#from the bottom of my heart...... oop | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

bluewxrld07 · 30 days ago

Text

Soap (2)

Lando Norris X F!Reader

Summary: Y/N has always loved hard and shows that through affection. Especially lately. She's a touch-starved kind of lovergirl, and Lando has always been okay with it. At least she thought so.

Guess I better wash my mouth out with soap

Warning(s): angst, possessiveness, physical altercations

A/N: Tag list is completely full!! You guys are amazing wtf😭🩵 The keyboard got away from me, guys. Good luck getting through this🤧. Oops hehe. There's a poll at the bottom, so feel free to vote after reading. See u soon, friends

The world was quiet.

It was calm, especially after all the noise from the race weekend.

Y/N was tired. She couldn't keep her eyes open, her mental state just shutting down the more she stayed awake.

It felt as if she was feeling everything at once, and that brought her to the point of numbness. Feeling nothing at all. Just complete tiredness.

Max looked back from the front seat, seeing her state, fighting the exhaustion from all the crying and debriefs they had stuck around for. He could see her mind shutting down, her eyes lazily following the objects that they passed by.

She had told him she would come out with them, despite the way her eyes were puffy as she assured him.

At this point, he would put a chair in front of the door to prevent her from leaving. There would always be another opportunity for her to go out with them. He couldn't bear to see how she'd try to hold herself while being out at a loud restaurant. Not after what happened.

It was the way Max's heart broke as he heard her sob to herself in his arms.

The last time he had ever seen her cry, let alone cry like this, was when her childhood cat had to be put down. That was almost six years ago.

She's the strongest person he's ever met, ever seen. Especially with what she deals with on a daily basis.

The girl was now slowly letting her eyes close, barely fighting it. Her eyes felt too sore and heavy to put any more battle into keeping herself fully conscious.

When they arrived back at the hotel, Max couldn't help but jump out of the car and quickly open her door.

He didn't hesitate to wrap one arm under her legs, the other around her back, before lifting her into his arms. His security guard scurried over with his arms out to take her instead, Max shaking his head. "I've got her, don't," he sternly orders, the guard nodding slowly before backing away and guiding them inside.

Max felt her grip tighten on his black button-up, clenching and unclenching as she tried fighting her tiredness.

He reached his hotel room, letting his guard swipe the keycard as Max nodded at him. "I won't be long," he says to him, receiving a nod as he holds the door open for the pair.

His guard closes the door behind them, standing outside to give Max privacy, while the driver walks Y/N over to his bed. He sets her body down softly on the mattress, watching her stir slightly to look at him with a furrow.

"Max," she mutters, her eyes barely able to keep her eyes open. "What's-"

He shook his head with a hum, sitting by her side and caressing her cheek. "No," he says. "You need to rest."

Her puffed eyes tried to look up at him through her lashes, and Max rubbed a thumb over the dried tears that sat on her cheek. "What about dinner?"

He chuckles softly. "There'll be plenty more," he nods down at her. "You need to let your body and mind rest after today," he tells her. He watches her softly grab his wrist, only to hesitate before her fingers could wrap around his skin, deciding against it and putting her hand down.

Max frowns as she turns away from him. "Schat?" he asks in confusion.

She shook her head. "Please just don't," her voice sounding shaky. "You're doing enough. I don't want to suffocate you."

Max swears his chest tightens at her words. She had never pushed his touch away. Let alone anyone's. "Schat, you aren't."

"Maybe there is something wrong with me. Maybe I shouldn't be this way."

Oh, he was going to kill Lando.

Instead of saying anything else, knowing if she turned away, that she was truly done talking, he stood up and leaned over her with both of his hands caging her small figure in, holding him up from crushing her. He lets his lips press to her temple.

"You're never suffocating," he assures her. "Your love and affection with everyone is my favorite thing about you."

With that, he stands up slowly and turns around to walk towards the door to leave. He doesn't miss the way he hears her sobs quietly leave her lips, Max fighting with himself to just stay there and hold her the rest of the night.

Yet he knew that when she wanted space, which was a rare sighting, to give her the space she was creating.

Once he let the door shut softly behind him, he kept his head down while his mind raced a million miles a minute. His guard spoke up after a few moments. "Max?"

The Dutch driver clenches his jaw for a second, his head snapping up with a darker look in his eyes.

"Let's go, or we'll be late."

They were both off shortly after that, Max's pace faster with every step he took. He could feel his insides burning. Twisting.

The drive was quiet as they made their way to the restaurant, Max keeping his gaze out the window as he fidgeted with his bottom lip. His jaw was clenching and unclenching every other moment.

He didn't hesitate to whip his door open once they arrived, not giving the valet driver a chance to open it for him.

He was walking like he had a purpose, and in that moment, he did.

Once his eyes found the large table where the other drivers were sitting, he felt his face harden when he didn't see the familiar McLaren driver there.

The drivers all smile at Max when they see him, some of them soon frowning at his glare.

"Where's Norris?" his voice boomed out, not missing the flinches from a few of the guys that were close to him.

Oscar, being the only one who knew what was about to happen, answers first. "Max, don't."

Max scoffs and swats at him. "Geef me die onzin niet, where is he?" (Don't give me that shit, where is he?)

Everyone's demeanor had dropped immediately, knowing that when Max started speaking Dutch, he was not to be messed with. He was already pissed, and when a pissed off Max is near, nobody wanted to be in that damage path.

"Where?" his voice booms, getting some stares thrown his way. He didn't care.

"I think he went to the bathroom. Said something about needing to freshen up," Pierre announces, not failing to watch as Max makes his way over towards the direction of the restrooms.

Once Max found the hallway leading down to the men's room, he pushed the door open, seeing Lando in front of the sink, patting water over his face. His gaze slowly turned over when he heard the door slam open, his entire face falling and turning white.

"Max-"

"Jij verdomde klootzak," (You fucking bastard) he laughs bitterly, stalking closer to Lando, who was backing away slowly as the Dutch driver got closer.

"How dare you?" Max growls. "Hm? How fucking dare you?" his tone getting louder before he pushes Lando hard. Lando put his hands up in surrender, trying to sputter out apologies.

"I give you my fucking blessing for her, and this? This is how you treat her? Are you fucking serious, Norris?" his voice booms, echoing across the bathroom walls. He pushes Lando harshly with every word that leaves his mouth.

"Max, look. I was upset with the race, I didn't-"

"I don't give a fuck if it's about the DNF. I wouldn't give a fuck if you got a disqualification penalty! You don't fucking treat her like she's some fucking scum on the bottom of your shoe!" he screams, giving one final hard push to Lando's chest, the thump of his back meeting the marble walls behind him echoing loudly.

"I didn't mean it, I just was frustrated-"

"Jouw gevoelens kunnen mij niks schelen, Norris!" (I don't care about your fucking feelings, Norris!) Max yells back bitterly, his hands slamming against the wall right next to Lando's head. Lando clenched his jaw, holding himself back as he let Max scream at him. He deserved that. He deserved a lot worse if he were honest.

Before he can even put another hand on Lando, Lewis and Oscar scurry inside, grabbing Max by his shoulders to pull him away from Lando.

"Let's not do this," Lewis says to Max as the Dutch fights his hold. He points at Lando.

"You realize you made her cry, Lando? She rarely does, and you made tears fall from her eyes!"

Lando felt his heart clench, his stomach dropping as he remembered the tears glossing over her eyes. "I didn't mean-"

"I held her there, as she sobbed in my arms. Sobbed! Saying she felt like an inconvenience, like she suffocates people. What did you fucking say to her?"

Lando couldn't get the words out, but Max already knew in that moment. His eyes widened, seeing that just by Lando's face alone, it really was all true. He said she was suffocating. Clingy. Lando said her touch was too much. Max scoffs bitterly, rolling his eyes.

"You're fucking dead to me, Norris," he spat, letting Lewis guide him out of the bathroom. "Verdomd dood!" (Fucking dead!) he yells back once more before leaving with Lewis.

Oscar has his arms crossed, turning back to face Lando, who just stands there in shock. "Mate, what did you do?" he asks in a knowing tone, more so making it sound like a rhetorical question.

Lando lets out a strangled sob as he begins to rub his face, sliding down against the wall. "I fucked up is what I did."

"He's going to have your head," he tuts, walking over to his friend and extending a hand. "Literally and figuratively. He's going to kill you next race."

Lando shook his head, keeping his stare over at the door, waiting for Max to come barging back in. "He's gonna kill me before we even make it to practice day."

Once Oscar had helped Lando clean himself up, looking more presentable, they left the men's room.

They made it to the table, seeing Max's spot was still empty, Lando felt his insides churn. Waiting for Max to pop up behind him somehwere.

"Where's Max?" Oscar asked as they sat down.

Lewis answers this time. "He left," he admits. "He said he'd rather be taking care of Y/N than be here. Said if he stayed any longer, he was going to throw something at Lando or drag him out by his ear."

Lando let out a groan, letting his head fall onto the table with a thud.

"Mate, what the actual fuck did you do to piss him off so badly?" Charles asked across the table. Lando just shook his head.

"He made Y/N cry from my understanding," Lewis reveals, causing every single head at the table to turn to Lando.

"What did you do? She never cries," George spoke up, a frown on his face. Most of the guys agreeing, being just as confused as Russell was.

Oscar spoke up this time, pursing his lips. "He let his anger out on her. Said she's suffocating and clingy basically."

"Oscar!" Lando seethes, snapping his head over at his teammate, a glare on his face. Oscar shrugged while sipping his drink, all the guys exchanging whispers and groans at Lando.

"Mate, you fucked up. Bad," Oscar says, not backing down.

"You're absolute toast."

"Max is going to have your head on a stick."

"I'm shocked he didn't drag you out already."

"Mate, you're in deep shit. Max doesn't play when it comes to her."

Lando groans before raising his hands to stop them from commenting more.

"I know. Guys, I know!" he snaps, making them all go quiet. "I just- I let my anger get hold of my emotions at the wrong time. I regret it with everything in me. I do."

"You don't realize how bad that is. You're lucky he let you even get a chance to be with her. His possessive ass," Lewis scoffs more to himself as he shook his head, sipping on his drink. The entire table looks his way, Lando frowning at his words.

"What's supposed to mean?" Lando sputters, feeling offended by Hamilton's words.

Lewis set his drink down, crossing his arms over the table while leaning towards Lando's direction.

"It means he doesn't share," he admits. "Not Y/N at least."

Lando feels his heart drop to his ass.

No. There was no way. He would've known.

Lando tilts his head, eyes squinting knowingly. He shook his head. "No. He's not, there's no way."

George cuts in, eyebrows furrowing. "What am I missing?"

Lewis leans back in his chair. "Max has been in love with Y/N for years," He says, reaching for his drink once more. Everyone at the table stays silent. It was so quiet you could hear a pin drop.

"When she told him she wanted to be with you, he wanted her to be happy. After everything she helped him through growing up, she was his escape. Especially when his dad was harsh on him. He vowed to always make sure she was happy. He knew you could give her that, but he fought himself a lot with going against it."

Lando feels his insides caving as Lewis reveals every word. "He saw how happy you made her. That's all he ever wants for her, even if it's not him," he chuckles, seeing Lando's face. "He did say if it didn't work out between you two, that he would make that move."

Lando leans back in his seat with a groan, head falling back while he rubs his face out of stress, curses leaving his lips.

"So, if you thought you had any chance to win her back, Max is going to try and beat you to it. You probably have lost your chance," Lewis points out, sipping on his drink.

"And if we know anything about Max." George trails off.

"He never loses. Especially when it's something he wants."

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

It was the next morning. Clouds covered the sky as it cried.

Max sat with his back against the headboard of his bed, hearing the door open from the bathroom. Y/N just finishing up a shower.

She hadn't really slept. When she would finally hit a deeper level of slumber, she would jolt up crying.

She didn't even let Max get close to her, not wanting to be touched, which was a new thing she was doing. Max hated it. He hated that she felt as if her needing and wanting touch to calm down was too much.

So he would sit there, feeling helpless, as she just held herself.

He had snuck down the hallway earlier that morning while she was somewhat asleep, packing up all of her things that were in her hotel room, bringing them up to his own. Knowing full well she'd end up doing that in the morning anyway.

She hated being alone when she was hurting. It was rare, but when it happened, Max was always there. He could always pick up on it.

He straightens up slightly when she walks around the corner, donning a pair of her sweats and one of his Redbull t-shirts. Deciding to stick with comfier pair of clothes for the flight back home.

Max had declined going to the F1 premiere, wanting to focus on Y/N as well as just not liking the idea of being stuck in New York around the press. Or having to keep things professional with Lando when he wanted to run him over with his car.

"You all packed up?" he asks softly, watching her nod.

He doesn't miss the way her face was blotched and puffy again, signaling she had cried a bit more while in the bathroom.

"Schat," he trails off in a sadder tone, getting up from his bed to walk to her. Y/N backs away from Max, shaking her head. "Please," she croaks. "Just don't touch me. Not right now."

Max stops in his tracks, feeling his heart hurt at her words. He nods reluctantly, deciding instead to busy himself with gathering both of their bags. His gaze going to see outside by the entry, seeing some fans and paps already waiting by the cars.

"They're lining up outside," he says slowly, handing her a hoodie to throw over her head. She says nothing, only sniffling as she puts it on.

The pair don't say anything more as they finished grabbing their things, leaving the hotel room to head downstairs.

Max would usually stop to take a few photos with the fans that stood outside, but he was only keeping his mind on getting Y/N past the crowd.

The security guards held the front door open as they saw Max and Y/N making their way outside, another guard going over to open the car door.

Max makes his way in front of her to shield the other side from seeing her, keeping his gaze on her figure. Y/N didn't hesitate to scurry into the car, Max pressing a hand softly on her back to help her up into the car. The man ignored the calls and pleas of his name before stepping inside the car behind her.

The door shuts behind the guard who climbs in after Max, soon being driven off towards the airport.

It was quiet the entire way there, Max keeping a close but safe distance from her in the shared backseat. He doesn't miss how her phone buzzes, seeing her peer down at it only to double-click the home button to decline it.

Lando had been blowing up her phone since the night before. Especially after Max had left, her phone wouldn't stop buzzing.

Y/N declined every call, putting his messages on Do Not Disturb. The more she sat with what he had said to her, the more it made her think back to every time he made a face when she would touch him.

She didn't know how long he felt that way with her, Y/N letting her mind overthink to the point it made her feel sick.

It wasn't good for her, and she knew that. She couldn't help it. Not when she had given herself fully to Lando in every way. Thinking he was it for her. That he was all she wanted. She was all he wanted. So she thought.

Max watched as she began to pinch at the skin on her wrists, something she did when her mind wouldn't stop running.

"Genoeg lieverd. Je zult je huid weer beschadigen," (Enough, darling. You'll damage the skin again) he says softly to her. She doesn't acknowledge his words, only pinching harder to try and stop her mind.

Max didn't hesitate in the next few moments, not caring if she yelled or glared at him as he touched her. He reached over to grab her hands, holding onto them. She snaps her gaze away from the window with a frown.

He looks at her. "If you're going to pinch skin, pinch mine. Not yours," he instructs. Y/N doesn't see anything but assurance in his eyes, Max nodding slowly with a hum. "You can't hurt me. You never could."

Y/N bites her lip before nodding. Max has her lean into his body as she begins to fidget again. But this time, with his own hands.

Max lets his head fall onto her own, watching her whole body, for the first time in the last day, soften. The more she fidgeted, seeing how it didn't hurt or affect him in any way, the more it relaxed her mind. She didn't know why.

It brought her a calming sensation, feeling Max's touch against her own body, and it made her whole body begin to relax.

Once they had arrived at the airport, Max didn't release her hands once. He kept his hands laced with her own. He only removed them once to adjust his hold, having her walk behind him as he made her lace her hands with his behind his back. They stayed that way as they walked up into the jet.

Max helped her set her backpack down on one of the cushioned chairs, and that was the time he released her hands.

He thanked the flight attendant crew as they loaded their things onto the jet, then exchanged a few words with his security guard and publicist.

Y/N stood there with an exhausted look in her eyes, just wanting to finally sleep. Let her mind and her body rest.

Once Max was done talking to them, he made his way over towards her figure. He didn't say anything, only guiding her to the back of the private jet. Y/N followed him slowly, Max opening the door to the small bedroom.

A bed in the corner, a TV sitting in front of it, while there was a recliner chair embedded into the floor on the other side of the room with a table in front of it.

This was usually where Max disappeared to when they had long flights, knowing he tried sleeping whenever he could get the chance.

He shut the door behind her softly before crawling into bed and getting comfy. Max turns back to her, seeing her stand there looking absolutely defeated.

"Come on," he assures, motioning for her to come lie down. Y/N shrugs. "I don't want to take up your space."

Max gives her a knowing look, clenching his jaw. "You could never. You know that," he says, his tone more stern. "Lay down."

Instead of her prying and arguing more, knowing she wouldn't win it, she doesn't fight it, not having anything left in that moment. Y/N cautiously goes to climb in, keeping her distance as best as she can. Giving him his space.

Max notices her actions, immediately ignoring the eyeroll he wanted to do, and wraps his arms around her waist to pull her back towards his figure.

She lets out a low squeak at his actions, and Max turns her to lie against him. He doesn't miss the way her body instantly caves into his side, him helping her lie her head on his chest as he laces their hands together in case she begins to pinch and pick at her skin again.

"Je hoeft je geen zorgen te maken, ik heb je lieverd," (You don't have to worry, I got you darling) he mumbles against her temple. He hears her sigh, the way he knows she is fighting with her body in her head. The way she tries to tense, but her body craves every touch that's being given to her. "Sleep."

That's all he has to mutter to her before her eyes finally begin to close, the closeness of another one's body heat lulling her into a deeper slumber.

Max kisses her head, letting his thumb caress the top of her hand as he feels the tenseness in her body falter away. He kisses her head once more.

"I've got you."

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

A/N: Me after pressing "Post now"

Sooooooo hehe.... That got away from me, and I'm not sorry. Lando is a dumbass as we know. Are we loving a protective Max? How're we feeling overall, friends? Vote below. I love you guys <3, I'll see you soon ;)

Permanent taglist : (Please message me if you'd like to be removed!!!)

@nickie-amore , @tylerstacobell , @piceous21 , @ariesandwolves , @lifeonawhim , @formulawhore , @asterooidsblog , @staple-your-mouth , @sinfully-yoursss , @smileyshaven , @midnightsaugust , @astrlape , @relijanka , @jooooooooo-cycycy16 , @cherryhazee , @nina481 , @lighttsoutlewis , @suns3treading , @areej003 , @dramallama9 , @putherup , @green--beanie , @footyball , @callsign-mirage , @kearasaltynalapepper , @idkwahr , @teti-menchon0604 , @footyball , @avengersgirllorianna , @4norrislove , @boocmarks , @evilive , @gulphulp , @hopeless--romamtic , @f1fantasys , @ccupidbow , @ini3103 , @vinylphwoar , @ernegren , @mel164 , @lemon-stvrrr , @behindmygreyeyes , @sillyfreakfanparty , @flowersandalll , @paankhaleyaaar , @ushygushybaby , @lifeonawhim , @themasqueradereveler13 , @vdkah8ter , @p1astrizz , @rickybobbydan , @sparklepiastri

#lando norris x reader #lando norris imagine #lando norris #lando x reader #ln4 #lando imagine #lando norris fanfic #lando imagines #lando norris fluff #lando norris angst #ln4 imagine #ln4 fic #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #rosieswxrld #max verstappen #max vertsappen fic #max verstappen x reader

1K notes · View notes

joelsrose · 3 months ago

Text

Feels Right (Part 2)

warninnggssss omg stepdad!joel smut - this is not everyones cup of tea so pls pls be warned also as always 18+ for smut, otherwise to the of age freaks pls enjoyy hehhehe

Part 1 here

You woke in your childhood bed with the morning light slanting through the blinds, casting soft stripes across the room like it hadn’t witnessed sin just hours before, like everything was still innocent and untouched—but the moment your thighs shifted beneath the sheets, the truth came flooding back, thick and hot and humiliating in the most delicious way. The slickness clinging to your skin, the soaked-through panties that had dried against you uncomfortably, the faint ache between your legs—it wasn’t a dream.

Joel had been there. He’d sat at the foot of your bed, legs spread, hands clasped between them like he was just resting after a long day, but there had been nothing casual about the way he looked at you, nothing accidental in the way his voice dropped low and coaxing, rough as gravel and honeyed with want. He hadn’t stumbled into anything, hadn’t walked in by mistake or tried to back out—no, he’d stayed, eyes dark and heavy, and whispered things that made your body move before your brain could catch up. “Go on, sweetheart,” he’d said, voice all soft encouragement and something unspoken underneath, “Don’t gotta be shy. Not with me. Show me how you do it when you think no one’s listenin’.”

And God help you, you had.

Your hand had slipped between your thighs with a trembling boldness, fingers slicking through your folds as Joel watched, never blinking, never flinching, like he’d been waiting his whole life to see you like that—open, needy, and doing exactly what he told you to. And when you’d come—legs shaking, breath caught in your throat, your stepfather murmuring “that’s it, that’s my girl” like it meant something—you hadn’t even thought to be ashamed.

You wanted him to see. You wanted to be good for him. You wanted more.

And now, in the stillness of morning, wrapped in the scent of your own arousal and the ghost of his voice in your ear, you knew exactly what had happened—and worse, you knew it wasn’t the end.

You checked your phone with trembling fingers, the screen lighting up with a simple message from your mother—“Gone to the shops. Back soon x”

You padded down the stairs slowly, barefoot and quiet, every creak of the wood beneath your feet sounding deafening in the silence. You didn’t know what you were hoping for—maybe that he’d gone with her like he always did, like he should’ve, and this whole thing could stay where it belonged, suspended in the fog of last night. You could pretend he hadn’t watched you touch yourself in the bed where you used to fall asleep clutching stuffed animals, pretend he hadn’t sat there in the shadows with his big hands gripping the edge of the mattress like he was fighting off a goddamn primal urge, coaxing you through it like a man on the edge of something permanent and wrong.

But the minute you reached the bottom of the stairs, you knew.

You rounded the corner cautiously, the hem of your cotton shorts brushing against your thighs, heart thudding like a secret against your ribs, and there he was—Joel—sitting on the edge of the worn leather couch like nothing had happened, one ankle crossed over the other, newspaper draped casually across his lap, a half-drunk mug of coffee in his hand, steam curling lazily into the morning air. The television was on, low and distant, casting muted flashes of color across the lines of his face, but he wasn’t watching it—not really. He was still, thoughtful, his eyes scanning the page with that quiet, deliberate focus you’d always associated with him, like the world couldn’t rush him if it tried.

You were about to retreat, feet moving in silent panic, the urge to flee crawling up your spine like something instinctual and animal—because how the hell were you supposed to look him in the eye after what you’d done, after what he’d said, after the way your body had arched for him like it was his to command? But before you could slip away, his voice rang out, smooth and low, laced with something unreadable.

“Good mornin’,” he said, not lifting his head, just glancing up at you from over the rim of his glasses with those tired, dark eyes that always saw more than they should, always made you feel like you were stripped bare even when fully clothed. He took a slow sip of his coffee, never breaking eye contact, the corner of his mouth twitching just slightly as he swallowed and set the mug down on the side table with a soft clink, the sound delicate and final, like punctuation to a thought he hadn’t said out loud.

Your breath caught, caught hard, because there was nothing casual in the way he looked at you—not with that slow, lingering gaze that flicked down to your bare legs and then back up again, nothing rushed, nothing hidden. He didn’t smile. He didn’t smirk. He just watched, like he was waiting to see what you’d do now, standing in front of him in your little top and sleep-rumpled hair, trembling under the weight of everything that had passed between you in the dark.

And all you could do was stare back, throat dry, knees unsteady, wondering how the hell you were supposed to survive being in the same room with him—when every part of your body remembered what it felt like to come apart just from the sound of his voice.

You stood there frozen in the doorway, your fingers curling around the hem of your shirt like it might anchor you, like it could hide the fact that your entire body was thrumming with something hot and guilty and unspeakably alive. “Hi—good morning,” you managed, your voice a little too light, a little too breathy. You shifted your weight from one foot to the other, cheeks warm, eyes flicking anywhere but his—until they landed on his coffee mug, the newspaper, the soft flicker of the TV, the utterly normalcy of it all, which only made the heat in your belly twist harder.

“I thought you went to the shops,” you said, quieter now, like maybe if you kept your voice soft enough, he wouldn’t hear the way your heart was pounding, wouldn’t notice the nervous tremble in your fingers or the shameful press of your thighs beneath your cotton shorts. Your words hovered in the space between you, light as dust, but the weight of them was unbearable, full of everything unspoken—you shouldn’t be here, I shouldn’t want you, we shouldn’t have crossed that line, but we did, didn’t we?

Joel’s eyes never left you. He leaned back slowly against the couch, the leather groaning under his weight, one arm draping over the backrest like he had all the time in the world, like he knew exactly what you were thinking and was content to let you squirm in the silence. His glasses slid a little lower down the bridge of his nose, and he looked at you over the rim with that same unreadable gaze, calm and steady and devastatingly male.

“Didn’t feel like goin’,” he said finally, voice low and warm, rough like gravel softened by honey. “Figured your mama’d be fine on her own.”

And the way he said it—casual, easy, like it was the most natural thing in the world—only made your stomach drop, because it wasn’t natural. It wasn’t normal. Nothing about this morning was.

“Christ, darlin’,” he murmured, setting his mug aside with a quiet clink that felt far too loud in the stillness between you, his voice cutting through the room with that deep, familiar drawl that always felt like it came from somewhere lower than his chest, like it was carved out of something older, heavier, more dangerous. He tilted his head just enough to look at you fully, brows drawn slightly in concern—or maybe curiosity—his gaze sweeping over you in that slow, deliberate way of his, the kind that always made your skin heat and your breath catch even when he didn’t say a word. “You’re lookin’ at me like you’re scared of me.”

You swallowed hard, the knot in your throat tightening as you shifted in place, arms crossed like a weak shield, but your voice—though soft—held no hesitation. “I’m not scared,” you murmured, eyes flicking up to meet his, wide and steady, even if your pulse was doing somersaults under your skin. And it was true—you weren’t scared. You were wired, rattling with nerves and guilt and something molten that pooled low in your belly, but you weren’t afraid. Not of him.

Joel watched you for a moment longer, something unreadable flashing behind those tired eyes of his, and then he exhaled slowly, the tension in his shoulders melting just a fraction. “Good,” he said, and the word came out more like a rumble, warm and rough like it had to scrape its way out of him. He folded the newspaper in half with careful fingers, set it down beside him, and leaned back in the couch like he owned the whole room, legs spread just slightly, one hand resting across his thigh, the other reaching out—beckoning, calling, commanding—with the faintest curl of his fingers.

“C’mere.”

Simple. Low. Quiet. And yet it landed like a thunderclap in your chest.

Your breath stuttered, and for a second, you didn’t move—not because you were unsure, but because you could feel the weight of the moment shift, like the floor had tilted beneath you.

He noticed your hesitation, of course he did—he noticed everything—and like he always did, Joel leaned forward with the kind of slow, deliberate ease that made the room feel smaller, hotter, heavier with something unspoken, his elbows resting on his knees as his voice dipped into that low, husky register that always managed to melt your spine. “Come on, babygirl,” he hummed, the nickname thick with heat and affection, a gentle tease soaked in sin, his mouth curling just slightly as he let the words stretch slow and lazy in his throat, “don’t make me beg.”

And God, how did he say things like that—so casual, so sweet, so devastating—like he didn’t know what it did to you, like he didn’t already have you falling apart with just a look?

You walked toward him then, your legs stiff and uncertain, your breath shallow, like every step toward that couch was pulling you deeper into some dream you weren’t sure how to wake from. You felt like a deer stumbling through tall grass—skittish, wide-eyed, clumsy in your own skin—and it wasn’t who you were. You weren’t some blushing, nervous little thing who forgot how to speak around men, but around Joel, everything in your brain went soft and slow, turned to syrup and static, like nothing else mattered except the space between you and the heat in his eyes.

When you finally reached him and stopped, unsure and awkward with your arms crossed protectively in front of your chest, Joel looked up at you like he was taking in a sunrise—like he had all the time in the world to just sit there and look at you—and you felt your breath catch all over again. His face, weathered and beautiful, every line carved with time and experience, his deep brown eyes impossibly warm, a shade that always made your knees weak, and that beard, thick and soft and shadowing the hard line of his jaw—he was so handsome it hurt. And then his hands, those big, capable hands, reached for you like he had a right to, settling on your hips with a quiet sort of confidence, thumbs rubbing slow, absent circles through the fabric of your shorts, grounding you, claiming you, calming you—and you watched them, stared like you were hypnotized, lips parting, brain empty.

“How’d you sleep?” he murmured, and his voice wasn’t teasing now, just gentle, intimate, the words curling against your skin like a blanket fresh from the dryer.

And just like that, the girl who had mouthed off her whole life, who’d never backed down from anything, was reduced to a blushing, bashful mess beneath the weight of his gaze. You couldn’t even meet his eyes. Your cheeks burned, your lashes fluttered, and something soft and shaky caught in your throat, because somehow this man—your mother’s husband, for God’s sake—had undone you completely.

Joel tilted his head then, smiling like he knew, like he loved it, that slow, crooked smile full of patience and quiet promise, and you swore the room spun just a little.

“You’re real pretty when you’re shy,” he murmured, almost to himself, almost like it was a secret meant for no one but the space between your bodies.

“You… you can’t say that,” you murmured, the words slipping from your mouth in a whisper so soft it felt like they barely existed, your eyes still cast down, lashes lowered as if that might soften the weight of everything hanging in the space between you. Your voice was tight, caught somewhere between protest and plea, the heat in your cheeks blooming all over again as his hands stayed firm on your hips, thumbs brushing in slow, easy circles like he hadn’t just shattered the fragile line between right and wrong with a single sentence.

Joel tilted his head, one brow lifting, his smile widening just a little—amused, indulgent, unbothered. “Can’t say what?” he said, voice smooth and rich, a teasing hum that curled down your spine. “That my stepdaughter’s pretty? Huh? ’Cause it’s just the truth, sugar. Don’t think there’s a law against honesty.”

The word—stepdaughter—hit you like a jolt, echoing in your chest, reverberating somewhere low in your gut, shame and arousal tangling so tightly you couldn’t tell where one ended and the other began. It felt wrong, it should’ve felt wrong, but the way he said it—so casual, so easy, like it was the most natural thing in the world to call you that and still hold you like this, like he wanted to say it while his hands were on your body—made your breath stutter all over again.

You shifted on your feet, blinking hard, your voice barely steady when you asked, “Did… did mom say anything?” You still couldn’t look at him, not with the way your heart was pounding and your skin was buzzing, not with his hands still warm and heavy on your waist. “I mean—when you went back to your room. After.”

Joel let out a low chuckle, the sound rough and honeyed, and your stomach did a slow flip, because that sound was always dangerous—soft and lazy, like he knew something you didn’t. “Your mama?” he said, drawing the word out with a shake of his head, “She was out cold, sweetheart. Think she drank too much wine. Again.”

He laughed quietly to himself like it wasn’t anything unusual, like it was just another evening in a long stretch of a dull domestic life—and maybe for him it was. Maybe last night hadn’t been a life-altering moment of madness, maybe it had just been inevitable.

You nodded, slow and uncertain, your lips parting just slightly like you wanted to say more but didn’t trust your voice, didn’t trust yourself not to crack under the weight of it all—and that’s when Joel moved, gentle and deliberate, reaching for your wrist with one of those big, weathered hands that always made you feel too small, too soft, too young. He lifted your arm with a tenderness that made your breath hitch, and without breaking eye contact—not even for a second—he pressed his mouth to the inside of your wrist, right over the place where your pulse throbbed wild and frantic beneath your skin. His lips were warm, slow, deliberate, and his eyes stayed locked on yours as if he needed you to feel it everywhere, needed you to remember the way it felt to be touched there, kissed like that, seen like this.

“What I wanna know,” he murmured against your skin, his voice low and molten, seeping into you like heat through the floorboards, “is if you felt good last night. Hmm?” He didn’t ask like a man seeking validation. He asked like someone already sure of the answer, just wanting to hear you say it—needing to hear you admit it, out loud, right here in the daylight.

You swallowed thickly and nodded again, barely breathing, your voice trembling on a single word. “Yeah.”

And that was all he needed.

He smiled then—slow and crooked, like it pleased him more than he wanted to admit—and he hummed, the sound a deep, contented vibration from the back of his throat that made your knees want to give. “Good,” he said, soft and approving, thumb brushing once more across the inside of your wrist before letting go, like he’d branded you there, like the ghost of his mouth would never really leave.

He leaned back just slightly, eyes dragging over you again, darker now, thoughtful. “Now…” he drawled, voice thoughtful, almost lazy, like he was working something out in real time, “I know you can make yourself feel good, babygirl. Real good. But that ain’t what I’m wonderin’ anymore.”

You blinked, heart thudding, every nerve suddenly alive.

Joel tilted his head, that half-smile still on his lips, and added, “What I’m wonderin’ now is… do you want me to make you feel even better?”

And there it was—laid out plain, low, and filthy in that Southern murmur of his, not a question but a promise, the kind that made your thighs press together instinctively, your breath falter, your whole body buzz with the thrill of being wanted by a man who shouldn’t, who knew better, and didn’t give a damn.

You swallowed hard, your throat suddenly dry as cotton, eyes wide and lips parted, voice barely more than a breath when you whispered, “How?”—a question so innocent it betrayed the wildfire already curling low in your belly. “I mean… how would you do that?” you added, stumbling through the words, not out of fear but out of need, the kind that made you dizzy and warm all over, the kind that left no room for shame.

Joel chuckled low, that gravel-and-honey sound curling around your spine, rich with amusement but soft with affection, and the way he looked at you—like you were the sweetest little thing he’d ever laid eyes on—only made the heat behind your ribs burn hotter. “You sound real sweet when you ask things like that,” he said, voice slow and fond, as if he were savoring every syllable you gave him. “But the answer’s easy, sugar… whatever you want. However you want it. However you need it.”

Your gaze dropped instinctively, almost helplessly, flicking down to where his jeans stretched tight across his thighs, to the outline pressing stubbornly against the denim, thick and heavy even in rest, and your breath caught in your chest as your mouth went dry for a whole other reason. You hadn’t meant to look—but your body was ahead of you, craving, already remembering the low rumble of his voice last night and imagining what it would feel like to have him inside you, really inside you.

He noticed, of course he did. Joel’s brows lifted, his mouth twitching in amusement like he could see every filthy thought flickering behind your eyes. “Not yet, darlin’,” he murmured, shaking his head just a little, and there was something dangerous in the way he said it—like a warning wrapped in velvet. “You ain’t ready for that. Gotta get you loosened up first. Gotta work you open nice and slow, stretch you out so you can take all of me. Otherwise…” he trailed off, letting the implication hang heavy between you, smirking slightly as he tilted his head, “well, let’s just say I don’t wanna hurt my best girl.”

And all you could do was blink, dazed, pulse fluttering wildly in your neck, not even embarrassed anymore, just overwhelmed by the sheer weight of want sitting thick in the air around you. “Oh,” you breathed, soft and stunned, your legs trembling where you stood.

Joel reached up then, one hand brushing your hip again, the other sliding lazily down your arm, fingertips ghosting along your skin as he looked up at you like he was already picturing it—already planning it. “How ‘bout my mouth, huh?” he said, almost a whisper, a question laced in promise, in filth, in reverence. “Let me get you ready with my tongue. Open you up real gentle. Make a mess of you before I even fuckin’ touch anything else.”

You bit your lip, teeth sinking into the soft flesh like it might ground you, like it could keep you from making another terrible, beautiful decision—but Joel’s hand was already sliding lower, fingers curving possessively over the swell of your ass, kneading with slow, deliberate pressure, not like a man in a hurry, but like someone savoring something earned, something he’d been waiting for. His grip wasn’t greedy—it was intimate, reverent, the pads of his fingers pressing into you like he was memorizing every curve, every soft place that belonged to him now, at least in this moment.

“But my mom,” you whispered, breath catching at the edge of panic, but not quite falling into it, not with his hand still on you like that. “She’ll be back soon.”

Joel didn’t miss a beat. He just tilted his head with that low, amused smile pulling at the corner of his mouth—like he knew better than you did, like he’d already planned this out in his mind a hundred times. And then, somehow—like it was the easiest thing in the world—he coaxed you into his lap, strong hands guiding you effortlessly until you were straddling his thighs, thighs thick and warm beneath you, denim rough against your bare legs, and his eyes didn’t leave yours for a second, dark and steady and heavy with intent.

Then his mouth was on your neck, hot and damp and devastating, lips dragging open kisses along your skin as the rough stubble of his jaw scraped you raw in the most delicious way, each slow kiss branding you like he was marking you for later, like he wanted your skin to remember his mouth long after he was gone. His tongue flicked over your pulse, and you swore he groaned low in his chest when he felt how fast it was fluttering.

“You know your mama takes forever shoppin’,” he murmured against your throat, voice rough and wicked and so sure of himself it made your stomach flip, his hands moving at the same pace as his words, guiding your hips into a slow, lazy grind over the bulge in his jeans. “I could make you cum at least three times ‘fore she even makes it outta the wine aisle.”

You gasped, not just at the filth of his words, but at the way he said them—like he wasn’t teasing, like it was just fact, like he’d already seen it in his head: you falling apart in his lap, soaked and ruined, breathless and begging, all while your mother compared pinot noir prices three suburbs away.

And you didn’t even argue—couldn’t, really—because with the way his mouth was dragging down your neck and his hands were tightening on your waist, every thought you had was unraveling too fast to hold on to.

And then his mouth was on yours—sinful, hot, wet—and just like that, the world narrowed to the searing press of lips and the slow, molten slide of his tongue against yours, and you forgot everything.

You forgot that this was Joel—your mother’s husband, the man who made coffee every morning with his sleeves rolled up and kissed her cheek with that same mouth now devouring yours like he was starving. You forgot that he wasn’t supposed to be doing this, that you weren’t supposed to want it, because when he kissed you like that, like he already knew every secret your mouth had ever held, like his tongue had been made to move with yours, slow and deep and devastatingly sure, there was no room left in your mind for guilt.

He kissed you like he’d waited years for it. Like he’d dreamed of it in silence, in secret, and now that he had you, he wasn’t going to waste a second. His hand cradled the back of your neck, fingers buried in your hair as he tilted your head the way he wanted, needed, guiding your mouth against his with a tenderness that bordered on desperation. And it was hot, not in a rushed, clumsy way, but in the kind of way that made your toes curl, your thighs clench, the kind of kiss that made your whole body ache with the slow realization that no one had ever kissed you like this—like they wanted to memorize you, ruin you, keep you.

You whimpered into him, soft and helpless, clutching at the collar of his shirt like it was the only thing tethering you to the ground, your fingers curling into the fabric, bunching it in your fists as his mouth moved against yours with maddening slowness.

Joel groaned, deep in his chest, like your little sounds physically affected him, like your pleasure was a trigger inside him. “Goddamn, I love it when you make those sounds for me,” he murmured against your lips, his voice thick and reverent, honeyed and rough, that Southern lilt curling around each word like a caress. “Make me crazy, darlin’. Could kiss you forever.”

And the way he said it—kiss you forever—didn’t sound like a line or a promise or a plea. It sounded like a truth he’d just uncovered, and you believed him. God help you, you believed him.

“All right,” he murmured, finally pulling back, and the loss of his mouth on yours felt like the world shifting on its axis—sudden, dizzying, wrong. You blinked up at him, dazed and breathless, your eyes wide and glassy, lips kiss-bruised and swollen, your chest rising and falling in shallow little gasps like you’d just surfaced from somewhere deep and dangerous, and Joel looked at you like he was proud of that—like he liked seeing you like this, pliant and overwhelmed and barely hanging on.

“Gotta taste you, baby,” he said next, voice thick with hunger and something darker underneath—something that didn’t ask, didn’t beg, just declared, as if it had already been decided, already done. His eyes didn’t leave yours, didn’t flicker or waver, but they darkened right in front of you, going heavy and low like smoke curling under a locked door, like you could see the shift in him—the descent, the change from tender to possessive—as if that kiss had stripped away the last layer of patience he’d been clinging to.

And then, without loosening his grip on your hips, hands still holding you steady in his lap, he leaned in, voice dropping to a gravel-soft whisper as he said, “Want you to sit on my fuckin’ face.”

It hit you like a blow—sharp, hot, filthy—and your breath hitched so fast you nearly choked on it, your thighs tightening around his as your body tried to comprehend just how badly he meant it. His gaze dragged slowly down your body, then back up, and when he met your eyes again, there was nothing sweet left in him. Just need—that dangerous, grown-man kind, the kind that didn't plead, didn't play fair, just took.

“Need you up there, sugar,” he rasped, voice like honey poured over gravel, his thumbs stroking your skin like a pacifying gesture, though the look in his eyes was anything but soft. “Let me get my mouth on that pretty little pussy ‘til you’re cryin’ for me. Want you to look down and see me starin’ up at you while you fall apart, just like last night—but this time, with my fuckin’ tongue in you.”

“You trust me, don’t you?” he added, voice soft now, coaxing, hands slipping under your shirt, warm and sure and possessive. “Then be a good girl and let me taste what’s mine.”

You were aching—truly, undeniably aching now—soaked through and dizzy, your breath caught somewhere between embarrassment and anticipation, your body already betraying you long before you could find the words. The fresh pair of panties you'd slid on after your shower that morning, cotton-soft and meant to make you feel clean and normal again, were already damp, ruined, clinging to you in a way that made it impossible to ignore just how much you'd let him unravel you with nothing but his mouth and a few dangerous words. You shifted in his lap, thighs tightening, trying to will away the throb between your legs, but it was useless—he felt it, and he knew.

Joel’s gaze never left yours. His hands gripped your hips a little tighter, steady and anchoring, and then he cocked his head slightly, eyes soft but sharp—like he was studying you, reading every flicker across your face. “You ever sat on a man’s face before?” he asked, low and rough, but somehow tender, like the question wasn’t filthy at all, just curious, almost concerned, like he needed to know before he went further.

Your lips parted, shame blooming hot across your cheeks, and you shook your head slightly before you could stop yourself, stammering, “I—I’ve never…”

Joel’s expression didn’t shift into surprise, didn’t turn mocking. Instead, it softened, deepened—something proud flickering in his eyes as his thumb brushed across your hipbone in a slow, grounding motion. “That’s okay, baby,” he murmured, and the way he said it—low and sweet and just a little too warm—made your whole chest tighten. “Let daddy be the first.”

He said it like a promise. Like a corruption.

“You don’t gotta be shy with me, sweetheart,” he added, his voice dipping into something darker, older, coaxing, the kind of voice that wrapped around you like a warm blanket and made you forget what was right. “I’ll teach you how good it can feel. I’ll show you real slow, take my time with you, show you how much I like it when a pretty little thing like you gets all messy and shakes on my tongue.”

You gasped at that—soft and instinctive—and he smiled, soft, pleased, like he’d just unlocked something, like every part of this was unfolding exactly how he wanted. His hands slid down to cup the backs of your thighs, squeezing gently, guiding, encouraging—like it wasn’t wrong, like he was doing you a favor.

“That’s it,” he whispered, “Don’t worry about a thing. You just sit that sweet pussy on my mouth and let me take care of you.”

“Okay,” you breathed, the word tumbling from your lips before your mind had time to catch up.

“Good girl,” Joel hummed, low and satisfied, the praise curling around your spine like a hot hand as he leaned in and reached for the hem of your t-shirt, fingers swift and sure, tugging it up and over your head in one smooth motion before you could so much as blink. The cotton landed on the floor with a whisper, forgotten, and suddenly you were bare-chested in his lap, skin flushed, breath caught, and you didn’t care.

You didn’t care that your mother could be pulling into the driveway at this very second, keys jangling in one hand, a shopping bag in the other. You didn’t care that the house was rigged with security cameras that Joel himself had installed—wired into every corner, including the living room where you now straddled him half-naked, soaking through your panties and trembling beneath his gaze. You didn’t care that this man, this older, worn, married-to-your-mother man, had his big hands sliding up your sides like he owned you.

All you knew was the heat of his palms as they cupped your breasts—firm and hungry, calloused thumbs brushing your nipples until they peaked under his touch, until you arched into him with a gasp you couldn’t control.

Joel groaned, deep and filthy, the sound scraping up from his chest like he’d been holding it in for years. His fingers dug in as he kneaded your tits, not delicate or unsure but possessive, like he had every right to touch you like this, like this wasn’t something borrowed but something that had always been his.

“Jesus,” he muttered, almost to himself, dark eyes flicking between your breasts like he couldn’t decide which he loved more. And then, with a low laugh that chilled and scorched you all at once, he added, “These’re a hell of a lot prettier than your mama’s.”

Your breath caught—scandalized, wrecked—and you moaned without meaning to, thighs tightening around his hips as the line between shame and arousal blurred until it didn’t exist at all.

His mouth descended then—hot and open, hungry—and he kissed and nipped at your chest with a desperation that made your head spin, his tongue swirling around your nipple before pulling it between his teeth with a low growl. You whimpered, loud and breathless, clutching at his shoulders, and he pulled back just enough to murmur against your skin, “You moan real sweet when I suck on ‘em like that. Gonna make it my job to hear that every damn morning.”

And as wrong as it was, with your chest heaving and his mouth all over you, your stepfather’s hands gripping you like he’d never let go—you wanted that too.

“So pretty and perky for me,” Joel murmured, lips dragging over the curve of your breast as he spoke, the words half-swallowed against your skin, low and reverent and possessive, like he was speaking straight to them—not you—like your tits were something sacred that belonged to him now. His tongue flicked lazily over your nipple, then again, and the groan that rumbled from his chest was filthy, like it pained him to stop. “So soft, baby… fuckin’ perfect.” His voice dipped lower, barely a breath now, dark and gravel-thick with hunger. “Bet your mama never looked like this when she was your age. Bet she never tasted this sweet.”

You whimpered, back arching, your body moving on instinct—pushing forward into his mouth, into his teeth, like your skin was begging for him, like every inch of you had been waiting for this exact moment without ever knowing it.

But just when you thought you’d melt entirely into him, Joel pulled back with maddening calm, his hands sliding down your sides like he was taking his time, like he was admiring his own work. Then he patted your thigh once, firm and final. “Stand up, babygirl,” he said, leaning back slowly against the sofa, one arm thrown lazily over the backrest, the other trailing down to the curve of his thigh. “Take all of that off. Want you bare.” His gaze roamed over your flushed chest, the curve of your waist, the trembling of your thighs like he was etching you into memory, like you were a painting come to life—and his to strip.

You stood slowly, nerves crackling under your skin like fire, every movement shy but magnetic, compelled by the way he looked at you—not like a girl, not like his wife’s daughter, but like a woman he was about to consume. The cotton shorts slid down your legs, your ruined panties following, and you stepped out of them with shaking hands, now completely naked in the middle of the living room—the one where you’d opened Christmas presents, where your mom hosted wine nights, where Joel installed the goddamn security system that might’ve been watching you both right now—and yet… all you could feel was heat.

Joel didn’t move. Just leaned back further, legs spread, jaw tight, and eyes burning.

It was dizzying, the power imbalance—him fully clothed in denim and flannel, the scent of coffee still lingering on his skin, and you, butt-naked in the soft morning light filtering through the blinds, every inch of your skin exposed and wanting.

“You look like a fuckin’ dream,” he said, voice rough with restraint, dark with something filthy and low. “My sweet little girl. All grown up. Standin’ there like you were made for me.”

And he said it like he believed it. Like this—you, bare and blushing, in your childhood home—was always how it was meant to end.

“You think I’m pretty?” you asked, voice soft and uncertain, the question slipping out like a confession you hadn’t meant to speak aloud, a fragile thing cradled in trembling breath. You stood there—completely bare, skin warm and pink in the morning light, chest rising and falling with every shaky inhale—and for a moment, something inside you tightened, afraid of what he might say, of how quiet the room suddenly felt with those four little words hanging between you.

Joel looked up at you slowly, his gaze traveling the length of your body with something close to awe—not just lust, not just hunger, but a deep, bone-deep reverence, like you were something holy and unrepeatable, like you were a secret he’d been trusted with. .

“Baby,” he said, shaking his head slightly, that crooked, tired smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, “pretty don’t even come close.”

Joel extended his hand toward you, slow and steady like he was asking for something sacred, not sinful, palm up and waiting, and without thinking—without questioning—you placed yours into it. Yours looked so much smaller cradled in his, delicate and trembling against the calloused strength of his fingers, and he gave it the gentlest squeeze before tugging you softly toward him, guiding you like he had all the time in the world.

“C’mere, babygirl,” he murmured, voice low and coaxing, that dangerous mix of comfort and command dripping from every syllable. “Let me show you how this’s done.”

You let him pull you closer, straddling his lap again—but this time, he was leaning back on the sofa, one arm braced along the cushions, the other slipping down to your hips, guiding, positioning, his touch warm and steady as he helped you move. You were awkward at first, hesitant, unsure of where your knees should go, how your legs should spread, how close you were supposed to get—but Joel didn’t laugh, didn’t tease, just murmured soft encouragements under his breath like he loved that you needed help, like he wanted to teach you, shape you.

“Just like that, honey… there you go. Ain’t gotta be nervous,” he whispered, his hand sliding from your thigh to your lower back, pressing lightly to arch you just so. “You’re doin’ perfect. Fuck, look at you—sweetest little thing I’ve ever seen.”

And then suddenly—God, somehow—you were hovering over his face, thighs shaking as they spread wider, your bare heat so close to his mouth you could feel his breath ghosting over you, warm and reverent, and your whole body lit up like a live wire. You couldn’t look down.

Joel tilted his head back, eyes locked on your pussy like it was the fucking holy grail, mouth parted slightly like he was about to start praying. His grip on your hips tightened, grounding you in place, and then he groaned—deep, guttural, like the scent of you hit him all at once and knocked the wind out of him.

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ, baby,” he rasped, eyes fluttering shut for a second like he needed to recover from it. “Smell so fuckin’ sweet. Like you were made to sit on my face.”

The moan that spilled from you was instant, involuntary, shameless—your whole body trembling at his words, at the way he said them, like you were a drug and he’d been starved for a fix.

“Don’t be shy now,” he whispered, voice barely a breath as he looked up at you again, dark eyes blazing with hunger and something far worse—adoration. “Go on and give it to me, sugar. Let me taste that perfect little pussy. Promise I’ll take care of you better than anyone ever has.”

“I—uh,” you stammered, a soft, breathless laugh bubbling from your lips, bashful and unsure, your voice trembling like the rest of you as you looked down at him through your lashes, your thighs trembling on either side of his broad chest. “How… how will you breathe?” you asked, the question so sweet, so innocent, it made Joel groan low in his throat like it hurt him.

Joel chuckled softly, his thumbs rubbing soothing little circles into your skin, and then he added, voice low and coaxing, “You worry too much, sugar. Just let daddy take care of it. You just sit that pretty thing right on my mouth and hold on tight. Let me show you what a real man can do with no air in his lungs and his stepdaughter drippin’ down his throat.”

And the worst part—the sickest, most shameful part—was the way your hips tilted forward, instinctively, like your body was already saying yes, even if your mind was still spinning.

“Enough talkin’,” Joel growled, his voice suddenly rougher, deeper, edged with something sharp and molten—and before you could even process the shift, his hand came down hard on your ass, a sharp smack that echoed through the living room and made you yelp, more shocked than hurt, your body jolting forward in instinct. The sting bloomed fast, heat flashing across your skin—and before you could so much as whimper, he was gripping your hips tight with both hands and yanking you down, forcing you onto his mouth like he’d lost every ounce of self-control he’d been pretending to have.

You gasped—no, choked—a sound ripped straight from your lungs, loud and broken, as your pussy met the full, hungry heat of his mouth, his tongue already working like a man possessed. He groaned the second he tasted you, that low, guttural noise vibrating directly against your core, and it was diabolical, the way he moaned like you were his favorite meal and he hadn’t eaten in weeks.

Your entire body lurched forward, instinctively bracing your hands on the back of the couch behind his head, your thighs shaking, your breath stuttering as your mouth fell open, lips parted in a silent scream. The sound—his sound, the groan he made the second you were on his face—echoed inside you, down your spine, into your chest, like it rewired your organs, like it knocked the air out of your lungs and replaced it with something molten.

And still, he didn’t let up.

Joel dragged you closer, his grip bruising now, hands spreading you open for him, his face buried so deep it was like he wanted to drown in you—and maybe he did. Maybe that was the point. Maybe he wanted to die like this, with your thighs shaking around his ears and your scent all over his lips, his stepdaughter made into something sweet and sacred between his teeth.

“You taste better than fuckin’ heaven,” he muttered into you between strokes, and you whimpered, already unraveling, already gone.

It was unreal—otherworldly, even—the way Joel ate you out, like he was a man on death row and you were his final meal, and he was determined to savor every last second of it, every twitch, every moan, every drop. From your vantage point—perched above him, thighs trembling, hands gripping the couch behind his head for dear life—you could barely breathe, let alone think.

His tongue lapped at you with slow, deliberate drags at first, warm and too good, circling your clit with the kind of finesse no boy your age had ever dreamed of having—this was a man who knew what he was doing, who enjoyed it, needed it, who moaned into you every few seconds like your pussy was the most sacred place he’d ever been. And fuck, his hands—those big, rough, hands—kept trailing up and down your body, not just holding your hips but gripping them, spreading you wider, sliding up your waist, curling over your belly like he wanted to keep you still and feel everything at once. He reached up once, palm flat against your chest, and squeezed your breast in rhythm with his tongue, and your entire spine arched like he’d struck a chord deep inside you that no one had ever dared touch.

Every time he pulled back to breathe, to talk, you thought you might fall apart from just seeing him—lips red, chin soaked, his beard shining with your slick, mouth swollen like he’d been drinking from you. His voice came out wrecked, voice low and cracked, soaked in sin. “Fuckin’ messy for me, ain’t you, babygirl?” he rasped, his breath fanning hot across your cunt as he pressed a kiss to your inner thigh, biting the skin gently like he couldn’t stop tasting you. “Sittin’ on my face like a goddamn dream, makin’ a mess all over me. Look at you.”

You moaned, loud and desperate, your fingers twisting into the cushion behind you, and Joel grinned like the devil, dragging his tongue back through your folds slow, then curling it up—and your body jolted like he’d struck you.

He pulled back again, licking his lips, your slick clinging to his stubble. “You feel that?” he whispered, tone low and gleefully cruel. “That’s my tongue, baby. That ain’t a toy. That ain’t some fumblin’ college kid who don’t know what the fuck he’s doin’. That’s a man eatin’ pussy like he’s supposed to.”

And then—like he hadn’t just destroyed you with words alone—he pulled you down again, arms tightening around your thighs as he buried himself in you with a growl, groaning into your pussy like your taste was his salvation, like this—you—was what he’d waited his whole damn life for.

And all you could do was take it. Eyes shut, mouth open, body shaking—because no one had ever touched you like this. No one had ever devoured you like they were grateful just to be allowed.

You groaned, a sound ripped raw from your chest—as your whole body started to burn, your thighs quivering violently around Joel’s head, your back arching as every muscle locked tight with that wild, helpless tension only seconds before release. “I’m—I’m gonna—fuck—I’m gonna cu—” you stammered, the words spilling from your lips in broken pieces, high-pitched and desperate, your voice choked with sobs and need and the unbearable heat coiling tight in your belly. You were a mess, a stuttering, trembling, wrecked little thing, and he didn’t let up—not for a second.

Joel’s hands gripped your thighs harder, bruising now, controlling, holding you right where he wanted you as his tongue moved in relentless, devastating circles, flicking against your clit with that same impossible precision that had already dragged you to the edge once, twice—again. You shattered with a scream, your body convulsing above him, your hips bucking in his grip—but he didn’t stop.

He kept going.

The orgasm tore through you, brutal and all-consuming, but Joel didn’t ease off, didn’t slow down—his mouth stayed latched, his tongue deeper, filthier, like he wanted you sobbing, wanted you shaking so bad you couldn’t remember your name.

“Take it,” he growled between licks, his voice muffled and soaked, so deep into you that your vision blurred, so relentless it felt like his mouth was etched into your skin. “That’s it, baby. Be a good girl and fuckin’ take it. Daddy’s not done with you.”

You sobbed, shoulders shaking, hands clawing at the back of the couch as tears rolled freely down your cheeks—not from pain, not from fear, but from the sheer overwhelming pleasure, the shattering fullness of it all, the way he kept licking, kept sucking, even as your body tried to twist away from him. But he held you firm, grounded you with those hands, those stepdad hands that never stopped touching, like he couldn’t bear to be away from any part of you.

“Mm, look at you,” he panted, when he finally pulled back for a breath, his mouth and beard soaked, glistening with your slick. “Cryin’ on my face. You cummin’ that hard for me, sweetheart?” His eyes were wild with need, lips swollen, dripping. “You never had a man really eat this pussy before, huh?”

You couldn’t even answer—your mouth hung open, lips trembling, breath coming in ragged little gasps as your entire body trembled like a live wire, the aftershocks of your second orgasm still shuddering through your limbs when another wave crashed over you. A third—God, a third—and it stole your breath, your thoughts, your ability to do anything but sob, every nerve raw and overstimulated as Joel kept going, licking and groaning and sucking like a man starved. You wailed, high and broken, legs twitching as your hips bucked once, then stilled entirely, your strength gone.

And finally—finally—Joel eased up, his hands loosening their bruising grip on your thighs, his mouth slowing to a few soft, reverent licks before he kissed your inner thigh with something dangerously close to affection. You collapsed forward with a whimper, body slack, boneless, ruined, your limbs trembling as your chest pressed to his, your cheek finding his shoulder, hot and damp with tears and sweat. He caught you effortlessly, wrapping his arms around your waist, drawing you into his lap like you weighed nothing, like you belonged there, like you always had.

“There she is,” he murmured into your hair, his voice thick with satisfaction, fingers stroking your spine in lazy, grounding motions. “My good fuckin’ girl. Took it all, didn’t you?”

You couldn’t speak, could barely move, your fingers twitching weakly against his chest.

And then—the sound.

The sharp crunch of tires over gravel outside. The soft groan of the gate opening. The car pulling into the driveway.

Joel’s head snapped up instantly, his arms still locked around you, and then—so calmly, so dangerously collected—he licked his lips, wiped his soaked mouth with the back of his hand, and was already moving. “Shh,” he whispered as you whined, dazed and whimpering, “I got you. Let daddy take care of it.”

In seconds, he had your ruined panties tugged up your thighs, the fabric sticky and damp, your t-shirt slipped over your head like he’d done it a thousand times, smoothing it down over your trembling body. You could barely lift your arms, let alone help, but he didn’t need help—he just dressed you, quick and efficient, like this was routine, like he knew how to hide a mess. Then he lifted you into the corner of the couch, tucked a throw blanket over your bare legs, and ran his fingers gently through your hair, whispering, “You rest, sugar. You did so good.”

The front door creaked open a second later.

“Joel?” your mother’s voice called from the hallway, casual, distracted. “Can you help me with the bags?”

Joel stood, gave you one last look—soft, smug, filthy—and then turned toward the door.

“Comin’, sweetheart,” he called back, already walking toward her. “Lemme get those for you.”

You blinked slowly, barely able to lift your head as you watched him greet her in the entryway. She smiled—smiled—and leaned in to peck him on the lips like it was nothing, like she wasn’t tasting the ghost of her daughter on his mouth.

He kissed her back, warm and easy. “You get the pinot you like?” he asked, casual as sin.

“Mm,” she nodded, brushing past him, “if they haven’t jacked the price up again.”

And just like that, he turned back once, eyes flicking toward you under the guise of nothing, his lips twitching in that same crooked, knowing smile—and you knew, in that moment, he hadn’t just ruined you.

He owned you.

˚₊‧꒰ა 𓂋 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

i hope yall enjoyed xxx

1K notes · View notes

cheftsunoda · 18 hours ago

Note

can you write a story on a sainz sister dating charles leclerc after divorcing max verstappen with whom she has a kid which leads to drama at the paddock.

karma wears prada — cl16

smau + written blurbs

charles leclerc x !sainz reader

max verstappen x !ex sainz reader

you were pop royalty — platinum records, sold-out stadiums, your voice on every chart and every stage. he was formula 1’s golden boy — fast, ruthless, worshipped by millions. you married in secret. you had a daughter. you built a quiet world of your own, away from headlines and cameras. and for a while, it was perfect. until it wasn’t.

when the truth came out — first as a rumor, then a photo, then undeniable — you packed your bags, held your baby close, and walked away from the man who promised you forever. you thought you’d have to face the fallout alone. you didn’t expect charles leclerc.

your brother’s teammate. his best friend. the one who never looked at you like you were broken. the one who made your daughter laugh before you could smile again. now, the paddock is on fire — caught between loyalty and betrayal, rage and whispers, broken hearts and new beginnings. and as the world watches, one question remains:

can you start over when the whole world is still watching the wreckage?

fc : kali uchis (i have vip tickets to see kali in less than a month in a half!!! my motherrrrr) (also used some pics of alexandra teehee)

before you read + (a/n): hiiii pookie!! took me forever to perfect this so i hope you enjoy!! max is lowkey an asshole in this so im soz and carlos is still w ferrari because in my mind i never had to go through that divorce too :) alsooo no hate to kelly, anything said is just for the purpose of my fictional nonsense.

—

deuxmoi

5,702,005 likes.

deuxmoi : yep. this one is reallllll messy. and we still have yet to get to the bottom of it. stay tuned.

—

view 789,000 other comments.

username000 : max CHEATED on THE yn sainz??? oh he’s never finishing a race again i fear 😭

username00 : kelly piquet must have a punch card at this point. one more and she gets a free f1 car

liked by deuxmoi and yn_sainz

↳ username00 : oop our queen is here. confirmation?

username0 : carlos is going to body slam him in the paddock.

username1 : she gave birth like a YEAR AGO. men are actual demons. protect yn at all costs.

username5 : i just KNOW her breakup album is gonna end careers. drop the tracklist queen xx

username7 : carlos unfollowing max and then reposting an old pic of yn with her daughter?? family comes FIRST 😤

username10 : she gave him a marriage, a child, and silence. and he gave her kelly piquet.

username11 : i just KNOW the group chat with carmen, alexandra, and lily is on fire right now.

username15 : can’t wait for the ‘you fumbled the woman everyone wanted’ edits. they’re loading as we speak.

—

flashback

monaco, 2:12am

You shouldn’t be awake. You’re rocking your daughter gently in the crook of your arm, whispering half remembered lullabies against her soft hair. She’s teething again. Clingier than usual. You don’t mind. It gives you something to do. Something to hold onto.

Your phone buzzes on the counter — a quiet vibration you almost ignore. But something in you, some sliver of unease that’s been growing for months now, makes you look. It’s a DM. From a name you don’t recognize. You open it.

I’m sorry if this is overstepping but… I didn’t know you and Max were still together. He told me you were separated. I wouldn’t have— You don’t deserve this.

There’s a screenshot. A message thread. A photo. Your husband. Smiling. Someone else’s hand on his jaw. Time slows. Your daughter fusses in your arms. You stare at the screen and feel nothing. Not right away. Just a long, slow ache in your chest, like something is pressing down and refusing to let go.

You don’t cry. You don’t scream. You press a kiss to your daughter’s temple and whisper, “Okay, baby. Okay. We’re leaving.”

—

Four hours later, the sun is barely up when the car arrives. You move quietly, deliberately, packing only what you need. You don’t leave a note. You don’t send a message. You take your daughter, her favorite stuffed animal, your passport, and disappear.

By the time Max wakes up to an empty apartment, you’re already on a flight to Ibiza.

No PR statement. No explanations. Just silence.

And the beginning of something new. For you. For your child.

—

the next morning

ibiza – 8:06 AM

The villa is too quiet. It sits tucked away in the hills, ocean just visible beyond the terrace, sun pouring into the white-washed kitchen. There’s a stillness here that makes your heart ache.

Your daughter sits in her high chair, fingers messy with banana, babbling to herself. She’s safe. She’s happy. She doesn’t know. You sip your coffee with trembling hands.

You haven’t turned your phone back on. Not yet. You can’t. You know the second you do, the world will rush in — agents, lawyers, team PR, headlines, Max. You want to stay in this moment just a little longer. Just you and her. The soft morning light. The sound of birds. The smell of the sea. You want silence. And for the first time in months, you have it.

—

monaco – 8:11 AM

Max wakes up to your absence like it’s a punch to the gut. At first, he thinks maybe you’ve taken the baby out for a walk. But the bed is cold. The closet is half-empty. The pacifier on the nightstand is gone.

Then he sees the open drawer. The missing passports. The baby monitor left behind. He calls you. Straight to voicemail. He calls again. Then again. He checks your location. Disabled.

Panic sets in. Not loud, but deep. Spreading. Heavy. He opens Instagram and sees it.

“Pop Star YN Sainz Allegedly Left Monaco With Daughter After Cheating Scandal – Sources Say Max Verstappen Seen With Kelly Piquet in St. Tropez”

And for the first time, it hits him: You’re not coming back.

—

madrid – 8:23 AM

Carlos nearly drops his phone when he sees the post. He reads it twice. Then again. And again. He doesn’t text you. He calls. You answer on the third ring.

“Hola?” your voice is quiet. Steady. But he knows you. He hears it. The exhaustion. The heartbreak.

“Tell me where you are.”

“Safe,” you say.

There’s a pause. You hear him breathing. Hear him trying to hold himself back.

“I’m going to kill him,” Carlos says flatly.

You almost laugh. “Get in line.”

He’s quiet for a beat. Then, softer:

“You should’ve called me.”

“I didn’t want anyone trying to talk me out of it.”

“I wouldn’t have.”

You believe him.

He exhales. “I’m coming to see you after the race.”

You nod, even though he can’t see you. “Okay.”

“Love you, hermanita.”

“Love you more.”

—

present day (race day)

The baby’s asleep. You’re lying on the couch with a blanket pulled up to your chin, phone resting on your stomach, TV muted. The pre race coverage flickers silently on the screen — cars in garages, skycams over the grandstands, an interviewer smiling too widely. You haven’t watched anything F1 related since you left Monaco. You tell yourself it’s because you’re busy. You’re a mother. You’re tired. But really… it’s because you can’t stomach seeing him in red and blue. Can’t stomach the way the world still treats him like nothing happened. Like you didn’t. Your phone buzzes quietly.

Charles Leclerc

You stare at the screen for a moment, startled. Then swipe to answer.

“Bonjour,” you say softly.

He chuckles under his breath. “That’s a terrible accent.”

You smile for the first time in hours. “Well, I’ve had other things on my mind.”

There’s noise in the background — voices, radios, something metallic being dropped. The paddock, alive and buzzing. You picture him sitting in the Ferrari motorhome, race suit halfway on, hair messy from the helmet fitting.

“I just wanted to check on you,” he says. “Before everything gets loud.”

Your chest tightens. He sounds calm. Gentle. Not like the rest of them — who all called asking for statements, reactions, damage control.

“You really don’t have to do that,” you whisper.

“I know,” he says. “But I wanted to.”

Silence settles for a moment. Not uncomfortable. Just full.

“How’s the little one?” he asks.

“Asleep,” you say. “Teething still. I haven’t slept properly in four days.”

Charles hums. “You need a break.”

“I need a time machine.”

He laughs quietly. “Well, I can’t offer that. But if you ever need someone to sit with her while you nap... I’m quite good with babies, you know.”

You can’t help the warmth that spreads in your chest. “Are you?”

“I have proof. I held Pierre’s niece once and she didn’t cry.”

“That’s a low bar, Charles.”

Another soft laugh. “I’ll take what I can get.”

You glance at the screen again. They’re showing Carlos now — focused, arms crossed, deep in discussion with his engineer. Your brother. Your anchor.

“You should go,” you say gently. “It’s race day.”

There’s a pause. Then: “You’ll be watching?”

You hesitate. “I don’t know. Maybe.”

He doesn’t push. Doesn’t ask why.

“Either way,” he says, voice quiet now, “I’m racing for you today.”

Your throat tightens.

“Good luck, Charles.”

“Merci, ma belle.”

The line goes quiet. The paddock fades from your ear. You sit in the stillness of the Ibiza villa, blinking at the television, heart beating a little differently than before.

—

3rd person pov

The confetti hasn’t even settled yet. Carlos is out of the car before his engineer can reach him, helmet off, jaw clenched. He doesn’t even look toward the cameras. Doesn’t acknowledge the cheers. There’s only one person in his line of sight — standing ten feet away in Red Bull gear, smug smile plastered on his face. Max. Third place. Another podium. Another reason to pretend like nothing happened. Carlos moves before anyone can stop him.

“Don’t,” Charles mutters under his breath as he tosses his own gloves down and jogs after him. “Carlos.”

But Carlos doesn’t stop. He’s already standing in front of Max, every muscle in his body pulled taut. Max turns slowly, lazily. Like he doesn’t know what’s coming. Like he thinks he’s still untouchable.

“You think I don’t know what you did?” Carlos spits, voice low but venomous.

Max shrugs. “If this is about your sister, that’s not really—”

Charles steps in fast, hand to Carlos’s chest, firm and calm. “Stop.”

“Move, Charles.”

“No.”

Carlos’s eyes flash. “He cheated on her. Lied to her. Let her disappear with his daughter and then ran off to play boyfriend with Kelly like it was nothing. And now he’s standing here like—like he deserves to celebrate anything.”

“I know,” Charles says softly. “I know. But don’t give him what he wants.”

Max scoffs. “What I want?”

Charles doesn’t even look at him. His eyes stay locked on Carlos. “You won. You raced for her today. Don’t let him take that from you.”

Carlos is shaking. But his hands curl into fists, not around Max’s collar, just at his sides.

“I need to see her,” he mutters.

Charles nods. “I was going to ask if I could come with you.”

Carlos blinks. For the first time all day, his face softens—just barely.

“You sure?”

“I promised I’d check on her,” Charles says. “I meant it.”

Carlos exhales through his nose, chest still rising and falling too fast. Behind them, Max walks away like nothing happened. Ahead of them, the exit looms — press waiting, questions brewing, cameras ready. But Carlos claps a hand to Charles’s shoulder and mutters, “Let’s get out of here.”

—

back to 2nd pov!

You weren’t expecting visitors. You’re in an old t-shirt, hair twisted into a messy bun, pacing the kitchen with your daughter on your hip, humming softly to keep her calm. The day’s been long — teething again, of course — and you’d barely kept your eyes open through the first half of the race. You didn’t even check the results. You just… didn’t have it in you today. Then your phone rings. Carlos. You answer immediately.

“I’m ten minutes away,” he says. No hello. Just that. “Don’t freak out.”

“What do you mean—? Ten minutes away from what?”

“From you.”

You blink, shifting your daughter higher on your hip. “Wait, you’re here? In Ibiza?”

“Yup.”

“Carlos—”

“And I brought someone,” he says quickly, before you can ask. “Just—open the door when we knock, okay?”

He hangs up before you can respond. Your heart stutters. You glance down at your daughter, who’s now wide-eyed and babbling softly like she knows something’s about to change. Ten minutes later, there’s a knock on the door. You open it slowly—and freeze.

Carlos stands there in a hoodie and sunglasses, like someone wouldn’t immediately recognize the British Grand Prix winner anywhere in Europe. But you’re not looking at him. Not at first. Because behind him, standing quietly, holding a small white stuffed bunny in one hand and a bag slung over his shoulder, is Charles.

Your breath catches. “Charles?”

He offers the smallest smile. “I brought her a gift. I hope that’s okay.”

You blink down at the stuffed animal. It’s the exact one she lost at the airport three weeks ago. The one she cried about for two days. You never told anyone that.

Carlos clears his throat. “I figured she could use some normal faces. And, well. I told Charles everything.”

You’re quiet for a moment. Your daughter wriggles in your arms when she sees Charles, reaching slightly, recognizing him even after weeks. Your eyes sting.

“Yeah,” you whisper, stepping aside, voice caught in your throat. “Come in.”

They do. Charles’s hand brushes lightly against your back as he walks past you — not a touch that demands anything. Just… reassurance. You glance at him, and he offers nothing but warmth.

“I made coffee,” you murmur to Carlos. “And there’s wine.”

Carlos sighs, dropping his bag and hugging you tight. “Wine. Definitely wine.”

And Charles? He stands quietly in front of you and your daughter, holding the stuffed bunny out to her like an offering.

“Hi,” he says softly. “Missed you.”

She takes the bunny with both hands and smiles. So do you.

—

The villa is quieter now. Carlos disappeared into the guest room twenty minutes ago, your daughter tucked against his chest, already half-asleep. You could hear him humming her lullabies in Spanish, the way your father used to for the both of you. You step out onto the terrace, blanket wrapped around your shoulders, glass of wine in hand. The ocean’s just a dark line in the distance, moonlight skipping over it like silver threads. The cicadas sing. The air smells like salt and jasmine.

Charles is already out there. Sitting on one of the lounge chairs, hair still damp from the quick shower he took, hoodie unzipped, legs stretched out. He looks over when you slide the door shut behind you.

“She’s out?” he asks.

You nod, sinking into the chair beside him. “Carlos has magic uncle powers.”

Charles smiles at that. “I believe it.”

Silence stretches for a few seconds — but it’s not uncomfortable. Just peaceful. Like the two of you are breathing in the same kind of relief.

“I didn’t know you were coming,” you say quietly.

“I didn’t plan to,” he replies. “But when I saw how angry Carlos was… and how badly he wanted to check on you… I just knew I couldn’t stay behind.”

You glance at him. “You raced today.”

He shrugs. “I’ve raced tired before.”

“But not like this.”

Charles looks at you now. Fully. Gently. “You matter more.”

Your breath catches. He doesn’t flinch or look away. Doesn’t pretend he didn’t mean it. He just says it plainly, like it’s always been true.

You swallow. “It’s been a lot. Everything... It doesn’t stop, Charles. The internet. The rumors. Max’s lawyers. The press trying to bait a reaction out of me—”

“You don’t owe anyone anything,” he says. “Least of all him.”

You rest your head back, closing your eyes. “I know. But I still feel like I’m holding my breath.”

He’s quiet for a moment. You hear the soft clink of his wine glass being set down.

Then, gently: “Can I tell you something?”

You open your eyes.

“I was scared to come,” Charles admits. “Not because I didn’t want to. But because I didn’t know if I’d be crossing a line.”

You look at him.

“Charles…”

“I know you’re not ready for anything. And I’m not asking you to be. But I meant what I said — I care about you. I care about her. I didn’t come here because I want something. I came because I wanted to make sure you knew you’re not alone.”

Tears sting your eyes before you can stop them. You don’t say anything. Just reach out and place your hand over his on the armrest. It’s small. Barely anything. But his thumb brushes your knuckles, and that says everything. You sit there in silence, wrapped in the warmth of the night, the waves humming in the distance, the feeling of something steady blooming slowly between you.

—

yn_sainz

liked by charles_leclerc, carlossainz55, franciscagomes and 7,777,000 others.

yn_sainz : thankful for all these angels and blessings i have in my life. more from me soon<3 promise you.

tagged : charles_leclerc, carlossainz55 and iamrebeccad

—

user has disabled comments on this post.

—

twitter!

f1gossipgirls : YN SAINZ POSTS FIRST PHOTO DUMP SINCE SPLIT — CHARLES SPOTTED WITH HER DAUGHTER 👀 popstar yn sainz just broke her silence with a photo dump from ibiza, including a very cozy shot of charles leclerc holding her baby (!!). caption? "thankful for all these angels and blessings i have in my life. more from me soon<3 promise you."

yeah. the internet is NOT okay rn.

—

view replies.

username00 : the fact that she said “angels” and included carlos, the baby, rebecca and CHARLES???? that’s a family post. that’s a FAMILY.

username88 : i just know max opened instagram, saw that pic, and walked straight into a wall

username000 : she really said “i'm healing, i’m glowing, and he’s helping raise the baby you forgot existed.” iconic behavior.

username15 : her dropping this after weeks of silence like she didn’t just emotionally flatten everyone??? girl i’m on the FLOOR.

username17 : charles is not the rebound. charles is the healing arc. charles is the redemption story. charles is the HOME.

—

The smell of coffee and fresh bread pulls you out of sleep. You pad into the kitchen barefoot, wearing one of Carlos’s oversized Ferrari tees and your daughter balanced lazily on your hip. Her hair’s a mess of curls and dreams, her thumb in her mouth, her eyes already scanning the room.

Charles is standing at the stove. In sweatpants. No shirt. Just barefoot, sleepy, and completely at home — flipping pancakes with one hand while balancing a bottle of milk against his side.

Carlos is at the table, cutting strawberries. He glances up and grins. “Good morning, madre superiora.”

You roll your eyes. “Don’t make me throw something at you.”

Before he can fire back, another voice chimes in from behind the island.

“Don’t encourage her, Carlos.”

You blink as Rebecca, your brother’s longtime girlfriend, emerges holding two mugs of coffee — somehow already fully dressed and glowing like she’s just stepped off a Vogue shoot. “Hey, mama.”

You laugh, caught off guard. “You’re here?”

“She landed late last night,” Carlos says, stealing a strawberry. “Didn’t want to wake you.”

“I wanted to surprise you,” Rebecca says, walking over to kiss your cheek. “And meet the little one. Finally.”

Your daughter reaches toward her without hesitation. Rebecca melts immediately.

“I made extra pancakes,” Charles says, glancing back at you. “Hope that’s okay.”

You smile sleepily, heart so full it aches. “More than okay.”

The five of you gather around the table — your daughter on Charles’s lap, sticky fingers reaching for fruit while he gently wipes her chin. Carlos buttering too much toast. Rebecca laughing at something dumb he says and stealing bites off his plate. There’s sunlight pouring through the windows, music playing softly in the background, plates passed around without question. It feels… right. Like this moment shouldn’t be rare. You sip your coffee and glance across the table. Charles is already looking at you. He doesn’t say anything. He just smiles, soft and quiet, like he’s exactly where he wants to be. And for the first time in weeks, you believe it.

—

It is quiet again. Rebecca and Carlos are in town picking up groceries. Your daughter’s asleep, finally settled after fighting her nap like a tiny warrior. The sky outside is streaked with pink and lavender, the last bits of sunlight trailing off over the sea. You’re on the floor of the living room, legs crossed, notebook open in your lap. Your guitar rests beside you, fingers tapping against the worn wood as you hum under your breath.

Charles sits on the couch behind you, legs stretched out, a book in his lap he hasn’t touched in half an hour. He’s been watching you. Not saying anything. Just listening. You scribble down another line, cross it out. Try again.

One thing about karma…

You pause. Sing it under your breath.

That bitch will find you.

You glance over your shoulder. “Too much?”

Charles shakes his head. “Not enough.”

You laugh — dry, soft, tired. “She’s… angry.”

“She should be.”

You look down at your lyrics again. The page is slowly filling. Not polished, not final, but raw. Real. Like something crawling out of your chest and finally, finally getting air.

Yeah, everyone's replaceable But not me, though You'll feel it deep down whenever you're alone You're livin' a lie if you're sayin' I'm wrong

You stop, throat catching. Charles speaks before you can spiral.

“I think that line’s going to wreck people.”

“Good.”

There’s a beat of silence. Then you ask, quieter, “Do you think he’ll hear it?”

Charles nods. “He’ll feel it.”

You blink quickly, swallowing the tightness building behind your ribs. “It’s not about revenge.”

“I know.”

“I don’t want to hurt him, I just…” Your fingers curl around your pen. “I want him to feel it. To sit with what he did. To know that he broke something that didn’t deserve to be broken.”

Charles sets the book aside and leans forward, resting his arms on his knees, voice low and steady.

“He’s going to hear this song one night when he’s alone. Maybe in the back of a car. Maybe in his apartment. And it’s going to cut deeper than anything you could ever say out loud.”

You look at him. Really look.

“And what if I’m never over it?” you whisper.

Charles doesn’t flinch. “Then I’ll sit with you through every moment of it. For as long as it takes.”

Your chest aches at how easily he says it. How much he means it. You glance back at your notebook. Your handwriting’s getting sloppier — more urgent, more alive.

Hope you’re at least real with yourself...Karma comes ‘round knockin’ at your doorShe’s comin’ to collect, ‘cause karma won’t forget…

The pen taps against the page, the rhythm of your rage and heartbreak and healing all stitched into one. And when you start humming again — soft, deliberate, full of power — Charles doesn’t say a word. He just stays with you. And somehow, that makes all the difference.

—

several weeks later...

yn_sainz

liked by carlossainz55, charles_leclerc, yukitsunoda0511 and 11,000,000 others.

yn_sainz : that karma...she's a bitch you won't see coming. moral conscience is all yours my angels<3 love you all and remember to stay karmically intact. kisses xx

—

user has limited comments on this post.

yukitsunoda0511 : you've got that post divorce glow. i promise to stay karmically intact after this song (does shoving him off the track still count?) love you pooks

liked by yn_sainz

↳ yn_sainz : i feel like karma would forgive you, yukipie. love you my boyyyyy

liked by yukitsunoda0511

franciscagomes : you bodied this. physically. emotionally. spiritually.

liked by yn_sainz

alex_albon : lily has not stopped playing this since midnight...sigh...you ate mama

liked by yn_sainz and lilymhe

georgerussell63 : girl lets hold a "surviving max verstappen" seminar

liked by yn_sainz

↳ yn_sainz : we would both be there all damn day 💀

liked by georgerussell63

iamrebeccad : the most beautiful woman in the world. they will all regret crossing you, mi amor

liked by yn_sainz

charles_leclerc : 🌹🤍

liked by yn_sainz

carlossainz55 : so proud of you, mi vida<3

liked by yn_sainz

—

several weeks later...

f1gossipgirls (took me way too long to find a pic of max and charles where they look at least mildy tense...they are always so happy together and gay.)

10,00,000 likes.

f1gossipgirls : If you were wondering why the paddock felt ten degrees hotter this weekend, allow us to recap the absolute chaos that unfolded: Pop sensation YN Sainz made her official return to the paddock for the first time since her Moral Conscience drop — and she did not come quietly. She was photographed arriving in head to toe black, sharp sunglasses, and holding hands with none other than Charles Leclerc. She spent most of the afternoon laughing and walking with Lily Muni He, while Carlos played the world’s most protective big brother in the background. Meanwhile…Rumors swirled post-race of a heated exchange between Charles and Max Verstappen, who reportedly crossed paths in the Red Bull hospitality with zero smiles and maximum tension. And if that wasn’t enough...Later that night, YN and Charles were caught sharing a kiss behind the Ferrari motorhome, completely oblivious to the cameras — or maybe not caring at all. YN Sainz is back. With a vengeance. And in couture.

—

The paddock is buzzing long before you arrive. People know. They don’t say it — not out loud — but the tension is in the air like static. A few paddock photographers shift on their feet, ready. Social media managers hover by the entrance like lions with camera rolls open. And then the gates part. First, it's Charles. Red Ferrari polo, sunglasses, hair pushed back like he didn’t try but definitely did. Calm. Poised. Steady. Then you. All black. Silk blouse tucked into tailored trousers. Designer sunglasses. Statement earrings. A subtle red lip. Your heels click against the pavement like punctuation — not hurried, not performative. Just confident. Controlled.

Your fingers are laced with his. You don’t say anything. You don’t need to. You walk beside him like you’ve always belonged there. And maybe you have. Carlos is the first to greet you — waiting near the Ferrari hospitality, arms crossed, brow raised, he hugs you. Hard.

“Please tell me you didn’t wear black because you planned to kill someone,” he mutters in Spanish.

You smirk. “No promises.”

Charles chuckles beside you, but there’s tension in his shoulders. He can feel the eyes. The whispers. He doesn’t care about the noise — but he does care about you.

“I’m okay,” you murmur to him, as if reading his mind. “Let them look.”

And look they do. You pass Lily and Alex first — both of them giving you knowing smiles and whispered greetings. Then the photographers flash again. Then a Red Bull mechanic walks straight into a stack of tires because he’s too busy staring. But it isn’t until you cross into Red Bull territory that you feel it. The silence. Max is standing a few feet away — suit half-zipped, water bottle in hand. And for a second, everything slows. His gaze flicks to your hand in Charles’s. Then your outfit. Then your face.

He doesn’t say anything. Just lifts his chin slightly. The same way he used to when he wanted control. Power. But today, you don’t flinch. You don’t even stop walking. Charles squeezes your hand. You squeeze back. And just like that, you disappear into the Ferrari garage — the door sliding shut behind you like a final, satisfying period at the end of a chapter long overdue.

—

You’re seated on the pit wall steps, reviewing Ferrari timing sheets and sipping a smoothie, when you hear his voice.

“Can we talk?”

You look up — and there he is. Max.

You don’t stand. You don’t invite him to sit. “I’m busy.”

He ignores it, stepping closer.

“I just want to understand what’s going on. With Charles. With her.”

Your chest tightens.

“You had months to understand what was going on,” you reply coolly. “Now it’s not your business anymore.”

“She’s my daughter,” he says sharply. “It’s always going to be my business.”

Your voice stays even. “You haven’t asked about her once since February. You haven’t seen her in person in almost five months.”

“I’ve been racing. Travelling.”

“So have I. And Charles. And Carlos. But we show up.”

He flinches. His jaw ticks. “You’re parading her around with Leclerc like he’s—”

“Like he’s what?” you snap, standing now. “Like he’s present? Like he’s kind? Like he knows her favorite bedtime song and how she takes her bottle when she’s teething?”

He goes quiet.

“I’m filing for full custody,” he says suddenly.

You blink.

“I’m not going to let you turn her against me.”

“Max,” you say, voice steel under silk, “no one has to turn her against you. She’ll grow up and see what she needs to. I won’t say a word. I don’t have to.”

He opens his mouth, but doesn’t get the chance to speak again. Because Charles is walking over from the Ferrari garage — already tense, already reading your face.

“Everything okay?” he asks, stepping between you and Max.

“She’s fine,” Max mutters. “For now.”

Charles doesn’t blink. “You should leave.”

Max scoffs. “You’re not her lawyer, Charles.”

“No,” he says quietly, “I’m the one she trusts.”

Max stares at him. But he backs off. For now.

—

The race is over. Max P2. Charles P3. But neither of them are thinking about champagne. Charles finds him in the post-race cool-down room — alone, toweling sweat off his face.

“You really want to go to court?” Charles says, calm but sharp.

Max doesn’t even look surprised. “It’s not about you.”

“No,” Charles agrees. “It’s about her. And the baby you haven’t bothered to see. You don’t want custody. You want control.”

Max’s mouth hardens. “You think you’re better than me?”

“No,” Charles says, stepping closer. “I know I am. Because I’d never walk away from someone I love and then try to drag her back just because she found better.”

“You don’t know anything about me.”

“I know she cried herself to sleep for months. I know she had to play popstar and mother and survivor all at once. And I know that every single day you chose to ignore that.”

Max swallows.

Charles leans in just enough. “If you try to hurt her again — legally or otherwise — I will fight. Not on the track. Not for a title. For her. And I never lose when I’m fighting for something real.”

And with that, he turns and walks away.

—

The house is still. Your daughter is asleep down the hall. Carlos and Rebecca are staying the night again, curled up in the guest room with old movies playing low. The windows are open, letting the sea breeze drift in, warm and weightless.

You’re in the kitchen, standing barefoot at the sink, rinsing out her bottle, letting the silence settle around you. Charles steps in quietly, freshly showered, hair damp, wearing one of your brother’s hoodies. His eyes find you instantly.

“You okay?” he asks softly.

You nod, but don’t look up. “I heard what you said to Max.”

He doesn’t move. Doesn’t speak right away.

“I wasn’t trying to cause more drama,” he murmurs. “I just… couldn’t let him talk to you like that. Not after everything.”

You turn slowly, finally facing him. “You didn’t cause anything.”

He leans back against the counter, watching you. Carefully. Gently.

“You didn’t have to do that,” you say. “You didn’t owe me anything.”

Charles’s brow furrows. “Don’t say that.”

“It’s true,” you whisper.

“No, it’s not.” He steps forward. “I don’t owe you anything. But I love you. And that means I’ll protect you — not because I have to, but because I want to.”

The words hit you like soft thunder. Familiar, terrifying, safe.

“You love me?” you ask, voice barely there.

He nods. No hesitation.

You blink fast, heart racing. “I don’t know if I’m ready to say it back.”

“You don’t have to,” he says gently. “I’m not in a rush. I just need you to know where I stand.”

You let out a shaky breath, eyes burning.

“I felt… held today,” you say after a pause. “Not just protected. Seen. Heard. It’s been a long time since I felt that way.”

Charles steps even closer, hands finding your waist.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he says. “Whether you’re sad or strong or angry or radiant or terrified. I’ll be there for all of it.”

Your hands move to his chest, fingers clutching at the fabric of his hoodie like you need something to hold onto.

And then, softly — so quietly you’re not sure he hears it:

“I think I’m starting to love you too.”

He smiles. Not smug. Not surprised. Just warm. Infinite.

He leans down, forehead resting against yours. “We’ll take our time.”

And under the hush of night and the whisper of waves outside, you finally kiss him — slow, deep, full of everything you don’t yet have the words for. But he understands. He always does.

—

2 months later...

f1gossipgirls

8,100,009 others.

f1gossipgirls : Pop star YN Sainz and Max Verstappen faced off in court today over custody of their 1½-year-old daughter — and let’s just say the entrances alone told a story: YN arrived hand in hand with Charles Leclerc, who has not only been consistently present in the baby’s life for months (see: weekly IG story cameos and those now-iconic zoo day photos), but looked like he belonged beside her in every way. Calm. Solid. Unshakable. YN was also backed by her brother Carlos Sainz and his girlfriend Rebecca Donaldson, both of whom walked in arm-in-arm with her, radiating “try us” energy. Max Verstappen, meanwhile, arrived with Kelly Piquet — which... bold move? Sources say the courtroom tension was palpable, especially when Leclerc reportedly refused to acknowledge either of them inside. And the verdict? YN was granted full legal custody. Sources say Max is “furious,” but insiders insist there was never much of a case on his side. All we’re saying is… karma might wear Prada. And a Ferrari polo.

—

The courtroom is cold — painfully bright and unforgiving. You sit straight-backed in your chair, hands folded in your lap. Not shaking. Not hiding. You wore black again. Not for mourning — for armor. Your daughter is at home with your Mama and Papa, safe and smiling. She doesn’t know what today is. She just knows her mama kissed her four times before leaving and promised pancakes when she came back.

Charles is beside you. He hasn’t let go of your hand since you walked in. Carlos and Rebecca sit directly behind you, arms crossed, jaw tight. Carlos hasn’t blinked in fifteen minutes. He doesn’t need to testify. His presence says enough.

On the opposite side of the courtroom, Max sits with his lawyer. Kelly’s behind him, sunglasses still on indoors. He doesn’t look at you. Not even once.

The judge glances over the papers in front of her.

“Miss Sainz, you’re requesting full legal custody. Sole decision-making rights.”

“Yes, Your Honor,” you answer, voice steady.

The opposing lawyer stands.

“Your Honor, Mr. Verstappen simply wants to be involved. He is willing to discuss joint custody arrangements, but he feels he’s being pushed out of his daughter’s life.”

You speak before your attorney can respond.

“With respect, Your Honor,” you say clearly, “he hasn’t seen his daughter in person since February. He missed her first steps. Her first full sentence. Her first fever. He didn’t ask about any of it.”

Max shifts but doesn’t look at you.

You go on. “I never once denied him access. Not through the breakup. Not through the media storm. I kept the door open. I waited. And he chose not to walk through it.”

Your voice wavers — just once — but Charles squeezes your hand, and you steady again.

“I’ve been her sole caregiver. I’ve built her routine. I know her allergies. I know her laugh. I know the exact song that calms her down when she’s scared. And none of that is because I locked anyone out. It’s because no one showed up.”

The room is silent. Even the judge stops writing.

“Why now?” she asks gently. “Why fight for her now?”

Max speaks, finally. “Because I’m her father.”

You turn to face him. “Then where were you when she cried for one?”

The judge takes a breath. Her decision is swift.

"Full legal custody awarded to Ms. Sainz. Supervised visitation may be discussed upon demonstration of consistency and parental responsibility."

Max doesn’t react. He just blinks. You thank the judge quietly. And when you turn to Charles, he pulls your hand to his lips — kisses your knuckles, reverent and proud. Carlos exhales behind you, finally. Like he hasn’t breathed all morning. And as you walk out — head high, shoulders strong, the woman the world tried to break — you don’t look back. You never have to again.

—

The house is quiet when you get home. The baby is asleep on the couch in her favorite position — arms splayed like a starfish, one sock missing, soft cartoon lullabies humming from the TV. Mama left a note on the kitchen counter: She’s been an angel. We’ll give you some space. You’ve got this. Love you.

You stand there for a moment, just staring at her. She looks so peaceful. So untouched by the weight of the day. She doesn’t know what happened in that courtroom — how close things came to unraveling. How hard you fought. How close you were to breaking. And maybe that’s the point. You fought so she’d never have to know.

Behind you, Charles sets your bag down quietly, then comes to stand beside you. He doesn’t say anything. He just brushes his hand against your back, warm and grounding. You finally exhale. And suddenly — your knees buckle. He catches you instantly.

You don’t sob. It’s not loud or dramatic. It’s the kind of cry that lives in your chest for weeks. Quiet, exhausted, relieved. You curl into his hoodie, your hands gripping the fabric like it’s the only thing tethering you to the floor.

“I didn’t realize how scared I was,” you whisper, voice cracking. “Until she said it. Until the judge actually said I could keep her safe.”

Charles wraps his arms around you tighter, one hand cradling the back of your head. “You were never going to lose her.”

“I know,” you murmur. “But I kept thinking… what if he lies better than I tell the truth?”

“You didn’t have to lie,” he says softly. “You just had to show up. And you did. Every day. She’s yours. Always was.”

You look up at him, eyes red but full of something softer now. Something steadier.

“And you,” you say, voice low. “Thank you for—”

He stops you with a gentle shake of his head. “You don’t have to thank me. Loving you both? That’s not something I do for you. That’s just… who I am now.”

The baby stirs softly on the couch, letting out a tiny squeak before rolling onto her side and settling again. You and Charles both turn to look at her.

“She looks like you when she sleeps,” he says with a crooked smile.

You sniff, laughing through it. “Terrifying.”

“Beautiful,” he corrects.

You lean into his chest again, heartbeat slowly settling. The sun is streaming through the windows. Outside, the world might still be loud. Messy. Cruel. But here — in this quiet corner of your life — it’s just you, your daughter, and the man who never once let go of your hand. And for the first time in forever, you feel completely safe.

—

The villa is quiet, bathed in golden lamplight. Your daughter is asleep in her room, dreaming in soft babbles, the monitor humming gently on the kitchen counter. Charles is sitting on the floor of the living room, legs stretched out, hoodie sleeves pushed to his elbows as he sips tea and scrolls through his phone. He doesn’t notice you right away when you come in — carrying your laptop, a pair of headphones, and a nervous sort of calm in your chest.

You sit beside him and tuck your knees under you.

“I have something,” you say softly, “I want you to hear.”

He puts his phone down immediately, giving you his full attention. You hand him the headphones, then open the laptop and press play. He slides them on. You don’t watch the screen. You watch him. The intro is soft — strings, and then your voice, humming lightly. Not polished. Not perfect. But real. And the lyrics are the kind that make your throat close up even now.

When you smiled at me, something changed in my brain chemistry…A love felt infinitely, was my heart’s remedy…

Charles’s lashes lower as he listens, mouth parting slightly, hands clasped around the mug. You can see it in his face when the chorus hits.

Heaven on earth may fade away, but you and I are forever to stay in love…I don’t care about much anymore, it’s just us…

His lips curve — not into a smile, exactly. Something softer. Something felt. The kind of expression he only makes when he's looking at your daughter. Or you. The second verse plays and you look down, fingers knotting in your lap.

You wrote this album with no filter. You didn’t think about radio play or critics or charts. You just thought about them. The way your daughter clings to Charles when she’s sleepy. The way he runs his fingers through her hair while she babbles about nothing.

The way he looked at you that night in court when everything was falling and he stood steady anyway. When the track ends, Charles pulls the headphones off slowly, eyes glassy.

“You wrote that?” he says quietly.

You nod, biting your lip.

“For us?”

You smile. “It’s the first track. The whole album’s about you two.”

He sets the headphones down and cups your jaw gently, thumbs brushing the corners of your mouth.

“I don’t know what I ever did to deserve this,” he whispers.

“You showed up,” you say. “When no one else did. You didn’t try to save me — you just loved me until I remembered how to save myself.”

He kisses you then — slow and reverent. Like he knows you’re giving him your heart in more than just melody. And when he pulls back, his voice is rough and full.

“I want the world to hear that.”

“They will,” you say softly. “But I wanted you to be the first.”

The baby monitor crackles — a soft whimper, then silence. Charles leans forward, eyes still locked on yours.

“I can get her,” he offers.

But you shake your head and climb to your feet.

“She wants both of us.”

And as you both walk down the hallway — bare feet, tangled fingers, new music humming quietly from the laptop — you know now, more than ever: It’s just you. It’s just him. It’s just love. And it’s forever.

—

yn_sainz

liked by carlossainz55, charles_leclerc, lilymhe and 14,008,003 others.

yn_sainz : had to learn to rearrange my mind and be in peace <333 my new album for : you will be released on 10/16. the birthday of both my soulmates. charles, thank you for loving me when i felt unlovable and loving my angel like she is your own. you have been too good to us. i love you both more than anything in this world. my perfect little fam :)

tagged : charles_leclerc

—

user has limited the amount of comments on this post.

charles_leclerc : you both saved me right back. je t’aime, always.

liked by yn_sainz

alex_albon : crying, throwing up, screaming… and also requesting track 3 early

liked by yn_sainz

↳ yn_sainz : you and lily need to come over for early access listening party!!

liked by lilymhe and alex_albon

↳ lilymhe : ON MY WAYYYYYY

liked by yn_sainz

lando : both born on 10/16?? okay the universe shipped this.

liked by yn_sainz and charles_leclerc

lewishamilton : love like this is what makes the world feel soft again. congratulations, angel.

liked by yn_sainz and charles_leclerc

carlossainz55 : this post made me cry. happy now?

liked by yn_sainz and charles_leclerc

arthur_leclerc : you’re telling me i grew up with this man and he ends up the muse?? wild.

liked by yn_sainz and charles_leclerc

—

686 notes · View notes

crunchystarz · 18 days ago

Note

I really wanna see how the Self aware au reacts to a Mc! Who favors one boy over the others? Cause I know my favorites are obvious. I spent 10 minutes just calling riddle cute and speaking to him like a baby. I've done it too Malleus and Vil. I would push the others over to give them all my affections.

TWST SELF-AWARE AU| with a Reader who favors one over the others

ob!boys x gn!reader

Cw: jealousy and obsessive and possessive behavior yandere themes.

NOT proof read mb🥀

A/N this is honestly more of short rambles for each one but honestly this is so real because I favor the characters so hard😭my whole being revolves around Leona at this point so I can only imagine having a bunch of obsessive freaks just for me to baby Leona like crazy I just KNOW he'd get all my attention... Which y'all can probably tell will my writing LMAO I truly do favor him.(also this has been sitting in my drafts for like a week oops...)

Riddle Rosehearts

Riddle doesn't get it. Why would you favor him over everyone? He just cannot wrap his brain around why you could possibly you gravitate to someone like him. Riddle knows you're not perfect and your opinions aren't always sound, but seriously? It frustrates him more than anything, watching you treat him like he's so much better than everyone, better than him.

In Riddle's mind, he's the only one stable enough to properly take care of you out of the bunch. It irks him in ways he should be ashamed of; he knows better than to let it get under his skin, but all logical thought is thrown out the window when he walks into your room just to see you coddling him. His heart feels like it's being squeezed like a rag. It hurts, and he hates it. He knows his obsession with you controls his emotions. He's never felt anything this strong in his artificial life. This love is precious to him; you are precious to him. He just wants to be your favorite, so what does he have to do? It gets him so frustrated watching someone other than him gain your attention like they deserve it.

His whole life, he's never had real unconditional love, not from his parents, not from his friends. Riddle strives to be better to improve for the approval of others, but it will never come, will it? He's simply a string of different binary code weaved together by some more advanced being. So he's not necessarily improving, is he? It's a complicated topic he hates thinking about for too long.

So that love he craved isn't real. Yet your love is different. It's the only thing he craves more than anything—he wants your unconditional love. Riddle Rosehearts would be perfect for you, just give him the chance, so stop pining after him. Look at him, please, just look at him only. He'd do whatever it takes, he'll be better, he'll claw his way to the top. He'd make you see him, hell, prove to you that he should be the one to lay your love on.

Leona Kingscholar

Leona isn't surprised; it's nothing new to him. He's not a stranger to watching the things he so desperately wants to be given to someone else. Constantly having a treat dangled right in front of you, where you taste it just for it to be snatched away from you once it brushes your lips. That's nothing new to him yet it doesn't sting any less. He thought he was numb to the fact, yet with you it's like you're constantly reopening.

You're the only real thing in his miserable life. You're the reason he has a drive to do anything—you make him feel lighter, calmer. Leona is selfish, and he knows he's selfish. He doesn't care when the envy pricks under his skin. When he feels his fangs poking slightly at his bottom lips, and his claw-like nails dig into his palms. He doesn't care enough to hide his frustration. He's very open about his feelings because why him.

He'd love to ask why you would choose someone like that when Leona could do you so much better, but he doesn't believe that truly. Leona doesn't think highly of himself; he knows he wouldn't make the best partner, yet he still craves you more than anything. He's again selfish. He wants to take and take and never give back. All your love he wanted. He doesn't want anyone else to have it. He doesn't care if it's not fair, he knows he doesn't deserve it, he knows he's too broken and far gone. Yet watching you love someone else so easily. With no care, no thought, just pure adoration, it fucking shatters him. It shouldn't be him, but he wants it to be so desperately.

So he'll push and he'll shove, he will squeeze himself into your life. Leona doesn't care enough to chase after any of his other desires; you are the exception. He will not let a soul take the only thing he lives for from him when they're right between his teeth. The more you pay him mind, the more Leona weasels his way into your personal life. He despises the way you googly eye him, so he'll just divert your attention to him. Leona isn't above getting physical.

Azul Ashengrotto

Azul tries so hard to seem unbothered, but he's not like that. Envy and jealousy are all things he's above. That's what he tells himself to calm his nerves, but deep down, he knows how he gets. He has no way to regulate his emotions in this new world, so how is he supposed to be calm and unbothered when watching you love someone else so intensely? Your favoritism chews at him from the inside out. He was used to weaving things to go his way, so why don't you give him the time of day?

Azul will watch as you fuss and give him so much attention, biting his lips as he tries to keep himself calm. He's never been the explosive type when it comes to his emotions. He's always been calculative and unreadable when it comes to his true feelings. He tries not to let it get to him, but he knows his mask isn't flawless. He just wants things to go his way, for once, he wants you, the only real thing in his sad, pathetic life. He wants your love because you want to give it to him, not because he has to trick you into it. So love him. Love him the most, not anyone else.

However, you don't choose Azul first. No one ever goes to him as the first option. It's not different when you hold his face in your hands as you coo whatever. It's not fair—it's never fair. He can't be normal when he has to be constantly reminded of what he can't have. He wants you to choose, he wants you to come to him, he doesn't want to manipulate you into picking him because you aren't like everyone else. You don't deserve that, but it's always at the back of his mind when he has to watch you out for someone else on such a high shelf.

Jamil Viper

Jamil has always been a shadow. His whole life has been nothing but a follower. He's used to not getting what he wants, he never expects anything. He never craves because he knows he'll never get. He doesn't allow himself to dream of having something so sweet, something sweet like you. He wants you so bad, but he doesn't allow himself to have it. He ignores his feelings of jealousy; he can regulate how he feels. He's used to watching the people he serves get anything and everything at their whim. They don't have to fight for what they want.

Jamil had to fight for you, the only one whose opinions and thoughts mattered to him. The way you see him is the only thing he cares about. He wants you to see him for all he is. He was programmed to be good at almost everything; he could do so much for you, don't you see that—but you don't, you don't even look at him with the sparkle in that you do with him. Jamil knows he's not perfect, his character was designed flawed, but so was everyone else, so why did you attach to him so much? What was it that you lied so much?

Jamil can put on a mask, any mask you want, he can be anything you so desire, just say the word and he'll fit your mold. He'll be better than your favorite if you just allow him to. He's your faithful servant, please just choose him. For once in his life, he allows himself to want something so selfishly, and he can't have it. It's a stinging pain that shoots through his heart. A stinging pain he wishes he could ignore completely, but he can't; it hurts too much.

So, just at least rely on him at least. If he can't be your all-time favorite, at least lean on him, please. It's all he made for—please just let him be useful. Anything to keep your attention, even if it doesn't compare to the attention you give him, it's still your attention, still your love, and he's okay with that. Jamil doesn't ask for much.

Vil Schönheit

Vil was used to the constant attention, the constant praise, and the pampering. The worst part of being nothing but a video game character was that all the fans and prying eyes were fake, too. When the group moved to your world, it was a big change. It was a change he could get used to, a breath of fresh air without all that fabricated fame. That's what it should have been. He should be happy about his newfound privacy.

He found that he hated it. Not enough attention, not enough if your attention is specifically. Vil hated that emptiness, no, you were not full on ignoring him. You weren't even avoiding him, no, you were just giving your attention to someone else, someone other than him? He wasn't used to that. He hated that. What did he have that he didn't? Vil was perfect. Why did you prefer anyone else? It was so frustrating! He's never hated not being the center of attention than when it's when you're cuddling up with that slob.

He craves your validation he craves that fulfillment only you could provide. Only the love he deserved. Vil gets jealous of potential rivals, hes had it happen before and hid it well but it's not so hard to hide those feelings when they boil over. It's so obvious how snappy and snarky Vil gets. He's better than this he should not let it get to him but it does. God he hates it more than anything, but throwing a temper tantrum wont do him any good. He's professional, he can be professional about this.

Idia shroud

Idia's situation is complicated; his self-esteem is terrible, and he doesn't believe he actually deserves to be in your presence. What do you mean you haven't kicked him out yet? He doesn't deserve you. On the other hand, his ego can randomly shoot through the roof, and he feels like he's the only one who gets you; you're the only one he should even have to look at. That's why it truly does depend on how he's feeling, in my personal opinion

Idia is not good with his emotions already, especially when they tangle with other people. He was programmed for human interaction. Yet he still seems to have grown so attached to you. He doesn't know to regulate how he feels arready just you to have a favorite. God hes a rollercoaster.

Idia's heart clenches when he sees you with your preferred boy. It makes him want to sulk in the corners of your room and rot. He doesn't see himself as a fit to be your partner, not one bit. Yet he's so obsessive he can't stay away from you. He swears he'll be cooler and more normal. Please just look at him, okay? These jerks don't deserve your attention. He's the reason they could even be here without his brains. He deserves your attention, just like him, please, please, please —

Idia pouts, and when he's desperate, has enough courage to physically place himself between you and him. Anything, just please give him a chance, let Idia be your number one. Yes, he's pathetic. Yes, he'd beg. What else is he supposed to do?

Malleus Draconia

Malleus wasn't used to not having what he wanted. Jealousy is not something he was exposed to quite often,he could basically have anything and everything he wanted at the snap of his fingers. He was the number fifth mage in the world after all there isn't much he can't have. The only he couldn't have was your devotion. Your unwavering love. That warm spark that sprinkles though his body when you come to him on his own is something he craves the most.

He wants so much more than the crumbs you give him. So he gets so unfathomably upset watching you baby him like some kind of pet. Truly what did you see in a mortal like that when Malleus was willing to give you everything? Foolish human you were.

Malleus is the most clingy in my opinion and I've been over this before in the au. He's constantly throwing himself your way, like Leona and Idia he's not afraid of making his presence known. He can be the possessive one because he knows he's much stronger than everyone else. All the Intimidation means nothing when you still flock back to him. Why? Malleus truly does not get you humans.

He's pouty and aggressive when he gets jealous he can't handle your favoritism well at all. He's always been isolated and you just so happened to the prey he wants to sink his talons into the most. Why do you push him away when he does the same thing you do to your favorite? It's what you want correct? So why is Is it different when Malleus does it. It's frustrating , please just love him unconditionally please hold him the same way he wants that warmth.

MASTERLIST

428 notes · View notes

potato-lord-but-not · 6 months ago

Note

Potato I’m coming into your asks with my head in my hands but I have to ask: how the HELL do you draw people kissing, you’ve gotten it down in such a ‘satisfying’ way I need to know your secrets

okay this is probably going to be really incomprehensible but I am TRYING my BEST

first, we must implement the tilt method. you want your faces to be tilting in opposite directions as to make room for the kiss. the heads tend to make a heart shape if you’re normal and draw the heads completely (oops). And the lips create a zig zag type shape. the person tilting towards us (right figure) having their nose and top lip visible, and the person tilting away (left figure) has just their bottom lip and chin visible.

and you can use this for two people being close, just about to kiss. although you don’t have to tilt em as far since they have more leeway, but the principle is still there

you can play around with this tho, and I have a few different ways of drawing a kiss to portray different things-

1 is more puckered, a light playful kiss that may not last long

2 has the mouths create an O shape, giving an air of a breathy slightly desperate kiss. it gives the impression that the kiss isn’t the focus, these two are more focused on what their hands are doing, how close they are, soaking in the feeling of being intimate ect etc.

3 is wider, closer, there could be some tongue action going on. They miss eachother and they want to smash their faces together as humanly possible

You can also use these when only one person is giving the kiss !!

PHASE TWO REAL WORLD EXAMPLES because one thing that aids in a good kiss is the BODY LANGUAGE. it gives the kiss more life and feeling, the above examples even have some shoulder action to further the vibe. Anyway. Exhibit A

a subtle tilt, but that works in favor of creating a more relaxed feel. their kiss is a mix between 2 n 3, wide and open, messy and passionate. they’re definitely taking their time.

this one’s a body language one !! just the kiss alone has much less going for it compared to the way they’re tangled together. Ford (right) is more relaxed, more confident. And Arthur (left) is a bit more weary but letting Ford take the lead. Arthur has his lips puckered more, while Ford’s are more relaxed and a bit more open (although it’s very subtle)

This one is mainly kiss with body language as an aid. Arthur’s (right) head is tilted up instead of to the side, leaving Oscar (left) to pick whichever direction. The kiss is mainly 3, with a hint of 2 to communicate the more desperate and eager vibe. This is also paired with the subtle head tilt away from eachother and solid position they’re in. This creates a relaxed and content feel, like they started off hungry but ultimately don’t want to take it any further.

Subtle head tilt, a kiss between 1 n 2, and idle bodies make for a relaxed, domestic and intimate feeling. they’re sharing a kiss that was intended to be quick, but they lingered a few seconds too long and now they’ll stay there for a good 15 minutes. hands resting on the other, lips gently touching, words exchanged between moments of no contact.

GOD SORRY ANYWAY I spent way too long rambling about my podcast men kissing I hope this was insightful I’ll take my leave

#JESUS THIS IS LONG OOPS #art tutorial #art tips #podcast men kissing my beloved #the secret is to project

1K notes · View notes

sourle · 3 months ago

Note

Hi, this is my first time requesting but, can i please ask for a the reader finally getting payback as the killer because the spectre helped them with a deal and brutually kills some others (please they deserve a villian arc for all of the mistreatment, i keep crying bruh)

Reverse

Oops! I did it again

WARNINGS: Gore, blood, etc.

Note: finally i got a straight idea what to do with the request

The soft thumping of your heart is all you can listen to now. The slow beating against your rip in a rhythm it sung on its own.

The glowing color of your heart shuns your surroundings. Tinting the area with the bright color, a light within the darkness.

It makes it easier for you to be spotted.

You stare up at the starless sky, at the mist. It speaks, its voice unclear but it reeks of darkness.

It whispered, granting you a power. Granting you something similar to what you've got when you weren't forsaken.

The power you promise to never use ever again.

But it seems the promise won't mean anything as you opened the panel, staring at the starting button. And clicking it.

The humming of the night wind of the map filled the silence as you ran around, trying to find someone. Anyone. Your steps are loud like a giant stomp. You flinched once in a while involuntarily from the glitch seeping from the cracks of your flesh.

For three minutes you found no one. Not a single life in sight. You groaned in frustration, opening the panel once more to reveal the others location.

Then you saw it, a glowing silhouette crouching next to a generator. You approached, ever so careful to not alert anyone near your presence. Then you saw him. Builderman.

Thinking on the name itself makes your stomach churn in hatred, you hate the feelings. And you hate seeing him more. You walk around the corner of the white wall, striking at him with your weapon.

He gasped, not expecting your presence at all. He wasted no time idling in place and started running. You let out a small laugh, taking fun in the chase he's giving.

SKRR— TUMB

You snarl, covering your eyes as the turrets shoot at you. Slowing you down rendering for you to lose Builderman. Using your weapon you destroyed the turret in one hit from frustration.

You glance at the last path Builderman runs to and follow. Turning your head in each direction to try and spot him, and spot him you did. He's kneeling behind a wall, breathless and exhausted.

You sneak, approaching in slow calculated steps. Avoiding to make any sounds.

CRUNCH—

Builderman spits out the blood running up his throat, he glances down at his throbbing chest and sees a hand penetrating through. His heart in the grasp.

You pulled your hand back with a satisfying squelch of the torn flesh, watching as Builderman's body dropped down on the ground. Bleeding out blood.

You got up and threw the beating heart that's slowly losing its rhythm. You approached his body and took in a satisfying relish before letting out a sob.

What are you doing?

You sniffles, biting your bottom lips. No time to cry, it needs more victims. You need to make it proud. Everyone proud.

You trudge through the random walls, placed in the middle of the map. You stumbled upon one of Taph's traps and hesitantly broke it. Before continuing your search.

One by one you found them.

You watch as Elliot choked on his own blood after you slit his throat from behind before ripping out his heart.

You observed Chance's shaky smile as you plummeted your hands straight into his chest and crushed his heart.

You softly smile as Taph flails around under you, watching you raise your sword above your head and stab it through his heart.

You cornered Noob, seeing them shivers from fear. They feared you. And you can't help but smile. Haven't they always feared you? No matter.

The round ended. You rolled your shoulders, taking all the events from the match in.

Are you really satisfied by it all?

Do you want this?

You want to change, yet why did you do it?

You snapped away from your thoughts as someone nudged you. It's c00lkid. "Can we play chase now?"

You blinked before nodding with a soft smile. You need this small normal break.

#lemon rambles #lemon writes #ask #soups ask #rainefandom16 #forsaken #forsaken x reader #yearning for a touch au #>tags devider<#not much interaction other than #c00lkid #builderman #elliot #taph #chance #x reader #killer!reader

427 notes · View notes

syluxs · 5 months ago

Text

weekend heat

pairing: sylus/reader

summary: you and sylus have always been just friends--flirty friends, sure, but still just friends. that is, until you "accidentally" text him a request for a sexy picture.

notes: the banner used below is from starmocha

1: a moment of boldness

it was late, and you were feeling extremely bold.

sylus had always been your favorite person to flirt with--effortlessly charming, sharp-witted, and just cocky enough to make it fun. but tonight, for reasons you’d blame on exhaustion (or maybe just boredom), you decided to take things a step further.

so you sent the text.

y/n: send me something sexy :)

you stared at your phone, heart pounding. you could still unsend it. you could say it was a joke. or--

ding.

sylus: Did you mean to send this to me?

you bit your lip as you tried to suppress a smile, trying to decide how to play it off. before you could type a reply, another message popped up.

sylus: Should I be honored?

oh, he may be enjoying this.

y/n: oops. my bad. wrong person.

a lie. a stupid, dumb lie. but maybe it would save you from complete embarrassment, the feeling of regret and shame suddenly starting to bubble up in you.

sylus: Shame. I was just about to take my shirt off too.

you stared. he was definitely messing with you.

y/n: oh don't let me stop you.

sylus: Oh? but it wasnt meant for me

y/n: i mean, if you really wanna send one, i won’t stop you.

y/n: this is actually strictly for scientific purposes

you could already imagine the smirk on his face through the screen. sylus loved teasing you, and this was prime, excellent material. you pictured him leaning back, phone in hand, eyebrow raised as he typed out his next message.

sylus: Oh, so this is about science?

y/n: yep. purely educational.

sylus: Interesting. what exactly are we studying here?

y/n: so the effects of good lighting on abs

a pause.

then--

sylus: You know, if you wanted to see me shirtless, all you had to do was ask.

your face was burning. he was having way too much fun with this.

sylus was ridiculously attractive--something you’d been painfully aware of since the moment you met him.

but that didn’t mean you were about to let him have the upper hand.

y/n: no way

y/n: ok fine. it's whatever, if u wanna show off then go ahead

y/n: i’m asking

another pause. you stared at the typing indicator, your heart doing somersaults. then--

ding.

a photo.

you clicked it open, and--oh.

the lighting was almost too good, casting sharp shadows and highlighting every inch of his defined muscles. sylus was sprawled across his bed, one arm propped behind his head, the other was holding his phone at just the right angle. his shirt was completely gone, probably tossed aside somewhere out of frame, leaving his toned chest and sculpted abs completely exposed.

if this was someone else, you would've immediately blocked their cringey and sleazy ass. heck, you won't even bother sending them a message in the first place.

but this is sylus. and sylus is... sylus.

his skin was golden, the warm light accentuating the dips and curves of his lean, athletic build. every ridge of his stomach was sharp, his v-line disappearing beneath the waistband of his... boxers? honestly, you weren't sure as you've never seen him wearing sweatpants or the likes. jeans were the most casual piece of bottoms you've ever seen him wore. anyway, whatever it was, it hung just low enough to make your mouth go dry.

his hair was tousled, just messy enough to look effortlessly perfect, like he had just run his fingers through it. strands fell across his forehead, making him look even more attractive.

but it was his expression that sent a rush of heat through you.

he wasn’t just smirking. he also has this half-lidded gaze, sharp yet lazy, look in his eyes, like he knew exactly what effect this was going to have on you. one side of his lips was curled upward, his jaw sharp enough to cut, and his entire posture screamed unbothered confidence.

it was a picture sent to ruin you. and it was working.

your brain short-circuited, hand flying to cover your mouth.

honestly, why does he keep indulging you?

sylus: Scientific enough for you?

you swallowed. you could play this cool. you had to play this cool. you need to play this cool.

y/n: hmmm

y/n: needs further study

sylus: Oh? So you need more evidence?

y/n: obviously.

sylus: youre insatiable.

y/n: and you love it hhha

sylus: I do.

your breath hitched. why did he not say something snarky? his reply felt like… more than just flirting.

before you could overthink it, another message popped up.

sylus: So… Still just friends?

your breath was caught in your throat. it wasn’t the first time he’d said something like this--little comments, teasing remarks that almost sounded serious.

sylus had always flirted like it was a game, but sometimes, just sometimes, it felt like there was more to it. like he was waiting for you to pick up on something you kept ignoring, 'cause why the hell would sylus want anything more with you? what would he even get out of this? he's sylus--gorgeous, tall, rich, he has everything. you were just… well, not to sound insecure, you.

so you did what you always did. you brushed it off.

besides, if he wanted something more, he will need to be more direct as you're not the type to just assume things.

y/n: friends who do scientific research together!! :DD

the typing bubble appeared. then disappeared.

you stared.

was he actually thinking hard about what to reply? sylus never hesitated. he always had a response ready, always knew exactly what to say to keep the conversation rolling, to keep you flustered.

but this time, he was pausing.

when the typing bubble popped up again, your heart pounded.

then--

sylus: Hm okay think I like this study group.

your stomach is aching.

y/n: yeah….... me too.

you exhaled, staring at the screen a second longer than necessary. this was just how you and sylus were--pushing, teasing, toeing a line neither of you acknowledged. and yet, something about this felt different. seriously, you asking, and him sending a topless picture? is that still playing around?

this time, sylus didn’t reply right away. a full minute passed. then another.

you were overthinking, just because he always never lets you be the "last chat".

your phone buzzed. not a text.

a call.

sylus.

you felt your heart drop to your stomach.

you hovered over the answer button, heart racing. shit, your hands were even trembling a bit. from excitement? from nervousness? who knows.

then, before you could stop yourself, you picked up.

"so," his voice came through the speaker, smooth, amused, but lower than usual. "do you need a minute, or are you done losing your mind over me?"

your stomach flipped violently.

no, you were not gonna let him have the upper hand.

"w-what?" you stammered, cursing yourself immediately. and hung up.

but you were too flustered to speak with him right now.

sylus had always been a gentleman--not in an obvious, in-your-face way, but in the way that mattered. he never pushed, never demanded, never made you feel like you owed him anything. you never said it out loud, but you always appreciated that about him. it was one of the main reasons you even entertained this back-and-forth in the first place. you weren’t the type to flirt for fun unless there was at least something there. and with sylus? yeah, there was definitely something.

and even now, after sending you that picture, he wasn’t asking for anything in return. no sly requests, no hints that you should even the score. nothing.

maybe he just wasn’t interested like that. maybe this was just another game to him.

sylus was a lot of things--cocky, annoying, too smooth for his own good--but he was also a big consent king. if he wanted more, he’d want you to say it first.

he didn't even hint that you should return the favor.

but now, you were thinking about doing it anyway.

your fingers twitched. would it really be that crazy?

he’d been teasing you all night, knowing exactly what he was doing. but what if, you turned the tables on him?

what if you made him flustered?

#love and deepspace #love and deepspace x reader #sylus #sylus x reader #lads #lnds #lads x reader #lnds x reader #shin #shin x reader #qin che #qin che x reader #mine #ok SO! i finally managed to finish this one #this was based on a text mssg w/ sylus LOL #i just sent him a crow sticker (the nodding one)#and then he was like did u send this to the wrong person?#a lightbulb moment u can say HAH

477 notes · View notes

thaatdigitaldiary · 5 months ago

Text

⟢ — LET ME LOVE YOU ⟢ — AZZI FUDD

『 “and if it feels right, promise i don’t mind. nd’ if it feels right, promise i’ll stay here all night.” — ariana grande / lil wayne. 』

warnings. — sexual content, fem!reader

summary. — you and azzi have been in this confusing stage of flirting? talking? dating? will a night of baking change everything?

ke speaks. — all hail fudd the stud… & FINALLY getting this out my drafts lmfao, procrastination sucks so bad i give you this for the azzi fudd fic appreciation club

enjoy! — thaatdigitaldiary ౨ৎ

The kitchen smelled like heaven—brown sugar, vanilla, and melted chocolate swirling in the air as you and Azzi hovered over the counter, mixing up a batch of cookies. Flour dusted your hands, and Azzi had a little smear of it on her cheek from when she’d “accidentally” flicked some at you earlier. The vibe was chill, music bumping softly from your speaker, but the tension?

Thick as fuck.

“You’re smilin’ hard as hell.” Azzi teased, leaning against the counter, her voice all smooth and low. She’d been laying it on heavy all night—those flirty jabs, the way her eyes lingered on you for a second too long. You caught her staring at your ass when you bent over to grab the cookie sheet, and she didn’t even try to play it off.

“Oh so, I can’t smile now?” You shot back, smirking as you scooped dough onto the tray. “You’re the one staring, Az.”

Azzi laughed, that husky little chuckle that made your stomach flip. “Can’t help it, baby.” She stepped closer, her slippers scuffing the floor, and suddenly she was all up in your space, reaching around you to swipe a finger through the dough. She popped it in her mouth, licking her lips real slow, eyes locked on yours.

“Mhm, sweet. Like you.”

You raised an eyebrow, heart thudding. “So you’re bold-bold now, got it.”

“I’ve always been bold, baby. You needa catch up.” She grinned, and before you could hit her with another comeback, she grabbed a pinch of flour and dusted it right across your chest. “Oops.”

“Azzi!” You yelped, swatting at her, but she was already cracking up, dodging your hands. You lunged at her, smearing dough across her muscular arm, and next thing you knew, the two of you were wrestling, laughing, stumbling against the counter. Her hands landed on your hips, pinning you there, and the air shifted—playful to charged in a heartbeat.

She looked down at you, breathing a little heavy, curls falling into her face. “You okay?” She asked, voice softer now, thumb brushing your waist.

“Yeah,” you whispered, swallowing hard. “You?”

“I’m okay, yeah.” And then she moved—fast, smooth, like she’d been waiting for it. Her lips crashed into yours, all heat and hunger, tasting like cookie dough and that mint gum she’d been chewing earlier. You moaned into it, hands sliding up her back, gripping her hoodie as she pressed herself tighter against you.

“I need you, baby,” she mumbled against your mouth, nipping your bottom lip before diving back in. Her hands roamed, slipping under your shirt, fingers hot on your skin. You arched into her, head spinning, heat pooling low in your gut.

“Come fuck me, Az.” You gasped, tugging her closer. She smirked, all cocky now, and spun you around so your back hit the counter. Her thigh nudged between your legs, and you damn near whimpered at the pressure.

“Yeah? You want me fuckin’ you?” She purred, lips brushing your jaw, then your neck, sucking lightly. “Tell me what you need, baby.”

You couldn’t even front—you were gone for her. “You. Need you, Az… please?”

That was all she needed. She scooped you up like it was nothing, strong as hell from all her workouts, and carried you to the couch, dropping you on her lap.

“C’mere then,” she said, voice rough, pulling your shirt off in one quick move. Her hands were everywhere—gripping your ass, sliding up your sides, thumbs brushing your tits through your bra. You yanked her hoodie off too, needy as fuck, and she laughed, low and dirty.

“You’re so eager, baby,” She teased, unhooking your bra and tossing it somewhere. Her mouth found your chest, kissing, licking, sucking until you were squirming, and grinding down on her thigh. “Fuck, you’re wet as shit.”

“Az, please,” you whined, hands in her hair, tugging. She groaned at that, eyes dark as she looked up at you.

“Say it again,” she demanded, sliding a hand into your shorts, fingers dipping low, teasing. “Beg for me, baby.”

“Please, Azzi—fuck, touch me,” you gasped, hips bucking. She didn’t make you wait—pushed your shorts down, yanking her own sweats off, and pulled you back onto her lap, skin to skin now. Her fingers slid between your thighs, stroking slow, then fast, slick and filthy, while she watched you fall apart.

“You wanna ride this pussy, baby?” She rasped, gripping your hips, guiding you over her thigh first. You did, rocking hard, wet and desperate, until she shifted you up, positioning you right on top of her, where both of you aligned with each other.

“C’mon, baby. Make us feel good.”

You rode slow at first, then faster, moaning loud as the juices between you two progressively built up. “Oh shit, Az—“ you choked out, hands on her shoulders, nails digging in. She thrust her pussy up into you steadily, muttering curses and praise in your ear.

“Fuck, you feel so good—bouncin’ on this pussy so good, baby,” she groaned, smacking your ass lightly, then gripping it to pull you down harder. “That’s it, baby. Take what you need.”

You were a mess, thighs shaking, head thrown back as she fucked you senseless, all that flirty tension exploding into this. She kissed you again, sloppy and wild, and you came undone, crying her name while she held you tight, riding it out with you.

When you finally collapsed against her, panting, she chuckled, brushing sweaty hair off your face. “Cookies not the only thing we made tonight, huh?”

You laughed, weak and blissed out. “Would you hush?”

She grinned, kissing you soft this time. “Nah, you love it.”

And yeah, you really fuckin’ did.

🏷️ — @rosemariiaa @pboogerswbb @cherryswisherz @tndaqlifwy @sierrale8ne @janaelalfysblunt @bueckersbitch @lovegalor333 @juspeaks @ohbueckers @omg-imtumbling @xxloveralways14 @mrsarnold @wbbgetsmewetter @lupinqs @linebg0 @authentic-girl03 @melpthatsme @makethemhoesmad @ashortyluvsports @paigesbabygirl @d3arapril @slut4uconnwbb

#thaatdigitaldiary ©#azzi fudd #azzi x reader #azzi x fem reader #uconn wbb #wlw fiction #wlw smut #wlw #lgbtq #ke’s works 🏷️

479 notes · View notes

mrsha-ang-kim · 5 months ago

Text

𝐘𝐨𝐮'𝐫𝐞 𝐏𝐞𝐫𝐟𝐞𝐜𝐭

Pairing: chan x afab!reader, established relationship

Synopsis: aftercare of aftercare of love time with your baby. And maybe a casual proposal??

Warnings: kisses, suggestive references, fluff, more kisses, strawberries, anything else?

A/n: in my defense the month of love isn't over.

“You awake?” he murmured, lips brushing the shell of your ear.

You hummed contentedly, nuzzling closer to him.

“You tired?”

“I’m okay, baby. More than perfect.”

He chuckled softly, the sound vibrating through his chest. “Good. I was worried I’d tire you out.” “Now, now let’s not go on assuming you were that good.” You teased, grinning against his skin.

The sheets were a mess, so to say, twisted around your bare legs.

Chan gasped in mock offence, tilting his head to look down at you. “Excuse me? You were literally begging a few minutes ago.” A warm flush crept up your neck. “Shut up,” you mumbled, hiding your face against him. He laughed lightly, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head.

He placed another soft press of lips on your shoulder, the corner of your jaw, the space just between your ear. Languid, unhurried touches to make the moment last a little longer.

“You hungry?” Chan asked, after placing a longer kiss on your cheek. “Yes, please.” He paused and let out a deep amused laugh. “Guess I wore you out for real.” You groaned dramatically. Before you could protest, he rolled out of bed, stretching with a satisfied groan. The dim lights caught on the sharp lines of his body- broad shoulders, toned arms, your hickeys, the way the sheets barely hung unto his hips as he stood. Oops-

Your cheeks heated up fast as your eyes roamed shamelessly. “You really gonna walk around like that?” he smirked over his shoulder. “Why? Distracted?” Smug idiot. You threw a pillow at him. “This isn’t your dorm, Bang.” Still laughing he disappeared into the kitchen.

The soft sounds of waves crashing against the shore outside, their rhythmic melody blending with the distant hum of the city. The scent of sea salt lingered in the cool evening air, crawling in through the slightly open balcony door. The beach stretched out beyond the horizon, the moon casting a silvery glow over the water, but inside, in the warmth of the dimly lit bedroom, the world felt much much smaller- just the two of you, surrounded in the afterglow.

When he had gotten back to Australia, Chan had truly outdone himself for Valentine’s. A private beachfront house (because why not?), candlelit dinner, beach walks along the shore that had sand clinging to your feet as the water lapped at your ankles. The company had given him a week off to spend some time with you for the holiday. He went all in for this mini getaway just to spend with you, that made you feel like time had ceased. You had told him that staying at your place was more than okay, but being the stubborn human, he is, he insisted that you went on this together. It was small, intimate and perfect.

Hours after love had been made that night and confessions had faded into soft moans and breathless laughter, you lay tangled in the sheets with him, wrapped in his warmth. His body was pressed against yours, his bare chest against your back, arm draped lazily over your waist as his finger skimmed absentminded patterns along your skin.

Chan arrived with a bowl of chocolate covered strawberries.

“You’re going all out with this Valentine’s thing, I swear.” He plopped back onto the bed, pulling you into his lap before holding up a strawberry. “Had to do something for my girl.” Your heart melted as you took a bite, the flavor bursting on your tongue. Chan watched with soft eyes before leaning in to kiss away the juice lingering on your lips. The kiss deepened, burning slow and indulgent, a contrast to the passion from earlier. He nibbled on your bottom lip before pulling back, his forehead resting on yours.

“I love you,” he whispered, voice full of sincerity.

You smiled brushing you thumb over his cheek. “I love you too, Chan.”

More cuddling. More kisses. More jokes. More strawberries. It was the perfect night and you didn’t need anything more. You hummed, stretching slightly against him before turning to face him. The bedside lamp cast dim shadows over his face- his tousled curls, his soft, now swollen lips, the faint smirk tugging at his mouth.

“I think I ate too much,” you groaned, shifting to glance at the mostly empty plate of chocolate covered strawberries on the nightstand. Chan chuckled, fingers grazing your stomach gently, yet teasingly. “Told you to pace yourself, baby.”

You shot him a playful glare. “Excuse me, Mr. Let’s Have a Second Round of Snacks after a Second Round of-”

His hands flew to your mouth before you could finish. His face heating “Okay, okay, no need to expose me like that. The other guests may hear you.” you licked his palm. And he pulled with a disgusted groan. “Why are you like this…?”

“Don’t ask. You love it anyway. You decided to date this version.” He rolled his eyes but pulled you closer, letting out a content sigh. “Yeah, I do.”

Comfortable silence brewed over you two, only rarely broken by the distant sound of waves. The sheets smelled faintly of the candles he lit earlier, some still flickering. Peach? Yeah, peach. You could stay like this forever. How could you ever repay him for making you feel so good? For spending so much on the both of you? Then Chan’s voice broke through, pushing away your train of thoughts casually yet teasing.

“So, like…marriage.”

You stopped mid- reach for another strawberry. “Huh?”

He grinned, nudging your cheek with his nose. “I mean, were already great at living together, sharing food, stealing the blankets-” “You steal the blankets,” you sharply corrected.

“-And,” he continued, ignoring you, “we’re obviously obsessed with each other.” He kissed your shoulder then your jaw, voice dipping into something softer. “Wouldn’t be so bad right?”

“Hmm. I don’t know. Are you saying all this cause its Valentines Day?” he smirked “Maybe. Maybe not.” You snorted. “Y’know I’d be very sweet about it,” his voice became softer now, “I’d just say, ‘Hey, wanna do this forever?’”

In the weirdest way, your chest ached. Of course, you wanna do this with him forever.

“That’s not bad.” His eyes softened. “Yeah?” you nodded, a smile tugging at your lips. He leaned in capturing your mouth in a slow lingering kiss, one that spoke of forever without needing anymore words. “Noted,” he murmured against your lips. “For the future.”

The waves rolled outside and the night stretched on. You were in for the long run. And boy, were you happy.

Oh my gawd it's so short. I apologize...heh..

1/3. Complete

Taglist: purple means I can't tag you

@pixie-felix @jitrulyslayyed @pessimisticloather @imagine-all-the-imagines @leeknow-minho2 @imeverycliche @jc27s @necrozica @sh0dor1 @yoongiismylove2018 @idiotmaterial @makeawitchoutofme

y'all blog names....

Check out my pinned if you want to be added to the taglist!

~kc 💗

#stray kids #skz #stray kids x reader #straykids #bang chan #bystay #bang chan fluff #stray kids fluff #skz imagines #bang chan stray kids #christopher bang #bang chan x reader #bangchan scenario #bangchan x reader #lovebangchan #~kc's 💗

917 notes · View notes

aemondsbabe · 2 years ago

Text

Little Love

summary: aegon comes to your chambers crying and needing comfort, but what happens when your husband walks in?

pairing: aemond targaryen x reader x aegon ii targaryen

warnings: mature/explicit, 18+ (minors dni!), no use of y/n, afab reader, mommy kink!! i cannot stress that enough!! astronomical amounts of titty suckin', nipple/breast play, oral (f receiving), handjob, fingering, piv, angst but happy ending, hand on throat but no choking, subby aegon, breeding kink, creampie, consensual threeway relationship, let me know if i missed any!

word count: 6k oops

a/n: header image is for aesthetics only & is not used to describe the reader! a huge huge thanks to my honorary wife & this fics adoptive mother @toms-cherry-trees 🩵 thank you for all your help with this one!!

likes, comments, & reblogs are very appreciated but never required!

🌟add yourself to my taglist to be notified when i post new fics!

“Aww,” you coo softly, eyes filled with adoration as you study the man on your lap, “Are you mommy’s precious little baby? Hm?” You brush a silvery lock of hair off of his face, trailing your thumb over the light flush across his cheeks as your other hand rubs soothingly over one of his biceps.

Aegon hummed and nodded as best he could around your pert nipple, bright eyes lazily blinking up at you. One of your thumbs gently sweeps away tears from the corners of his eyes while you gently rock him as best you can, gazing at him with a smile. You stay quiet for a while, taking pleasure in the way he clings to you so needily, the way he’s looking at you as if you hung the stars in the sky.

You can’t help the sigh that leaves your lips at the feel of his warm mouth around your nipple, his tongue flicking and teasing at the sensitive skin as he carefully suckles it in his mouth. “Shh,” you whisper, calming Aegon when you see another wave of tears threatening to spill from his violet eyes, “I promise there is nothing to worry yourself over, my little prince,” you tell him softly, trying to squeeze him somehow closer to you, “Just rumors, nothing more.”

You couldn’t help but feel protective of Aegon, your heart twisting as you remember the state he was in at the beginning of the evening when he had first loudly burst into your chamber.

The fire in the hearth warmed your skin as you sat on the sofa in the small sitting area of yours and Aemond’s chambers, easily guiding the needle through the fabric of your embroidery as you hummed a song. With a sigh, you held the hoop up and tilted your head as you examined your work, nearly dropping it when you jumped at the sound of the heavy doors of your chambers crashing open.

You jumped up, whirling around to see who could’ve possibly been disturbing you in such a manner, already glaring before you’d even turned your head. Your narrowed eyes widened however when you saw Aegon striding toward you, a pained look on his face.

“Is it true?” He had questioned, coming to a stop a little ways away from you, voice shaking even through the angry tone of his voice.

“Is what true?” Your eyebrows furrowed together in confusion as you clasped your hands in front of you.

His frown had faltered for a second, eyes already sparkling with tears as his hands clenched at his sides. “The whispers in court,” he explained, gaze flitting from you to the stone floor, “The rumors about – about you and my brother.”

Shaking your head, you had carefully walked toward him, “My love, I am sure they are untrue,” your voice had been gentle, “I cannot even imagine what they would be ab—“

“That you’re pregnant!” His voice was thick with unshed tears as he spit out the words, “That you must be!” This had left you dumbfounded, unable to do anything but gawk at him, which had only served to upset him further. He had sighed heavily and fixed you with a tearful gaze, bottom lip quivering, “So it’s true?”

“No!” You rushed out, emphatically shaking your head as you hurried to him. “My love, my sweet baby,” your fingers carded through his hair when you reached him. You had gently pulled his gaze to yours before you had cupped his cheeks, your fingers already damp from the tears streaking them, “That is nothing more than court gossip, I promise you. I swear upon the Mother, you’ve nothing to worry about.”

The dam had finally broken as he hiccuped out a sob, his shoulders sagging. “D-Do you mean it?” He’d asked meekly, voice so small you had felt your heart squeeze painfully in your chest.

“Oh,” you had taken his hands in yours and led him to your bed, sitting him down at the edge as his body started shaking with sobs. Sitting next to him, you wrapped your arms around his neck, gently cupping the back of his head as he slumped against you and rested a wet cheek against your chest. “My little prince, I swear to you I do,” you pressed a kiss to the top of his head, rocking the two of you together, “You know Aemond and I would not do that to you.”

His fingers had clung to your sides as he sobbed, hands bunching in the fabric of your gown. “They’re saying it’s been long enough,” he’d said mournfully, “Th-That it’s been three moons since the w-wedding and y-you must be by now.”

You’d stroked his hair comfortingly and rested your chin on the top of his head, feeling his hot tears trail down your cleavage, “You know your brother and I would speak with you first, my love. We would not leave you out, you know how this arrangement works.”

The only answer you got was a small sniffle, his shoulders still trembling, although not nearly as badly. You had let him calm down for a moment more, rocking him against you while you hummed his favorite song.

Eventually, he had calmed down, his shoulders steadying and his breath evening out. You had almost assumed he was asleep before you heard him whimper against your collarbone, pink lips mouthing needily at your skin. Your lips had quirked up in a smile as you had gently pulled him up, his small whine making you chuckle as you looked into his eyes.

“Do you need some time with mommy, my little love?”

Which is how you found yourself in your current position – reclined on the plush pillows of your bed with Aegon’s head in your lap, his lips eagerly suckling at your breast, not getting any real milk but the action calmed him still. You shiver slightly in the cool breeze that wafts in from the balcony, the air growing colder now that the sun has set.

Aegon sighs contentedly, his warm breath fanning across your chest as small whimpers and whines slip past his lips. The small noises make you chuckle as you run a hand over his bare chest, “You’re my favorite little prince, do you know that?” You whisper, softly tickling his side enough to make him giggle and squirm. He smiles around your breast and nods happily, his nose digging into the fat of your breast as he presses himself more firmly against you.

You stiffen a little at the sound of your chamber door opening once again, unable to see the entryway from the decorative screen you and your husband had placed in front of the bed. You make no move to disturb Aegon, though – bless the poor maids but there is not much they haven’t seen already. It is not a maid, however, that rounds the corner and you are instead met with the wide, surprised eye of your husband.

After a second, the shock melts off of his face and he smirks at the sight of the two of you, his older brother still suckling away at your breast as if nothing were amiss. “My, my,” he tuts, stalking across the room to deposit the stack of books he carries onto the small breakfast table by the balcony before returning his attention to you once more, “I left my wife this morning dripping with my spend and already I return to a babe.”

“Aemond!” You hiss, frowning when you hear Aegon whimper at your chest, “Please, he is already in a state.”

“And in our chambers,” Aemond takes a seat at the table, unlacing his boots before setting them to the side, along with his leather tunic, “Normally you two reserve this… intimacy for his rooms.” His long fingers quickly untie his trousers, leaving them hanging from his slender waist as he moves about your chambers, poking the fire in the hearth back to life and tidying the papers on the writing desk.

You soothe Aegon when he whimpers again, looking up at you with questioning, unsure eyes as a blush blooms on his cheeks. Even if his brother knows the details of your relationship with him, and even though he had walked in on him in this exact position before, he couldn’t help but feel so shy and vulnerable when he got this way.

“Shh, my sweet,” you speak softly to the man at your breast, running your fingers through his pale hair, “Just relax, you’re okay.” Your words seem to settle him and his eyes grow droopy and half-lidded once more, a contented groan rumbling through his chest.

“You should have seen him earlier,” you turn back to Aemond, eyes following him as he walks to your dressing table, “Poor thing came crying about court gossip.” You didn’t miss the small eye roll your husband gave at you calling his brother “poor thing” but you chose to ignore it for the time being; you didn’t love their endless taunts and teasing but they were still brothers, after all.

“And what was the sweet babe weeping about this time?” Aemond asks, his voice dripping with derision as he takes a cloth from the small wash basin on the dressing table and quickly wipes at his neck and shoulders, droplets of water streaming down his defined frame and running into the lines and dips of the muscles on his chest, arms, and abdomen.

Aegon growls at your chest, not missing the mockery in his brother’s tone. You try to calm him but it’s no use, he pulls off of your chest and throws Aemond a vicious look; you merely make yourself comfortable against the pillows and sigh tiredly. Gods be good, you thought, staring up at the stone ceiling as if the Seven would appear to offer their guidance; you love the two brothers more than anything else but you could do without their brotherly spats.

“Well?” Aemond goads, his eye widening as he stares at his brother, a silent challenge.

“He feared I was pregnant,” you interject quickly, attempting to quell the coming squabble before it broke out, “Apparently the ladies of court have nothing better to do than monitor my condition.” You put an arm around Aegon as you speak, as if keeping him close to you would keep the two men from bickering.

“You are my wife,” Aemond huffs out a sardonic laugh, a smirk playing at his lips as he wrings out the cloth and leaves it to dry on the side of the wash basin, “Why would it be of his concern if –”

Aegon growls against your breast again, letting your nipple fall from his pink lips as he fixes his brother with a glare, one that falters for half a second as you protectively tighten your hold on him. His dark eyes continue to glare at Aemond, following his every move as he comes to stand at the side of the bed, arms crossed over his chest as he studies the two of you.

“Hush, my love,” you pet at his head and shoulders in an attempt to soothe him once more, glaring at your husband in warning, “This is nothing we need worry ourselves with tonight.”

Aemond comes to sit next to you on the bed, giving Aegon a quick glare before he leans down and places a tender kiss to the top of your head. “You’re right,” he says into your hair, one hand coming up to cup the side of your face, “We need not trouble ourselves with it tonight.”

Aegon huffs against your chest once more and gives his brother a final warning glance before looking up at you with a questioning gaze, pouty lips parted in an unspoken question.

“You need some more time with mommy?” You ask him softly, grinning when he shyly nods, still so skittish of his needs around his brother. You coo and give him a nod, unable to stop the sigh that leaves you at the feel of his mouth on you once more. His tongue delicately licks at your hardened nipple before he sucks it into his mouth, still teasing it as he suckles.

You admire him for a moment, studying the way his long lashes fan out over his cheeks once his eyes slip closed, his arms wrapped protectively around your middle as he kneels at your side.

Finally, you turn your head to Aemond, surprised to see his eye trained on his brother, watching as he nurses at your breast. “Husband?” You ask tentatively; your relationship with both brothers was not a secret, at least not between the three of you, but even still, you rarely had them at the same time.

His eye finally meets yours and he smiles, cuddling you closer, which earns a small whine from Aegon as he’s forced to move a fraction of an inch with you. “You needn’t worry so much,” he keeps his voice soft as he speaks, trailing kisses down your temple and cheek, “I’m merely thinking.”

“About?”

“Putting a babe in you,” he all but growls into your ear before kissing the delicate skin just below it. “Seeing you grow with my child,” he continues, one hand skimming up your arm before he cups your unoccupied breast, long fingers kneading it gently before they pinch at your nipple, “Watching as these swell with your sweet milk.”

A shiver rolls through you at the thought, and at the salacious groan that vibrates from Aegon’s mouth. Your husband smirks at your reaction, watching proudly as your eyes become cloudy and unfocused.

“Do you like that?” Aemond asks against the column of your throat as his lips and teeth and tongue work against your skin, sucking marks into the flesh, “Like the thought of my seed filling you up, finally taking root?”

You hardly register Aegon’s whine, eyes squeezed shut as you feel your husband pressing himself to you, lips pressing against any bit of your skin he can reach, chuckling softly at how easy it is to work his brother up. “Wouldn’t that be something, brother?” Aemond questions sarcastically, his eye glimmering mischievously, “Wouldn’t she be so beautiful with my babe in her?”

The older brother grumbles something against you before redoubling his efforts, making you gasp as he begins suckling at you harshly, nose twitching in annoyance. You calm him as best you can, a shaky hand coming up and carding delicately through his hair – Aemond’s ministrations making it hard to concentrate.

“You’ll be such a good mother, sweetling,” Aemond says lowly, kissing his way down your stomach as he moves to kneel between your thighs, “So perfect and sweet and caring.” He continues, punctuating each word with a kiss against your abdomen, his long hair tickling the skin of your thighs.

“Aemond,” you pant softly, back arching as Aegon’s teeth just barely graze against your sensitive nipple, “Please!” You beg, though whether it’s to get him to stop taunting his brother or carry on with you, you cannot say.

“Shh,” he presses wet kisses against one of your thighs, lips trailing slowly up to where you want him most before he tilts his head and begins kissing up the other thigh as well, his pace torturously slow, “I always give you what you want, do I not?”

A loud, uncontained moan tears itself from your throat as Aemond presses a kiss against your folds, groaning into your heat as he tastes you. “Gods, you’re dripping,” he growls into your cunt, practically making out with your center as his hands come to rest on the tops of your thighs, holding you in place, “Did your babe not care for you at all?”

At this, Aegon pauses, whining against your breast as he lifts his head, thin tendrils of drool connecting his shining lips to your hardened nipple. The feeling of his mouth lifting off of you has you finally opening your eyes, only to be met with his wide, uncertain eyes.

“Mommy?” His voice is so small, so terribly worried at the thought that he may have disappointed you somehow.

“Oh, sweet prince,” you whisper, voice catching in your throat as you gasp at the feel of Aemond sucking your aching pearl into his mouth, worrying the sensitive skin between his lips. Your brows furrow with concentration as your eyes meet Aegon’s, your hands gently cupping his cheeks, “Don’t worry yourself,” you have to pause again as a curse slips past your lips, “You’re my perfect little baby, you could never disappoint me.”

You finally manage to pant out your reassurances, eyes nearly rolling to the back of your head at the feel of Aemond’s hot tongue licking into your center, his nose pressed firmly against your bud as he fucks you on the long muscle, groaning into your slick folds as he savors your sweet taste. You stare desperately into Aegon’s dark eyes, back arching as your husband feasts on your cunt with practiced ease, the slick, squelching sounds of him licking into you and suckling at your pearl making you mewl and blush.

“You’re so beautiful, mommy,” Aegon murmurs softly, violet eyes staring at you with rapture, as if he’s trying to absorb the pleasure radiating from you, “So pretty.” He breathes finally and leans down to press a soft kiss against your lips, whimpering when he feels your tongue press into his mouth.

The men hold you like that for a moment, letting you lie back on the bed as they attend to you – Aemond murmuring dirty praises into your cunt as he licks at you wildly, flicking shapes and patterns against your pearl that have your head spinning; Aegon swallowing your wanton moans in his own mouth as he moves his lips against yours.

You whine against the older brother’s mouth when you feel your husband’s fingers gently prodding your center, gathering wetness on them before carefully pushing two into your heat. “Seven, you’re tight,” his breath is warm against your glossy folds, “Always so tight, feels so good, sweetling.” He purrs before quickly wrapping his lips around your bud once more, gently sucking at the tender flesh but combined with the pressure of his fingers, it’s enough to send you into a tailspin.

You pull away from Aegon with a gasp, back arching off the bed as you whine Aemond’s name, blushing as you hear the loud wet sounds emanating from where his fingers fuck into your cunt. Faintly, you hear Aegon whimpering next to you, his soft cries almost in time with yours as he presses soft kisses along your neck and shoulder.

“Mommy, my mommy,” he whispers in reverence, leaning across your chest to get to the breast he’s neglected thus far, kissing softly across your supple skin and teasing your nipple with the tip of his tongue before finally suckling it into his mouth, closing his eyes with a soft groan as he nurses, getting lost in the feel of you beneath him, your skin on his.

Aegon’s lips around your nipple has you breaking, every muscle in your body seeming to tense up as your high overtakes you. A strange mixture of their names leaves your lips in a rough moan as you squeeze your eyes shut, fire exploding through you.

“That’s it,” Aemond groans, crooking up his fingers within you as he feels your walls pulsing around them, pressing them into that rough patch he has memorized in your heat, the one he knows prolongs your peak, “Gods, that felt like a big one, sweetling.”

Somehow, you find it within yourself to nod tiredly, chest heaving as you catch your breath, slinging an arm over Aegon’s back as he sighs happily against your chest.

“Made you feel good, mommy,” he chuckles proudly around your breast, nipping and licking at your nipple as he tilts his head to meet your gaze, earning an annoyed huff from Aemond as he presses calming kisses against your thighs and hips.

He’s so proud of himself that you can’t help yourself from smiling and giggling, your fingers carding through his hair. “Oh, yes you did,” you coo, “You made me feel so good, my precious boy.”

Below you, Aemond bites at your thigh as a warning, making you jump. “Keep it up and you’ll only give him a bigger ego,” he rolls his eyes and presses wet kisses in a trail up your stomach, stopping only when he reaches Aegon, still lying across you. The bed dips as Aemond crawls back up to lie next to you, kissing his way up your neck and jaw before finally slotting his lips against your own.

A whimper escapes your lips as he does, one of your hands reaching up to run your fingers through his long hair, the pale strands threading between your digits like silk. He sighs into the kiss, one of his hands coming up to gently cup your neck, not choking but merely staking a claim. The action makes you mewl and he uses it to his advantage, quickly sliding his tongue across your bottom lip before entwining it with your own as he licks into your mouth. You can feel your face heat up as you taste yourself on his lips, squirming in his hold as Aegon continues licking and suckling at your hardened nipple, sending shivers of pleasure up your spine and quickly reigniting the flames in your belly.

Aemond smirks as your moans change in pitch, the familiar high-pitched, whiny cadence causing him to let out a low, vibrating growl himself.

“Please, Aemond,” you whisper against his lips, whimpering as he trails his kisses down your jaw and neck.

Your husband groans softly against your shoulder, a shudder rolling through him at the breathy way you say his name, his favorite sound. “You need not beg me, sweetling,” he sighs, gently gripping your hips and nodding for you to roll onto your side, “I’ve got you.”

Aegon whines as Aemond moves you, struggling to keep his soft lips latched around your peaked nipple, which earns him another eye roll from your husband. Quickly, you settle onto your side, both arms immediately wrapping around Aegon to hold him close. His pale hair tickles your lips as you press a sweet kiss to the crown of his head, softly giggling as he desperately suckles your nipple back into his mouth; your sweet boy could be at your breast for hours and it still wouldn’t be enough for him.

The bed dips on either side of you as the two men bracket you between them, Aemond behind you and Aegon in front. Your husband presses kisses against the back of your shoulder as he slots himself against you, the warmth of his chest pressing against your back sends a shiver down your spine and makes your already stiff nipples harden to the point of aching.

“Iksā sīr gevie, ñuha ābrazȳrys,” Aemond whispers against your shoulder as he trails a hand over your curves, humming appreciatively as he palms the swell of your arse, “Avy jorrāelan sīr olvie.” (You are so beautiful, my wife, I love you so much.)

You whimper at his words, your heart twisting happily in your chest as you recall their meaning from the lessons he had given you during your courtship. “Avy jorrāelan tolī, ñuha valzȳrys,” you manage to moan brokenly, “So much, Aemond!” You breathe, foggy brain unable to keep up with translations any longer. (I love you too, my husband.)

A gasp leaves you as Aemond presses himself against you tightly as you realize that he had managed to tug off his trousers at some point, his length slotting beautifully between your thighs as he ruts against you.

“Gods!” Your slick folds part greedily as your husband rubs against your center, coating his cock in your juices, the tip rubbing deliciously against your pearl, “Oh, Aemond!”

“Shhh,” he breathes against your ear as one of his warm hands latches onto your thigh and pulls it up, giving him more room to guide his cock into your heat, “I’ve got you, sweetling, I have you.”

You nod, near delirious, practically sobbing as he finally guides himself into you, filling you perfectly. Your head lolls back, further into his embrace as he slowly presses into you, stretching you as he finally bottoms out, stones pressed firmly to your backside as a low, gravelly groan vibrates against your back.

“You feel so good,” you moan breathily, your fingers scrambling through Aegon’s hair as you press his mouth against you, earning a whimper from the prince as he takes your breast further into his mouth, suckling at it greedily, spit leaking from the corners of his lips.

“Feels perfect,” Aemond huffs, grunting as he begins moving his hips against yours, eye squeezing shut at the feel of your slick walls sucking him in as you quiver around his length, “You feel perfect, tight little cunt.” He mutters, more to himself than to you, hissing the words between clenched teeth.

You let yourself get lost for a moment, a light sheen of sweat blanketing your skin from the heat of the two men around you. You make no attempt to stop soft, satisfied moans from slipping out of your lips, breathing your pleasure against Aegon’s forehead as Aemond rocks into you, thrusting his hips in a well-practiced pattern as he fills you again and again. Your husband’s grip tightens on your thigh, making your eyes roll back deliciously as Aegon flicks his tongue against your nipple before greedily sucking it back into his mouth.

A few moments later, you’re brought out of your reverie by a slick feeling at the front of your thigh, small whimpers and whines from the man at your breast finally managing to trickle their way into your consciousness.

You finally open your eyes, letting out a soft moan as you take in the sight before you – Aegon suckling desperately at your sensitive breast, his dark eyes looking up at you pleadingly, already shimmering with unshed tears, as he ruts his hard length against your thigh, already leaking glossy trails onto your skin with every movement.

“Ohh,” you coo softly, pressing a kiss to his sweat-damp forehead as you wrap your hand around his length, feeling it immediately twitch in your grasp, “You need mommy to take care of you?” You ask breathily.

“P-Please,” Aegon whimpers brokenly, flicking his tongue over your nipple as he nods his head, “Hurts!” He whines, voice thick as tears leak from the corners of his eyes.

You press another comforting kiss to his forehead, gasping in time with Aemond’s hard thrusts as you begin slowly teasing the prince’s hard length, cooing again as you feel him pulsing in your grasp. “What a good boy,” you whine, swirling your thumb against his leaking tip, “Getting so hard from hearing mommy get fucked, hm?”

You feel him shudder against you, a low groan sounding against your breast as his hips fuck up into your hold. He whines as you let go of his cock for a second, quickly running your fingers around where Aemond spears into you. Your husband grunts behind you at the sensation as you quickly gather some of your juices on your fingers, moaning brokenly as you flick them around your pearl for a second before returning your attention to Aegon.

Your face heats as you suddenly get a dirty idea and you take a second to spread some of your juices across your unoccupied breast, chuckling breathily as Aegon immediately abandons the one he’s currently suckling on, a loud moan snaking past his lips when you wrap your slick fingers around his cock once again, easing his thrusts into your fists.

“Greedy babe,” Aemond grunts from over your shoulder, watching as Aegon frantically licks around your breast, humming excitedly at your sweet taste before latching onto your nipple once more, “Suckling at any part of my sweet wife he can reach.”

A fire lights in your belly at Aemond’s words as you’re surprised he’s addressing Aegon at all, his teasing lilt only adding to the heat within you. The prince whines within your grasp, his face flushing to a deeper shade of pink than it already is and his violet eyes shoot daggers in his brother’s general direction, not caring that he can’t see them.

Suddenly, Aemond lets go of your thigh, leaving you to sling it over one of Aegon’s pale hips as he continues thrusting his cock into you, deep and slow. His hand instead settles on one breast and he lovingly palms at it, humming with satisfaction at its weighty feel in his hand.

A loud whine leaves you as his fingers pinch around your overly-sensitive bud, tweaking and tugging at the swollen skin. Your back arches, loud whimpers tumbling past your lips as his touch borders on pain. Aegon growls at your sounds of discomfort, letting your nipple fall from his lips as he sits up just enough to throw him a malicious glare over your shoulder.

“Ngh!” Your little prince grunts, smacking Aemond’s hand away from you before wrapping an arm around your waist protectively and pressing soft kisses to your abused breast, “Mommy?” He questions softly, teary eyes searching yours, desperately wanting to make sure you’re alright.

“Shh, shh,” you soothe sweetly, carding your fingers through his hair as he lays his head on your pillow once more, “Mommy’s okay, my sweet, thank you.” Your words are breathy, feeling halfway forced out of you as Aemond’s thrusts speed up, your mind growing fuzzy as the head of his cock moves against the sensitive spot within you perfectly, making you clench around him. Aegon continues thrusting into your grasp, his hands frantically grabbing onto any parts of you he can reach.

“Pathetic,” Aemond huffs at his brother, biting into the sensitive skin of your neck, “So whiny, fuck, so whiny under your muña’s touch you can’t even speak.” (Mother’s)

Aegon whines again, a high, pitiful sound against your beast as he latches onto you once more, low groans ripping through him as the leaking head of his cock rubs against your soft thigh.

“Hush,” you admonish, one arm hugging possessively around the prince, “Mommy’s taking good care of her sweet little boy, isn’t she?”

“Y-Yes,” Aegon breathes brokenly around a soft moan, his cock twitching desperately in your hand, “Yes, yes, yes!” He chants around your breast, soft little words in time with each stroke of your hand.

You can see him start to lose himself — watching as his eyes grow ever more glossy, tears welling up in the corners while throaty sobs and sighs warm your breast, his length seeming to get somehow thicker in your grasp as the head of his cock positively weeps against you.

“What a good boy,” you sigh encouragingly, smiling proudly, glowing with the knowledge that you can reduce him to such a state, “Are you close, my sweet?”

He nods desperately, soft grunts accompanying the thrusts of his hips up into your grasp. You keep your pace steady, your own head swimming as your release builds within you.

After another few seconds, Aegon begins shaking helplessly in your grasp, his chest heaving as sobs are wrenched from his throat. “That’s it,” you murmur softly, feeling your cunt clench around Aemond’s length at the sight of the prince coming undone before you, making the other man groan loudly behind you, “Come on, I know you’re so close, show mommy how good she makes you feel, my love.”

As always, your soft approval is what unravels him. You moan loudly, watching him fall apart in your arms, relishing the soft moans and sighs of your name as they fall from his pouty lips, the way his hips stutter in your hold. You gasp softly at the feel of his cock twitching between the two of you, his spend coating his belly and chest in pearlescent streaks.

Before he’s even had the chance to recover, your sweet boy finds it within himself to bring one hand down, greedily seeking out your bud. He sighs happily when you cry out his name, his fingers circling your aching pearl perfectly, just in the way you’d taught him, his chest still heaving with his own release.

“Oh, Gods!” You gasp, your own hips rutting back and forth between the two men, “So c-close, fuck!” You whine, the fire in your belly threatening to consume you.

“That’s a good girl,” Aemond grunts, hips thrusting into you at a maddening pace, “Do you want me to breed a baby into your wet little cunt, sweetling?”

You and Aegon whine at the same instant, yours in pleasure and his in annoyance. Your walls clench desperately at your husband's thick length, making him chuckle breathlessly behind you.

“Find your pleasure, sweet girl,” he groans, his thrusts somehow perfectly timed to the swirls of Aegon’s fingers against your bud, “Peak and I’ll put a little babe in your belly, my love.”

Aemond’s promise, Aegon’s soft whine, and the feel of their touches mingling on your slick heat finally pushes you over the edge once more. Your cunt pulses around Aemond as you slip over the edge, your pearl buzzing and twitching under Aegon’s fingers as flames of pleasure lick up your spine, sparks exploding behind your eyelids as you cry out against Aegon’s neck.

Your release claws Aemond’s out of him as well, the feeling of his seed emptying into you spurring your peak on further. You whimper, mouthing at the pale skin of your prince’s throat as you feel warmth bloom within you, your husband’s harsh strokes finally slowing to a stop.

The three of you lay silent for a while, the only sounds in your chambers being soft pants and sighs. Finally, Aemond carefully pulls his length from you, soothing you gently when you whine.

“Seven,” he groans softly, watching his seed slip slowly from your spent center, “Perhaps this time we should let it take.” He muses as he gets up from the bed, retrieving a fresh cloth from your dressing table and quickly cleaning your center and thighs.

“But,” Aegon whimpers softly, drawing your attention back to him as he looks at you with wide, worried eyes, “What…what about me?” The meekness in his voice makes your heart ache as you hurriedly hush him, wiping tears from the corners of his eyes with your thumbs.

“You don’t worry about a thing, my little love,” you reassure him, pulling him into your arms and rocking him slowly against you, “No matter what the future holds, you will always be my precious little prince. I swear it.” You promise, pressing soft kisses to each of his cheeks, one of your hands tickling at his side until he squirms and giggles against you, burying his head in your neck with a tired sigh.

Aemond huffs again, setting his eyepatch on the table by your bed before he assumes his spot next to you once more, slinging an arm over your waist as he makes himself comfortable.

On your other side, Aegon shuffles down the bed once more, making you giggle softly as he presses feather light kisses to your breast, sighing happily at the mere feel of your supple skin against his lips as he cozies himself against you.

“Maybe we should hold off on the moon tea this time,” Aemond ponders, mumbling against your shoulder as his fingers trace soothing patterns into the soft skin of your hip, “Surely an actual babe could be no more difficult than the one we already seem to have.”

Aegon whines, Aemond chuckles, and you tiredly groan.

tagged lovelies: @helloworldiamnotarobot @drakonflames @marysucks-blog @hopelesswritergall @phantombitch @fan-goddess @aemshaircare @cuddlejeongin @imaegontatgaryenwife0 @valeskafics @beautbuck @watercolorskyy

(tags are based on your answers to my google form; if you were mistakenly tagged, please contact me & update your answers on the form! thank you!)

6K notes · View notes

harrysxcarolina · 6 months ago

Text

oh, it’s my turn now

b. eilish

warnings: wlw, fluff, soft smut, bottom!billie, Billie receiving, teasing, flirting, cussing, mention of alcohol consumption, a sweet treat in honor of the grammys, partial proof read… oops!

Your are an upcoming artist and have been nominated for your first Grammy. Not expecting to win but beyond honored and grateful for the opportunity to be suggested along side some of the best artists in the industry. Not realizing that you have many secret admirers, one unbeknownst to you, you’ve spent the night gushing about some of the people you were excited to see. With your buzzing excitement and raging nerves you didn’t realize just how often you mentioned one person in particular. Your celebrity crush.

As the night unfolds, you accept your first Grammy, getting talk in to attending an after party by your team, to help broaden your social networking, you may have enjoyed your night a little too much with one too many cocktails. Unbeknownst to you, catching the eyes of many. You were glowing. Every step you took. The smile radiating off your cheeks. You were beyond proud. Excited. And honestly just in shock. Thanking all the congratulations with polite nods and smiles you welcome the end of the night.

You weren’t exactly sure what happened on the carpet as the nerves took over your body. You remember bits and pieces and you certainly didn’t remember gushing about your celebrity crush on national television nonstop.

So to your surprise the morning after to your phone being blown up with different videos and edits of interviews from last night of you announcing your crush on the one and only Billie Eilish.

You two weren’t well acquainted, but have spoken at past events and have flirted, lowkey stolen a couple glances, and smirks at one another but neither of you ever taking that next step of crossing that line. You weren’t sure why, you’d be open to it. Can anyone really blame you though? Not only is she gorgeous, but she’s kind, extremely funny, flirty (you love a good flirt, what can you say.)

But one thing you definitely weren’t prepared for was a message on tik tok from said crush, mixed in with your notifications.

Nearly dropping your phone you freeze. Your heart is beating against your chest. Not sure what exactly was gonna be played in the video attached to the message you glance down once again at your phone. Not processing what was happening in front you.

BILLIE EILISH

1 new message 10 hours ago

*video link shared*

Hi pretty girl, I’ve been waiiiittttttinnnn for yaaaa 😌

Waiting so patiently for you…

With a shaky hand you pick up your phone and click on the video. It’s a snippet of one of last nights interviews.

Amelia was the one asking you the question everyone has been wondering.

“So, any new crushes?!” She asked with a raised eyebrow and small smirk.

Biting your lip trying to fight the smirk working its way across your cheeks. Your hands fidget with the lace in your dress as you avoid looking at the camera. Your cheeks heat up with the blush slowly creeping up on you.

“You know I’ve really been crushing on one girl in particular…” you say shyly as you brush a piece of fallen hair behind your ear. Hopeful to hide some of the blush and bashfulness. Giving a quick glance to the camera a small pout on your lips.

“Ohh do tell girl. I’m dying for the tea” Amelia teases as she gently pushes your shoulder.

“I probably shouldn’t-“ you say a nervous chuckle leaves your lips.

“Girl c’mon don’t tease me, please, I promise I won’t tell.” She jokes making the both of you lose it in a fit of giggles. Slightly leaning into each other as you embrace the moment. Loving the fact that she is slowly helping eat away at the nerves building up inside your tummy.

“I’m actually lowkey jealous of you girl, you’ve been on a date with her.” You say with a pout and a soft nudge to her shoulder causing Amelia to laugh. “Tell me. Right now. I want to know.” Amelia demands a smirk on her face.

Taking a quick glance at the camera a shy smirk is played on your cheeks. “I mean-“ you chuckle biting your lip with a shrug off your shoulders. “It’s Billie.” You state looking at Amelia, your bottom lip between your teeth, waiting for her reaction.

“Shut the front door! You guys would be so fucking cute!” She says gushing at you in excitement. You laugh and shake your head glancing around the carpet. Trying to distract yourself from the raging butterflies in your stomach and the heat rushing to your cheeks.

That’s where the video ends.

You’re left speechless. Exiting out of the video you stare at Billie’s messages. Gently tapping your fingers on the edge of your phone as contemplate on a reply. The butterflies are fluttering dangerously fast in the pit of your stomach. You keep repeating her words in your head. The utter realization that Billie now knows along with the rest of the world knows about your crush on her.

I’ve been waiiiittttttinnnn for yaaaa

Waiting so patiently for you

Your fingers type feverishly across your screen before your nerves can talk yourself out of it.

***

You sit nervously fidgeting with the hem of your shirt. Glancing around the buzzing restaurant hoping to catch sight of the blue eyed girl you planned to meet here casually sipping on the water placed in front of you. Looking down at your phone checking the time you still have a few minutes before your agreed time to meet up, but you being you always had to be early to things. Wanting to make sure to give yourself plenty of time to prepare yourself to be on a date with a girl you’ve been crushing on for a while.

You smell the hint of her perfume before you see her sitting down in front of you. A smirk hung across her face as she sits down and adjust her pants getting herself comfortable. A blush rushes across your cheeks as you take her in. Her long dark locks cascading down her shoulders as she sports a black bandana around the crown on her head. Her piercing blues eyes outlined with black eyeliner and mascara as they hide behind the glasses resting on the bridge of her nose.

Her baggy shirt hanging loosely off her torso, but showing off her curves perfectly. Her jeans hanging just off her hips as the belt securely tugs the material around her hips.

Her bottom lip hides between her teeth as she takes you in as well.

The night goes flawlessly as you both enjoy dinner sharing laughs, smirks, flirty eyes, and the occasional knees brushing under the table, your hands brushing as you pass the salt and pepper back and forth. You breath catches every time, your eyes quickly shooting up to met hers not missing the way her cheeks heat up to a pretty rosy pink anytime you make contact. Her bottom lip slightly swollen as an after math of her teeth nervously nibbling away at it. You can practically feel the heat radiating off the both of you.

The tension getting thicker through out the night as you both shamelessly flirt and banter back and forth. You can’t deny the connection you already feel between the both of you. Taking in all her little details as your eyes trace across her face. Noting all her quirks as her eyes brows twitch in response to a joke you say as you watch her throw her head back in laughter. The way she nervously fidgets with the rings that take claim to her fingers as she talks about the things she is passionate about. The way the light reflecting off her ocean blue eyes leaves you wandering in the waves of wanting to know all the thoughts floating around in that pretty head of hers.

Before you know it the staff notify you that they are getting ready to close up for the night. Not realizing how much time you’ve spent sitting here sharing stories and asking each other questions to hopefully help you both get to know each other on a different level. Smiling politely at the staff mumbling a soft apology as you reach for you purse to care of the bill but are stop before you could even get your bag unzipped. Billie handing her card to the waiter and shushing you as she dismisses your protests.

Stating that it was her treat and how she wanted to. Offering you comforting reassurance that she had a great time, and that she would happily pay for your dinner again if you let her. A smirk playing on her face as she lays her hand across the small of your back. Leading you out the restaurant into the dimly light street. You feel the heat spread across your lower back from the pressure of her fingers rubbing soothing shapes over the fabric of your dress.

The cool breeze brushes through your hair as you both stroll towards your parked cars. Not wanting the night to end as you stand there tightly clutching the straps of your purse not sure what to do with your hands as they itch desperately to trail down her warm skin.

“I had a really good time tonight.” Billie quietly admits as you reach your car. Glancing up at you through her lashes her bashfulness showing through as she takes a step towards you. Her hand reaching out and gently grasping your hips. Your breath hitches as you look down taking in her hand on your hip. Your heart beating so fast against your chest you pray that she couldn’t hear it. Her fingers flexing across your hip.

“Me too. Do you maybe wanna go back to my place?” You rush out not fully realizing what you were saying before you said it. You cheeks heat up in embarrassment. Clutching your purse tighter as you look down at your shoes. Hopeful you didn’t give off the wrong impression. You just weren’t ready to end the night. You felt so safe and comfortable in her presence and you wanted to be greedy and hold onto it a little bit longer.

Her smile is evident as she tilts your head up to meet hers. Her eyes sparkling with a hit of mischief as her response brushes across your face.

“I thought you’d never ask.” She admits as she suggests following you back to your place but not before she lays a soft peck across your cheek.

“Drive safe pretty girl,” She whispers across the shell of your ear before she backs away and heads towards her car.

***

Swiftly unlocking your front door and quickly tossing your keys on the coffee stand right inside the door. Barely having enough time to get through the door before Billie has her hands back on your hips pressing you tightly between her and the door. Your hands tangling themselves deep into her dark locks as your lips battle for dominance. A low moan echos off Billies lips as she trails her kisses down your jaw to your neck.

Head tilting back as your eyes clench shut. Billies hands roaming your lower torso as her lips leave open mouth kisses down your neck. Your grip in her hair tightening as she finds your sweet spot. Sucking and nibbling your skin until she’s satisfied. Hips bucking up against hers in response as her teeth graze across your hot skin. Her tongue soothing the red mark she left behind. Growling as her hips press harder against yours as she gently rocks herself against you.

“You know how long I’ve been waiting for you?” She whimpers against your neck. Her hand sliding under the hem of your shirt as her fingertips tease your waistline. Wanting to feel the small hitches in your breathing as she slowly moves her fingertips higher up. Not able to fully form words, to far gone from the feeling of her lips on your neck and her hands roaming your body you shake your head. Her breath hot against your skin as she peppers kisses across your jaw. Her fingertips reaching your under boob stopping briefly to glance up at you silently asking permission. A slight nod is all she needed for a response as she captures your clothed breast in her hand. Whimpering and arching your back off the door as she gropes your breast. Rubbing your sensitive nub through the fabric in your bra causing your head to get dizzy.

You legs wobble slightly trying to engrave the feeling of her lips on your skins as she traces your tongue across you salty skin. Urging her to move things into the bedroom so you can not only get your hands on her, but to also aid in a more comfortable surface.

Body’s tangling together as your back hits your mattress. Billie falling on top of you as her lips don’t miss as beat as she cups your cheek and reconnects your lips. Swallowing her moans as you buck your hips up against her as she slowly slides your shirt up your torso. Tossing it somewhere on the floor as her eyes trace down your body. Her hands gripping your hips as her thumbs gently brush against your warm skin.

A bashful smile works its way across your cheeks as you stare up at her catching her gaze as your hands guide her to rest across your lap. Placing her thighs on either side of your hips her hands return to warm skin. Watching as your chest heaves softly up and down. Brushing the fallen pieces of hair out of her face as she leans down and kisses across your chest. Moaning against your skin as your run your hands up and down her spine pressing her close to you. Her hand sliding down from your cheek to your neck as she deepens the kiss.

Her tongue gently moves across your lower lip patiently waiting for permission to taste you. Tilting your head as your grant her access your hands gripping the hem of her shirt slowly tugging it up her body. Groaning at the fact the both of you still have too much clothing on. Breaking apart from your kiss to remove her shirt the rest of the way before reaching behind her and removing her bra clasp. Smirking down at you as she slowly slides the straps down her shoulders as her breast feel free.

You feel the pool of wetness between your thighs as you moan at the sight in front of you. Her breast sitting perfectly at eye level as your teeth capture your bottom lip. Letting your mind run wild of all the things you want to do with the pretty girl sitting on top of you. Gripping her hips and gently laying her back against the bed. Whispering against her skin, my turn, as your trace your lips down her naked chest.

Making sure to give equal attention as you kiss across her cleavage. Leaving a trail of wet kisses as you look up at her through your lashes. A soft smile spreads across your face as your take in the sight above you.

Her hair sprawled out as her back slightly arches off the bed. Silently begging you to wrap your lips around her aching buds. Her swollen lips and a rosy pink as her pearly white teeth lay their claim against it. Her hands clenching the lose blankets as you graze your teeth across her goosebump covered skin. Getting closer and closer to her perky nipples.

Clasping her buds between your lips as your tongue flicks, sucks, and twists her nipples. Her moans echoing off the walls and into your hears as her hands grasp your head holding you tightly against her. Her hips bucking up uncontrollably against your heated core. You feel the tight pull deep in your core as you become addicted to her pretty moans. Wanting and needed to hear them more.

Working your lips to her other breast your fingers slide their way up from her hip making sure to twist and pull her nipple between your fingertips in time with the flicks of your tongue on her opposite nipple. Her hands tightly tangling themselves in your hair as you release her nipple and work your lips down between her breast. Teasing her skin with the tip of your tongue letting her hands gently control the movement of your head as your leave a trail of kisses in your wake. You can feel her breath hitch as you kiss across her hipbones. You fingers tapping their way up her clothed thigh reaching for her belt. You fingers fumble briefly as you unclasp it and hear the slight chuckle rolling off Billies lips.

Refusing to look up at her as the heat radiates off your cheeks as your unbuckle her pants and slide them down her legs. Taking a moment to pause and really look at her. Tucking a piece of fallen out behind your ear Billie leaning up and cupping your cheek once more. Laying a soft peck to your lips as her thumb brushes against your pink cheeks.

“You’re cute when you blush,” She states as you feel her smile against your lips. Chuckling softly in return as you gently cup her face. Looking up at her not fully believing the events of the last couple days. Her eyes flicker between yours and your lips as she kisses you once more as her hands glide around your torso and up your back. Unclasping your bra and slowly sliding it down with her fingertips. Pulling apart briefly, your foreheads lean against each other as your breast fall free. Her free hand is quick to grope your breast as yours gently spread her thighs. Head falling to her shoulder as she twists and pulls on your nipple. Her lips hot on your skin as your fingers slowly trace up her thigh getting dangerously close to her dripping core.

Moaning as you spread her wetness around teasing her clit with your fingertips gloating at the way her hips buck against your fingers and the way she quietly whimpers in your ear.

“Lay back for me,” you moan as you gently push her back onto the bed and wiggle your way down between her thighs. Her hooded eyes watching your every move as your kisses along her thigh. Your eyes never faltering from hers as you inch your lips closer and closer to her core. She can’t stop herself from wiggling under your touch as you trace your lips everywhere but where she desperately needed them.

“Fuck, please-” she begs as her head tilts back on the pillow her hands grasping at the bed sheets. Her hips bucking up brushing against your lips, causing her to lose herself in another around of moans. Grinning against her skin, wrapping your arms around her hips pinning her torso back down on the bed. Tisking her as your lips kiss up and down her lips. Gently blowing hot air against her wet folds as you look up at her through your lashes.

“What was that?” You reply with a smirk leaving a kiss on her mound. Moving one of her hands to your hair as she bucks her hips up once again. Silently begging you to do anything. Anything at all to the relieve the ache that was building between her thighs. “Please,” she whimpers once more. Her bottom lip between her teeth.

“Please what baby? I need words.” You retort mockingly as you gently flick the tip of your tongue between her folds. Her spread legs shaking slightly as her hips try to grind against your wet muscle. Her groans getting louder as you can feel her frustration from all the pent up tension between the two of you. “You gonna tell me what you want?” You ask as you place a chaste kiss in the crease of her pelvis gently nibbling at her skin. Her back arching off the bed at your soft mocking tone.

“I want- fuck- I want your tongue,” she begs. “I want your fucking tongue. Please!” She gasps as you moan in response. Not needed to be told twice as you dive in between her folds. Relishing in her taste across your buds. Gripping her hips and pulling her tighter against your mouth lapping up everything and anything she’s offering you. Flicking your tongue across her swollen clit. Her hips rotating against you as you slide your tongue between her folds. Working her clit fast and hard as you flatten your tongue out aiding in grinding her hips against your face as you slide your hand up her torso searching for her perky breast. Moaning into her heated core as your rock yourself against the cool sheets twisting and pulling on her nipple as your tongue works faster against her. Sucking her clit gently grazing the sensitive bud between your teeth as Billie looses all control as her legs shake and tremble around your head. Her hands gripping your hair tighter, pulling your face further into her core as you slide your fingers between her folds spreading around her wetness as you steal a quick glance up at her.

You lips and tongue not faltering as you tease her with the tip of your middle finger. Her breathing getting heavier the more you tease her. Her whimpers are soft and sweet as you slowly thrust your fingers fully between her lips. The both of you moaning at the feeling of you finally being between her thighs. Her mouth making a perfect o as you twist and flex your fingers against her walls.

“God, pretty girl, you feel so fucking good.” Billie moans out as she licks her lips looking down at the sight of you between her legs. Sitting up to get a better view of you, with the support of her arms, groaning as she watches your work your tongue between her folds and then back up to her clit. Sucking her deeper into your mouth as you curve your fingers just right searching for her sweet spot. Her head falling back on her shoulders as she groans out in ecstasy.

“Shiiit, yes right there, fuck-” she moans as she holds your head against her core grinding her hips against your warm mouth.

Working your tongue faster as your fingers seep deeper hitting that spongy sweet spot over and over again. Your fingers digging deep into her hip bone with the hand pinning her down on your bed as you feel her begin to clench around your fingers. Squeezing you so tightly as her breath hitches.

“Fuck, keep sucking my clit like that Mamas. I’m going to cum all over- fuck- I’m going to cum all over that pretty mouth of yours.” She declares as you thrust your fingers deeper, sucking her clit deeper into your warm mouth as your tongue flicks and licks away at her sensitive nerve bundle. Her body goes stiff as your feel her clenching around your fingers. Grinding her hips faster against your mouth and fingers feeling the intense build up for her orgasm consuming not only her body but thoughts. That your were making her feel better than she ever had, and that she never wanted it to end.

Rotating your wrist as you help ride out her high for as long as possible. Her breath ragged as her chest heaves up and down. Your tongue laying soft kitten licks along her core. Sliding your fingers gently from between her legs as you kiss your way up her body. Her body jerking slightly from overstimulation as you hear her softly hum. Kissing between the valley of her breast as you slither your hips between hers. Bucking your hips unintentionally against her as you feel her wetness soaks into the front of your pants. Billie hissing as her hands slide up your naked back. Teasing your spine with her fingertips as you kiss your way to her lips. Laying a sweet kiss on her lips before you snuggle into her neck. You feel her heart beat under your fingertips as you trace soothing shapes across her cleavage. A smirk working its way across your face.

“So you’ve been waiting on me huh?” you snort in her neck as her hips grip your hips. A soft hum is heard above you before you feel her lips pressing to your forehead.

Her smirk evident as she quickly flips you over. Laying beneath her as her hands brace herself on either side of your head.

“You have no idea,” she chuckles as she glances down at your half naked body. Her hips pinning yours to the bed as she captures your lips between hers. The kiss is heated and rushed as if she would be worried you’d disappear.. Groaning against you lips as her teeth capture your bottom lip. Gently pulling and letting go with a pop as she trails kisses across your jaw landing right below your earlobe.

“Now it’s my turn,” she growls in your ear leaving her mark all along your neck as she plans all the ways she’s going to have you. Moaning at the endless possibilities.

#billie eilish #billie eilish fic #billie eilish fluff #billie eilish smut #billie eilish x fem!reader #billie #billie eilish blurb #billie eilish fanfic #billie eilish girlfriend #billie eilish x female reader #eilish #Billie eilish x you #wlw #b eilish #billie eilish reader

458 notes · View notes

jinxvex · 7 months ago

Note

Oh my gosh your writing is great! Can we please get a headcanons of caitlyn x crybaby girlfriend? Like where her girlfriend is more sensitive and emotional than she is? Sfw and nsfw please, and perhaps a bit of size difference sprinkled (Cause that woman is TALL OH MY WORD) if it's possible? Take your time please! And thank you <3

♱ gf!caitlyn x emotional/sensitive gf!reader headcanons!! ♱

i'm sorry for the wait y'all!! LOL i've been a bit lazy (oop)

cw: sfw & nsfw, reader that cries and is emotional, cute and wholesome (sfw portion), pet names, dirty talk, she uses a strap (spoiler! it's royal blue!!!), praise, degradation, dumbification, humiliation, slight size kink, slight crying kink, you eat each other out, fingering, etc!!

SFW:

♱ caitlyn finds your sensitivity adorable and admirable. she’s almost jealous of how you’re so in tune with your emotions. your submissive, emotional personality goes hand in hand with her casual dominance and urges to protect the people she loves.

♱ caitlyn’s heart palpitates every time your eyes sparkle with emotions you can’t even explain at times— when your fingers clench the bottom of her shirt and you look up at her with raw vulnerability.

- “what’s the matter, darling? talk to me.”

♱ it doesn’t matter if you make a mistake, drop something valuable, or spill a drink, she’s always there to comfort you and tell you it’s alright, “c-cait ’m sorry i didn’t mean t-” + “don’t cry, love. you’ve made a mistake, that’s all.”

♱ cait’s a chronic forehead kisser (lol).

♱ she loves to treat you with the utmost care and consideration! if you’re more emotional and prone to stress-induced crying, she makes sure that there is nothing around you that could cause any unwanted feelings because she feels she isn’t doing her job as your girlfriend (or wife 😛) if you’re unhappy, “i hope everything’s to your liking, love? if you need anything, trust that i’ll give it to you.”

♱ caitlyn always seems to have her hand at the small of your back, rubbing it to show you she’s there if you need her. her protective touch instills a sense of calm in you, keeping you happy, appreciated, and seen.

♱ she slaps your ass playfully whenever you pout. OOPS

♱ she wraps her hands around you in a protective embrace whenever you do cry. she lets you sob into her chest as she hugs your smaller frame, whispering sweet nothings in your ear to comfort you, “shhh, it’s okay. it’s okay. ‘m here, baby, caitlyn’s here.”

♱ caitlyn dresses you in brand-new clothing the morning after you’ve had a bad day/night! (once again) patting your ass when she’s done pulling on your clothes and placing her hand on your hips to guide you to the full-length mirror across from the bed, “gorgeous.” + “look at you, sweetheart. you’re so beautiful.” + “do you like it? the clothes?”

♱ whenever she can’t be with you, busy protecting piltover from its enemies, she asks the maids to give you gifts and notes sent from her to remind you that she loves you—that you should look forward to her arriving home. the last thing she wants is for you to get emotional because you think she’s forgotten you!

♱ while i do agree that she prefers to keep her relationships private and she hates PDA. she wouldn’t hesitate to hold your hand or give you a reassuring hug or kiss whenever you need it!

♱ even when you are in a good mood, laughing and enjoying yourself. you could be in public, private, it doesn’t matter, she’s whispering to you how much she loves you, “your smile is just beautiful, my love.” + “i’m so lucky to have you. so radiant.”

♱ her love languages are words of affirmation, gift-giving, and acts of service!!

NSFW (🤭):

♱ we ALL know deep down she gives dom (specifically dom leaning switch) vibes!! she can get subby too!

♱ dare i say i agree that caitlyn has a MEAN size kink… there’s something about the way you look so much shorter, smaller than her when she’s pounding you into the mattress that makes her dripping wet, “wow, darling. you look so cute like this. so submissive.”

♱ since you can get in your head and get quite emotional, she does praise more than degrade (she still sprinkles it in here or there, especially if you’ve been bad). she likes dumbification and humiliation if that makes sense… WALK WITH ME HERE!!

♱ some of the things she’d say include: “you’re doing so good for me. so obedient. so willing.” + “my cute little whore. you get wet so easily, it’s adorable.” + “you can’t even think, can you? you don’t have to. just do as i say. thaaat’s it, good girl.”

♱ she enjoys making you cry out of embarrassment rather than sadness. imagine you’ve been giving her attitude and rudeness all day and she’s punishing you for it. she would force you to spread your legs and touch yourself while you apologize to her and tell her how much you love her in detail, “i hope you don’t think you’re cumming tonight, love.” + “you’re such a slut. giving me bullshit all day simply because you want to get stuffed full of my cock.” + “don’t you fucking cum. you don’t deserve it today.”

♱ because caitlyn has such a soft spot for you, she’d lowkey give in to your begging and let you cum anyway LMDAOSO.

♱ she spends hours praising you and telling you how good you feel and look during sex! the curve of your waist and hips, your ass and thighs cause her to believe you’re a gift from heaven!

♱ the strap is royal blue!! 6.8 inches… and when she gives you every inch, tears can’t help but prick your eyes and threaten to fall. it’s just too much!! i fear she enjoys it though, her smile toothy as she watches you cry and struggle to take her cock in a mating press, “it hurts, doesn’t it? you take it so well, it’ll feel better soon and you’ll be begging me to fuck you.”

♱ she eats you out after a meltdown!! wanting you to feel better—to feel the love she has for you! she kisses it before she eats it… AGGHHHHHFHHH. she’s always so gentle when she has her tongue on you, licking and kissing softly and spreading your cunt with her fingers, “oh, sweetheart. you’re dripping! can’t wait to eat you up.”

♱ now when you’re eating caitlyn out, she’s caressing your head/holding your hair in a makeshift ponytail. she pushes your head into her cunt, muffling the noises coming from your throat, “yes, yes! mhm right there. don’t stop, darling.”

♱ when you’re fingering her, you always seem to hold back slightly, afraid to hurt her. she urges you to, “go harder, love. you won’t hurt me. i need this, can’t you see?” + you’re the only one who can produce such high-pitched and needy moans from her!

♱ she loves seeing you in lingerie… there’s something that makes her feral seeing someone so sweet in such naughty attire. you have dozens of sets of lingerie and corsets (that she’s gifted you) so when you’re alone, she can see you in them 24/7.

♱ she’s a tribbing enthusiast! but she loves to save it for more emotional, passionate nights with you. it’s very dear to her.

thanks 4 the request!! writing this took long but it was fun! 💋

855 notes · View notes

yelenasbraid · 4 months ago

Text

JOE BURROW — maintaining professionalism [ epilogue ]

mini series summary — She’s a witty, stubborn athletic trainer for the Cincinnati Bengals. He’s the star quarterback who can’t take his eyes off of her. The more she works with him, the stronger the magnetic pull. She’ll do anything to maintain professionalism, and he’ll do anything to get the girl.

chapter summary — a glimpse into 2 months after the season ends and how our trainer girl and Joe have developed.

warnings — fem!reader, so much fluff, smut (MDNI), not proof read (oops)

tags — @starsinthesky5 @definitelynotdomanique @majestic87 @joeyburrrow @joeyfranchise @joeyb1989 @belleann23 @wickedfun9 @hannahjessica113 @kravitzwhore @musicforsnoopy @burreauxsss @grandpeachpersona @inlovewithcarsthatrunreallyfast @noeesd19 @xbriexx @burrowswomen @dboanalagoaaoo @grittysbiggestfan @kazsbrckkers @harryweeniee @wellwellhereiam @hotburreaux

note — guys 😭 the love on this series has been insane. thank you guys from the bottom of my heart for the reactions, the comments, everything. this doesn’t have to be over though, I’ll accept asks about these two, anything you wanna know I’ll write a little blurb! If not, this is the end for these two, and I will miss them dearly <3

THE SUN STREAMED through the curtains, warming the room. Soft hues of gold illuminated the bed and the sleeping forms curled in the sheets. Whispers of the sheets filled the room as one of them shifted, rolling onto his side. His eyes opened, bleary from sleep, as he laid on the bare back of his girlfriend.

It’s been a couple of months since that fateful first night together, the moans and the noises Joe Burrow made her mewl still stained onto his brain. The evidence of their previous night laid on her neck, but he knew his neck looked worse. His sore muscles accounted for that.

Joe draped a hand over her covered hip, pressing his body to hers. He peppered kisses across her shoulders, his lips soft and plump against her skin. His touches slowly roused her from sleep, the tendrils of sleep being cut with every kiss.

“Morning, beautiful,” Joe hummed in that husky, sexy tone he had in the mornings. She just hummed, her skin flinching whenever he’d kiss a hickey on her neck.

Soft groans fell from the lips of the woman next to him. Her hair was in knots, her arms tucked under the pillow her hair was laid on. It was surreal, this whole moment was.

“You have an interview today,” Joe hummed, as if she needed reminding. She stirred, rolling over and stretching under the covers. Soft grunts left her throat, her back arching with the stretch of her muscles.

“I know,” she croaked, her voice raspy from sleep, “but I don’t leave for another hour,”

“I know,” Joe chuckled softly, admiring her form in his sheets. They didn’t live together, but she slept over quite often. There was just something about having her in his sheets, not just in a sexual way, that warmed his chest. Especially after the hellish season he had.

The sheets rustled with his movements, his body groaning as he moved to settle himself between her legs. The covers mounted over them, Joe’s body pressing against hers.

“Sore?” she teased, observing the subtle wince at the movements of Joe’s hips.

“I’m not as flexible as you,” he murmured, dipping his head to press gentle kisses against her neck. She hummed, tilting her head back against the pillow, her eyes gently closing.

“Taste of your own medicine,” she chuckled. Joe knew that’s what it was, especially after he turned her into a rag-doll the first time they had sex.

“Guess so,” he muttered. His lips pressed kisses down the column of her neck, his left hand burying itself in her hair. She wrapped her arms around his back, gently running her fingers up and down his skin. She could feel the roughness of the scratches she left, the slight indents her nails left last night. She couldn’t help but smirk to herself.

Joe’s skin flinched at her touch. He was still so sensitive, his skin reactive to any touch she gave him. He shifted between her legs, creating a beautiful friction between them.

“I thought you’d be done,” she mused, feeling the hardness of his cock press against her pussy. She wasn’t complaining, of course. The way his cock filtered through her folds as he settled between her drove her wild.

“I’m never done,” he murmured, taking skin in his teeth, nipping at her, “I’m greedy for you,”

Joe moved his mouth to hers, kissing her in a slow, sensual kiss. He moved his arms to either side of her shoulders, settling down on his forearms. His lips moved with hers, soft and gentle sparks fluttering down his nerves. She hummed, her arms tightening around him.

He pulled away, resting his forehead against hers. Their breaths mingled together, the warmth of their bodies heating the moment up. The sun kissed their skin, and combined with the gentle whisper of the sheets around them, it created a heavenly atmosphere.

“Sweetheart,” he whispered, rocking his hips against hers. Soft whimpers left his lips, the sensitivity that riddled his skin zipping through him. He wanted this, no, needed this, and the added electricity enticed him.

“I’ve got you, baby,” she whispered. He reached down between them, grabbing the shaft of his cock. He aligned himself with her slit, the wetness of her pussy soothing the sensitivity in the tip of his cock. He pushed into her with a grunt, the warmth and plushness of her walls making him whine. He settled his forearm back down next to her, using his hips to push himself all the way in.

“Fuck,” she moaned. Her pussy throbbed in anticipation around him. She clenched, her hands digging into his back. She kept her legs open, relaxing her pelvis as she took him balls deep.

“Sweetheart,” Joe whined, his lips parted with his arousal. His curls tickled her forehead, his nose brushing hers. He looked deep into her eyes, finding the reassurance and the affection she had. Her hands slid to cup his face, holding him there as he began to move his hips.

Soft moans left her lips. Her jaw slacked, her fingers threading through his curls. He pressed his forehead against hers, his nose brushing the skin under her eye. His hips flexed with slow, careful movements. Every thrust brought him deep pleasure, the electricity that her pussy shocked him with building in his body. She was his addiction, and he’d always need a fix.

“You feel so good,” he breathed, his breath fanning her skin.

“You’re doing good, baby,” she encouraged, whimpers leaving her lips. It was soft, warm with the gentle touch of his body. It was careful, his both methodically picking her apart just to make her feel whole again. His own body was lit ablaze, filled with nothing but the soft intimacy that her body gave him.

Joe kept his body close, his biceps straining with the weight of keeping his body upright. His hips thrusted, picking up the pace just enough to make her gasp. He watched her, watched as her eyes slid into the back of her head. He felt her clench around him, the pulsing of her pussy making his head spin.

He wasn’t going to last long.

He kept the pace, whimpers leaving his throat as he kissed her jawline. He felt the stutter of his hips, the way he was losing himself to the ecstasy of her pleasure. She felt the familiar kiss of her orgasm, the way it weighed on her lower abdomen. She moaned, her body squirming under his thrusts. Her arms circled around his neck, their breaths heavy and thick with their pleasure.

“Baby,” she breathed into his ear, her body jerking with the movements of his hips.

“I know I know,” he murmured against her skin. He pressed a light kiss to her lips, not able to keep them attached for long. She felt the pressure build, and she didn’t need a go ahead from him. Her orgasm washed over her, a gasp falling from her parted lips. She arched her back, her thighs shaking with the intensity of her orgasm.

Joe wasn’t that far behind.

He thrusted one, two more times and he felt the rubber band snap in his gut. He moaned, his body trembling as he poured himself into her, his cum warming her walls and making her shiver.

Joe settled down on top of her, flexing his hips to pull himself out. His face was buried into her neck, his hot breath fanning her skin. She circled her arms around his back, holding him close to her. The intimacy between them was soft, but it was always a pleasure. She pressed a kiss to the side of his head, letting him melt into her embrace.

“Was that my good luck charm?” she asked softly, running her fingers down his back. A soft chuckle left his lips, and he slowly brought his head from out of her neck.

“You don’t need a good luck charm,” he hummed, kissing her sweetly on her forehead, “you’re gonna kill it,”

“It’s a step down,” she huffed, flicking her eyes over his face. His cheeks were flushed, his curls even messier now, but he was hers. Her stomach fluttered at the thought.

“Yeah, but it’s not as demanding as the NFL is,” he told her, “plus, you can be with me,”

She chuckled. Leaving the Bengals would be hard, even if they didn’t know she was quitting yet. She wanted to land a job before she quit.

“Yeah yeah,” she smiled, leaning up to kiss Joe on his lips. He hummed, his fingers intertwining with hers as he kissed her. Her lips were soft, warm with her breaths.

“If you don’t get the job I’ll just tell them that I technically graduated from Ohio State,” he chuckled. He was excited to have you all to himself, to be with you unapologetically. Joe understood that being private would take priority, but at least he could tell his friends he had a girlfriend.

“I don’t need your bribery,” she rolled her eyes, a playful tone in her voice, “but whatever makes you feel better,”

Joe just smiled down at her. He kissed her on her cheek before he moved off of her, groaning as he did so. His muscles were stiff, his bones protesting the movement of his body.

“Payback is a bitch, isn’t it?” she teased as she sat up. She was answered to a pillow to the face.

“Whatever, go get ready for your interview,” Joe smirked at her, his blue eyes sparkling. She was beautiful, especially with that golden smile on her face. His stomach fluttered, the buzz in his body thrumming through his nerves. He finally got the girl. He finally got his girl, and they no longer had to worry about maintaining professionalism.

For now.

#joe burrow #joe burrow x reader #cincinnati bengals #joe burrow imagine #maintaining professionalism #mini series #nfl imagine

294 notes · View notes

st4rbwrry · 7 months ago

Text

𝓗𝓐𝓤𝓝𝓣𝓔𝓓. charlie mayhew.

ᰔᩚ warnings . . . 3.0k, fem!reader, lowercase intended, sacrilegious acts/blasphemy, rough sex, unprotected sex, ‘father’ kink, fingering, teasing, praise, oral fixation, infatuation, minors aren’t allowed! reblogs + comments are appreciated. ♡

꒰ 𝑚𝑜𝑐ℎ𝑎’𝑠 𝑛𝑜𝑡𝑒 ! ꒱ . . . dunno if nicholas is still canceled or not but idc, he’s still hot n i’m feeding my lust w his character from grotesquerie. here's an edit, oop another for visuals. <3

“forgive me father . . for i have sinned.”

father mayhew found himself drawn to your presence beyond the usual pastoral concern. your gentle demeanor, soft-spoken words, and captivating features. from your luscious curls to your plump, inviting lips stirred something deep within him. something sinful. as the weeks passed, his fascination grew. he looked forward to your weekly visits, anticipating the chance to hear your voice, to offer guidance while secretly drinking in the sight of you. he found himself lost in thought about you during sermons, imagining the curves of your body beneath your modest attire, or the perverted delicacy of your moans. he realized his attraction had evolved from mere curiosity to a full-blown obsession. vivid images of you haunted his mind. he replayed the cadence of your voice, the way your hands clasped together in supplication, and the tantalizing glimpse of cleavage when you bent to recite your prayers.

father mayhew had succumbed to his darkest impulses.

driven by a hunger he'd never known, he began to concoct scenarios in which he could be alone with you, away from prying eyes. late nights found him poring over scripture, searching for justification for his forbidden desires. his once pure intentions as a priest had given way to a dark, all-consuming lust.

father mayhew stood before you in his full priestly regalia, the crisp white collar stark against the black fabric of his cassock. the garment fell to just above his ankles, the hem swaying gently as he moved. a wide, white stole draped across his chest, the vibrant red embroidery glinting in the candlelight. his hair is always neatly combed back, revealing the strong contours of his face. dark eyes gazed at you intently, a look of stern authority tempered by the lingering heat of desire. he held a heavy, leather-bound bible in his right hand, the pages well-worn from years of use.

“confess your sins.”

inhaling sharply, you fiddle with the hem of your dress before speaking. anxiously gnawing at the plush of your bottom lip. this felt embarrassing, unsure of how to start, but aware that if you didn’t it, would continue to eat at your soul. if it wasn’t put into the air now, you’ll never let it out.

“i’m not exactly sure how to say it.”

“be as honest with me as you can.”’

gently, you inhale a rigid breath. “lately i’ve been having . . what you call erotic dreams of someone i’m close to. someone whom i deeply admire and respect. i even find myself tending to those urges almost daily since i’ve known him."

his eyes widen briefly at your admission before regaining composure, his voice low and measured. he must ignore the faint burn of jealousy that scorns in his chest. the recent events of infatuation for you turning possessive.

“i appreciate your honesty. it takes tremendous strength to bear one's soul in this way. please know that you are not alone and there is no shame in struggling with temptation.”

“i don’t feel like myself lately. i’ve never felt so consumed by a person. my thoughts are overbearing, it’s nearly driving me off edge. i don’t believe this is of normalcy.”

he nods. “i too have grappled with impure thoughts and desires. as priests, we are human beings first and foremost . . imperfect vessels striving to serve god and his flock. never doubt that your feelings aren’t valid and worthy of compassion.”

you swallow, heart thrumming against your ribcage, slightly turning your body to face the man whose figure you faintly see behind the barricaded gate. you swear you see him tense, eyes drifting to yours before clearing his throat and squeezing at the bible in hand, bowing his head with eyes shut, trying to block off your sweet scent enveloping the small confinement.

“do you wish to speak more?” he asks, voice raspier.

“i-i . . have a more dire truth.”

“which is?”

“those impure thoughts, taunting me day and night. . are of you, father charlie.”

in a normal setting, he’d react with amusement. though this wasn’t the place to express and endure those primal thoughts, he had to remain diligent. the heat emerges within his body in waves, tonguing his cheek hard before fixing his posture and deciding to respond.

“i would be remiss in my duty as both your priest and confidant if i did not offer solace. being said, perhaps we can meet privately. tomorrow night . . so we won’t be disrupted.”

your pulse quickens at the thought of meeting him alone, intimately, without a prying eye to judge. you don’t question how quickly he is to come to that decision, a part of you knowing that he felt the exact same. that only enticed you.

“yes, father. of course."

and on that saturday night, you find yourself making your way to his modest quarters above the rectory, the nervousness coats your entire body, thoughts racing on what could happen tonight. one sticking out in obvious detail. the snow white of your sundress imprinted with tiny flowers is anxiously toyed with at the ends by your french manicured nails. your hair is pulled back from your angelic face, held up by a claw clip. the hallway towards his private bedroom seemed excruciating long, wind from the open windows blowing in warmth, flowing with the white curtains eerily.

knocking on the wooden door, the last thing you expected to see when you arrived was father mayhew greatly exposed, his hair slightly damped, combed back per usual, coils of curls sticking up on the nape of his neck. beauty marks littered along his torso in constellations. he’s fixated, slanted eyes glaring down at you intensely with longing. he hums, scanning you from head to toe. a white towel is the only fabric piece on his body, covering his lower half, vein-covered arm stretching the door further, greeting you with a smile that borders on sinister.

“꒰♡꒱,” he ushers you inside, the scent of his cologne making you dizzy.

a gasp releases softly as you enter, continuing to take in the sight of father mayhew’s toned physique, chiseled features illuminated by the moonlight filtering through the vintage window. you feel a rush of heat coursing through your veins, body responding instinctively to his raw, unbridled desire.

“father . . .” you whisper, voice trembling slightly as you step closer, drawn to the aura of masculinity emanating from him. your eyes roam over his exposed skin, taking in the sight of his defined muscles and the trail of dark hair leading down from his navel. the itch to reach out and trace a finger along the edge of his towel strikes you hard, needing to remain somewhat composed.

the silence is deafening, the creak of the door shutting and the broadness of his body hovering over you makes your clit pulse hard. words weren’t necessary to exchange, both of your eyes read what you equally wanted, and needed. he stands before you, placing a hand on the wall behind you, his other reaching out to gently cup your cheek, thumb stroking your soft skin, eyes locked onto yours searching for any sign of hesitation or regret.

“father,” your eyes shyly avoid his stern gaze, the imprint of his dick hard behind it’s towel, close to touching your stomach. “is this okay? i mean . . this is a sin. for the two of us.”

his breath mingles with yours, expression turning solemn as he begins to speak. “what we do remains within these walls. we are all embodiments of a sin. we will give grace, and we will be forgiven.”

savoring the warmth of his touch, you can see the fire burning in his eyes, mirroring your own desire. ample curves mold to his firm contours, his hands taking yours to raise them above your head, pining you still amongst the wall. his breath on your neck makes your skin prickle with heat, squeezing your thighs together when his lips hover by your earlobe.

“lust is a temptation we must all face. it is a primal urge, a craving for physical connection and pleasure that can lead us astray if not kept in check,” he rasps, mouth falling open to kiss and slide his thick tongue against your collarbone, tasting you with a greedy moan.

the act makes you whimper, fingertips reaching for his towel, deliberately tugging to let it fall to the floor and pool at his feet. a low groan escapes his throat, dick hard and slapping on his thick thigh. his mouth trails along the other side of your neck, pushing his hips forward as you moan into his ear, trailing your fingers up to the dark brown tresses of his hair to fist.

“lust is not inherently evil. in its purest form, it is a natural part of the human experience, a drive that propels us toward union and creation,” father mayhew finally captures your lips in a heated kiss, tongue delving into your mouth with a hunger bordering on feral, your throat evoking a deep moan, catching up with his pace.

he breaks the kiss to your displeasure, panting harshly, his eyes glazed with lust. father mayhew keeps your body up against the wall, removing his hands from your wrists, not before sternly saying, “keep them there.”

that voice again, so deep and salacious it goes straight to your clit. the dampness of your arousal seeps through your panties now, physically announcing your desperate need for him. within seconds, he’s crouching below you, pink lips peppering kisses along your navel after lifting your dress up, hot fingers indenting into the flesh of your hips he slicks his tongue on. you can’t help but continue whimpering, shifting your waist as a show of urgency.

“i wonder," he trails off, slender fingers gently sliding off your thong, a string of slick coming along with it. you hastily step out of them, watching him throw your right leg over his shoulder, mouth so close to your pussy. “if the key is to recognize when our desires become excessive when they begin to consume us rather than serve as a healthy expression of our needs.”

“i don't care anymore, father,” you breathe, his lips hovering your mound. “i crave you, i need you. we can repent for our sins later.“

the muscles in his jaw clench, lashes angelically kissing his cheekbones. he wetly gives an open-mouthed kiss to the curve between your hip and thigh, staring at you. “so fuck it.”

“fuck it,” you nod, chest heaving, your pent-up arousal unbelievable.

“i want to lose myself in you, consequences be damned.”

with his jaw slacking, his mouth encapsulates your clit, rough tongue following the lead. a thankful shudder emits from you, keeping your hands molded to the wall like he told you. his eyes never leave your face, the wet interaction sounding the room as he sucks and pulls on your engorged clit with his lips. separating your legs further so he can taste everything that leaks from you.

“mhm, fuck. that's what i needed,” he growls into your pussy, chin getting wet and head moving to slick his face up and down, swallowing and moaning. he begins to delve his tongue into your opening where it only gets wetter, fucking into you with his nose to your clit and your inner thighs trembling.

you can’t take not touching him, going to fist his hair with your eyes scrolling to the back of your head, lips quivering from the ache of finally being given the pleasure you dreamt of.

“put your fingers in me, baby,” you whine, gripping at the nape of his neck to gently pull him back, needing it now.

“let me handle you. don’t speak.”

whining from the harsh hit he gives your outer thigh, you nod your head to his need, gathering more of his hair to tug while he gives your pussy one more big kiss and sucking at his own fingers quickly after. his salvia trickles down to his knuckles as he wets his fingers, sinking his pointer and middle simultaneously into your awaiting pussy.

“fuck,” he curses immediately after, the clench and greedy pull your pussy does around them only makes him spank you again. they’re so thick inside of you, squelching around them along with grinding down pleadingly, and he thinks you look angelic.

“my sweet, sinful girl," father mayhew’s lips continue to curl up wickedly, dropping your leg and standing back to his full height, missing your face in his.

the pads of his fingers roll over your clit, spread open completely for him, his head slightly cocked to watch you, faces inches apart. he studies the way your mouth falters open as he gathers your cum around his fingers after dragging two of them between your folds, slowly sinking them back inside, testing the waters. your toes curl instantly, bucking your hips into his hand as his thumb presses your puffy clit and you finally breathe out a loud moan. he takes his time savoring the way your walls clamp around him, begging without words to pull him deeper.

“there you go," he gasps with you as he fucks into you faster, knuckles deep, palm slick and slapping against your clit. you shudder under his control, gut twisting when he kisses you, tongues swirling together, eyelids droopy as you suck each other's lips, biting him to taste a hint of blood.

“i need to be inside of you,” he heaves, having enough of the foreplay. he’s been thinking about this for far too long. it was painful enough having to restrain himself. “fuck, you’re pretty.”

it ignites something nasty inside of you when father mayhew tucks your body beneath him to align his throbbing dick dripping with delicious precum to your pussy, stuffing and stretching you within the blink of an eye. he cooed after hearing you squeal and whimper, leveling his body to lock his forearms underneath the backs of your knees, hovering you above him and backing away from the wall. he easily balances both of your weights, your arms holding onto the back of his neck with your back arching and stomach pressing hotly to his scorching skin.

“that’s it, take it all,” he grunts, fingers sprawled across your hips and ass to push you down so his dick is engulfed into you. “fuck, you feel real good.”

“fuck me, please. m’begging you,” the tears welling in your eyes activate something inside of him he’s never felt before, heart thrashing in his chest as he grants you a rough kiss on your mouth before drawing his hips back to slam you up and down on his thick dick, the veiny ridges catering to every aching part inside of you.

“o-oh, my g-god,” you whisper in his ear, clawing into his back and burying your face into the crook of his neck, listening to the harshness of your ass clapping down onto his broad thighs the heavier he drops you down. “ngh, s’fuckin’ good.”

“mhm hmm,” is all he can get out, hissing and holding you up so the tip is only kissing your entrance before pounding into you with steady, rough strokes. the burn on his back from your scratches fuels him, grunting in your ear and fucking you deep. so deep you can’t control those filthy sounds he loves too badly.

“call me by my name,” he grits his teeth, your juices dripping down his balls that jump out of reaction from your dulcet voice. “right now, ꒰♡꒱. don’t be scared now.”

“charlie,” you whimper, pulling your face up to stare into his crepuscular eyes, near gone.

“no,” he shakes his head. “how do you address me, ꒰♡꒱.”

lips pouty, you lean in to kiss him, mouths smacking together wetly, his hips hastening, your mouth slacking and cries falling when he begins to hit that good spot, almost losing your mind. “f-fuck, y-yessss! stay there, stay there please, father!”

“god, yes,” the dark bush of his eyebrows furrow on his face as he focuses on the tightness around his cock, sticking his tongue out of his mouth needing you to do the same. your tongue glides along his, father mayhew sucking on yours and thrusting harder. “greedy girl.”

your body begins to convulse, muscles tensing as the coil in your tummy tightens, aiding you to cum hard on his dick. he probed deeper, swiveling his hips and knocking into you rough and your pussy creams on him, tightening and pulsating as you cum and shake almost violently.

“anh—ughhh, b-baby.”

father mayhew watches your voice contort from your pleasure, crying out and sniffling from the feeling in your tummy that wouldn’t stop, looking like you’ll cum again. he can feel it, in fact.

“tell me you want this," he grunts, his voice rough with need. "tell me you crave my dick buried inside you. that it makes you feel so good. that you’re mine every fuckin’ time you come see me. tell me.”

“y-yes, i wan’ it,” your voice quite literally trembles, gasps coming out broken. “i wan’ you, need you. . fuckin’ me.”

“good fuckin’ girl, ꒰♡꒱. g-good fuckin’ girl. god, give me permission to cum.”

your voice gets caught in your throat when he stumbles back towards the wall, hiking you further up and pressing his palms flat to the wall, your ass recoiling and hitting the surface as he fucks you faster, and harder, keeping your knees high up. a death lock he has on you, you can barely move an inch. sinking and pulling out his girth by every filthy pound. your breath on his skin with his on yours. it was the ultimate embodiment of erotica.

“cum in me, cum in meeee!”

guttural moans and heavy panting stir between your neck, father mayhew giving you one final, heavy thrust before he’s cumming inside of you while you orgasm once more. gripping onto his hair tightly with your mouth faltering open, hiccuping and whining loudly. grounding your hips down to squeeze and milk him of everything he had for you. his release is loud, waist shuddering, and primal growls in your face with his forehead pressed to yours, bodies entwined in a sticky mess.

he keeps you stuck in this position for a while, heaving in your face and taking your lips to his again for another kiss, growing high off your shared taste.

“you ignite a fire within me unlike anything else.”

#charlie mayhew x reader #charlie mayhew x black reader #nicholas chavez smut #nicholas chavez x reader #nicholas chavez x black reader #nicholas chavez x you #grotesquerie smut #charlie mayhew smut #charlie mayhew x you #father charlie mayhew #𓊆ྀི󠀠󠀠󠀠󠀠󠀠󠀠󠀠 🫙 ˚⊹ 𓊇ྀི

538 notes · View notes