnants of Hanni’s piss and squirt still coating his skin. The tears were half agony, half overwhelming pleasure, his body betraying him as it craved more despite the intensity.

Minji’s lips curled into a triumphant smirk, her voice dripping with pride. “Yes OPPA, scream more!” she taunted, her hips slamming harder, her pussy clenching around his cock like a vice. “Scream my fucking name, Y/N!” She leaned forward, her nails digging into his chest, leaving red marks as she rode him mercilessly, her moans mixing with his cries.

Hanni, still grinding her soaked pussy on Y/N’s face, giggled through her own moans, her petite frame bouncing as she smeared her juices across his lips. “Fuck, Minji, you’re breaking him!” she laughed, her tongue flicking out to tease Y/N’s nose. “Look at him crying, soaked in my piss—such a pathetic little bitch!”

Y/N’s screams grew louder, his body shaking uncontrollably as Minji pushed him past his limits. His cock pulsed inside her, the pleasure overwhelming the pain. Minji’s moans hit a fever pitch, her pussy tightening as she neared her climax. “Fuck, Y/N, I’m gonna cum!” she gasped, her hips slamming one final time. With a shared scream, they came together—Y/N’s cock erupting inside her, his thick load filling her pussy as Minji’s juices gushed around him, dripping down his thighs. Her body trembled, weak from the intensity, her breaths ragged.

Minji collapsed forward, her sweaty body pressed against Y/N’s chest, her pussy still twitching around his softening cock. “Fuck… that was good,” she panted, her voice hoarse but satisfied. She kissed him softly, a stark contrast to her earlier cruelty, her lips lingering with a hint of tenderness. “You did good, brother.”

Hanni, ever the instigator, slid off Y/N’s face, her eyes gleaming with mischief. “Time to clean up,” she chirped, crawling down to Minji’s pussy. Her tongue darted out, lapping at the mix of Y/N’s cum and Minji’s juices, sucking greedily as Minji moaned weakly. “Mmm Minji, your cousin's cum tastes so much better than that CEO’s nasty shit,” Hanni said, her voice muffled as she licked Minji clean. She moved to Y/N’s cock next, her small mouth wrapping around his sensitive tip, sucking gently, cleaning every drop. Y/N groaned, his body too weak to resist, his cock twitching painfully.

Next Hanni wasn’t done. With a devilish grin, she climbed up, positioning her tight, dripping pussy over Y/N’s cock, which was somehow still half-hard despite the abuse. “No way you’re tapping out now, nerd boy,” she teased, grabbing his shaft and guiding it to her entrance. “My turn.”

Y/N’s eyes widened, his voice a desperate plea. “Oh, no, Hanni! I can’t—” he started, but as Hanni sank down, her pussy swallowing his cock in one smooth motion, his words melted into a moan. “Oh my God, I love it,” he gasped, his body betraying him again, the pleasure reigniting despite the exhaustion. Hanni’s pussy was tighter, her petite frame bouncing as she rode him with wild abandon, her moans high-pitched and gleeful.

Minji, still catching her breath, laughed weakly from the side, her body slumped but her eyes sparkling with amusement. “Look at him, Hanni,” she said, her voice raspy. “He’s fucking destroyed, and he still loves it.” She crawled closer, her strength returning, and with a wicked smirk, she positioned herself over Y/N’s chest. “Time for a bath, cousin,” she purred, and without warning, she let loose, a hot stream of piss and squirt gushing from her pussy, soaking Y/N’s face, chest, and hair.

Hanni cackled, her hips still grinding on Y/N’s cock. “Yeah, bath and soak your cousin with piss!” she cheered, her own pussy clenching around him as she watched Minji drench him. “Fuck, this is so nasty, I love it!”

Y/N’s mind was a haze of disbelief and ecstasy. The warm, musky flood of Minji’s piss and squirt coated him, the golden shower from his goddess cousin and her bandmate feeling like a divine gift. This is unreal, he thought, his cock throbbing inside Hanni, his body trembling under the weight of their dominance. He felt godly, chosen by these beautiful, filthy queens, even as his tears and their piss mixed on his face. His moans were muffled, his body weak, but his heart screamed, "I love them, I love this."

Hanni’s bounces grew faster, her small tits jiggling as she chased her own orgasm. “Fuck, nerd boy, you’re gonna make me cum!” she squealed, her pussy tightening around him. Minji, now spent, leaned down, kissing Hanni sloppily, their tongues tangling as they laughed over Y/N’s drenched, moaning form.

“Ruin him, Hanni,” Minji whispered, her voice dripping with pride.

Y/N’s body was beyond exhausted, his skinny frame trembling under the relentless assault of Minji and Hanni. His cock, raw and overstimulated, pulsed inside Hanni’s tight, dripping pussy as she rode him with wild abandon, her petite 5’2” frame bouncing with gleeful energy. Her high-pitched moans filled the room, mixing with the wet slap-slap of her hips against his. Minji, still straddling his chest, her own body slick with sweat and the remnants of her earlier piss and squirt, laughed wickedly, her medium-sized tits heaving as she egged Hanni on. “Fuck him up, Hanni,” she teased, her voice hoarse but proud. “Make him cum again!”

Y/N’s moans were incoherent, his voice reduced to desperate whimpers. “H-Hanni, I can’t—oh God!” he gasped, his hands clutching the sheets, his body too weak to resist. But his cock betrayed him, throbbing harder with every thrust, the pleasure drowning out the pain. Hanni’s pussy clenched around him, her small hands gripping his shoulders as she pushed herself closer to climax. “Fuck, nerd boy, give it to me!” she squealed, her eyes glinting with mischief.

Minji leaned down, kissing Hanni sloppily, their tongues tangling over Y/N’s drenched, trembling form. The sight pushed Y/N over the edge.

With a loud, broken scream—“Hanni! Minji!”—he came hard, his cock erupting inside Hanni, a massive load flooding her pussy. His body convulsed, his vision blurring as the orgasm ripped through him, leaving him utterly spent, his limbs limp on the bed.

Hanni moaned, feeling his cum fill her, and quickly slid off, her pussy dripping with his load. “Oh, fuck, look at that! So many white cum loads!” she giggled, crawling to Minji. Both girls dove for Y/N’s cock, their mouths hungry, licking and sucking the last drops of his cum, their tongues brushing against each other. Minji took a long, greedy lick, savoring the taste. “Mmm, so much better than that CEO’s nasty shit,” she purred, her voice teasing. Hanni nodded, her lips glossy with cum. “Fuck yeah, nerd boy’s got the good stuff!”

They turned to each other, crashing their lips together in a filthy, cum-soaked kiss, their tongues swapping Y/N’s load, moaning into each other’s mouths. Strands of cum and spit dripped down their chins, their laughter muffled but gleeful. Y/N, barely conscious, watched through half-lidded eyes, his body too weak to move, his mind a haze of disbelief and raw love. I’m in love with them, he thought faintly, his heart pounding despite his exhaustion.

Finally, the girls collapsed beside him, their naked, sweat-soaked bodies pressing against his. Minji on his left, Hanni on his right, they hugged him tightly, their arms draped over his chest, their legs tangled with his. Y/N was in the middle of the bed, enveloped in their warmth, their skin soft and musky. Even in their exhaustion, Minji and Hanni’s hands lazily stroked his softening cock, their fingers teasing him gently, keeping him on edge even as he drifted toward unconsciousness.

---TO BE CONTINUED :')---

#girl group smut #kpop gg smut #minji smut #newjeans smut #hanni smut #twice smut #izone smut #kpop girl smut #ive smut #karina smut

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no-144444 · 7 months ago

Text

the grid: when they admit they love you!

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featuring: Oscar Piastri, Lando Norris, Lewis Hamilton, George Russell, Alex Albon, Franco Colapinto, Logan Sargeant, Daniel Riccardo, Liam Lawson, Charles LeClerc, Carlos Sainz, Arthur LeClerc, Ollie Bearman, Max Verstappen, Paul Aron, Jack Doohan.

this is 18+ so mdni please! smut in some of them!

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Oscar Piastri: fumbling and scared

You sat at the reception of McLaren, and every single day he was terrified of making a fool of himself. You were the cool, pretty receptionist he’d already gone on 3 dates with, and this Friday he was going to ask you to officially be his girlfriend. The conversation between you two flowed easily when it was just you two, but with other people there… he was less than smooth. Your desk mate, the other receptionist had a knack for gossip, and she was kind of scary, she he tried to steer clear of her when he could.

“Morning,” you smiled as he walked in the door.

“Morning,” he smiled back, leaning on your desk. “How are you?”

You started signing him into the building (he ‘lost’ his access card months ago, aka he threw it away and didn’t try to get a new one, just so he could have some reason to talk to you). “I’m good, looking forward to Friday,” you smiled. “You?”

He beamed, grinning like a kid. “Me too.”

“Oscar!” Chris (the guy who has the biggest crush on you ever) clapped a hand on his back, much too hard. “Buddy, I got you a new access-card! Now you can stop bothering the pretty lady here, right?”

“Chris, it’s no bother, I do it every morning-” you tried to diffuse the situation. You didn’t exactly want Osccar to have to deal with Chris, he was such an asshole.

“Yeah, but it’s one less thing off your plate baby,” he winked at you and Oscar felt something twist in his stomach when you grimaced at the pet name.

“Don’t call her that,” he told him. “She has a name, it’s Y/n. Use her name.”

“Dude, I know you wouldn’t get it, but some people date other people,” Chris chuckled like a scumbag. “And me and her are together, so back off.”

Oscar laughed. He actually laughed in your co-workers face. “You’re funny, man.”

Chris laughed along. “I know right.”

Oscar took the access card from him, leaned over the desk and pressed his lips to yours, like he’d done many times before, and carried on to his meetings. Chris stood there shocked, then walked back to his desk like a wounded puppy.

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Friday rolled around and you were both sat on his couch watching Cars, when he turned to you. “I’m sorry about Monday,” he admitted. “I know it wasn’t the right thing to do and it probably made it worse but I just-”

“It worked,” you told him. “He hasn’t spoken to me all week, but he has been trying to report you to HR for me, but every time he does I just tell them I didn’t make the claim and then report Chris for being weird. It worked perfectly. He’s such a dick,” you chuckled.

He watched you as you chuckled, the way your nose scrunched, the flyaway hairs on your forehead framing your face, your soft lips, you gorgeous eyes. “I love you,” he said, softly, but you looked up with wide-eyes all the same. He’d shocked himself too. “OHmygodIamsosorryIknowit’swaytooearlyand-”

You just started laughing, literally falling into his lap. You laughed against his chest and after a moment, he joined you.

“You’re such a dork,” you smiled brightly as you ran a hand through his hair, then gently caressed his cheek. “I love you too.”

He beamed. “Can I be your boyfriend?”

You nodded, then kissed him gently. Cars and a pretty girl as his girlfriend? Could his Friday night get any better?

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Lando Norris: sweet and sincere (for once)

He watched as you walked from the edge of the water into it, splashing around with Mila. It was your first Norris family holiday, and yeah, maybe he had lied to you and told you it would just be you two to trick you into meeting his family only 5 months into your relationship. Maybe you were super mad at him to the point of barely speaking to him unless in the group. But also, maybe Lando was watching the love of his life play with his niece, and maybe he didn’t care that he’ just called you that.

“Lala!” Mila called, running up to him. “I really like Y/n, can we keep her?”

You came up behind her, chuckling lightly at her statement. He stared at you for a moment. You were sunkissed (and a little sunburn on your nose), with a bright smile, wet hair and a beautiful blue swimsuit on. You looked ethereal to him. So stunningly gorgeous that he barely knew what to say.

“Come on kiddo, let’s grab you a snack,” you picked back up your smile and started to walk over to his sister, sitting under another umbrella with all the snacks and drinks in the world. Lando just stared at you when Mila asked. You’d thought that him inviting you on a family holiday would mean something, you must’ve thought wrong.

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As dinner rolled around, the conversation flowed smoothly as the sun set on the horizon.

“I’m going to go for a walk on the beach front,” you told the table once meals were finished. They waved you off and off you went. The beautiful sea and stars in the sky caught your attention as your red dress flowed in the wind. It was magical, the warm air, the magnificent views, all of it. The sand beneath your feet was warming your feet and you stopped to look out on the ocean. The soothing, calm waves with the scent of salt made you smile. You’d always loved the beach.

“You look beautiful,” Lando’s voice made you jump, and you searched for him until you realised he was right beside you.

“Thank you,” you smiled softly. He wrapped a hand around your waist and turned you to face him.

He’d been quiet at dinner, too busy trying to think of how to get you to talk to him again, and how he could finally confess his love for you. It was almost overwhelming, the fact that he was in love.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you that it was a family trip,” he sighed, pressing a kiss to your cheek.

You sighed. “It was pretty shitty…” you reminded him. “But I’ve been having fun with them. You come from good people. Makes sense.”

He smiled brightly at your compliment and pressed his forehead against yours. “Thank you for not leaving once you found out.”

You chuckled. “No problem.”

“I adore you,” he admitted. “More than anything. I fucking love you.”

Your eyes widened and you stood there with your jaw dropped. “Holy shit,” you cursed under your breath and he giggled.

“You don’t have to say it back or anything, I just wanted to tell you,” he clarified, once he’d stopped laughing.

You smiled at him, chuckling. “I love you too, Lando, of course I do. Even when you do stupid shit like invite me to a family holiday.”

He laughed, burying his face in your neck. “I already said ‘I’m sorry’!”

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George Russell: of course…

He smiled as he crossed the finish line, finally winning another race.

“Well done George!” his engineer cheered, congratulating him as the garage erupted into celebrations.

When he was finally out of the car, all interviews were over, and all that was left was to take a few team photos, he was given a moment to seek you out. You’d hugged you at the barricade, but since then he hadn’t seen you. You were busy signing things for fans, little girls who wanted to be ‘just like you’ one day. You smiled and told them they would be, that their dreams of being olympic gymnasts weren’t far-fetched. He smiled, wrapping his arms around you from behind. He was covered in champagne, and you groaned, making the small group of girls laugh.

“George!” you groaned, pushing him off.

“What?” he smirked, pulling you back in. He pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, as the group of girls moved on with a giggle and a wave. “You look stunning.”

“You’re wet,” you dead-panned. “Congratulations, winner.”

He grinned. “I love you.”

You stared at him for a moment, a gentle disbelief in your eyes. “Really?”

“More than anything.”

“Not just because you're drunk on champagne?”

“Nope, I genuinely love you,” he chuckled. “Sorry,” he shrugged, unapologetic.

You beamed, then kissed him. “I love you more.”

He shook his head. “Not possible.”

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Kimi Antonelli: nervous

He smiled as he opened the door to his apartment and found you on the other side.

“Ready?” you asked, holding up a very big paint can, and some rollers. He had asked you to help him decorate his new apartment, in Monaco, and you’d thankfully agreed. You, his girlfriend / race engineer, had also just moved to Monaco, next door, in fact.

He let you in and you both began to set up the room, tarping the hardwood floors, taping off the skirting boards, and enjoying the soft music and sunny weather outside the window. You finally opened the paint and got to work. He thought you looked adorable, actually wearing paint-splattered overalls (courtesy of you repainting your entire apartment just a week ago), with a concentrated face. His eyes followed you across the room, meticulously taping every inch of the skirting board, making sure that none of the blue paint would ruin the white.

“What?” you asked, looking back at him.

He blushed and shook his head, finally understanding the emotions he felt for you everyday. He loved you. “Nothing.”

You raised an eyebrow and walked over, wrapping your arms around his neck and pressing a kiss to his lips. “You sure?”

He nodded, much too nervous to tell you. He looked away, pretending to be engrossed in messing with your pockets.

You shrugged, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “Alright,” you let go of him and walked back to the side of the room that you were working on.

He’d tell you, one day.

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Lewis Hamilton: smooth about it

He smirked as you walked out from your bedroom, clad in one of his shirts and some tiny sleep-shorts, excited about finally sitting down to watch the movie. It had been a difficult triple-header, and he hadn’t been around. But finally, the season was over, and he could invite you over to start enjoying the Christmas festivities. He loved this. He loved the casual, regular things you two did. He liked the way you cuddled up to him on the couch, he loved the way he knew you’d definitely fall asleep before the film ended, he loved you-

Oh.

He loved you.

He chuckled and you looked at him confused.

“You alright?”

He chuckled. “All good baby,” he nodded, pressing a soft kiss to your cheek.

“What was that about?” you questioned further, putting the remote down. He ran a hand through your hair, looking at you with all the love in the world.

“Just love you,” he shrugged as your jaw dropped. He chuckled, watching a million emotions run through you.

“You’re such a dick!” you playfully hit him on the shoulder. “I wanted to say it first!”

He laughed and pulled you into his arms, holding you closer. “I’m sorry baby.”

You scoffed. “No you’re not.”

He shook his head. “No I’m not.”

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Alex Albon: oh… yah.

He sighed as he opened the door to his driver’s room. He was exhausted, another race down, another weekend closer to the end of this.

“Hey,” you smiled.

His mood picked up, knowing you were there. His best friend. “Hey,” he smiled, pulling you into a hug. “I didn’t know you were here.”

“Surprise?” you shrugged. “I wanted to come see you.”

He smiled, pressing his face into your neck inhaling the smell of your perfume, feeling much more at ease than he did before. “I thought you couldn’t make it today.”

“I did, but I won't be able to be in Qatar or Abu Dhabi,” you admitted, breaking the bad news. You could feel him frown.

“Why not?”

“I'm busy for the next two weeks with work. Then I have the whole couples retreat thing and then-”

“Pardon? Couples retreat?”

“This guy I’m seeing is saying we should go, I think it’s a swinging thing though, I’m not exactly into it. But non refundable tickets and I would like a holiday before I have to deal with our families all Christmas,” you explained with a chuckle.

His world crumpled around him. “You’re seeing someone?”

You nodded. “Yeah, he’s… nice,” you smiled. “Don’t worry, you won’t be meeting him for a while, he’s not even my boyfriend yet-”

You stopped talking because he’d started kissing you. He hadn’t really connected the dots before. He liked how close your families were, he liked being your best friend, he liked being around you all the time. He liked being the person you’d come to about things. He didn’t like other people liking you. He’d been your personal bodyguard throughout your teenage years, and he had shooed off every guy, just because he was protecting you, right? It had nothing to do with the fact that he wanted both of you to wait and be each other's first kiss, like you’d promised when you were 10.

Oh shit. He was in love with you.

He pulled back with wide-eyes. “I’m in love with you.”

You broke out into a smile. “I love you too.”

He grinned like a little kid.

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Franco Colapinto: shy? For once?

He froze as he heard your voice from behind. He hadn’t been home in months, too busy with racing to visit. But Christmas rolled around as it always did, and so did every single family friend.

“Franco!” his mother’s voice rang out. “Come here!”

He turned and was met with your eyes. He felt himself blushing already.

“Y/n’s here!” she cheered. You offered a small wave and a smile, which he mirrored.

“It’s good to see you again,” you smiled. “Happy Holidays.”

He nodded. “You too.”

“How’s F1 going?”

“Good, well. I like it,” he scratched the back of his neck.

“Well, we’ve all been cheering you on from here,” you smiled. “I can’t wait to see what you do next year.”

He smiled and nervously chuckled. “Thank you.”

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As he watched you over the coming days, enjoying your company, even when he wasn’t the centre of your attention, he found himself becoming even more shy, even more confused, and increasingly love-sick.

He just had to find a way to make himself tell you, easy, right?

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Logan Sargeant: idek

Y’know how you’re told that when boys like you, they’ll bully you? That’s bullshit, they’re just bullies and their parents make excuses for them.

You watched as Logan got into your car, getting ready to drive it, and you felt yourself tense up. You’d never gotten along with Logan, growing up in the same racing series, only you pivoted to Indycar and he went to F1. Now he was about to drive your car. You’d never been more nervous. You were the Indycar champion this year, the first women to do it, and you were proud. Giving your car over to Crash-Sargeant wasn’t exactly your choice, but you still had hope that he could drive it.

You went up to him as he was about to get it, and grabbed his hand, holding him in place. “If you fucking car my car I will cut your balls off Sargeant. Don’t fuck with me, alright?” you whispered, getting close enough to feel his breath on your cheek. He smirked and nodded, ripping his hand out of your grasp.

“I’ll see what I can do.”

He was already hearing wedding bells. Utterly and totally in love with you.

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Daniel Riccardo: nothing like a big gesture, right?

He dropped you off outside departures, a sad smile on his face. “Don’t want you to go,” he sighed.

You rolled your eyes, then wrapped your arms around his neck, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek as his hands circled your waist. “What’re you doing today?”

“Stuff for Enchanté,” he explained.

“That’s why you can’t come this weekend? Not up to being my WAG in Haas?” you smirked, pressing small kisses to his cheeks as you spoke.

“God no, I only go there for Nico,” he smirked. “And you’re replacing him today.”

You rolled your eyes, letting god of him. “Fuck you!” you called after you, trying to suppress a smile. He watched as you walked off, shaking your head and he thought about everything. Every night he went to sleep with you in his arms, every morning he woke up beside you, every smile he saw, every laugh he made happen, every hug or kiss he got from you. He smiled, realising the truth.

He loved you.

Therefore he ran after you, making a huge scene in the airport. When he finally made it up to you, there were 2 security guards chasing him, so he wrapped his arms around you and kissed you harshly, a bright smile on his face. “I love you,” he smiled when he pulled away.

“You’re going to get fucking arrested!” you stressed, wide-eyed and shocked at his behavior.

“For being in love?”

“No, you idiot, for bypassing security and running through an airport without a ticket! Go back!” you pushed him off of you with an exasperated and amused smile.

“I love you!” he called after himself as he was taken away by the security guards.

“I love you too, you fucking idiot!” you scoffed. “You have a phone, y’know!”

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Liam Lawson: will NOT speak to you at any cost

Being in love with one of his mechanics probably wasn’t the greatest idea, but the heart wants what the heart wants, and his wanted you.

“Liam can I-?” you started, but he just walked away, his eyes glued to the floor. You followed behind him, trying again and again to get his attention, but he continued ignoring you, and you'd had enough. “Fuck’s sake- Liam! Stop being such a dick! I don’t know if you just don’t respect me, or if you don’t like me, but I’m a mechanic on your time, and I'm asking if there’s anything you want us to change about your car to make you more comfortable. Just answer me that simple question and I promise I won’t bother you again all weekend!”

He froze on the spot. “I’m in love with you-” he blurted out, then clapped a hand over his mouth. “The car is fine, sorry. Thanks.”

Then he walked off, leaving you in a stunned silence.

What the fuck had he just done?

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Charles LeClerc: weirdly calm about it

You two sat on (one of) his (many) yacht(s), overlooking the gorgeous Monaco bay. He had an arm around you, both of you dressed in comfortable clothes with nothing to do for the entire weekend. Oh, how he adored the off-season. You were too busy reading a book to notice the way he was looking at you. In the simple, silent moment it hit him suddenly that he was in fact, in love with you. And it didn’t scare him the way previous girlfriends confessing such things to him had. It felt right, completely normal, even.

“Do you want anything?” you yawned.

“Pardon?” he asked, too busy in his own world.

“I’m ordering food, do you want something?”

“I’m alright, but let me get it,” he offered and you scoffed.

“Fuck off Percvél. I can pay for my own food,” you chuckled, getting up and walking further into the boat.

He chuckled, watching after you.

Wow, he was mature. And, in love.

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Carlos Sainz: definitely not freaking out

“I love you,” you confessed as the two of you cosied up at the beach. It had been a brilliant holiday, the two of you actually getting to spend some time together.

He looked at you with wide-eyes.

“Sorry if that was too soon, or too much. I just… wanted you to know. You don’t have to say anything back- of course.”

While you were catastrophising, he was freaking out. You loved him. You told him you loved him. Holy shit.

He stuttered for a moment, making you grimace. You’d fucked it up, definitely. There was no way he felt the same, right? You were probably just a 7 month long hook-up to him, right?

“I love you too,” he smiled, then pressed his lips to yours.

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Arthur LeClerc: accidental

“Arthur is so whipped!” his friend laughed, watching as Arthur helped you set the table for dinner. Arthur just laughed, whereas, you frowned. Did Arthur think you were too clingy? Too demanding? Too much?

Throughout dinner, you were pretty quiet, and you didn’t even let Arthur help you clean up. You went to bed early as he entertained the guests alone, and when he came to bed, there was a pillow between either sides of your bed. He frowned.

“Baby,” he cooed, wrapping his arms around you and placing your head in the crook of his neck. “What is the problem?”

You sniffled. “It’s nothing,” you shook your head. “I’m sorry.”

He felt his heart warm when you held on to him, revelling in the fact that you would choose him to comfort you. “It’s just what-”

“Please don’t tell me you took to heart the comment Harry made?” he scoffed. You were quiet. “My love, I love you, I like helping you, I like being there for you, I like kissing and hugging you. If he has a problem with that then he can fuck off,” he chuckled, then stopped when he realised what he’d said.

“You love me?” you sniffled, raising your head to look at him.

He smiled. “Of course I do,” he pressed a kiss to your forehead. “Always.”

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Ollie Bearman: overwhelmed

He smiled as he watched you dance on the dancefloor of the club. You looked so free and happy, smiling brightly with friends as the lights flashed and the music was loud enough to feel it in your entire body.

“Dude, you two are so in love, it’s adorable,” Paul, his friend, pointed out.

“I don’t- we’re not-”

“Haven’t said it yet?” Paul chuckled. “You should. I think she’d say it back.”

Ollie nodded, trying to pretend his entire world hadn’t been flipped upside down. You. Love. He wasn’t in love, right? All boyfriends wanted their girlfriends beside them at all times, right? All boyfriends missed their girlfriends so much that they flew them out to every race, right? All boyfriends had begged their girlfriends to meet his parents, and vice versa only months into getting together, right? All boyfriends felt suffocated when their girlfriends weren’t around, right?

Oh shit, he was in love with you. He stepped outside to get some air.

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After a while of not seeing Ollie, you went outside to find him. You found him, leaning against the wall of the club, staring off into space.

“Alright?” you asked, gently placing a hand on his cheek.

He looked at you and smiled. “Alright,” he nodded, wrapping his hands around your waist.

“Why’d you leave?” you asked.

“Needed some air,” he admitted. It wasn’t untrue.

“For 30 minutes?” you questioned and he knew he’d been caught. “Did Paul say something stupid? Need me to beat him up for you?”

He chuckled, pulling you closer to him. “No, I’m alright. I was just… thinking.”

“Dangerous pastime,” you teased and he chuckled. “What about?”

“You,” he confessed.

“What about me?”

“I’m in love with you,” he answered nervously.

“Oh yeah?” you smiled and he nodded. “Good thing I love you too.”

Wow, Paul was right, for once.

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Max Verstappen: strange man

He watched from the other side of the plane as you played chess against his mother, bright smiles on both of your faces as the game progressed. He noticed the way your nose crinkled, the way your eyes shone, the comfortable position you sat in. He thought of every moment he got to share with you, and he almost teared up thinking of the best ones. He loved you. But he wouldn’t tell you, not yet.

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He thrust into you, euphoria so close he could almost touch it. “Good girl, he groaned, feeling your nails in his back. “Taking me so well.”

You just moaned against his skin, too cockdrunk to really notice what was going on around you. Max was a 4 time world champion. He’d done it. The first thing he’d wanted was to fuck you silly in his hotel room.

He was close, he slowed down his thrusts, much to your dismay, and slowly but firmly continued.

“I,” thrust. “Love,” thrust. “You.”

And he came inside you as you screamed into his shoulder, reaching your own peak. He hadn’t even meant to say it, it just came out (see what I did there? 😀). He stared down at you as you looked back up at him with wide eyes.

“You love me?” you questioned.

He nodded, his mouth dry. He was trying to focus on the softness of this moment, whilst also having to deal with your tight walls around his cock. Torture.

“I love you too,” you smiled, flipping him over and straddling him. He groaned when he saw you on top of him and he was hard again. “Let me take care of you, yeah? My winner,” you smirked before starting to move on his cock.

He was in for a long night. But a long night with the woman he loved.

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Paul Aron: finally is a victim of humility

“Paul, just tell her!” Ralf, his brother, argued. “She adores you, you’re in love with her, it’s alright!”

“But… what if she doesn’t say it back?” He asked, much more insecure than he meant it to sound. He wasn’t used to being unsure when it came to romance. Paul had always been the type of guy to get any girl he wanted, with you it had been different. You’d hated his guts. He had to prove to you he was a good guy, then you’d finally gone out with him, and fast forward a year, he was trying to figure out how to tell you he loved you. He’d only realised it last night, when you were waiting in his apartment with dinner made for the two of you for the simple reason ‘just because’. In that moment he’d wrapped his arms around you and kissed you to stop himself from ruining the night and confessing right then and there.

Ralf groaned. “You are impossible!”

When did love become so complicated?

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Jack Doohan: so not casual

Jack watched as you wiped out in the waves once again, a giggle on his lips. As you resurfaced, he saw the panic in your eyes and he swam over, his body taking over before his brain could say anything.

“You alright?” he called, swimming over to you. You shook your head wildly, tears forming in your eyes.

“M-my leg,” you whimpered out, trying to keep yourself above water. He grabbed your waist and held you bridal-style so he could swim back to shore, signalling to the lifeguards as finally got you to shore. He saw the issue when you two were out of the water, a huge gash on your left leg, so bad you could see the bone. The cracked bone.

What ensued for the next 9 hours was a flurry of an ambulance, hospital rooms, and surgery, but the only constant was Jack. he stayed there the entire time, and he was there when you woke up.

He breathed a sigh of relief when your eyes opened. “Hey baby,” he smiled, easy as ever despite the worry he’d been under extreme stress all day. “You’re awake.”

You nodded, taking his hand. “I’m so sorry about today-”

“Don’t apologise. We all get hurt sometimes, it’s alright,” he reassured you. “Plus, it’s not like I can be mad at you.”

“Why not?” you asked.

“Because I love you,” he shrugged. He’d realised in the 9 hours of stress that he wouldn’t go to this extent for anyone else, and that he must be insane or in love (which were probably the same thing) to somehow be blindsighted into bringing you to the most dangerous part of the beach for surfing (we was persuaded by you kissing him lots) and then bringing you to the ER and staying with you the entire time. So, he chose the love one, it sounded better.

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navigation for my blog :) (masterlist)

2K notes · View notes

melodyofmbaku · 2 months ago

Text

Pour Me Another Lie (Smoke Moore x Annie x Stack Moore)

Preview: “You’re doing good baby. Keep that up, Smoke’s gonna be nice to you. Gonna be real nice and give you what you want.” Stack encouraged with a kiss to her tear stained cheek.

Word Count: 2.25k

Warning ⚠️: They're a Trio. Smut (18+ Material) + Angst

A/N Ya'll loved the boys and Annie together as a trio in Her House, Her Rules. So heres more!🤠💁🏾‍♀️

Part 2 ____

“I ain’t know Annie’s working Hank’s bar now.”

Cornbread was in the barn unloading the last batch of beers the boys had ordered and trying to make conversation while Filly stacked bottles behind him.

Smoke sat at the bar, flipping through a ledger. Stack leaned over the back of the couch, scribbling on a clipboard, mid-count.

Upon Cornbread's comment, there was a shift.

Smoke’s back straightened. His hand froze mid-air, glass halfway to his lips. Stack’s head turned slow like he hadn’t heard right, then let out a dry, humorless laugh.

“What you mean?” Stack asked.

Cornbread scratched his head. “I saw her. Earlier today. When I was dropping off at Hank’s. She was behind the bar. Serving.” He said it plain, like it wasn’t a live grenade.

The boys shared a look before Stack started.

“That wasn’t Annie. Because Annie dont work, do she Smoke?” Stack shot at his brother over his shoulder.

“Annie don’t work.” The older responded flatly.

“That’s right. Cuz Annie ain't got no bills. Annie got any bills Smoke?” He asked his brother.

“Annie ain’t got no damn bills.” The older confirmed.

A picture was forming now. Smoke didn’t like it. Hadn’t thought much of how she’d been slipping out in the afternoons lately—just as they were settling into sleep. Kissing them both goodbye like it was nothing.

Back by eleven. Smelling like sweat and sugar. He’d chalked it up to her wandering ways. She got restless. But she didn’t work.

Smoke stood from his stool, slow and measured. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. But Cornbread wasn’t the lying type. The man was many things, but not a liar.

He stalked closer as Stack kept going.

“Annie don’t pay bills. So she don’t need to be working for no money. Definitely not for no damn Hank, and especially not serving no drinks.” Stack concluded.

Cornbread rubbed the back of his neck. He wasn’t trying to stir anything up. He just figured they knew. He let out a breath and tried to explain.

He’d been hauling crates with Filly—usual route. Made the stop at Hank’s around 5. Sun had teeth that day, hot on the back of his neck.

Inside, the bar was its usual dark, sticky self. And there she was.

Annie, behind the bar like she’d always been there. Dress stuck to her back, brow damp. Laughing at something Hank said.

She didn’t see him.

He wanted to wave. Say something. But Filly was already honking the horn, yelling about the next stop.

So he let her be.

“I ain’t lyin’. You can ask Filly too,” Cornbread said, nodding toward the young man hauling in the last crate.

“Yeah, that was Miss Annie at Hanks, can’t miss that laugh of hers.” The boy shared a smile, not knowing what he was walking into.

Silence fell thick as a quilt.

Smoke’s jaw flexed. Stack clapped a hand on Cornbread’s shoulder.

“Preciate you for stopping by.” Smoke said, a tight smile on his lips and a prompt for the man to hit the road.

“You’re a good man, Cornbread.” Stack said as he started him towards the exit.

Cornbread hesitated at the barn door. “She ain’t in trouble is she?”

“Trouble? Nah, she not in no trouble.” Stack replied, smiling with his golds peaking out.

But for some reason, Cornbread had a feeling she had walked straight into it.

___

Earlier that day…

The house was still, heavy with the kind of silence that only came when the boys were down for the count.

Smoke and Stack had come home just before dawn—fed and full, stretched out like kings in the wide bed they shared with her. By the time the sun crept through the curtains, they were out cold, deep in the kind of slumber that wouldn’t break for hours.

Annie sat on the edge of the bathtub, taking her twists down and fluffing through her curls with slow, idle movements. The house was too quiet. She looked at the clock—just after noon. She’d already done her chores. Her hands itched for something else.

The days were long now. And with the boys sleeping till sundown and business slow this week, Annie had too much time to think. She’d stopped by Hank’s the day before to drop off a tonic for his gout, and he’d looked at her with those tired eyes and said, “Wish I had someone with hands like yours behind the bar. Just till Margie gets back.”

She hadn’t answered then. But now, hours into silence, she found herself slipping on a cotton dress and pinning her hair back. Nothing fancy—just a shift dress and low heels. Something easy to move in.

“I’ll be back before they even wake up,” she murmured to herself, grabbing her purse. “Just a couple hours. Help Hank out. Stretch my legs.”

She left a note on the kitchen counter, though she doubted they’d see it. They never looked for notes—they looked for her. The words she wrote weren’t a lie, not exactly. But she left out the part about where she was going—and why she wouldn’t be back before sundown.

Annie was in trouble.

Stack’s eyes bugged out. “You seeing this?”

Smoke didn’t answer. He didn’t have to.

Smoke was seeing it. He saw Annie—there, behind a bar, pouring a drink for a patron. Wearing that soft cotton dress she liked, sleeves rolled up, hair pinned. She looked pretty. Capable. Like she belonged.

And that made it worse. Smoke made it clear early on that he never wanted her to have to answer to another man for money. He would make sure that she would never have to. He had a big thing about taking care of his family. Taking care of his woman.

He loved that Annie made her own money and pursued he own passions. Smoke nurtured that entrepreneurial spirit in her, helped her with her business. And she made a fair amount from it. He’d pay for whatever herb she needed that grew across the country to be delivered. Just so that Annie could hone in on her craft and work on new treatments for her customers.

But where she stood right now? This wasn’t her business. This wasn’t her passion. It was the antithesis of everything Stack wanted for his woman. A threat to what he believed made him a man.

She spotted them just a second too late—two shadows seated at the back of the room, dark and still. Her heart sank the moment she met Smoke’s eyes. Stack’s face was easier to read—surprised, maybe even a little amused—but Smoke? He didn’t move. Didn’t blink. Just stared.

The boys had picked a table in the back of the venue, tucked away from view but still with enough of a vantage to see the action.

She dropped the towel and ditched the apron with haste and headed over the the boys table.

“I’ll meet y’all at the house,” Smoke said, voice flat.

“Smoke, I can explain,” Annie called out, taking a hesitant step toward him—but he was already turning away, flagging down the stock boy.

“Where’s your boss at?” Smoke asked. “I got somethin’ for him.”

Stack shook his head as he looked at Annie with a little pity. He personally wasn’t too fussed with Annie working. As long as the patrons kept their hands to themselves and Annie stayed strapped he thought she’d be fine.

But Smoke? That was a different story. Stack knew how his brother felt about their woman being in someone else’s domain.

The way Smoke acted, you’d think she was on the damn pole.

Stack stood and stretched like he’d just finished a meal. “Let’s go, sweet bits,” he said, gently placing a hand on the small of her back to steer her toward the exit.

She resisted for a second, glancing back—hoping, maybe, that Smoke would stop her. Say something. But he was already disappearing behind the swinging doors.

Stack almost felt bad for Annie. Almost.

He wasn’t really mad—not the way Smoke was. He didn’t mind her working, not in theory. But working for another man in a place like this? And doing it behind their backs? That was where things got sticky.

She might’ve been able to get away with it if she opted for being a seamstress. But a damn barmaid? Stack wouldn’t be able to save her from her brother's wrath even if he wanted to. The duo left the bar as instructed and headed home.

They were in the bed awaiting her fate as Stack pulled Annie back against his chest, his arms snaking around her to cup her breasts with slow, greedy hands.

First he just held them, they were heavy and he loved that.

“I could play with these — with you — all day.” He felt her relax into him. This would take her mind off of things until Smoke got back. Quell any anxiety.

Slowly he began to rub her nipples between his fingers expertly. He was in his element and she was in heaven. He paid attention to her breasts and all she did was lean back and whine. Like a princess. At times her hands overlapped his as she joined him in teasing her tits.

“You like that mama?" A kiss to her cheek "I know you like it when we give these girls attention. You're greedy for it.”

She could feel his dick pressing against her back and her mouth watered. She slid her hands behind her back to grasp at the man’s covered cock. She listened as Stacks voice hitched.

“Oh baby you’re so sweet, tryna take care of me.” Stack looked at his watch, did they have time? Could they have a little fun before his brother came back?

“We gotta be fast.” he said but before they could get into it they heard the front door slam.

They paused their play for a moment when they saw Smoke walk into their bedroom and shut the door.

He didn’t regard them. He slowly began to remove his cuff links and roll up his sleeves.

As he was undoing his belt he looked up and locked eyes with Annie. Perhaps the only time he’d done so that night.

“You wanted to be seen, didn’t you?” Smoke asked. His voice was quiet, not cruel. That made it worse.

Smoke walked straight toward her — slow, deliberate, without saying a word. He knelt between her legs, ignoring Stack's hold on her, and slid his hands up her thighs to pull her hips forward, closer to the edge of the bed. His grip was firm. Possessive. It was a silent claim, and it told her everything words hadn’t yet said.

He shoved her dress up to her hips. She knew this was her moment. To plead her case — to appease Smokes anger.

“Smoke — I can explain —“

“Shhhh”. Stack whispered in his wife’s ear.

In response she struggled in his arms. Stack held her close to his body with a smile.

“How about you show Smoke your pussy baby? I think he wants to see how greedy she is.”

She shook her head and tried to close her knees and avoid Smoke's hot gaze.

Stacks hands were fast. Dropping from her tits down to her thick thighs quickly.

“No, no. Keep em open.” His hands forced her knees back apart, for her sex to be exposed to his brother's view.

“Be good.” Stack murmured —

“She hasn’t been,” Smoke said coldly, without looking up. “That’s the problem.”

When Smoke placed his mouth on her sex she threw her head back, eyes raised to the sky. She could feel him in every part of her body. His tongue expertly licked her from her clit to her opening snaking through her folds to sip every drop of her essence.

She didn’t know if she wanted to cry or thank him.

“Look at Smoke Annie. He tryna teach you something. He’s showing you what happens when you don’t listen.”

Smoke worked with experience and precision. He knew his woman and all her parts. Knew how she liked to be touched. It wasn’t long before she was on the brink of an orgasm, and then he just… stopped.

She gasped, and there he was, on his knees looking her straight in her face. Her lip trembled.

A tear slipped of her eye and began a trail down her face. Stack licked it.

Annie began sobbing. She could tell what kind of night it was gonna be.

“Smoke only tryna help you baby. He’s doing it cuz he loves you.” he crooned into her ear before kissing her cheek.

Almost satisfied with her ruin Smoke went right back to work licking into her sensually.

Stack matched that and began to play with her nipples once more. He pulled them, obsessed with how she responded when he did. The pain bit and then subsided and her shallow breaths encouraged him to keep going.

She gasped. “Please.”

“Smoke’s still mad about that bar,” Stack whispered. “But he’ll forgive you. He always does.”

Throughout this entire ordeal. Stack was his brother's mouthpiece. The older hadn’t said many words. Annie didn’t know where his head was at.

“He’s quiet, huh?” Stack whispered, grinning.

And it continued like that. Smoke sipping from her pussy and bringing her to the brink of her pleasure before stopping and starting back up again. He made sure to look her in the eyes when he stopped right before she orgasmed.

He wanted to see her disappointment. Her frustration. For her to feel like how he was feeling right now.

He kept her desperate and wanton with his ministrations on purpose. It was pleasure and punishment all at once.

“Stack please. Please —“ She begged with little reservation. “I need it.” “Please let me cum.” She wailed as he her brought her right to the edge before pulling away and sitting back. Watching the confusion ripple across her face once more.

“You begged them like that too?” Smoke asked, still between her thighs, voice low. “You make those sounds for them?” His grip on her thighs tightened.

It dawned on her once again that he’d left her hanging. He turned his attention right back in to suck on her clit. He rubbed his tongue against it, lapping at it, savoring the noises that came from her lips as a result of his wicked actions.

But then she moaned his name. Not Stack’s. His.

It broke something in him.

Smoke growled low in his throat, and for a second the precision was gone — replaced by hunger, raw and unchecked. His fingers sank deeper, rougher. His mouth moved like he needed her to cry out again, louder this time, for him.

“Say it again,” he rasped against her sex. “Say my name like you mean it.”

And she did. Over and over again.

Still he persisted. At a certain point in the evening Annie stopped begging and started repenting.

“I’m sorry daddy. I’m so sorry.” Now they were getting somewhere.

Smoke paused. He didn’t look at her. But she felt the way his hands softened, just slightly, against her skin.

“Good,” he finally said before diving back into her sex, fingers curling inside her.

“Smoke I — I’m sorry.” She let out desperately. Her head flung back. She wanted him to hear her. She meant it.

“You’re doing good baby. Keep that up, Smoke’s gonna be nice to you. Gonna be real nice and give you what you want.” Stack encouraged with a kiss to her tear stained cheek.

Hearing her apologies and desperate breathless whines worked to subdue Smoke’s anger. He could feel the anger subsiding — sliding back into himself. The teasing wasn’t in vain. She was seeing the error of her ways.

When he had had his fill of her moans and apologies, he decided to give in.

“Annie.” The first word he’d said in a while. Her eyes were unfocused.

“Look at me.” And she did. He held her gaze as he stroked her insides with his two fingers and thumbed at her clit.

She could feel it coming, coupled with the way Stack tweaked her tits and the way pleasure was building in her chest. She was almost scared of how her orgasm would take her. Scared of the feeling that was to come. Still she held his gaze.

She mouthed the words ”Please” but no sound came out. The one final suck of her clit into his mouth did it and sent her over tumbling over the edge.

She bucked and Stack was startled for a moment before he held her body to himself as her orgasm crashed over her. She was a fucking wonder.

“Look at you. Look at you.” Smoke praised softly as she wailed — the sound came from deep within her. It was primal. Through it all, Smoke stayed on his knees, between her legs to lap at the essence that freely flowed from her.

In a way, at that moment all of them could sit back a little easier. The tension in the room melted alongside her orgasm. As if they experienced the same oxytocin she did. They waited for her to catch her breath.

Slowly — Smoke stood up.

He gripped her chin softly and looked down at her. She was wrecked. Her lips were parted and her chest moved up and down. His thumb skimmed her kiss swollen bottom lip.

“Open your mouth.” He spoke softly.

Annie opened her mouth almost immediately. Like she was craving what would come next. Like she was hungry for it — for him.

Her eyes locked with his as he spat into her mouth.

“Keep it open.” He spoke once more.

And she did.

Smoke wanted to see. Wanted a visual on how they — how he — owned her. And how she wanted to be owned too. It was reciprocal. The two held each others gaze, almost communicating to one another through micro expressions.

You hurt me. You’re mine and nobody else’s.

I love you. I’m yours. I'm sorry.

“Swallow.” She closed her mouth and her eyes and swallowed what he’d given her.

Stack scrunched his nose up. “Ya’ll nasty as hell.”

“Smoke?” She breathed. He crouched down and pushed the tendrils of curls out of her face. Her hand reached out to him seeking connection and he was quick to hold it. To rub his thumb over her knuckles and comfort her. To place a chaste kiss on her hand.

He looked up at her frame. She wasn’t in no state to have any kind of conversation right now.

“Yes baby?” he loved her so fucking much it was scary. His Annie.

“ I never —“ she started before her cut her off.

“Tomorrow mama. You're okay. You rest. We’ll talk all about it tomorrow.”

He reached up and placed a kiss on her head. It was shiny with perspiration but Smoke didn’t care. She was his.

She sat back into Stacks chest getting comfortable as Smoke went in and wiped her down with a rag.

They settled into a soft and comfortable silence. There was a reverence in the air.

Stack stroked her hair and placed light kisses behind her ear.

Smoke began whispering sweet proclamations of love into her skin. Almost in worship.

“You did so well.”

A kiss on her ankle.

“You’re perfect.”

A kiss on her knee.

“We love you so much.”

A kiss on the inside of her thigh.

Annie basked in their love, letting the feeling wash over her — filling her heart with warm affection.

Smoke’s position at her feet pouring praise into her skin felt symbolic. Despite what transpired that night, it was her who owned them.

He rose to see her face.

“You’re ours, Annie,” Smoke said softly, brushing her curls back. “Don’t make us doubt that again.”

Whatever happened today? It was water under the bridge. They’d talk about it tomorrow. She’d worked hard tonight — paid her penance.

She was loved, safe, and protected under the watchful and attentive eyes of her partners.

The hurt had been seen. The apology had been heard. The slate, quietly, was clean.

And with that knowing, she let slumber take her over. ____ Interested in my future works? Let me know if you'd like me to add you to my tag list. My other works can be found in My Masterlist. Thanks for reading!

PART 2 ___ Taglist @chaneajoyyy @pyraomen @browngirldominion @sarcastic-sunshines

#sinners fan fic #sinners fanfiction #annie x smoke #black!fem!reader #black!reader #smoke moore #smokestack twins #stack x reader #smoke x reader #annie and smoke #smoke x annie #melodicfic #black writer #black reader #my fic #sinners writer #stack moore #smoke x annie x stack

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pucksandpower · 8 months ago

Text

Be My Sanctuary

Charles Leclerc x Reader

Summary: Charles never expected to play Prince Charming to a stranger after a race, but when he comes across you being beaten by your boyfriend, he can’t just stand around and do nothing … it turns out to be exactly what you both needed

Warnings: domestic violence, abuse, and serious injury

The sun dips low on the horizon as Charles Leclerc and Fred Vasseur make their way back to the Ferrari motorhome. The air buzzes with post-race energy, a mix of exhaustion and exhilaration.

“That was some driving out there,” Fred says, clapping the Monégasque on the back. “P2 is nothing to sneeze at.”

Charles grins, his eyes bright despite the fatigue etched on his face. “Merci beaucoup. It felt good to be back on the podium. I think we’re really starting to find our rhythm with the car.”

“Agreed. If we can keep this momentum going-”

A sharp crack cuts through the air, followed by a cry of pain that makes both men freeze in their tracks.

Charles’ head whips around. “Did you hear that?”

Fred nods, his expression grim. “It came from over there.” He points towards a secluded area behind one of the hospitality units.

Without hesitation, they break into a run, rounding the corner just in time to see a man’s hand connect with a woman’s face. The sound of the impact turns Charles’ stomach.

“You stupid bitch!” The man screams, his face contorted with rage. “Do you have any idea how much money I lost because of you? I told you not to come to the race! You’re bad luck!”

You stumble backward, your hand pressed to your cheek. “I-I’m sorry,” you stammer. “I didn’t mean to-”

“Shut up!” The man lunges forward, grabbing you by the arms and shaking you violently. “You cost me everything!”

Charles feels a surge of anger course through him. Without thinking, he sprints towards the pair, Fred close on his heels.

“Hey!” Charles shouts. “Let her go!”

The man’s head snaps up, his eyes wild. For a split second, he looks startled, but then his face twists into a snarl. Before Charles can reach them, the man slams your head against the brick wall with a sickening thud.

You crumple to the ground, unmoving.

Charles tackles the man, driving him away from the fallen woman. They hit the ground hard, and Charles feels the air rush out of his lungs. But adrenaline keeps him moving, and he manages to pin the larger man down.

“Fred!” He calls out. “Check on her!”

As Charles struggles to keep the man subdued, he hears Fred’s sharp intake of breath.

“Charles, she’s not responding. There’s ... there’s a lot of blood.”

The words send a chill down Charles’ spine. He glances over his shoulder and sees you lying motionless on the ground, a dark pool spreading beneath your head.

“Someone call an ambulance!” Charles shouts, hoping someone nearby will hear. He turns back to the man beneath him, who’s still thrashing and cursing. “Stop moving!” Charles hisses, pressing his forearm against the man’s chest.

“Get off me!” The man spits. “This is none of your business!”

Charles feels a fresh wave of rage wash over him. “None of my business? You just assaulted someone!”

Fred’s voice cuts through the chaos. “I’ve called for help. They’re on their way.” He’s kneeling beside you now, his jacket pressed against your head. “But it doesn’t look good. She needs immediate medical attention.”

The sound of running footsteps approaches, and suddenly there are more people around them. Charles recognizes some of the faces — other drivers, team personnel. Someone pulls him off the attacker, who’s quickly restrained by security.

Charles stumbles to his feet, his heart pounding. He makes his way over to where you lie, dropping to his knees beside Fred.

“Is she ...” He can’t bring himself to finish the question.

Fred shakes his head. “She’s alive, but barely. We need to keep pressure on the wound until the paramedics arrive.”

Charles nods, placing his hands over Fred’s on the makeshift compress. He looks down at your face, so pale and still. “Hold on,” he whispers. “Just hold on.”

The wait for the ambulance feels interminable. Charles keeps his eyes fixed on your chest, watching for the slight rise and fall that tells him you’re still breathing. He’s vaguely aware of the commotion around them — people asking questions, security trying to keep everyone back.

“What happened?” It’s Lewis’ voice, tinged with concern.

Fred answers, his voice low and tight. “Domestic violence. The boyfriend ...” He trails off, but the implication is clear.

“Jesus,” Lewis mutters. “Is there anything we can do?”

Charles looks up, meeting Lewis’ worried gaze. “Just ... pray, I guess.”

The sound of sirens cuts through the air, growing louder by the second. Charles feels a small measure of relief, but it’s quickly overshadowed by fear as he looks back down at you.

“Stay with us,” he murmurs. “Help is coming. Just stay with us.”

The paramedics arrive in a flurry of activity, gently but firmly moving Charles and Fred aside. Charles watches, feeling helpless, as they work on you with practiced efficiency.

“Severe head trauma,” one of them says. “We need to move her now.”

As they lift you onto a stretcher, Charles catches a glimpse of your face. There’s a bruise blooming on your cheek, stark against your pale skin. Something twists in his chest, a mixture of anger and an emotion he can’t quite name.

“I’m going with her,” he says suddenly, surprising himself.

Fred puts a hand on his shoulder. “Charles, I don’t think-”

“I need to make sure she’s okay,” Charles insists. He looks at Fred, pleading. “Someone needs to be there for her.”

After a moment, Fred nods. “Alright. I’ll handle things here and meet you at the hospital.”

Charles climbs into the ambulance, his eyes never leaving your still form. As the doors close and the vehicle lurches into motion, he reaches out and gently takes your hand.

“I don’t know if you can hear me,” he says softly, “but you’re not alone. I’m right here with you. And I promise, you’re going to be okay.”

As the ambulance speeds through the streets, sirens wailing, Charles finds himself holding onto your hand like a lifeline. He’s not sure if he’s trying to comfort you or himself.

The paramedic working on you glances at Charles. “You know her?”

Charles shakes his head. “No, I ... we just found her. Her boyfriend was ...” He swallows hard. “We stopped him, but not soon enough.”

The paramedic’s face softens with understanding. “You did the right thing. You probably saved her life by intervening when you did.”

Charles nods, but the words bring little comfort. He can’t shake the image of your head hitting the wall, the sound it made. He squeezes your hand gently.

“Fight,” he whispers. “Please fight.”

The rest of the ride passes in a blur of medical jargon and the steady beep of monitors. When they finally arrive at the hospital, Charles is ushered into a waiting room while you’re rushed into emergency surgery.

He paces the small room, unable to sit still. His mind races with questions. Who are you? Why would someone do this to you? Will you be okay?

Time seems to stretch endlessly. Charles checks his phone, sees messages from Fred and other concerned friends, but he can’t bring himself to respond yet. Not until he knows something.

Finally, after what feels like hours, a doctor approaches him. Charles stands, his heart in his throat.

“Are you here for the young woman brought in with head trauma?” The doctor asks.

Charles nods. “Yes. Is she ...”

“She’s out of surgery,” the doctor says. “We’ve managed to relieve the pressure on her brain, but the next 24 hours will be critical. Are you family?”

Charles hesitates. “No, I ... I was there when it happened. I rode here with her in the ambulance.”

The doctor’s expression softens slightly. “I see. Well, I can tell you that she’s stable for now, but still unconscious. We’ll be monitoring her closely.”

“Can I see her?” The words are out of Charles’ mouth before he can think better of it.

The doctor considers for a moment. “Normally we only allow family, but ... given the circumstances, I think we can make an exception. Just for a few minutes.”

Charles follows the doctor down a series of hallways, his heart pounding. When they reach your room, he pauses at the doorway, suddenly unsure.

“Go on,” the doctor says gently. “Talk to her. Sometimes patients can hear even when they’re unconscious.”

Taking a deep breath, Charles steps into the room. The sight of you lying there, surrounded by machines, makes his chest tighten. He moves to your bedside, carefully taking your hand once more.

“Hey,” he says softly. “It’s Charles. The guy from before. I don’t know if you remember, but ... I’m here. You’re safe now.”

He stands there for a long moment, just holding your hand and watching the steady rise and fall of your chest. It’s strange, he thinks, to feel so connected to someone he’s never even spoken to.

“I don’t know your story,” he continues, his voice barely above a whisper. “But I want you to know that you didn’t deserve this. No one does. And when you wake up — because you will wake up — you won’t be alone. I promise.”

A nurse appears in the doorway, signaling that his time is up. Charles gives your hand one last gentle squeeze before reluctantly letting go.

As he leaves the room, he turns back for one last look. “I’ll be back,” he says. “Stay strong.”

Walking back to the waiting room, Charles feels a mix of emotions he can’t quite sort out. But one thing is clear — something has changed. And whatever happens next, he knows he’ll be there to see it through.

***

Days blend into one another as Charles maintains his vigil at your bedside. The rest of the Formula 1 circus has long since departed, but Charles can’t bring himself to leave. He’s made arrangements with the team, grateful for their understanding, and settled into a routine of sorts.

Each morning, he arrives at the hospital with fresh flowers and a determination that today might be the day you wake up. He talks to you, reads to you, and sometimes just sits in companionable silence, the steady beep of monitors a constant backdrop.

On the fifth day, as Charles is midway through reading an article about the benefits of having a dachshund, he notices a slight change. Your fingers twitch, almost imperceptibly. He leans forward, heart racing.

“Hey,” he says softly, taking your hand. “Can you hear me? If you can, squeeze my hand.”

For a long moment, nothing happens. Then, so faintly he almost misses it, he feels a gentle pressure against his palm. His breath catches in his throat.

“That’s it,” he encourages. “You’re doing great. Can you open your eyes for me?”

Slowly, painfully slowly, your eyelids flutter open. Your gaze is unfocused at first, confusion evident in your expression as you try to make sense of your surroundings.

“It’s okay,” Charles says, keeping his voice low and soothing. “You’re in the hospital. You’re safe now.”

You blink a few times, your gaze finally settling on Charles. Your brow furrows slightly, and you open your mouth to speak, but no sound comes out.

“Don’t try to talk just yet,” Charles advises. “Your throat might be sore from the tube. Here.” He reaches for a cup of water with a straw, holding it to your lips. “Small sips, okay?”

You take a tentative sip, wincing slightly. After a moment, you try again to speak. Your voice is raspy, barely above a whisper. “Who ...”

“I’m Charles,” he says. “I was there when ... when you got hurt. Do you remember anything?”

You close your eyes, a pained expression crossing your face. “Jake,” you murmur. “He was angry ...”

Charles feels a flare of anger at the mention of your boyfriend’s name, but he keeps his voice calm. “That’s right. He hurt you pretty badly. But you’re safe now. He can’t get to you here.”

You shake your head slightly, wincing at the movement. “It wasn’t his fault,” you say. “He just ... he gets upset sometimes. I shouldn’t have gone to the race. I knew it would make him angry.”

Charles frowns, recognizing the pattern of self-blame common in abuse victims. He takes a deep breath, choosing his words carefully. “Listen,” he says gently. “What happened to you wasn’t your fault. No matter how angry someone gets, they don’t have the right to hurt you. Ever.”

You look away, tears welling up in your eyes. “You don’t understand. Jake ... he loves me. He just has a temper sometimes.”

“Love shouldn’t hurt,” Charles says firmly. “Love doesn’t leave you in the hospital with a skull fracture.”

Your eyes widen slightly at this information. “Is that ... is that what happened to me?”

Charles nods solemnly. “You’ve been unconscious for five days. The doctors ... they weren’t sure if you’d wake up at all.”

A tear slips down your cheek. “I don’t ... I don’t know what to do now.”

“You press charges,” Charles says without hesitation. “What he did to you was a crime. He needs to face the consequences of his actions.”

You shake your head frantically, wincing again at the movement. “No, I can’t. He’d be so angry. He ...”

“He would what?” Charles presses gently. “Hurt you again? That’s exactly why you need to do this. To protect yourself and maybe even others.”

You’re quiet for a long moment, tears falling silently. “I’m scared,” you finally whisper.

Charles squeezes your hand. “I know. And that’s okay. Being scared doesn’t mean you’re weak. It means you’re human. But you’re stronger than you know. You survived this. You can survive what comes next, too.”

“But where would I go?” You ask, your voice small. “Jake ... he made me drop out of school. I had to quit my job. I don’t have anywhere to go, or any money, or ...”

Your words trail off as a fresh wave of tears overtakes you. Charles feels a surge of protectiveness, coupled with a deep anger at the man who has left you in this situation.

“Hey,” he says softly, waiting until you meet his gaze. “I know we’ve only just met, and this might sound crazy, but ... what if you came to stay with me for a while?”

You blink in surprise. “What?”

“I live in Monaco,” Charles explains. “I know it’s far from here, but maybe that’s a good thing. It would give you some distance, some time to figure things out without having to worry about ... about him finding you.”

“But ... but I couldn’t,” you stammer. “I don’t have any money, I can’t pay rent or-”

Charles shakes his head. “I’m not asking for rent. I’m offering you a safe place to stay while you get back on your feet. No strings attached.”

You look at him skeptically. “Why would you do that for a stranger?”

Charles is quiet for a moment, considering his answer. “Because when I saw what was happening to you, I couldn’t just walk away. And I can’t walk away now, knowing you need help. Maybe it’s not my place, maybe it’s crossing some line, but ... I want to help. If you’ll let me.”

You’re silent for a long moment, and Charles can almost see the wheels turning in your mind as you weigh your options.

“What about your job?” You finally ask. “Don’t you have races to go to?”

Charles nods. “I do. But I have a big apartment, and there’s plenty of room. You’d have your own space. And when I’m away for races, I have friends who could check in on you, make sure you have everything you need.”

You bite your lip, looking torn. “I don’t know ... it’s a lot to take in.”

“Of course,” Charles says quickly. “You don’t have to decide right now. Take some time to think about it. But know that the offer is there if you want it.”

Just then, a nurse enters the room. Her face lights up when she sees you’re awake. “Well, look who’s back with us,” she says warmly. “I’ll go get the doctor. He’ll want to check you over.”

As the nurse leaves, you turn back to Charles. “You should go,” you say. “You’ve already done so much. You don’t need to stay.”

Charles stands, but he doesn’t move towards the door. “I’ll step out while the doctor examines you,” he says. “But if it’s okay with you, I’d like to come back after. We can talk more about ... everything.”

You hesitate for a moment before nodding. “Okay,” you say softly. “And ... thank you. For being here. For caring.”

Charles feels a warmth spread through his chest. “Of course,” he says. “I’ll be right outside if you need anything.”

As he steps into the hallway, Charles takes a deep breath. He knows he’s getting involved in a complicated situation, one that could have far-reaching consequences. But looking back at you through the doorway, he knows he’s made the right choice. Whatever comes next, he’ll be there to help you through it.

The doctor arrives, and Charles settles into a chair in the hallway. He pulls out his phone, scrolling through the messages he’s neglected over the past few days. There’s one from Fred, asking for an update. Charles types out a quick reply.

She’s awake. It’s complicated, but I think she’s going to be okay. I’ll call you later with details.

As he hits send, Charles leans back in his chair, running a hand through his hair. He knows the road ahead won’t be easy, for either of you. But for the first time in days, he feels a spark of hope. It’s a start, he thinks. And sometimes, that’s all you need.

***

The sunlight glints off the sleek exterior of the private jet as Charles helps you up the stairs. He can feel the slight tremor in your hand as he guides you inside, noting the way your eyes dart nervously around the cabin.

“Welcome aboard,” Charles says with a warm smile, hoping to put you at ease. “Make yourself comfortable. We’ve got a bit of a flight ahead of us.”

You nod, your lips pressed into a thin line as you sink into one of the plush leather seats. Charles settles in across from you, watching as you fumble with the seatbelt.

“Here, let me help,” he offers, leaning forward to assist. As he clicks the belt into place, he notices your knuckles turning white as you grip the armrests. “First time flying?” He asks gently.

You let out a shaky laugh. “Is it that obvious?”

Charles shakes his head, his expression kind. “Not at all. But I fly a lot, so I’ve gotten pretty good at spotting nervous passengers.”

The engines roar to life, and you jump slightly in your seat. “I’m sorry,” you mutter, looking embarrassed. “I didn’t realize I’d be this scared.”

“Hey, no need to apologize,” Charles assures you. “It’s a completely normal fear. Did you know that even some drivers get nervous on planes?”

Your eyebrows raise in surprise. “Really? But you guys race at insane speeds for a living.”

Charles chuckles. “I know, it sounds crazy. But it’s true. I think it’s about control. In a car, we’re in charge. On a plane, we have to trust someone else.”

You nod, seeming to relax slightly at his words. But as the plane begins to taxi, your grip on the armrests tightens again.

“So,” Charles says, leaning forward slightly. “Tell me about what you were studying before ... well, before everything happened.”

You look at him, confusion briefly replacing the fear in your eyes. “What?”

“You mentioned you had to drop out of school,” Charles explains. “What were you studying?”

A small laugh escapes you, tinged with irony. “You’re going to think this is ridiculous, but ... I was studying law.”

Charles’ eyebrows shoot up. “Law? That’s impressive. Why would I think it’s ridiculous?”

You shrug, a hint of sadness creeping into your expression. “Just seems a bit ironic now, doesn’t it? Studying law and then ending up in a situation like ... like mine.”

The plane begins to accelerate down the runway, and you squeeze your eyes shut, your breath coming in short gasps.

“Hey,” Charles says softly, reaching across to place his hand over yours. “Look at me. It’s okay. We’re okay.”

You open your eyes, meeting his gaze. Charles can see the fear there, but also a flicker of determination.

“That’s it,” he encourages. “Now, tell me more about your law studies. What made you choose that field?”

You take a deep breath, clearly making an effort to focus on the conversation rather than the plane’s ascent. “I’ve always been interested in justice, I guess. Helping people who can’t help themselves. I wanted to make a difference.”

Charles nods, a small smile playing at his lips. “That’s admirable. And you know what? I don’t think it’s ironic at all that you were studying law. If anything, I think it shows how strong you are.”

The plane levels off, and some of the tension leaves your body. “What do you mean?”

“Well,” Charles says, leaning back in his seat but keeping his hand on yours, “you chose a field dedicated to justice and helping others. That takes courage and compassion. The fact that you ended up in a difficult situation doesn’t change who you are at your core.”

You’re quiet for a moment, considering his words. “I never thought about it like that,” you admit.

“Have you thought about going back to school?” Charles asks. “Finishing your degree?”

You shake your head, a flash of pain crossing your face. “I can’t. I don’t have the money, and even if I did, I can’t go back to my old university. Jake ... he knows where it is. He’d find me.”

Charles nods, understanding. “What if you didn’t have to go back to your old university? What if you could start fresh somewhere new?”

You look at him skeptically. “What do you mean?”

“Well,” Charles says, his mind racing with possibilities, “there are online programs you could look into. Or, if you prefer in-person classes, there’s the International University of Monaco. It’s a great school, and it would be close to where you’ll be staying.”

Your eyes widen slightly. “Monaco has a university?”

Charles nods, a grin spreading across his face. “It does indeed. And they have a law program. I could help you look into it if you’re interested.”

You bite your lip, looking uncertain. “I don’t know. It’s been a while since I was in school. And the cost ...”

“Don’t worry about the cost,” Charles says quickly. “Consider it an investment in your future. And as for being out of practice, well, that’s what studying is for, right?”

A small smile tugs at the corners of your mouth. “You make it sound so simple.”

Charles shrugs. “Maybe it is. Sometimes we overcomplicate things in our heads. But the truth is, if it’s something you want to do, there’s usually a way to make it happen.”

The plane encounters a patch of turbulence, causing it to shake slightly. Your grip on Charles’ hand tightens, but you don’t close your eyes this time.

“Sorry,” you mutter, loosening your grip slightly.

“No need to apologize,” Charles says. “I’m here if you need a hand to hold. Or a distraction. Speaking of which, why don’t you tell me about your favorite class from when you were in school?”

As you launch into a story about a particularly engaging Constitutional Law seminar, Charles can’t help but notice how your eyes light up. It’s the most animated he’s seen you since you woke up in the hospital, and it fills him with a sense of hope.

The rest of the flight passes in a blur of conversation. You tell Charles about your favorite professors, the most interesting cases you studied, and your obsession with Legally Blonde while growing up. In turn, Charles shares stories from his racing career, the challenges he’s faced, and the lessons he’s learned along the way.

Before either of you realize it, the captain’s voice comes over the intercom, announcing your descent into Nice.

“Oh,” you say, surprise evident in your voice. “We’re here already?”

Charles grins. “See? Not so bad, was it?”

You shake your head, a small laugh escaping you. “I guess not. Thank you, Charles. For ... well, for everything.”

As the plane touches down on the runway, Charles feels a warmth spread through his chest. “You’re welcome,” he says softly. “And hey, this is just the beginning, right?”

You nod, a mix of nervousness and excitement in your eyes. “Right. The beginning.”

The plane comes to a stop, and Charles stands, offering you his hand. “Ready to see your new home?”

You take a deep breath, then place your hand in his. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

As you make their way down the steps of the plane, Charles can’t help but feel a sense of anticipation. He knows the road ahead won’t be easy, but looking at you now, seeing the spark of determination in your eyes, he’s filled with hope for what the future might hold.

The Mediterranean sun greets them as they step onto the tarmac, warm and welcoming. Charles watches as you take in your surroundings, your eyes wide with wonder.

“It’s beautiful,” you breathe, gazing at the azure sea in the distance.

Charles smiles, feeling a surge of pride for his home. “Wait until you see the rest of it. Come on, let’s get you settled in.”

As you walk towards the waiting Ferrari, Charles finds himself stealing glances at you. There’s still fear and uncertainty in your eyes, but there’s something else too — a resilience that he admires. He makes a silent promise to himself, right there on the sun-drenched tarmac of the Côte d’Azur, to do whatever he can to help you rebuild your life.

“So,” he says as you slide into the passenger seat, “shall we swing by the university on our way home? Just to have a look?”

You hesitate for a moment, then nod. “Yeah,” you say, a small smile playing at your lips. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

***

The quiet of the night is shattered by a piercing scream. Charles bolts upright in his bed, heart racing, momentarily disoriented. Then realization hits him like a wave — it’s you.

Without hesitation, he leaps out of bed and races down the hallway to your room. He bursts through the door to find you thrashing in your sheets, eyes squeezed shut, still caught in the grip of your nightmare.

“No, Jake, please!” You cry out, your voice raw with fear. “Don’t hurt me!”

Charles is at your side in an instant, gently placing his hands on your shoulders. “Hey, hey,” he says softly but firmly. “It’s okay. You’re safe. It’s just a dream.”

Your eyes fly open, wild and unfocused. For a moment, you recoil from his touch, still trapped between nightmare and reality.

“It’s me,” Charles says, keeping his voice calm. “It’s Charles. You’re in Monaco, remember? You’re safe here.”

Slowly, recognition dawns in your eyes. “Charles?” You whisper, your voice trembling.

He nods, offering a reassuring smile. “That’s right. I’m here. You’re okay.”

The tension leaves your body all at once, and you collapse against him, tears streaming down your face. Charles wraps his arms around you, holding you close as you sob into his chest.

“I’m sorry,” you choke out between sobs. “I’m so sorry.”

“Shh,” Charles soothes, running a hand gently up and down your back. “You have nothing to be sorry for. It was just a nightmare.”

You pull back slightly, wiping at your tears with shaking hands. “I didn’t mean to wake you. I feel so stupid.”

Charles shakes his head firmly. “You’re not stupid. Nightmares are normal after what you’ve been through. And I’m glad I woke up. I want to be here for you.”

You take a shuddering breath, trying to calm yourself. “It felt so real,” you whisper. “I could feel his hands on me, hear his voice ...”

“But it wasn’t real,” Charles reminds you gently. “He can’t hurt you anymore. I won’t let him.”

You nod, but Charles can see the lingering fear in your eyes. “Do you want to talk about it?” He asks.

You shake your head. “No, I ... I just want to forget.”

“Okay,” Charles says, understanding. “Is there anything I can do? Maybe get you some water or tea?”

You bite your lip, looking uncertain. “Could you ... would you mind staying? Just until I fall asleep?” The words come out in a rush, as if you’re afraid to ask.

Charles feels a surge of protectiveness. “Of course,” he says without hesitation. “I’ll stay as long as you need me to.”

Relief washes over your face. “Thank you,” you whisper.

Charles helps you settle back against the pillows, then hesitates for a moment. “Is it okay if I ...” He gestures to the other side of the bed.

You nod, shifting over slightly to make room. Charles slips under the sheets, careful to maintain a respectful distance. But you surprise him by moving closer, seeking comfort in his presence.

“Is this okay?” You ask, your voice small.

“Of course,” Charles assures you. He opens his arms, offering an embrace without pressure. “Whatever you need.”

You hesitate for just a moment before curling into his side, your head resting on his chest. Charles wraps his arms around you, feeling the rapid beat of your heart against his side.

“Try to relax,” he murmurs. “Focus on your breathing. In and out, nice and slow.”

You nod against his chest, making a conscious effort to steady your breathing. Charles can feel some of the tension leaving your body as the minutes tick by.

“Charles?” You say after a while, your voice soft in the darkness.

“Hmm?”

“How do you do it?” You ask. “How do you stay so calm and ... and kind, even when I’m such a mess?”

Charles is quiet for a moment, considering his words. “You’re not a mess,” he says finally. “You’re healing. And that takes time. As for staying calm ... well, I’ve had my own struggles. I know what it’s like to need someone in your corner.”

You lift your head slightly, looking up at him. “What do you mean?”

Charles takes a deep breath. He’s never been one to open up easily, but something about the quiet intimacy of the moment makes him want to share.

“Seven years ago now, I lost my father,” he says softly. “It was ... it was the hardest thing I’ve ever been through. There were nights when I thought the pain would swallow me whole. But I had people who stood by me, who helped me through it. They taught me the importance of being there for others in their darkest moments.”

You’re silent for a long moment, absorbing his words. “I’m so sorry about your father,” you say finally. “That must have been awful.”

Charles nods, feeling the familiar ache in his chest. “It was. But it also taught me something important. Pain doesn’t last forever. It changes you, yes, but it doesn’t define you. You can come out the other side stronger.”

“Do you really believe that?” You ask, a hint of doubt in your voice.

“I do,” Charles says firmly. “I’ve seen it in myself, and I see it in you too. You’re stronger than you know.”

You’re quiet again, and Charles can almost hear the wheels turning in your mind. “I want to believe that,” you say eventually. “But sometimes it feels like ... like I’ll never be whole again.”

Charles tightens his embrace slightly. “Healing isn’t about going back to who you were before,” he says. “It’s about becoming someone new. Someone who carries the lessons of the past but isn’t defined by them.”

You nod slowly, considering his words. “That makes sense,” you admit. “It’s just ... it’s hard to see that future sometimes.”

“I know,” Charles says softly. “But that’s why you’re not alone in this. I’m here to remind you of that future when you can’t see it yourself.”

You lift your head again, meeting his gaze in the dim light. “Why are you doing all this for me? You barely know me.”

Charles is struck by the vulnerability in your eyes. He takes a moment to gather his thoughts before responding.

“Because when I saw you that day, something inside me just ... knew I had to help,” he says. “I can’t explain it rationally. But I believe that sometimes, people come into our lives for a reason. Maybe I’m meant to help you heal. Or maybe you’re meant to teach me something. I don’t know. But I do know that I want to be here for you, if you’ll let me.”

You study his face for a long moment, as if searching for any sign of insincerity. Finding none, you lay your head back on his chest.

“Thank you,” you whisper. “For everything.”

Charles feels a warmth spread through his chest. “You don’t need to thank me,” he says. “Just focus on healing. And remember, you’re not alone in this.”

You nod against his chest, and Charles can feel your body relaxing further. Your breathing becomes slower, more even, and he knows you’re drifting off to sleep.

As the night deepens around you, Charles finds himself wide awake, acutely aware of your warm presence against him. He’s never been in a situation quite like this before, and he’s surprised by how natural it feels.

He thinks about the past few days, about the small victories you’ve already achieved. The way your eyes lit up when you toured the university campus. The quiet determination in your voice when you asked about application procedures. The shy smile that appeared when he showed you around Monaco.

Charles knows the road ahead won’t be easy. There will likely be more nights like this, more nightmares to soothe. But looking down at your peaceful face, finally relaxed in sleep, he feels a surge of hope.

Whatever challenges lie ahead, he’ll be there to face them with you. And somehow, he knows that together, you’ll both come out stronger on the other side.

As the first light of dawn begins to creep through the windows, Charles finally feels his own eyes growing heavy. He allows himself to drift off, still holding you close, a silent promise of protection in his embrace.

In the quiet of the early morning, as the world outside begins to stir, there’s a sense of peace in the room. It’s fragile, perhaps, but it’s there. And for now, in this moment, it’s enough.

***

The first rays of sunlight filter through the curtains, casting a warm glow across the room. Charles stirs, slowly becoming aware of his surroundings. He feels a weight against his chest and looks down to see you still nestled in his arms, your breathing deep and even.

For a moment, he simply watches you sleep, struck by how peaceful you look compared to the night before. He’s careful not to move, not wanting to disturb your rest. But as the room grows brighter, he sees your eyelids begin to flutter.

You blink awake, confusion briefly clouding your features before recognition sets in. “Charles?” You murmur, your voice still thick with sleep.

“Good morning,” he says softly, offering a gentle smile. “How are you feeling?”

You shift slightly, seeming to become aware of your position. A blush creeps across your cheeks as you pull back a bit. “I’m ... I’m okay,” you say. “I’m sorry about last night. You didn’t have to stay.”

Charles shakes his head. “Don’t apologize. I wanted to stay. I’m just glad you were able to get some rest.”

You nod, running a hand through your tousled hair. “Thank you,” you say quietly. “For everything. I don’t know what I would have done if ...”

Your voice trails off, but Charles understands. “Hey,” he says, gently tilting your chin up to meet his gaze. “You don’t need to think about that. You’re here now, and you’re safe. That’s what matters.”

A small smile tugs at the corners of your mouth. “You’re right. I just ... I’m not used to someone being so kind without expecting anything in return.”

Charles feels a pang in his chest at your words. “Well, get used to it,” he says, injecting a lightness into his tone. “Because that’s just how things work in the Leclerc household.”

You laugh softly, the sound warming Charles from the inside out. “Is that so?”

“Absolutely,” Charles grins. “It’s in the contract. Kindness, comfort, and an abundance of croissants. Speaking of which, are you hungry? I could whip up some breakfast.”

You nod, sitting up slowly. “Breakfast sounds great. But you don’t have to cook. I can manage.”

Charles waves off your protest as he sits up as well. “Nonsense. I insist. Besides, I make a mean omelette. You haven’t lived until you’ve tried my secret recipe.”

Your eyebrows raise in amusement. “Secret recipe, huh? Do I get to know what’s in it?”

Charles taps the side of his nose conspiratorially. “If I told you, it wouldn’t be a secret anymore, would it? You’ll just have to trust me.”

As he moves to get out of bed, a thought strikes him. He hesitates for a moment, then turns back to you. “Actually, before we head to the kitchen, there’s something I wanted to ask you.”

You look at him curiously, a hint of apprehension in your eyes. “Oh?”

Charles takes a deep breath, suddenly feeling nervous. “I was wondering if ... well, if you might want to come to my next race with me?”

Your eyes widen in surprise. “Your next race?”

Charles nods, watching your reaction carefully. “Yeah. It’s in a couple of weeks. I thought maybe a change of scenery might be good for you. Plus, you’d get to see what I do up close. But if it’s too soon, or if you’re not comfortable with the idea, I completely understand.”

You’re quiet for a moment, biting your lip as you consider his offer. “I don’t know,” you say hesitantly. “It’s not that I don’t want to. It’s just ... the last time I was at a race ...”

Understanding dawns on Charles’s face. “Oh, of course. I’m sorry, I should have thought of that. We don’t have to go if it brings up bad memories.”

You shake your head quickly. “No, it’s not that. Well, not entirely. It’s just ... I’m worried about being recognized. What if Jake sees me on TV or something?”

Charles leans forward, his expression serious. “Hey, look at me. If you come to the race, you’ll be under the full protection of the team. No one gets near the garage without proper clearance. And as for TV, well, we can make sure you’re not caught on camera if that’s what you want.”

You still look uncertain. “But won’t people wonder who I am? I don’t want to cause any trouble for you or your team.”

Charles can’t help but smile at your concern. “Trust me, the team has dealt with far more complicated situations than this. If anyone asks, we’ll simply say you’re a family friend. No one needs to know the details.”

He watches as you mull over his words, hope building in his chest. Finally, you look up at him, a small smile playing at your lips. “You really want me to come?”

Charles nods emphatically. “I really do. I think it could be good for you. A chance to create some new, positive memories associated with racing. Plus,” he adds with a grin, “I’d love for you to see me in action. I promise I’ll try to put on a good show.”

You laugh, the sound lightening the mood in the room. “Oh, is that so? Pretty confident, aren’t you?”

Charles shrugs, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “What can I say? I aim to impress.”

You shake your head in amusement, but Charles can see you’re still hesitating. “You don’t have to decide right now,” he says gently. “Take some time to think about it. The offer stands whenever you’re ready.”

You nod, looking grateful for the lack of pressure. “Thank you, Charles. I’ll think about it, I promise.”

“That’s all I ask,” he says, standing up and stretching. “Now, how about that breakfast? I believe I promised you a life-changing omelette.”

As you make your way to the kitchen, Charles can’t help but feel a sense of anticipation. He knows he’s taking a risk by inviting you to the race so soon, but something tells him it’s the right move. He’s seen glimpses of your strength over the past few days, and he believes that this could be a crucial step in your healing process.

In the kitchen, Charles busies himself with preparing breakfast, stealing glances at you as you settle at the counter. You still look a bit hesitant, but there’s a spark in your eyes that wasn’t there before.

“So,” he says as he cracks eggs into a bowl, “while you’re thinking about the race, why don’t you tell me more about your law studies? Any particular area you’re most interested in?”

You perk up at the question, and Charles listens intently as you launch into an enthusiastic explanation of your passion for human rights law. As he watches you speak, animated and engaged, he feels a warmth spread through his chest.

This, he thinks, is what healing looks like. Small steps, day by day, reclaiming pieces of yourself. And if he can play even a small part in that process, well, that’s a victory more satisfying than any podium finish.

As he serves up the omelettes, Charles makes a silent promise to himself. Whatever you decide about the race, whatever challenges lie ahead, he’ll be there. Supporting you, cheering you on, just as fiercely as any fan in the grandstands.

Because in this moment, watching you take your first bite and exclaim over his “secret recipe,” Charles realizes something important. In helping you find your strength, he’s discovering new depths of his own.

***

The energy in the paddock is electric as Charles makes his way to the Ferrari garage. He can feel the excitement buzzing through the air, the anticipation of the race to come. But today, there’s an extra flutter in his stomach that has nothing to do with pre-race jitters.

He spots you standing near the back of the garage, looking a bit overwhelmed by the flurry of activity around you. Your eyes light up when you see him, and he can’t help but smile.

“Hey,” he says, approaching you. “How are you holding up?”

You give him a small smile. “It’s ... a lot. But exciting. I can’t believe I’m actually here.”

Charles nods, understanding. “I know it can be overwhelming at first. But you’re doing great. And I have a little surprise for you.”

Your eyebrows raise in curiosity. “A surprise? Charles, you didn’t have to-”

He cuts you off with a grin. “I wanted to. Come on, I’ll show you.”

Charles leads you to a quieter corner of the garage where his race gear is laid out. He picks up his helmet, turning it so you can see the design.

Your eyes widen as you spot the purple ribbon painted prominently on the side. “Is that ...”

Charles nods, his expression softening. “A domestic violence awareness ribbon. I had it added for this race.”

You’re quiet for a moment, your fingers hovering over the ribbon without quite touching it. When you look up at Charles, your eyes are shining with unshed tears. “Why?” You ask softly.

Charles takes a deep breath. “Because I want to use my platform to raise awareness. And because ...” he pauses, meeting your gaze, “because I want you to know that you’re not alone. That there are people out there who care and want to help.”

You blink rapidly, trying to hold back tears. “Charles, I don’t know what to say. This is ... it’s incredible.”

He reaches out, gently squeezing your hand. “You don’t have to say anything. Just know that when I’m out there on the track today, I’m racing for you and for everyone who’s been in your position.”

You nod, unable to speak. Charles understands the emotions you’re feeling — he’s feeling them too.

A voice calls out from across the garage. “Charles! Five minutes!”

Charles turns back to you. “I’ve got to go get ready. Will you be okay?”

You take a deep breath, composing yourself. “I’ll be fine. Go. And Charles?” You meet his eyes, a small smile on your face. “Thank you. For everything.”

He nods, giving your hand one last squeeze before heading off to finish his pre-race preparations.

The race itself is a blur of adrenaline and focus. Charles pushes himself to the limit, hyper-aware of the special helmet he’s wearing and what it represents. When he crosses the finish line in second place, his heart is pounding with more than just exertion.

As he pulls into parc fermé, Charles can see the crowd of reporters already gathering. He takes a deep breath, knowing what’s coming. Sure enough, as soon as he steps foot in the media pen, he’s surrounded by microphones and cameras.

“Charles! Congratulations on P2!” One reporter calls out. “But everyone’s talking about your helmet today. Can you tell us about the ribbon?”

Charles nods, his expression turning serious. “The ribbon on my helmet today is a symbol of awareness for domestic violence. It’s an issue that affects millions of people around the world, and I wanted to use this platform to bring attention to it.”

Another reporter jumps in. “Was there a specific reason you chose this race to highlight this cause?”

Charles pauses, carefully considering his words. “I believe that as public figures, we have a responsibility to use our voices for good. Domestic violence is a problem that often stays hidden, and I want to help bring it into the light.”

“Will the helmet be part of any specific initiative?” A third reporter asks.

Charles nods, a small smile playing at his lips. “Yes, actually. I’m going to be auctioning off this helmet, with all proceeds going to charities that combat domestic violence and support survivors.”

There’s a murmur of approval from the gathered press. “That’s a wonderful gesture,” one reporter says. “Can you tell us more about why this cause is so important to you?”

Charles takes a deep breath, his eyes briefly scanning the crowd. He spots you standing at the back, partially hidden behind a barrier. Your eyes meet, and he draws strength from your presence.

“It’s important because it’s a problem that affects so many people, yet it’s often overlooked or ignored,” Charles says, his voice steady and clear. “I ... I have seen firsthand the devastating impact it can have on someone’s life. And I want to do whatever I can to help break the cycle of violence and provide support for those who need it.”

There’s a moment of silence as the reporters absorb his words. Then the questions start flying again.

“Have you partnered with any specific organizations for this initiative?”

“Do you plan to continue raising awareness for this cause in future races?”

“How do you balance your focus on racing with your desire to address social issues?”

Charles answers each question thoughtfully, his passion for the cause evident in every word. As the press conference winds down, he can’t help but feel a sense of pride. Not just for his performance on the track, but for using his platform to make a difference.

As he makes his way back to the Ferrari garage, Charles spots you waiting for him. Your eyes are bright with emotion, and he can see the pride and gratitude written all over your face.

“That was amazing,” you say as he approaches. “I can’t believe you did all that.”

Charles shrugs, suddenly feeling a bit shy. “It was the least I could do. I hope it helps, even if it’s just a little bit.”

You shake your head, a soft laugh escaping you. “A little bit? Charles, do you have any idea how much impact something like this can have? You just brought attention to this issue in front of millions of people.”

He nods, the weight of what he’s done starting to sink in. “I just hope it makes a difference. That it helps someone out there feel less alone.”

You reach out, squeezing his hand. “It already has,” you say softly.

Charles feels a warmth spread through his chest at your words. He opens his mouth to respond, but before he can, a voice calls out from behind him.

“Charles! A word?”

Charles turns to see a familiar face — Federica, a respected journalist he’s known for years. She approaches with a warm smile, notepad in hand.

“Federica,” Charles greets her. “How are you?”

“I’m well, thank you,” she replies. “That was quite a statement you made out there today. I was hoping we could talk a bit more about it. Off the record, if you prefer.”

Charles glances at you, silently asking if you’re okay with this. You nod encouragingly.

“Sure,” Charles says. “What would you like to know?”

Federica’s expression turns serious. “I’ve known you for a while now. This isn’t just a random cause you’ve picked up. There’s a personal connection here, isn’t there?”

Charles takes a deep breath, weighing his words carefully. He feels you shift closer to him, offering silent support.

“You’re right,” he says finally. “It is personal. I can’t go into details, but ... I’ve seen up close how devastating domestic violence can be. And I realized that I had an opportunity to do something about it.”

Federica nods, her eyes softening with understanding. “That’s very brave of you, Charles. Both to take this stand and to admit the personal connection. Can I ask what made you decide to do it now?”

Charles glances at you again, a small smile playing at his lips. “Let’s just say I’ve been inspired by someone very brave. Someone who showed me that it’s possible to turn pain into purpose.”

Federica follows his gaze, her eyebrows raising slightly as she notices you for the first time. “I see,” she says, a knowing look in her eye. “Well, I think what you’re doing is wonderful. And I would be happy to help spread the word about the helmet auction, if you’d like.”

Charles nods gratefully. “That would be amazing. Thank you.”

As Federica walks away, Charles turns back to you. “I hope that was okay,” he says softly. “I didn’t want to say too much, but ...”

You shake your head, cutting him off. “It was perfect. Really. I ... I don’t know how to thank you for all of this.”

Charles reaches out, gently tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “You don’t have to thank me. Seeing you here, seeing how far you’ve come ... that’s all the thanks I need.”

For a moment, you just look at each other, a wealth of unspoken emotions passing between you. Then, impulsively, you step forward and wrap your arms around Charles in a tight hug.

He returns the embrace without hesitation, holding you close. In that moment, surrounded by the noise and chaos of the paddock, Charles feels a sense of peace wash over him.

This, he thinks, is what really matters. Not the podiums or the points, but the ability to make a difference. To help someone heal and find their strength again.

As you pull back from the hug, Charles sees something new in your eyes. A spark of determination, of hope for the future. And he knows, without a doubt, that this is just the beginning of something beautiful.

***

The late afternoon sun streams through the windows of Charles’ Monaco apartment, warming the living room. Charles is sprawled on the couch, idly scrolling through his phone, when he hears a sudden gasp from the kitchen.

“Oh my god,” your voice carries through the apartment, a mix of shock and something else Charles can’t quite place.

He sits up, instantly alert. “Everything okay?” He calls out, already moving towards the kitchen.

You appear in the doorway, your face flushed and your eyes wide. You’re clutching your phone like a lifeline, and there’s an energy radiating from you that Charles has never seen before.

“I ... I got in,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper.

Charles furrows his brow, confused for a moment before realization dawns. “The university? You heard back?”

You nod, a smile breaking across your face like the sun emerging from behind clouds. “I got in, Charles. They accepted me!”

The joy in your voice is infectious, and Charles feels his own face split into a grin. “That’s amazing!” He exclaims, stepping towards you. “I knew you could do it!”

What happens next seems to unfold in slow motion. You close the distance between you in two quick steps, and before Charles can process what’s happening, your lips are on his.

The kiss is brief, a burst of spontaneous happiness, but it sends a jolt through Charles’ entire body. For a split second, he’s frozen, his mind struggling to catch up with the reality of your lips against his.

But as quickly as it began, it’s over. You pull back abruptly, your eyes wide with shock at your own actions. “Oh god,” you stammer, taking a step back. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to ... I was just excited and I ...��

Charles can see the panic rising in your eyes, the fear that you’ve crossed a line. He wants to reassure you, to tell you that it’s okay, more than okay, but you’re already backing away, words tumbling out in a rush.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done that. I don’t know what I was thinking. Please don’t be mad, I-”

“Hey,” Charles cuts in gently, reaching out to catch your hand before you can retreat further. “Stop apologizing.”

You freeze, uncertainty written all over your face. “But I-”

Charles shakes his head, a soft smile playing at his lips. “You have nothing to be sorry for. In fact ...” he takes a deep breath, gathering his courage. “I’ve been wanting to kiss you for months.”

Your eyes widen in surprise. “You ... you have?”

Charles nods, his thumb tracing small circles on the back of your hand. “I have. But I didn’t want to rush you. I wanted to give you time to heal, to find yourself again.”

You’re quiet for a moment, processing his words. “So you’re not ... upset?”

Charles can’t help but chuckle. “Upset? No, definitely not upset. More like ... thrilled. And maybe a little disappointed in myself for not making the first move.”

A small smile tugs at the corners of your mouth. “Really?”

“Really,” Charles confirms. He takes a step closer, his free hand coming up to gently cup your cheek. “In fact, if you’re okay with it, I’d really like to kiss you again. Properly this time.”

You nod, a mix of nervousness and anticipation in your eyes. “I’d like that,” you whisper.

Charles leans in slowly, giving you plenty of time to change your mind. But you don’t pull away. Instead, you meet him halfway, your lips connecting in a kiss that’s soft and sweet and full of promise.

This time, Charles is fully present in the moment. He savors the feeling of your lips against his, the warmth of your body as you step closer. His hand slides from your cheek to the back of your neck, fingers tangling in your hair.

When you finally break apart, you’re both a little breathless. Charles rests his forehead against yours, a smile playing at his lips.

“Wow,” you murmur.

“Yeah,” Charles agrees. “Wow indeed.”

For a moment, you just stand there, wrapped in each other’s arms. Then Charles remembers what started all this.

“So,” he says, pulling back slightly to meet your eyes. “You got into law school. We should celebrate!”

You laugh, the sound light and carefree in a way Charles has never heard before. “I almost forgot about that for a second there.”

Charles grins. “Well, we can’t have that. It’s not every day you get accepted to study law at the International University of Monaco. This calls for champagne!”

He starts to move towards the kitchen, but you tug on his hand, pulling him back. “Wait,” you say softly. “Before we celebrate ... can we talk about this?” You gesture between the two of you.

Charles nods, his expression turning serious. “Of course. What do you want to know?”

You bite your lip, suddenly looking uncertain. “I just ... where do we go from here? I mean, I like you, Charles. A lot. But I’m still ... I’m still healing. And I don’t want to complicate things or ruin our friendship if-”

Charles cuts you off gently, taking both of your hands in his. “Hey, look at me,” he says softly. When you meet his gaze, he continues. “I like you too. A lot. And I understand that you’re still healing. I don’t want to rush anything or pressure you in any way.”

You nod, relief evident in your eyes. “So what do we do?”

Charles smiles. “We take it slow. We keep being friends, but we also explore these new feelings. And most importantly, we communicate. If at any point you feel overwhelmed or want to slow things down, you tell me. Okay?”

“Okay,” you agree, a small smile playing at your lips. “And what if ... what if I want to speed things up sometimes?”

Charles feels a warmth spread through his chest at your words. “Then we can do that too. As long as we’re both comfortable and on the same page.”

You nod, looking more relaxed now. “I think I can handle that.”

“Good,” Charles says, leaning in to press a soft kiss to your forehead. “Now, about that champagne ...”

As Charles moves to the kitchen to fetch the bottle, he can’t help but feel a sense of excitement bubbling up inside him. This thing between you is new and fragile, but it’s also full of potential. And he’s determined to nurture it, to give it the time and care it needs to grow into something beautiful.

He returns with two glasses and the champagne, finding you settled on the couch. As he pours, he can’t help but steal glances at you. There’s a glow about you that has nothing to do with the afternoon sun — it’s the light of new beginnings, of hope for the future.

“A toast,” Charles says, handing you a glass. “To new adventures in education and ... other areas.”

You laugh, clinking your glass against his. “To new adventures,” you agree.

As you sip the champagne, a comfortable silence falls between you. Charles finds himself marveling at how far you’ve come in the past few months. From the scared, broken woman he first met to this confident woman embarking on a new chapter of her life.

“What are you thinking about?” You ask, noticing his contemplative expression.

Charles smiles. “Just ... how proud I am of you. You’ve come so far, and now you’re starting this new journey. It’s inspiring.”

You blush slightly at his words. “I couldn’t have done it without you, you know. Your support has meant everything.”

“You’re stronger than you give yourself credit for,” Charles insists. “But I’m glad I could help. And I’ll be here to support you through your studies too. Although,” he adds with a grin, “I’m not sure how much help I’ll be with law textbooks.”

You laugh, leaning into him slightly. “I’m sure you’ll find ways to be helpful. Moral support is important too, you know.”

Charles wraps an arm around your shoulders, pulling you closer. “Well, in that case, I’m your man. Moral support is my specialty.”

As the afternoon fades into evening, you and Charles talk about everything and nothing. You discuss your hopes for university, your fears, your dreams for the future. Charles shares stories from his racing career, anecdotes he’s never told anyone else.

And through it all, there’s a new undercurrent of electricity between you. A spark ignited by that spontaneous kiss, fueled by the promise of something more.

As the sky outside turns a deep indigo, Charles finds himself marveling at the unexpected turns life can take. A few months ago, he was just a driver focused on his next win. Now, he’s sitting here with you, on the cusp of something that feels bigger and more important than any championship.

“What are you smiling about?” You ask, noticing his expression.

Charles pulls you closer, pressing a soft kiss to your temple. “Just thinking about how sometimes the best things in life are the ones you never see coming.”

You snuggle into his side, a contented sigh escaping you. “I couldn’t agree more.”

***

Five Years Later

The sun shines brightly on the streets of Monaco as Charles stands before a modest but elegant building, his heart swelling with pride. He glances at you, standing beside him in a crisp power suit, your eyes sparkling with excitement and determination. It’s a look he’s come to know well over the past five years, but today it seems to shine even brighter.

“Are you ready for this?” Charles asks, giving your hand a gentle squeeze.

You turn to him, a radiant smile spreading across your face. “I’ve been ready for this my whole life,” you reply, your voice steady and sure.

Charles feels a surge of love and admiration wash over him. He remembers the scared, broken woman he met all those years ago, and marvels at the strong, confident woman you’ve become. His wife. His partner in every sense of the word.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” a voice calls out, drawing their attention to the small crowd gathered before them. “We are here today to celebrate the grand opening of the Leclerc Center for Domestic Violence Support and Legal Aid.”

A round of applause breaks out, and Charles feels you squeeze his hand tighter. He knows how much this moment means to you, how hard you’ve worked to make it a reality.

The speaker, a distinguished-looking woman in her fifties, continues. “This center represents a beacon of hope for those who have suffered in silence, a promise that they are not alone, and that help is available. And we have two very special people to thank for making this dream a reality.”

She gestures towards Charles and you. “Charles and Y/N, would you like to say a few words before we cut the ribbon?”

Charles looks at you, silently asking if you want to speak first. You nod, stepping forward with the confidence of someone who has found their true calling.

“Thank you all for being here today,” you begin, your voice clear and strong. “This center is more than just a building. It’s a promise. A promise to every person out there who’s suffering in an abusive relationship that there is hope, there is help, and there is a way out.”

Charles watches you speak, feeling a swell of pride. He remembers the countless late nights you spent poring over law books, the tears of frustration and determination as you fought your way through law school. And now here you are, a fully qualified attorney, using your hard-earned skills to help others who were once in your position.

“I stand here today not just as a lawyer, not just as the co-founder of this center, but as someone who has been where many of our future clients are right now,” you continue, your voice wavering slightly with emotion. “I know the fear, the doubt, the feeling of being trapped. But I also know the incredible strength that lies within each survivor. And it is my deepest hope that this center will help them find that strength, just as I did.”

As you step back, wiping a tear from your eye, Charles pulls you into a quick, supportive hug before stepping forward himself.

“When I met my wife five years ago,” he begins, his voice thick with emotion, “I was just a driver who thought he had it all figured out. But she opened my eyes to a world I knew little about, and showed me that sometimes the most important battles are the ones fought off the track.”

He pauses, looking out at the crowd. He sees familiar faces — fellow drivers who’ve supported this project, team members who’ve become like family, and new faces too — survivors, advocates, people who believe in the mission of this center.

“This center is a dream that we’ve shared for years,” Charles continues. “A dream of creating a safe space where survivors can find legal support, counseling, and most importantly, hope. And while I may not be the one providing legal advice,” he adds with a chuckle, earning a laugh from the crowd, “I promise to support this center and its mission in every way I can.”

He turns to you, his eyes shining with love and admiration. “And to my incredible wife, who has been the driving force behind all of this — thank you. For your strength, your determination, and for showing me what true courage looks like every single day.”

As Charles steps back, the crowd erupts in applause. You reach for his hand, intertwining your fingers with his as the official hands you a large pair of scissors.

“Are you ready to do the honors?” The official asks.

You and Charles share a look, years of unspoken understanding passing between you in that moment. Together, you step forward, positioning the scissors at the purple ribbon stretched across the entrance.

“On the count of three,” the official announces. “One ... two ... three!”

With a satisfying snip, the ribbon falls away. The crowd cheers, and cameras flash as you and Charles stand before the open doors of the center, your shared dream finally a reality.

As the crowd begins to file inside for the reception, you turn to Charles, your eyes shining with unshed tears. “We did it,” you whisper. “We really did it.”

Charles pulls you into a tight embrace, not caring about the cameras still flashing around them. “You did it,” he murmurs into your hair. “I just followed your lead.”

You pull back, shaking your head with a fond smile. “We’re a team, remember?”

Charles laughs, pressing a quick kiss to your forehead. “How could I forget?”

As you make your way inside, greeting guests and answering questions, Charles finds himself reflecting on the journey that brought you both to this moment. The ups and downs, the challenges and triumphs, all leading to this day.

A familiar face approaches — Federica, the journalist who had interviewed Charles after that fateful race five years ago. “Charles, Y/N,” she greets you warmly. “Congratulations on this amazing achievement. Would you mind if I asked you a few questions?”

You nod, your professional demeanor sliding into place. “Of course. What would you like to know?”

“This center is quite different from the usual celebrity charity projects,” Federica begins. “Can you tell me what inspired you to take such a hands-on approach?”

You and Charles share a look, silently deciding who should answer. Charles gives a small nod, encouraging you to take the lead.

“For us, this isn’t about charity in the traditional sense,” you explain. “It’s about using our resources and platform to create real, tangible change. As a survivor myself, I know firsthand how crucial legal support can be in escaping an abusive situation. But I also know how intimidating and overwhelming the legal system can seem.”

Charles watches as you speak, marveling at your eloquence and passion. He remembers the early days of your relationship, when you would sometimes struggle to find your voice. Now, you command the room with ease.

“Our goal with this center,” you continue, “is to provide comprehensive support — legal aid, counseling, practical assistance — all under one roof. We want to remove as many barriers as possible for those seeking help.”

Federica nods, scribbling in her notepad. “And Charles,” she turns to him, “how do you see your role in all of this?”

Charles straightens, his expression serious. “My role is to support this center and its mission in every way I can. Whether that’s using my platform to raise awareness, helping to secure funding, or simply being here to show that everyone can and should be allies in this fight against domestic violence.”

You reach for his hand, giving it a squeeze. Charles feels a surge of gratitude for your unwavering support, both in this project and in his career.

“And how do you balance this work with racing?” Federica asks.

Charles smiles. “It’s all about priorities. Racing is my passion, but this center, and the work we do here, that’s my purpose. I’m fortunate to have a team and sponsors who understand and support that.”

As Federica thanks the two of you and moves on to speak with other guests, Charles turns to you. “You were amazing,” he says softly. “I’m so proud of you.”

You lean into him slightly, a soft smile playing at your lips. “We were amazing,” you correct him. “I couldn’t have done any of this without you.”

Before Charles can respond, another guest approaches, asking for a tour of the facilities. As you lead the way, explaining the various services the center will offer, Charles hangs back slightly, simply observing.

He watches as you point out the private consultation rooms, the children’s play area designed to make the center welcoming for families, the state-of-the-art security systems put in place to ensure client safety. Your eyes light up as you describe the pro bono legal services, the partnerships with local shelters and support groups, the education and prevention programs you hope to implement.

In this moment, seeing you in your element, Charles is struck anew by how far you’ve both come. From that terrifying night in the paddock to this day of hope and new beginnings, it’s been a journey neither of you could have anticipated.

As the day winds down and the last of the guests depart, Charles finds you standing in the main reception area, looking around with a mix of awe and determination.

“Penny for your thoughts?” He asks, wrapping an arm around your waist.

You lean into him, letting out a contented sigh. “I was just thinking about all the lives we’re going to change here. All the people we’re going to help.”

Charles presses a kiss to your temple. “You’ve already changed so many lives, you know. Including mine.”

You turn to face him, your eyes shining with love and gratitude. “We’ve changed each other’s lives. And now we get to pay it forward.”

As Charles looks at you, his partner in every sense of the word, he knows that whatever challenges lie ahead, you’ll face them together. Just as you always have.

“Ready to go home?” He asks softly.

You nod, taking one last look around the center. “Yes,” you say, your voice filled with quiet determination. “But we’ll be back bright and early tomorrow. We’ve got work to do.”

Charles smiles, taking your hand as you walk towards the exit. “Wouldn’t have it any other way.”

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