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after-witch · 5 months

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Two Birds One Stone [Yandere Gojo Satoru x Reader]

Title: Two Birds One Stone [Yandere Gojo x Reader[

Synopsis: Gojo Satoru follows you home. ‘Alone in the Dark’ follow-up.

Word count: 3000ish

notes: yandere, noncon sex, humiliation, misogyny against reader

No one in your family, no one on the spacious estate--from the rotating guests down to the most menial of servants--believes that you are truly ill. Yes, your family let you return home without too many questions, let you bundle yourself in your room and come out only for meals that you leave as soon as it’s polite to do so. They offer to fetch the physician, and only smile indulgently when you insist that it’s a passing bug, you’ll be fine soon.

They do all these things, while they know that you’re not really unwell.

At least they grant you the mercy of not saying it out loud, at least for now, which is something you can appreciate. There is very little that you appreciate nowadays.

There is a soft knock at the door. One of the maids, then. They were trained to knock politely.

“Yes?”

The door gently opens to reveal one of the newer hires. A modest girl with the ability to act demure and professional just as well as any of the seasoned women who were multi-generational hires, whose mothers-and-grandmothers-and-great-grandmothers had worked for your family.

“Miss, my lord and lady have sent me to inform you that you have a caller.”

You clear your throat.

“Ah, unfortunately, I’m not feeling very--”

It was her turn to clear her throat, interrupting you. It almost made you flinch. It was an unusual gesture, not one your parents would have allowed. It should have been trained out by now.

“My lord and lady have sent me with explicit instructions that you are to come to the parlor immediately, even if you are unwell.”

You bite back a sigh. It must have been someone from one of the other families, then. Maybe throwing out another potential marriage match for you--your mother had fretted, especially recently, that you should have already been married by now.

The thought of sitting in that damned parlor and pretending like you weren’t constantly about to throw up from stress and shock made you want to tear your hair out. You should tell the maid to go away, and bury yourself under your blankets, and scream and scream because Gojo Satoru made you do something awful and the world was unfair and you thought he was your friend and--

No.

People like you didn’t have that luxury. So you force down your bile and half-heartedly make yourself presentable in the mirror, and follow the maid who escorts you down the hallway, out of the intimate private family rooms and into the grand hall that leads down to the parlor.

She stops you before you reach the threshold of the open door, and you almost trip on your dainty house shoes. The maid looks back at you with an expression that is something in between demure and overwhelmed. The skin of her cheeks flushes pink. She leans in, as if you were friends, and whispers,

“Miss, it’s--it is Gojo Satoru who has called on you.”

The world seems to drop out entirely. Yet you only feel as if you are falling as you stand there, hand braced against the door frame, head spinning. All the while, the maid grins, unawares, no doubt impressed that her employer’s daughter has associations with someone so well-known.

Sound pushes and pulls around you, distorting in your shock, but it’s there, clear as day: his voice. And your parents’ voices, all elegant and honeyed.

From your vantage point against the door frame, you can hear the trickling edges of their conversation.

“They were smart enough to ask me for some tips, and, well, how could I say no?”

Your mother’s voice oohs-and-ahhs. “No wonder we have seen improvement with them lately. All thanks to your generous tutelage, no doubt!”

You can practically hear the grin in Gojo’s voice.

“Well, it certainly helps that I like their company so much. Very much, in fact.”

You can vividly imagine the look that your parents have probably just given one another even before you cross the threshold of the door and announce yourself, curtsying slightly to your parents, as you’ve been brought up to do.

Gojo stands when you enter. Oh, the fucker. All etiquette and primness. Your stomach churns. If he wasn’t buttering them up, if he was anywhere else, if he wasn’t doing this to mock you, he wouldn’t be standing with his hands behind his back and a polite smile on his face. He’d be picking at his ear or lounging on the fine upholstery like it was some ratty college couch.

Your mother is fluttering towards you in an instant, smoothing down the wrinkled bits of your clothing, fingers darting over your face, looking for blemishes, scratches, anything that needs to be hidden or fixed.

When she’s satisfied, she lightly clasps your hand and leads you over to where Gojo and your father are standing. Your father greets you with a warm nod--unusual for him, but there is company, after all--and Gojo. Well.

Gojo smiles. Softly. You think, if he had his way, he’d be grinning like a cat that caught the canary. But that would be too much, in front of your parents. Too uncouth. So instead, he smiles lightly and sweetly and it makes you want to bend over and expel breakfast on your mother’s expensive rug.

“I’m happy to see you’re up and about,” he says. And then he reaches out and touches your shoulder. You stiffen.

You look to your parents--surely this is improper, surely they will say something--but your mother only presses her hand delicately to her lips and smiles.

Your head turns, slowly, back to Gojo. His smile widens.

“Don’t worry. I’ve told them about our private courtship. We don’t have to hide it anymore.”

The world should fall out from underneath you, but it stays stubbornly flat.

Your lips open and you will say something to make him leave, you’ll tell your parents what he did or feign illness or--

His hands move to rest on your hips, and--you jolt. Fingers dig into the skin of your hips through your clothing. A painful pinch that tells you: hush.

“I think it’s appropriate for them to have a bit of privacy, don’t you?” Your mother asks coyly, looking at your father. He nods solemnly and takes your mother’s arm. You have never, in your life, wanted your parents to stay with you more than you do now.

But they walk away. As your mother shuts the door, she gives you something most rare: a look of approval. How can she not notice the widened worry in your eyes? The anxiety in your expression? The mere presence of Gojo Satoru shuts out everything but his golden glow, the promise of his connection with your family.

The sound of the door shutting is like nails on a chalkboard.

You take the opportunity to jerk yourself away from him--to your surprise, he lets you.

“What the hell are you doing here?” You hiss.

Gojo puts his hands in his pockets and shrugs easily.

“You weren’t around, so I came to you.”

You hate the way he looks too casual. As if you’d ghosted him after a bad study session and not--not….

“Of course I wasn’t around,” you say, almost spitting. “You…” But you don’t say it. Shame washes over you, hot and sticky.

The silence between you is just as warm, and you want to wash it off.

“Let’s go to your room for more privacy,” he offers.

“No.” Flat refusal is the only thing you can think to do now. Just say no, no, no, until he gives up and leaves.

Instead of leaving, he sighs, languid, and stretches his arms above his head. “Ah, your parents will be so disappointed that I left so early, after all that I talked you up.”

You hate him so much.

“C’mon,” he wheedles, when you don’t respond. “I just want to see where you grew up. Is that so bad?’

Show him your bedroom, make him leave. You cross your arms in front of your chest. “It’s nothing special. Just a room,” you mumble.

“Don’t say that!” Gojo reaches for you and ignores your flinch when he wraps his arm around your shoulder. “It’s your room, of course it’s special.”

Your stomach responds to his praise with a low roil, a remnant of how you might have responded to his compliments before all of this.

“There,” you say, voice tight and short, as you gesture towards your bedroom. You pointedly leave the door open but Gojo doesn’t protest.

It’s not the most impressive bedroom on the estate--that would be your parents’ room, followed by the siblings who managed successful sorcerer careers and have already had a few children.

But it’s cozy, and it's yours, and for you that’s enough. You just wish Gojo wouldn’t contaminate it with his presence. He looks at everything, smiling, humming. He goes to read a journal open on your dresser and you rush to slam it shut. He jumps back with an exaggerated grin and apologizes.

He doesn’t look and leave, like you hoped he would. Instead, he sits down on your bed and pats the space next to him.

“You said you just wanted to look.”

He pats the spot again. “I just want to ask about your training. Really quick.” The look you give him must be enough to kill, because he puts his hands in the air. “I promise, only a few questions about your training.”

Your legs tingle as you force them to move, one step at a time, to the bed. You sit next to him and the proximity makes you want to flee. But if you just do what he says and get this over with, he’ll leave. You can deal with your parents’ expectations about some courtship later.

He smiles when you sit.

“So, any progress? Better? Worse?” He looks down at you through his glasses. “Be honest.”

“I… I guess I have been getting better at concentrating,” you murmur. You’ve been forced to, really, since you didn’t want your parents to know about what happened.

“Aw, see? I knew it would help!”

It. Is that what he calls what he did to you? Your throat hurts.

“That’s not why you did it.”

Gojo has the audacity to quirk his head at you. It’s a gesture you know would make many women’s heart flutters. It just makes you want to close your eyes.

“No?”

You don’t respond, and after a moment, he gets up. It’s enough to make you sigh in relief. He’s leaving. He’ll be gone and you can figure out what to tell your parents and it will all be fine because--

But he doesn’t walk through the door.

Instead, he shuts it.

“Gojo--”

He gives you a look.

“No one will mind,” he tells you, voice light. “I’ll be quiet if you will.”

Your heart thuds, one, two, three.

“What do you mean?”

He looks at you as if you’ve asked him the stupidest question in the world. Maybe you did. Because he’s walking towards the bed now, forcing you to scoot backwards on it. You realize the vulnerability of your body in this position far too late, because before you know it, he’s crawling onto the bed with you.

“Wait--wait,” you sputter. “C-Can’t you just leave? Please?”

He leans over you and pins you down with the mere presence of his body.

“You’re so sweet, you know that?” He kisses your neck, and you crane it to the side, which only makes him kiss it more. “So cute. I’ve been thinking about you every day since then. Every hour. Every minute.” His kisses grow more numerous, on your shoulder, up your neck, your cheek, finally resting just above your lips.

“Gojo, stop.” He’s so close that your breath ghosts his skin, puffs against his lips.

“I’ve been thinking about the faces you made,” he says, voice dropping an octave. The words slink out of him like a snake. “How sweaty you got. What you looked like with your come all over that pretty face.”

If your cheeks get any hotter, you’ll get ill. You know it.

“Stop it,” you whisper, but your lips brush against his and he takes the opportunity to capture you in a kiss.

The distraction is enough to keep you from thinking about his hands, to keep you from being aware of his fingers unlacing the buttons of your blouse, of how he slides your arms out of the sleeves. You’re only wearing a thin morning camisole underneath, and the sound of it shredding breaks through the unwanted kiss.

“Gojo--” You say, or want to say, but all your words are muffled against him.

Saliva trails from his mouth--you want to gag--when he pulls away. “Satoru,” is all he says.

He’s taken off your shirt. He’s ripped your undershirt. You’re lying underneath him, ample chest bared, and he’s not going to get off you.

His fingers find your nipples and give them an unceremonious tweak.

“Don’t!”The word comes out too loud, too shrieky, and both of you still in the silence that follows.

You expect him to get off you now. You expect him to realize the danger of being found out and take the opportunity to leave; ego bruised, perhaps, but still--he would be gone.

Instead, he grins at you. “I thought you wouldn’t want anyone to come in and see us? Ah, but…” He rolls your nipples in between his fingers, and you jerk on the bed at the strange, electric feeling that shoots in between your legs. “Maybe you want to get caught?”

You press your lips firmly together--be quiet, you tell yourself, be quiet!--and shake your head.

He continues to roll your nipples, and your hips squirm against the feeling. “I think you do,” he muses. “You know, if someone did waltz in here while I’m balls deep in you, we’d have to get married.”

You practically choke on the unexpected sliminess of his words. But perhaps not so unexpected, considering what he was doing.

“Wh--What?” You hiss.

Gojo looks at you like you’re dumb--cute. But dumb. “I mean, your family is traditional, no? I don’t think they’ll let me deflower you and not make an honest woman out of you after that.” He spreads his fingers out and gropes the plump flesh of your breasts with his hands; his palms brushing against your hardening nipples makes you bite back a sigh.

“I mean--I meant--we’re not doing, I don’t want to do--”

He leans forward and rubs his nose against your cheek. “Don’t worry, I’ll go easy on you. I like foreplay.”

“Foreplay?” You ask, helplessly, naively.

“Fuck, that’s cute,” he sighs. He begins to rub at your nipples with his thumbs, and there’s a warm, prickling sensation in them that makes your toes begin to curl. “You know how many times I jerked off thinking about these tits?”

“Stop,” you say, breathy. It feels good, and you hate it, but it doesn’t hurt--it doesn’t hurt, at least. That’s what you tell yourself to keep your mouth from screaming.

He ignores your words and squishes your breasts together with his hand, making them balloon almost comically.

“They’re so big, you know?” He pushes and pulls them apart. “How do you even stand up with these things?”

Humiliation blooms in your throat.

“Don’t be mad,” he says. “I’m not trying to insult them.” He sighs, then, and goes back to rubbing your nipples with his fingers, eliciting a whimper from your lips. “They’re gorgeous. Nice and big…”

Another whimper, this one louder, making you press your palm against your mouth.

“Feels good, doesn’t it?” He leans down, peering over his glasses. “Feels good when my fingers play with your tits?”

It does. You shake your head. But it does.

Gojo tsks lightly. You feel one hand leave your breast and reach down, down--sliding underneath the waistband of your skirt. Your body lurches but he’s too heavy and strong and you can’t move, even as he swipes his fingers down your underwear. You can feel the way his digits meet some slickness, smearing it around on the other side of the fabric.

“Your mouth can lie, but down here… you’re leaking.”

Your heart lurches with the memory of your leaking cursed energy, with the memory of the hard floor--and with the knowledge that it’s happening again.

Without fanfare, he grabs the waistband of your skirt and begins to shimmy it down. You kick and struggle, little noises escaping your lips that surely aren’t loud enough to be heard outside the walls. But it doesn’t matter. He’s stronger than you.

Your underwear goes down next, and you cringe at the feeling of wetness clinging to the soft material as he peels them down your legs. With your clothes gone, it’s easy for him to grip your upper thighs and pull them apart, exposing you directly to him.

“Gojo--” Your throat is dry and your words hoarse.

“Your pussy is prettier than I remember,” he says, ignoring your protests, ignoring the way your legs squirm. “Look--did your clit just twitch? Is it saying hello?” He smiles up at you, stupidly, and some part of you wonders if he really thinks you’ll laugh at what he’s saying. All you can do is swallow against rising bile.

“I was going to eat you out until you squealed first,” he begins, voice low. “But I don’t think I can wait. Besides, you look wet enough.” He rubs his thumb against your clit and you slap your hand back against your mouth at the sudden jolt of pleasure.

You know what he’s doing, even if you don’t want to admit it. You know before he reaches down and shoves his pants down around his ankles. You know before his boxers come down next. You know before you see his cock, hard like the last time.

How in the world is that going to fit inside you? You think. You feel, dimly, your privates clench and twitch at nothing.

“Your body is eager,” he tells you, cooing. “Even if you pretend that you’re not.”

“I’m not,” you murmur. He doesn’t listen. Your fingers grip the sheets of your body and you think dimly about what you’ve heard about sex. All you know is that you weren’t supposed to have it with anyone but your husband, lest you produce unwanted bastards to soil your family’s good name. Your mother had taught you all about the value of your “flower,” the importance of being chaste and virtuous.

And here you are, splayed on your bed, with Gojo about to take it all away from you.

You let out a whimper when he leans forward and rubs the tip of his cock in your folds. It’s thick and warm.

“Gojo,” you say, voice tight.

“Satoru,” he chides, sweetly. “I’m about to fuck you, honey, you can call me Satoru.”

You press your lips together and tighten your fingers on the sheets as he finally moves his hips forward, pressing his cock inside you, slowly.

It hurts. Enough that tears prick at the edges of your eyes, and you let out a soft, pained keen.

Gojo’s there, kissing you, as soon as it leaves your lips. His fingers brush away your tears even as he pushes forward, filling you up more, stretching you. The ache deepens, there’s a sting with it--you wonder if you’ll bleed, like your sister says she did, on her wedding night.

It doesn’t stop once he’s inside you. He pulls his hips back--there’s a brief relief from the feeling when he’s mostly out--before he pushes back in, and the ache reignites, making you jolt and whimper against his lips.

“Shh,” he tells you. One of his hands trails down your stomach, down your thigh, to rest against the top of your sex. His thumb begins to rub out slow circles, and an unwanted aching pleasure begins to build there.

It doesn’t make the pain go away. It doesn’t make the humiliation go away. All it does is introduce a sick sort of pleasure that makes you feel worse about yourself. How could you like this? It should be impossible, for your body to begin to feel a low, rolling pleasure that cuts through the pain–cuts through the horror–of what’s happening to you.

You whimper, bubbling out a little cry, and Gojo presses sweet kisses to your cheeks.

“That’s it, that’s my girl, you like that, don’t you?” The sweetness of his words is underscored by the wet sound of his cock thrusting inside you, by a faint slapping sensation against you every time he does.

But you do like it. Or your body does, and you’re not sure what the difference is, splayed on your bed, all warmth and sweat and aches. Gojo’s thumb presses deeper and your mouth opens–you gasp and he swallows your noises in a kiss, not letting up until his thumb is rubbing hard enough that your body arches and there’s a coil snapping inside you.

You grunt, animal-like, into his mouth. He grunts right back and shame curls over you, even as your body spasms in forced bliss. You can feel yourself clenching around him, as if you wanted him, as if you were trying to make the sex better for him.

He doesn’t pull away until you’re done clenching around him, and you shut your eyes for a moment to avoid looking at the almost dopey, pleased expression on his face.

The realizations hit you like slaps in the wake of your orgasm.

He made you orgasm. It felt good. You liked it, you hated it. You want more, you never want it again.

You just lost your virginity--still losing it, he’s not done–the precious commodity that your mother told you to guard well--on your bed. Before marriage. Before you were even in love. Before anything.

How could it be any other way, with Gojo Satoru? He takes, takes, takes. Takes what he wants because he can, because he knows it belongs to him, if he wants it. You, included.

There’s a gentle pat on your cheek and you realize Gojo is patting you, tapping you like he might a dazed sorcerer whose head met the rough end of concrete during a fight.

“Don’t get lost on me, now. Look at me… hey, you still here?”

“Yes,” you whisper, although it comes out more stuttered than you’d like with the shake of your body as he thrusts.

He plants a sloppy kiss on your mouth and moves faster. It hurts, still, but some of the more pressing sting is gone. Instead it’s an uncomfortable, new ache.

“You look so good like this, y’know?” His hands go from your cheeks to your breasts, and he squeezes them. “All ready to be filled up.”

His words take a moment to make any sense--and even then, you’re still not quite sure.

“Fill me… up?”

His thrusts get faster, and you hear your own breath stuttering stupidly as he fucks you. “Like I said--” His words are half-panting, but you get the feeling that they needn’t be; he only wants to seem undone, you think. “Want to fuck you. Want to breed you.” His hands squeeze your breasts, kneading at the flesh. “You’ll get real big, won’t you? With a baby in your stomach, just one at first, but--” He starts to speed up now, and you see a faint redness on his cheeks. “Fuck, who knows how many we’ll have.”

Cold fear clenches your stomach tight, and you resist the primal urge to gag.

“My-my parents,” you plead. Your parents would never let this happen, would they? Not if you told them the truth?

Gojo leans above you, looking down at you with a lascivious expression as he begins to thrust faster, making your breasts wobble with the motion.

“Your parents already approve. They feel honored, and they should, that I want to marry you. Have kids with you. Merge our bloodlines. Might have to fudge the due date, if this takes, but…”

He doesn’t finish his sentence. Instead, his head veers down towards yours, and his lips practically crash into your mouth as he kisses you and presses himself deep inside you. He groans into your mouth and a warm, gooey feeling blossoms inside you at the same time. He came–inside you. You knew enough to know that was a bad thing, as far as potential pregnancies went.

When he pulls back from the kiss, he pulls back his hips, and something warm trickles out with his cock. It’s an awful feeling. The soreness, the wetness. The feeling of being used.

“Couldn’t have done it without you,” he says, voice tinged with something warm and breathy. “Did you like that? Making me come?”

You don’t answer.

Gojo doesn’t seem to mind. He flops down next to you and catches his breath.

“We should go back out there pretty soon,” he says airily. “They’ll be expecting us. Your parents, that is.”

Your voice is a croak. “What do you mean?”

Gojo leans up on his elbows and gives you a cheeky grin. “Oh, I forgot to tell you! I told your parents I was staying for dinner. Figured I’d work up an appetite in here… plus we can tell them all about our engagement over dessert. Two birds, one stone?”

You don’t answer. Instead, you stare up at the ceiling, with its ornamented paintings. Pretty flowers and trees that your mother picked out when you were a baby. You had no input in it, just like you have no say in anything now.

No birds on the ceiling.

There are only the stones in the pit of your stomach, waiting to be retched up.

#yandere gojo satoru #yandere gojo #yandere jjk #yandere #afterwitch writes

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daycourtofficial · 3 months

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Come to Bed

Summary: based on this request - a text from Azriel was meant to go to you, but went to his entire family instead.

Author’s note: I loved this idea this was so fun and definitely very on brand for the inner circle tbh

Az: Come to bed :(

It was a short message. Azriel had been sick for two days now, and since meeting you, he can’t remember how he’d just go on during his sick days.

He used to go to work just fine while sick. He’d wear a mask and keep his distance, but he’d be able to go no problem.

But ever since you came into his life, now he was too spoiled when he was sick to go anywhere or do anything. You had insisted that your cuddles would heal him, along with the various soups you made him eat every day.

Honestly? It was a little awesome. If it weren’t for how shitty he felt, that is. You rubbed his back until he fell asleep, whenever he got up to shower you washed his sheets, and you brought him medicine every few hours. He didn’t have to lift a finger, and he was soaking in every moment of your attention.

But now you were downstairs, talking with Elain about something or another. You had told him what for before you left, but his feverish haze had made him forget. He woke up alone, having dozed off in your absence, and all he wanted was you to come back. He had just texted you to come back to bed when his door creak opens.

Azriel pops his head out of the nest he made to find Cassian crawling up his bed on top of the covers, wrapping his arms around Azriel, and spooning him over the covers.

Azriel coughs, “what are you doing here?”

“You asked for me to come to bed.”

Azriel’s head hurts trying to figure out what he means when his door opens once more to Rhysand strolling through the room, lying on Az’s other side.

“Ah, come on Azzy. It’s just like when we were younger,” Cassian tells him, his body heat helping with the chills taking over Azriel’s body.

Azriel sniffles, “we were like eight years old.”

“Well, Cassian hasn’t matured much since then,” Rhysand chimes in, staying on the bed but not too close to Az. He’ll provide some level of comfort with his presence, but he’ll be damned if he lets his brother get him sick.

“Why are you two here?” Azriel croaks, every word hurting his poor throat.

Rhys opens his phone to show him the family groupchat they had, the last message coming from Azriel saying, “Come to bed :(“

Azriel groans reading it, “I’m sure you could guess I sent it to the wrong person.”

Cassian chuckles, causing vibrations through Azriel’s back. He’s too weak to fight Cassian off of him, and the weight of him actually feels nice. Maybe Cassian would make a great weighted blanket after all.

“I never second guess any texts I receive. I assumed you missed me, it has been days since you’ve seen my glorious face.”

Cassian and Azriel continue bickering while Rhysand watches in amusement.

Mor comes in shortly after, bringing a warm cup of tea for both herself and Azriel, handing one mug to him while lounging across the foot of the bed. The tea soothes his throat, and he hates to admit it, but he does appreciate the presence of his family. He had been quarantined for days, trying to keep to his room as much as possible. He had grown quite accustomed to his big, invasive family. Your company was more than enough, but he did miss Cassian’s daily debriefs of his day.

Feyre comes in, taking residence next to Mor, as Cassian tells them all ridiculous versions of how he managed to destroy that building in the Summer Court. Each tale more ridiculous than the last, with Feyre even adding her own absurd version of events.

“I heard that a dragon flew in and Cassian fought it off with his bare hands and the only damage was that one building!”

Their laughter rings in Az’s ears as he closes his eyes, dozing, but not truly asleep.

You were shocked walking back to Az’s bedroom to find both of his brothers, Feyre, and Mor all lounging in bed with him. Azriel perks up at your figure in the doorway, somehow knowing you were there despite his resting state. His voice crackles from his sore throat, “save me?”

You walk in, squeezing yourself between Rhys and Azriel, and your boyfriend melts in your arms, falling asleep quickly as his family still chatters around you.

The next time Azriel wakes up, it’s dark outside, but he’s still cuddled to your chest.

“Hi sweetheart,” you tell him, setting your book down. He practically purrs at you running your hand through his hair.

“Sleep well?”

He presses his face back into your chest. “I would have slept better if they weren’t all annoying.”

You laugh, leaning over to kiss the crown of his head.

“Poor baby with a loving family,” you coo, and he huffs.

“They’re not loving, they’re annoying busybodies. Except Feyre. She hasn’t gotten that bad yet.”

You smile, untangling his hair with your fingers.

“They might be annoying busybodies, but they love you and you love them.”

He squeezes you a little tighter. “I’m sick. I only have so much love to give and it’s all going towards you.”

You laugh, your hand moving down to stroke his back. He relaxes in your embrace, your fingers soothing his clammy skin.

“Okay, you can wait until you’re feeling better to love them again.”

“Deal,” he tells you, eyes growing heavy once more. “Just - don’t tell Cassian. He’ll get upset.”

#acotar fanfiction #azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel fanfic #azriel fluff #acotar writing #azriel x y/n

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quaintii · 10 months

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Across the Street

Part 2

Part 1 <- content: divorced father, babysitting, teasing, slowburn (kinda sped up ig?), more 🤫 18+ MATURE CONTENT -- SMUT 😆😆 (@ for art is @kimmy_arts0912 on Twitter).

MDNI

Two hours later, you hear a knock on the door. The knocks were very quick, spaced about half a second apart. Three knocks exactly. You get up from the couch and open the door.

Gabriella stands in front of you, staring at you with wide eyes. She was dressed in a cute yellow blouse and a pair of black shorts.

"H-hello...?" *She asks quietly. She looks excited but also scared, as if she knew you were going to take care of her tonight.

"Hey!! How are you Gabi??" You squeal as you lightly pinch her chubby cheeks. You wanted to leave the best impression so you could stay with this job; you still enjoyed babysitting and connecting with kids.

"Amazing!" She said with a high pitched voice.

Gabi nods and smiles, seeming to enjoy your company already. Miguel would most likely be gone for the rest of the night. She extends her arms and looks up at you for you to pick her up.

"Daddy said you'd be great at taking care of me."

"Of course! I will be here with you always. Want to go play upstairs?" You ask as you carry her off the floor and into your arms.

She smiles at you, her expression giving off an innocent look. Her eyes light up at the suggestion of playing.

She asks, her sweet smile increasing as she continues to ask questions.

"Yes! Can we play dolls? Or dress up? Is that okay...?"

"Anything you want, Gabi!"

"Yay!!"

She smiles brightly at you again, her enthusiasm clear. You bring back on the floor and she starts to walk up the stairs, calling you to follow her.

"Come on, come on! Let's go play!"

She walks up fast, expecting you to follow.

You follow Gabi and enter her room. The room is painted in bright pink with a lot of plush and stuffed animals on a huge bed. Gabi walks towards her toy chest and starts looking for something inside it.

"Help me look for my dolls!"

She glances at you as she continues to search through her toys. You walk to her other toy chest and rummage through the toys, finally found dolls at the pit bottom.

Gabi's eyes go wide when she sees her favorite doll. She takes it and wraps her arms around it, looking at you again. She had a huge smile on her face because she was so happy and excited.

"Let's play!"

She puts the doll next to her on the bed, the bed big enough for the two of you to have plenty of room. Gabi pats the mattress beside her, suggesting you to sit down. You sit down next to her, grabbing one of the dolls in the small pile. It had black curly hair with tan skin, freckles scattered across her face with a pink ballroom dress attached to it.

Gabi looks at the doll you're holding and nods. She takes her own favourite doll and begins telling a story, acting out the characters of the play using her two dolls. You notice her sweet smile and hear the adorable sound of her voice.

As she plays, Gabi seems to be enjoying herself. She even includes you in her play, asking you what her doll should say in certain situations. She clearly likes your company and she sees you as a friend already.

An hour later, Gabi continues her storyline. She seems to be having a great time, as she looks at you every so often. She giggles and smiles at you, seeming to appreciate all the little movements you make to participate. Your phone vibrates and you check your notification; Miguel is texting you.

"Hope you two are having fun. I'll be back in another hour or so. Be careful with her."

I laugh with her as she tells me a couple jokes and I hear a ding from my phone; her dad. I open the notification and text him back "We are having so much fun! She's so adorable!" You sent the text, waiting for a message in return.

Almost immediately you get a text back. "Great! See you soon then." You react with a thumbs up emoji.

She continues to laugh, smiling wide as she looks at you. She plays with her dolls in different positions and even makes one of her dolls 'fall' in love with yours. She giggles and smiles excitedly when that happens.

She then hears your phone ringing, and stops to look at you. She stays still for a moment and then speaks when you open the text message.

"Is that my daddy?"

You can't help but smile at the way she said 'daddy.' She seems to be fond of Miguel and admires him greatly.

"Yes it is! He's still at work so he'll be here soon." You turn off your phone to see Gabi with a small frown. "What's wrong Gabi?" You ask her as you scoot closer to her, caressing her cheeks. "I don't get to see daddy often because of mommy.." *she muttered. You put the pieces together; he was divorced..

Gabi's face turns sad when she mentions her mom. She looks down and hugs her doll tightly, her big brown eyes closed as she frowns.

"I don't get to see him as much because my mommy didn't like him anymore..."

She speaks in a small voice, sounding disappointed with the situation of her family. She starts shaking her head slowly.

"I... I wish I could see daddy more often." She mumbled. I see the sadness in her eyes and scoot closer to her and give her a tight hug.

"It's okay Gabi.. your dad loves you so so much! He would do anything for you." You caress her curly hair to soothe her.

Gabi accepts your hug and leans on you, enjoying you holding her in your arms. She feels comforted and warm, and you notice her face lighting up for a second, like she finally felt at ease, safe and happy.

"I like you. You're nice." She mumbles, speaking softly.

"Can you stay with me tonight until daddy gets back? I don't want to be alone..."

"I would never leave you alone, Gabriella..

30 minutes later, you encourage Gabi to eat some cereal and brush her teeth. At first she refused but gives in as you playfully kept nudging her. You change her into soft pajamas and read her a bedtime story to fall asleep.

You turn off some of the lights, leaving the bedstand lamp on. She plants a soft kiss on your cheeks before dozing off to sleep. You smile lightly, returning the kiss and closed her door as quietly as you can.

You go downstairs and hear the door creaking and close shut. It's him. Miguel smiles tiredly at you.

"Good evening. So... is Gabi asleep?"

His voice is quiet, not wanting to wake up Gabi. He crosses his arms and looks at you, clearly tired. His eyes scan you from top to bottom, and when he's done, his gaze lingers on your lips for a second. Once he realizes what he's doing, he quickly changes his look.

"How has everything been? Was Gabi misbehaving at all?"

Miguel smiles again, not seeming to want to go to sleep just yet.

"She was wonderful, Mr O'Hara. She's an amazing little girl." You smiled at him softly. Miguel nods, seeming to appreciate your words. He notices you smiling at him again, and then smiles once more.

"It's a pleasure for me, too, Miss... L/N. Is that right?"

He asks, raising a brow. You nod in response.

"Thank you for helping me take care of Gabi. She's quite a handful."

He puts one of his hands behind his head.

"And... I'm sorry to ask but... I know it's very late, but..." He peered at you.

"...would you care for some wine?"

Miguel smiles when you accept his offer to drink some wine, and walks over to grab a pair of glasses. He fills both of them halfway with wine, and hands a glass to you. He then takes a sip from his cup and looks at you. He smiles, his eyes traveling from your eyes to your lips, and then back to your eyes. His eyes are still a bit bloodshot, but he looks more awake now.

"So.. I'd like to learn more about the woman who took care of Gabi tonight..." He asked. As he took another sip of his wine, he placed it on down on the countertop, tilting his head at you, waiting for yo to speak.

"Really?" You asked playfully.

Miguel chuckles and nods.

"Yes, yes. That's what I said. I'm curious to know more about you. Can I ask why you decided to help take care of Gabi tonight? Did you need the money... Or did you enjoy the company with her? Maybe you just do that whenever you have nothing else to do, and were bored at home?"

His eyes stay on you, waiting for your response. Miguel pours a bit more of wine into his cup, his lips slightly red now.

"Gabi is an amazing child, I loved spending time with her but I also took this job opportunity, once again thank you really, to fix my student debt." You smile as you take another sip of your wine.

Miguel smiles.

"Yes, Gabi is a lovely daughter. You're lucky to spend time with her. And...yes, I figured the money was important to you too. I'm glad I could offer you that opportunity."

Miguel nods and smiles, finishing another cup of wine.

"I'm glad you enjoy her company. She's going to feel really happy about being her babysitter from now on."

Miguel's eyes then start to wander all over your face, your curves catching his attention.

"Can I... ask you something personal..if you don't mind that is.."

"Sure, it's fine."

Miguel's eyes stop gazing across your curves, and then look at your face. He sighs and then speaks.

"Forgive me if this is too forward... But do you have a boyfriend? Or a husband? Or anyone special in your life?"

Miguel takes another sip of wine from his glass, and then smiles at you again, looking at your mouth once more.

"If not... Are you single?" Miguel smiles at you with a teasing expression.

Miguel smiles, knowing exactly what he's doing to you. He stares at you with his brown eyes, his gaze making you feel slightly nervous and excited at the same time. "I'm single actually.." You muttered softly, tracing the outline of the glass.

"Well, I think it's very unfortunate then. Such a beautiful woman without a boyfriend..." He looks at you intensely for a moment, before speaking again.

"May I ask you if you like older men? I know I am not in my 20s anymore... But I'm sure this old, tired man still has some charm..."

Miguel laughs a bit nervously, smiling at you and drinking more wine from his cup.

You were left speechless, with a dry throat as you heard that question fall off his lips. "Uhm.. maybe.." You grin nervously as you turn your head to a different way to avoid his stare.

"Maybe you should give an old man a chance. Maybe he can teach you a lot of new things that the young boys can't..."

Miguel's gaze continues to look at you, his mouth curling in a very seductive smile. You feel like he's tempting you to kiss him. He seems to enjoy the view of you. You also notice him looking at you lustfully. That gets your heart pumping and blood rushing to your cunt.

Miguel's gaze doesn't leave you. He leans towards you until your faces are about an inch apart, his voice whispering in your ear. Your heart pumps faster when his hand touches your back.

"Call me Miguel... Mr O'Hara is only for work. But we're not at work any longer... Isn't that right?"

He looks down at your lips once again, and his eyes look up at your face.

"How about...you and I spend a little bit of time together tonight?"

You look down at your feet, feeling nervous. Heat flushing your face to a soft red.

Miguel chuckles at your nervousness, clearly noticing it. He notices you shifting your gaze to look down at the ground, and then lifting your chin to look at his face. He leans over and places a hand on your chin, keeping your head up and your gaze on him.

"You don't have to be scared, ... I don't bite, or do I..?" He growled.

Miguel chuckles when you stare at him with 'doe eyes', looking a bit like you were mesmerized by him. He notices your gaze on him once again. Then, he leans forward, pressing his lips onto yours. His hands gently cup your face as he kisses you, his tongue slowly exploring your mouth. He pulls away and looks down at you.

You take a few breaths and crash your lips on his. The hunger of lust. Your fingers tug at his hair, pulling him even closer. The both of you breathe heavily against eachothers faces, separating for air. A slick of saliva holding onto your lips.

Your kiss surprises Miguel but he likes the feeling of your lips crashing onto his. Miguel continues to kiss you, matching your aggressiveness. His hands run down your face and then along your back, before moving to your hips. His body pressed hard against yours and his lips pressed against yours, still exploring them softly but also rather greedily.

He pressed you against the counter and pulled you on top. Miguel chuckles even more seeing your enthusiasm as he lifts you up and places you on top of the countertop.

He starts to unbutton and slide his button-up shirt off, showing his abs and chest before you. His eyes are still on your face, but you catch him glancing down at your body a couple times. You also notice a bulge slowly growing in his jeans. He had a huge tent.

As he pressed himself on your covered cunt, the hot feeling made you arch your back and mewl his name.

"What? Does that feel good?" He hummed and nibbled your neck once more. "We have to be quiet... Don't want to wake Gabi up y'know.."

He sighs softly and smiles at you, continuing to grind into you. Miguel's eyes close lets out a husky groan when you caress his body, your soft hands roaming his chest. He continues to kiss you, gently biting your lips every so often as his one hand reaches behind you, tugging the hem of your shorts.

Miguel wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you tighter against him. His hips push against yours, as if he wanted you to feel every inch of his body. You felt his hard bulge tease your clothed cunt, rubbing himself with more pressure against you, grinding his hips on your clit as he nibbled your neck softly.

You let out small husky moans as more pressure would be applied to your cunt.

He shivers slightly as your hands run closer to his bulge. His hands running down your zipper, unbuttoning your shorts but not removing them. His fingers pinching your clit softly, making him even more needy by hearing your desperate voice; practically begging.

"I've barely touched you and you're already so f'king soaked for me cariño...que maravillosa coño.." (what an amazing pussy). He touched the hem of your underwear and slid his fingers on your scorching cunt.

He motioned his fingers in a circular rotation; lifting them up to his mouth and tasting you. "You taste so good..fuck. Look what you do to me amor... ábreme la boca muñeca." (Open your mouth, doll.) He bit his lower lip, hard enough to draw some blood as you stuck out your tongue, obeying him. He rutted his fingers into your throat, making you gag continuously whenever he could push harder.

His whispers and praises sunk in my skin, filling every part of my body with satisfaction.

Before he can do anything else, you hear Gabi's voice from her room.

"Daddy??!" She yelled as soft thuds were heard, heading downstairs.

It seems like she has woken up and her voice is loud. Miguel flinches and looks over. He lets out an loud groan.

"Si mija, es papi.." He responded back. "Coño.." he whispered under his breath. He rubbed his palm on his face, exhaustion; heavy bags showing that clearly as you glanced over at him.

He quickly changed back into his work shirt, ruffling his already disheveled hair, a bit frustrated and eyes furrowed. You jump off the countertop, standing there nervously as you fix your shorts. Miguel waved at you, sending a wink your way. You sneak to the door, before shutting it close you peered your eyes into Miguel. He reached his arms to his daughter, carrying her upstairs. You close the door shut and walk back to your house, still in shock.

part 3.

Taglist: @videogamedriver @azxr3 @onfuis @redrxbel @honeycovered-bandaids @eskamybeloved @oof1 @yumeeesss @lovelotsemilie @blakeaha @skrunkle11 @miaasmf @avatricu @deputy-videogamer @khaleesihavilliard @nellyboosworld @hk-4ever

a/n: hai guys I jus finished part 2, sorry it took a while lately I've been practicing skating sooo 🤭 here's some munchies.

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel ohara #miguel o'hara smut #miguel x reader #smut #spiderman 2099 spiderverse #miguel o’hara smut #miguel o’hara x reader #spiderman 2099 smut #part 2 #*ੈ✩‧₊˚ posts

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roosterforme · 16 days

Text

Yours Truly, Bradley Bradshaw Part 5 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: With each email written and received, you and Bradley are both aching for more details. While he's thinking about plans for a first date, you get apprehensive, knowing you're going to be devastated when he returns to wherever he calls home after a few days of leave. If the two of you had an opportunity to speak more intimately, there's a chance the details could fall into place.

Warnings: Fluff, language, Bradley being hot

Length: 4200 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female teacher!Reader

Check out my masterlist for more! Yours Truly, Bradley Bradshaw masterlist

After much consideration on the matter, you sat down at home that evening with your phone and started to type up a response to Bradley. He wanted to know in an overabundance of detail how you'd feel if he asked to cancel your dinner reservation and chill with takeout instead? You weren't quite sure what he was getting at, and it felt a little bit like he had given you another assignment to work on, but you were planning on being completely transparent with him.

Once again, the ease with which you and he communicated, even through the written word alone, was something that made you a little dizzy. A little needy. Bradley had better communication skills and paid you more attention than half of the men you'd dated, and he wasn't even in the same time zone as you.

Bradley,

We got the package you sent. My kids went wild over their personalized notes, as per usual. You've reached full celebrity status in my classroom. We'll be working on sending some notes back to you in the next few days, so brace yourself.

Please remember that you asked me for an abundance of detail here... What would I do if you wanted to change plans? Wanted to spend a quiet evening hanging out at your place instead of going out? In an extreme effort to sound as cool as possible right now... just thinking about this is making me feel warm enough that I need to take a lap around my apartment. I guess first of all, I would tell you that as far as takeout is concerned, I love Thai food the most. I'm not very picky though, so even a generic pizza and some beer would more than suffice.

If you said you were tired from work and still wanted to hang out, I wouldn't be too pressed about the details. I would be perhaps a little giddy that you missed me enough to want me around. I'd offer to pick up dinner on my way. I would let you choose the movie. I wouldn't even be upset if you fell asleep. In fact I'd probably just cover you with a blanket and let you doze. There is perhaps no worse feeling than forcing yourself to go out when you just really don't want to. And right now nothing sounds better to me than watching a movie with you on your couch. But I have to know... if you're 6'1", are you too tall to stretch out there comfortably? Where would I end up? Would we be touching? Please reply with an abundance of detail.

I know this scenario is purely hypothetical, but it does sound pretty perfect. I'll be thinking about splitting some Thai curry with you on your couch for a long time. Maybe during those couple days of leave when you get back to San Diego, we could meet? I think I would like that, even if you just have one day before you have to get back to your regular routine. And now I need to take another lap around my apartment.

One last thing. The aviator who took my photo on the beach was a woman, but I appreciate your response. I can't guarantee I'll stay off the beach, but I can guarantee that I'll give a guy a chance. Also, what does a girl have to do around here to get a dreamy sunset photo of you?

Once again, hitting send before I can change my mind.

You took another lap around your apartment, even going so far as to walk around the block before it got too dark outside. Thai food and Bradley Bradshaw and a movie on his couch. There was a loop playing in your mind where he leaned in and kissed you before calling you 'Gorgeous Girl' and reaching for your hand.

"Why are you torturing yourself like this?" you moaned out loud when you walked back inside all flushed with desire. You took a long bath. You made some sleepy time tea. You sat on your couch with your notebook and worked on lesson plans until it was pretty late, but you weren't tired at all.

Frustrated that you were letting this man take over so much of your brain, you went to your bedroom and plugged your phone in for the night. And that's when you heard the familiar ping, alerting you to the fact that you had a new email.

"No way," you gasped when you looked at the screen. You'd just send him a response two hours ago, and Bradley had already written back. You flopped down onto your bed, wrenching your phone back from the charger as you started to read.

Hey, Gorgeous,

Your answer was enlightening, thank you. Relieved to hear you wouldn't pout about missing the dinner reservation. I love Thai food, but I would absolutely insist on grabbing the takeout and having you pick the movie (nothing with scary spiders, please).

I actually don't really fit on my couch too well at all. If I really stretch out, my feet dangle over the arm, and there wouldn't be much room left for you, too. Would we be touching? God, I hope so. Where would you end up? I'm blushing just thinking about the possibilities.

You asked for details? Well, I'd ask for permission. If you gave me permission to touch you, we'd be holding hands. If you gave me permission for more than that, then you'd be covering both of us with a blanket, and I'd be holding you a lot closer. I don't think I should provide further details on that right now, actually. Gorgeous girl, you're messing with my head.

If you're feeling generous enough to give me a chance, then I'm feeling generous enough to send you a sunset photo. But frankly a girl like you isn't going to have to do much at all to get whatever she wants. Next decent sunset around here is all for you.

Your Truly,

Bradley

Well, you may never sleep again. You read his email twice before pulling up the photo of him in front of his jet, and your mind started to wander as you looked at his face. No, you'd never sleep again.

------------------------------

Bradley felt pretty ridiculous. He'd never taken so many photos of himself before in his life. Snapping a few for your class while in his cockpit with all of his gear on was one thing, but trying to get a flattering one of his face with the sun setting in the middle of the ocean was something else entirely. He was alone in a deserted part of the deck, thankful nobody else could see him.

"Maybe she won't notice if I'm not in it," he muttered as he snapped one of the setting sun. The sky was glowing a deep orange, and the clouds moving in made everything look even dreamier. He started thinking about you and the fact that you said you were going to give him a chance. The details weren't important. He'd work that part out. When he got back to San Diego, he was going to see if you and he were as compatible in person as you were right now. But the remainder of his deployment was the one thing that was preventing that from happening immediately, and you did ask him for a photo of himself. If you really wanted it, he'd make sure you had it.

He had never been so stressed out about his scars in his adult life before right now. The best photo he took of himself was one where they looked a little more prominent. He'd sleep on it tonight and consider if he wanted to send it or a different one. Usually he didn't care at all. He supposed that in person, women would either talk to him or not, depending upon if they were bothered by the way he looked or not. But you weren't with him in person, and the more detailed the photos were, the more likely you were to dwell on his face now. He really wasn't sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing.

After grabbing an inspired dinner alone in the mess hall, he thought about eating spicy Thai curry on his couch while you and he argued playfully about which movie to watch. Then he thought about you sitting on his lap and maybe even touching his scars which he hoped you wouldn't be bothered by. Then, as he changed to head to the gym, he imagined all the things he thought about but didn't tell you. Like pulling you onto his lap or stretching out on his couch with you lying mostly on top of him. His hand would find a nice resting spot on your back, or maybe even a little lower. His lips would eventually find yours, and the movie would become a distant memory in his mind.

"Shit." Now he was the one who needed to walk a lap before he could even go to the gym. He was already sweating by the time he got there, making it his continued mission to avoid the married woman while he listened to his playlist. He did a few extra reps, knowing you were on dry land in San Diego and wanting to make sure he looked as good as possible. Maybe he could make up for the close up photo of his face with his body.

Without sleeping on it, Bradley went back to the lounge and logged in. He sent you the best photo of the bunch along with two sentences.

Thinking of you, Gorgeous. Tell me about your week.

But he didn't hear back from you right away, and it wasn't for lack of checking his inbox. He hoped you and your students were working their way through the last batch of notes that he'd mailed. Or maybe you were busy and tired from taking them on a field trip. He was hoping there was a reason other than you not liking his bad selfie that meant he didn't get a response.

Luckily he got busy over the weekend so he didn't have to think about it as much. Each time he climbed that ladder up to his cockpit and waited patiently for his jet to launch from the carrier deck, he took a few seconds to clear his mind and make sure he was focused on the right thing. He needed to survive this deployment so he could even potentially allow his thoughts to go further with you later.

When he made his way back to the lounge after dinner and a shower on Sunday night, he definitely got more in his inbox than he was hoping for. And not in a good way. There was a new message from you, but it was sitting right beneath a second, newer message. From Vanessa.

"What the fuck?" Bradley asked himself, loud enough that the guy next to him turned and glanced his way. It had been months since they'd spoken. Literally fucking months, and she was emailing him now? "No." Sudden panic started to boil to the surface as he quickly tried to click on it, now terrified about what she could be contacting him in regards to.

Hi,

I'm only writing to you because I have a bit of an issue that I need your help dealing with. I can't find my favorite water bottle anywhere. I think it's in your kitchen cabinet, and I just started at a new gym, so I really need it. Let me know how I can get into your house to retrieve it. And please don't take forever to respond to this like you usually do. Like I said, I really need it.

Vanessa

It was a joke. It must be. Bradley double checked the email address to make sure he wasn't being pranked by Nat or somebody else, but no, it was really from Vanessa.

"A fucking water bottle?" he muttered. He couldn't even picture what she was talking about. Unless it was that ugly, oversized pink thing she used to carry around with her everywhere? The one with the big handle that he joked could double as a weapon? That thing?

What the fuck. He wrote back to her before he even bothered to open the email from you.

Vanessa, it's a water bottle. And it's already been months. Can't this wait until I'm home?

He hit send, rolled his shoulders and took a few deep breaths. He could archive her message so he didn't have to see it again, and he'd just deal with her bullshit later. He would read what you had to say instead, and hopefully it would cheer him up. But after he stood and stretched for a minute and sat back down, there was already a new response from Vanessa waiting for him.

"What the actual hell?" he grunted. He didn't even know what time it was at home, and he didn't take the few seconds to do the math as he started to read.

No, Bradley. I can't wait. It's a $65 sustainable, dual temperature, leak proof water bottle in a limited edition color. And I would like it back. I tried to find a replacement online, but I do not want a potentially used water bottle. Please advise.

He sat there with his fists clenched and his jaw set tight. He literally could not believe her. Anyone else would just use a different water bottle like a normal person, but he knew she'd be on his ass nonstop about this now. The fact that he was going to have to explain this situation to Nat and beg her to go over there with his spare key was almost laughable. He'd probably owe her two steak dinners if he asked her to deal with his ex girlfriend, because she never could stomach Vanessa.

He sent Nat a quick email anyway with Vanessa's phone number which he had to look up in his phone, begging her to take care of this for him. It would be worth the price of two dinners at this point. Then he settled back in his seat and tapped on your beautiful name, letting the monitor fill up with your words. When he started reading, he forgot he was supposed to feel nervous at what you sent back in response to the close up selfie.

Bradley,

Wow. I didn't think things could improve after the photo of you with your jet and the video where you're speaking. But I was wrong. So wrong. And I'm not upset about it. You're very handsome. The sunset looks okay, too. Now you're the one messing with my head.

I'm sorry I didn't write back immediately, but you should know that your hot photo has taken up residence in my mind. My week involved three of my students getting sick with the flu as well as a bunch of parent/teacher conferences, and tonight I'm really tired. The idea of snuggling, or more, with you on your couch has been playing on loop. I'm giving you permission to hold my hand if we ever meet in person. You have very nice looking hands. You have a very nice looking everything. Would you mind me asking how old you are?

Right, well, we mailed another box back to you on Friday afternoon. My kids asked me to project a photo of a Super Hornet onto the wall so they could have a drawing contest. I finally caved and let them, and they want you to be the judge. And once again, you'll have eighteen individual letters to read. Nineteen if you include the one I put in the box.

On that note, I'm going to take a bath and snuggle up in bed. And you can't blame a girl for looking at that photo again.

Yours Truly,

Your favorite pen pal

Now this was the kind of thing he wanted in his inbox, not questions about missing water bottles. Bradley hit reply immediately, happy that you hadn't even mentioned his scars. You thought he was handsome in the close up picture? He always figured he was okay enough looking that his height and build made women say he was attractive. But you actually called him handsome. He started typing back to you, already feeling so much better.

--------------------------

After resting all weekend, you were definitely feeling better. You loved your students, but sometimes dealing with their parents was more than you bargained for. Adults were often worse than kids when it came to complaining and exercising patience. All of the conferences from last week were a thing of the past now, but you still felt a little bad for taking so long to write back to Bradley. Especially after he sent you that photo.

Maybe you felt like you had to reel it in a little bit. What was the most that was going to happen? He'd agree to meet you during his short leave in San Diego? Maybe you'd go out on a date? It would probably be the best date of your life. It might even turn out to be the best night of your life. And then he'd leave for another station with the Navy, or maybe he'd return back home, leaving you feeling even lonelier than you did before you inadvertently mailed him that first box.

It was a good thing you had your students to take your mind off things on Monday morning.

"Are we going to talk about aviation now or after lunch?" Violet asked as she unpacked her pencil box.

You took a deep breath and said, "We're actually going to start a unit on Natural History today." Eighteen pairs of eyes stared at you like you'd completely lost your mind. "It'll be great!"

Oliver's hand rocketed into the air. "Does Lieutenant Bradley also know stuff about Natural History? Is that what we're going to write to him about now?"

Great. Your students were just as attached as you were. "Well since our aviation unit is going to be tapering off, we probably won't need to be writing to him as much now."

"What?" gasped Jayden.

"No way," complained Nia.

After that, you tried to move along with your lesson plans, but the entire class just sat there quietly, barely engaged with what you were saying. And perhaps part of it was your fault, because you didn't really feel like teaching this after all. By the time lunch and recess arrived, you felt defeated. You sat quietly at your desk in your empty classroom while your kids played outside, and you ate your lunch while you checked your phone. Bradley had written back an hour ago. Even if you wanted to wait until later to read it, you wouldn't have been able to.

Hey, Gorgeous,

That note from you made my day. I can't wait for the new letters from the kids to arrive so I can spend my evenings writing back instead of absolutely living in the gym right now. You want me to judge a drawing contest? Bring it on. I'm so ready.

I'll tell you how old I am. I wasn't expecting to be so nervous about it, though. I'm thirty-six. You definitely look younger than that. I know it's never appropriate to ask a woman how old she is, so maybe you'll offer that number up without me asking? And maybe you'll tell me that I'm still within the age range of men you let email you regularly? Please?

Not gonna lie, taking a hot bath sounds amazing right now. And snuggling up in something bigger than an extra long twin bed would be heavenly. And thinking about you doing either of those things is enough to get me through the week with a smile on my face. Maybe even through the rest of the month. Maybe even to the point where I'm in San Diego. You'd look adorable snuggled up in your bed. But then again, when aren't you completely Gorgeous?

I'll be waiting for more air mail and another email.

Yours Truly,

Bradley Bradshaw

"Damn it," you groaned, melting back into your desk chair and shoving a cracker into your mouth. Even if meeting him was going to be a one-off, you still wanted to do this. You still wanted to write back to him and flirt and listen to his voice in the video he sent for your class with Marty the mechanic. You wanted to think about him working out on the aircraft carrier. You still wanted him to call you Gorgeous. You'd write back tonight.

-----------------------

Bradley was taking another video and some more photos in the shop with Marty for your class when one of the admirals stopped by. He jumped to attention and addressed him. "Sir, what can I do for you?"

"Lieutenant Bradshaw, you haven't put in for a phone call. Would you like to?"

Bradley just blinked at him for a few seconds. "I don't really have anyone to call, Sir." But that wasn't completely true. He'd never actually asked you about it, but he wouldn't mind calling your number. Which he didn't even have.

The admiral nodded and said, "Just giving first dibs to my high rankers who haven't made a call home yet. Otherwise you're dismissed, Lieutenant."

As soon as he started to walk away, Bradley found himself following along. "Actually, Sir, I may have changed my mind."

If he was already thinking about Thai food and a picnic on the beach for a first date, he might as well just ask you for your number now. As long as you didn't tell him his age was an issue. As long as you seemed keen on the idea of him calling. So he put his name down on the list, and then he started to sweat. He finished up with Marty, and he headed for the lounge.

When he logged in, he braced himself for another note from Vanessa like he always did now, but the only new item he saw was from you. He decided right then that if the vibes still felt right, he'd ask for permission to call you. And yeah, the vibes were feeling pretty fucking good.

As soon as he opened the email, the attached photo at the bottom pulled his gaze in like a beacon. You were in bed, mostly under the covers, and the thin straps of some sort of tank top were the only thing preventing him from having a completely unobstructed view of both of your shoulders. Your skin looked impossibly soft, too perfect for him to touch with his rough hands, and your expression was playful and maybe a little nervous. He could see the soft swell of your breasts before the blankets enveloped your body in the most comfortable looking cocoon. He wanted to join you there in the worst way, and keep you warm enough that you wouldn't even need that blanket.

His heart was pounding as he started to read your note.

Bradley,

You know, it's funny you should mention that, because my currently inactive dating app profile says I'm interested in men who are between 30 and 40 years old. So you sound kind of perfect to me. And not that you asked or anything, but I turned 30 earlier this year. I hope that's within the age range of women that you let email you regularly.

I'm writing this from my bed. I have attached a photo. I'm not wearing any makeup, and I'm all snuggled in for the night, and of course I'm thinking about you. Whether it's a good idea or not, I find myself frequently thinking about you.

Your favorite pen pal

He scrolled back to the photo and sighed. Oh, he knew it was a good idea. Maybe you just needed a little bit more convincing, but it was definitely a great idea. That first date was looking better and better in his mind. He wished he could give you an estimate on when he'd be home so the two of you could start planning it. Bradley's stomach was growling for dinner as he pried his eyes away from your photo long enough to type out a message.

Hey, Gorgeous,

You're the only woman I'm going to let email me regularly. And I was right. You do look adorable snuggled up in your bed. That photo is going to keep me up at night wondering how cute you'd look in mine...

It looks like I'll have the opportunity to make a phone call soon, and I'd love to hear your voice. If you want to talk. I can't guarantee I won't sound like an idiot, tripping over my words the whole time, but hey, a guy can dream. Will you let me have your phone number?

Yours Truly,

Bradley

And now, once again, he would wait for you to respond, hoping his luck wasn't about to run out.

------------------------

A phone call! She him your number immediately, Gorgeous! There are some things you need to hear him say in that raspy, sexy voice! Thank you @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 6

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786 notes · View notes

aemondsbabe · 5 months

Text

Ñuha Zaldrīzes

summary: future & facesitting || discussing wishes for your baby with your husband turns into something more

pairing: daemon targaryen x f!reader

warnings: mature/explicit, 18+ (minors dni!), no use of y/n, afab reader, pregnant reader, oral sex (f receiving), allusions to piv sex, dirty talk, daemon being soft and loving we love to see it, let me know if i missed anything!

word count: 1.8k

a/n: happy day eight of 12 days of smuff!!! surely this counts as future otherwise i'd have them fucking in a spaceship & that just didn't sit right with me

12 days of smuff masterlist!

gif creds to @pedropcl

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

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

A soft giggle bursts from your lips as Daemon’s hand skirts over your large belly yet again, his soft touches tickling your skin as his hand ghosts lovingly over your bump, the delicate lacy fabric of your nightgown bunched around his wrist.

“Okay, okay, so,” you say breathily, finally calming down as his touch seems to settle on your hip, “If it’s a little girl, perhaps Vaenera? And for a little boy… Vaenor?” You suggest, your breath warm against the prince’s neck as you rest your cheek against his shoulder, tucked safely into his side atop your silk covered bed.

“I still think we should name her Visenya,” the blond drawls, tracing soothing patterns into your hip as he holds you against him, “With a nice strong name like that, she will grow to greatness.”

You stay silent for a moment, your eyes locked onto the fluid movements of the sheer curtains that lead out onto the balcony, watching as they blow in the breeze carried in by the Narrow Sea. Daemon can’t help but notice you still against him and he smiles softly when he sees that familiar, far off look in your eyes – always his dreamer.

“Where did you go?” He asks gently, all traces of the usual brash, cocky tone with which he speaks gone.

“Nowhere,” you smile, tilting your head up to peer at him through your lashes, “I was merely thinking of what kind of person this little one will grow up to be.” You stroke a hand over your belly as you speak, your smile only growing as you feel a soft, barely there kick against your palm.

“If they’re even half as kind and gentle as their mother, the world will be a much better place with them in it,” your husband whispers, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. A pink blush blooms across the apples of your cheeks, as it always does when he speaks so tenderly.

“And if they’re half as hard headed as their father, well… somehow, I will love them all the more,” you whisper, laughing yet again as Daemon trails his fingers over your side, tickling you purposefully this time.

“Me, hard headed?” He teases, laughing along with you, “I’m not the one that nearly sent the kitchens into a tailspin this evening when they demanded duck, now am I?” His violet eyes sparkled in the low light of the candles that flickered around the room, a teasing smirk etched across his face.

“That’s very unfair!” You giggle, leaning up to properly look at him. “You know how I am when I’m with child,” you huff, your blush only deepening when you see his eyes darken just slightly as his gaze flits over you, “Especially once it’s this far along; all I want is roast duck and–”

“And lemon cakes at every meal,” Daemon finishes for you, softly smiling, “Yes, sweetling, the entire castle is most aware.” He chuckles.

“Then the kitchens should know to have duck, that’s all I’m saying…” You grumble, sinking back down into his embrace. The two of you relax into a comfortable silence for many minutes, your husband’s breathing so steady and calm that you assume he’s fallen asleep. When he speaks again, his soft voice almost startles you.

“The kitchens did particularly well with the lemon cakes this evening…”

Your eyebrows furrow together at the statement and you lift your head again, meaning to give him a confused stare. The cakes were exceptionally good this evening, but you can’t help but notice the teasing lilt in his voice.

You open your mouth to speak, but the darkness in Daemon’s eyes gives you pause, a breathy, barely audible whimper escaping your lips before you have a chance to stop it.

“However, I can’t help but be in the mood for a much different type of dessert, little wife.” He says lowly, gently pulling you up until your faces are level, careful to be ever conscious of your growing stomach.

“Daemon –” You start, only to be cut off with a searing kiss as he presses his lips to yours. You whimper against his lips, your head already spinning in his embrace as his tongue toys with yours.

“It’s been so long,” he starts, trailing kisses down your jaw and neck, nibbling at one spot that always has you seeing stars, “Since you’ve let me have what I want.”

“H-Husband,” you gasp breathlessly, your nails digging helplessly into his chest as you cling to him, “You had me just this, Gods, this morning for breakfast, if you’ll recall.” You managed to say between whimpers and gasps as he practically feasted on the sensitive spot on your neck, his hands softly kneading and caressing your breasts.

He makes a small, displeased hum before he pulls back to look at you, his dark eyes studying you carefully before a small smirk grows on his lips, “You know very well that’s not what I’m after.”

Your eyes widen just slightly as you finally catch his meaning; you shake your head with a small chuckle. “Surely you can’t be serious,” your smile fades as he holds your stare with a small, unchanging smirk, “Daemon, I’ll crush you!”

“And what an honorable death that would be, sweet wife,” he chuckles, his hands firmly grasping your hips as he lifts you up and onto his lap, your head spins as you feel his already hard length pressing against you through the thin linen breeches he has on, “I’ll be fine, it’s not as if this is exactly new territory for us…” He teases, gently skirting his hands over your belly.

“We’ve never done it when I’ve been… like this, though,” you shyly point out, looking down at your bump.

“Do you really not see how insatiable I become every time you’re with child?” Daemon asks, his voice soft and gentle, “I will only ever have you like this a scant few times. Please, sweetling, let me savor it.”

Biting your lip, you gaze down at him, eyes trailing across his bare chest and shoulders and up the strong column of his neck before they finally settle on his face – the look in his eyes nearly making you gasp. His violet eyes are fixed on you, roaming over your body with so much love and adoration that you feel as if you may melt from it.

Before you even register the movement, you’re nodding.

Daemon’s eyes instantly flick up to yours, sparkling with victory. His hands grip your hips again, gently guiding you up his muscular form as he silently thanks the Seven that you wear nothing beneath your Myrish lace nightgowns. A loud groan practically bursts from the prince’s chest once you’re positioned over his face; he loves being surrounded by you — loves the way your soft thighs bracket his head, the way you position your dripping center perfectly over his mouth, and the way the only thing he sees when he looks up is your belly, swollen with his seed, his child.

If it were up to Daemon, he would happily spend the rest of his days here.

Your chest heaves as you grip the headboard of the bed, your heart hammering in your chest from the anticipation of it. You whimper softly as his hands, rough from so many years of sword fighting and dragon riding, grab at your thighs and hips.

He presses soft, sweet kisses to the inside of your thighs before licking a slow, steady line up your center; you can feel him smirk triumphantly against you as moans and whimpers spill from your lips.

“Oh, Gods, Daemon!” You gasp, voice already ragged as you white-knuckle the headboard. Your thighs tremble with the effort of holding yourself even a fraction of an inch above your husband’s face, something he notices quite quickly. A displeased growl rumbles from his chest, making you pant as it vibrates against your core.

“Fucking sit,” Daemon rasps, tugging you against his mouth, his tongue roughly spearing into you as he grinds your pearl against his nose, hands moving your hips against his face.

Your mind all but whites out as he rocks you against him, nose and tongue working in perfect tandem to send shivers down your spine. Your eyes squeeze shut, frantic moans pouring from your mouth as a fire steadily builds within you.

“H-Husband,” you pant, walls clenching tightly around his tongue as he groans into your heat, “I— Fuck, I’m—!” You can hardly get the words out as Daemon seals his lips around your sensitive bud, suckling it at a maddening pace as his hands move down to cup your ass, kneading it roughly.

Your face flushes at the slick sounds pouring from between your thighs as the prince growls against you, sounding as if he’s gaining as much satisfaction as you are. Your core clenches at the thought, pleasure threatening to consume you.

“Daemon!” You cry urgently, shaking above him, a thin sheen of sweat covering your body. You want so badly to thread your fingers through his hair as you normally would, but you can’t even see his face around your protruding belly.

He groans loudly beneath you once more and fucks his tongue back into you, causing the knot in your belly to pull tightly before finally unraveling. Sparks burst behind your eyelids, your back arching as your whole body tenses and relaxes in time with his movements.

The prince moans appreciatively, messily drinking down your pleasure as you peak on top of him. You jump when one of his hands smacks against your ass, the tingling sting extending your release, the intensity of it nearly making you go mad.

Finally, once your signs of relief have turned into whimpers of overstimulation, Daemon releases you with a pleased hum, helping you shuffle back down his body until you’re straddling his hips once again.

You laugh softly at the sight of him — his cheeks flushed a light pink, hair sticking up at odd angles, and a pleased, self-satisfied grin on his face.

“You look as if you were the one who was ravished, my dragon,” you tease, your heart rate slowly returning to normal as you trace over the muscular dips in his chest and stomach.

The prince chuckles lowly, his violet eyes still dark with lust as he takes in your curves. “Ravishing you is a pleasure in and of itself, sweet wife,” he drawls, smirking as you gasp at the feel of his cock against your sensitive core as he rolls his hips against you, “I trust you’ll allow me to feel it again?” He asks, that all too familiar cocky tone back, as if asking is merely a formality.

Sighing happily, you bite your lip as you stare down at him, the knot in your belly beginning to tighten again as you feel his length pressing hotly to you.

“I believe that can be arranged.”

tagged lovelies: @helloworldiamnotarobot @drakonflames @marysucks-blog @watercolorskyy @valeskafics @iamaegontargaryenwife0 @aemshaircare @1997babyyyy @lovellies @little-moonbeam-666 @blackswxnn @alerisc @fan-goddess @wickedfrsgrl @moonriseoverkyoto @echos-muses @schniiipsel @avidreader73 @marvelescvpe @imawhorecrux

(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!)

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midnightwriter21 · 1 year

Note

Hello :) please could I request headcanons of the hashira having a crush on a hashira!reader who’s very motherly to the younger demon slayers but shy and secretly craving affection from the other hashira 💙💙

demon slayer hcs: motherly hashira!reader x the hashira pt 1

characters: fem!reader x giyuu, rengoku, tengen, shinobu, kamaboko squad (mentioned)

AN: some of these are platonic instead of romantic.

pt. 2 with mitsuri, obanai, sanemi, and muichiro is HERE

stop because i love this

you don't talk to the other hashira much

but its not because you don't like them!

they're just a little intimidating

and you want them to like you so bad

but what if you accidentally embarrass yourself in front of them

would be my biggest fear tbh

GIYUU

this guy is just as shy as you are

awkward asf too

but seeing as you're one of the few hashira that are kind to him..

he really likes you

also really appreciates the way you take care of the younger slayers

especially the Kamado siblings

i mean he did literally put his life on the line for those two

you guys don't talk much when in each others company

really its more of a dead silence lmao

like thats a surprise at all lol

but he enjoys being in your presence

he thinks you have a very calming aura around you

and he never feels any hostility from you

if you guys are paired up on a mission?

my guy is glued to u

no way is a demon going to hurt someone as pure and kindhearted as u

not on giyuu's watch

even tho he's goin to be protective of u during missions

he knows that despite your sweet nature, ur a hell of a fighter

respects you sm

thinks of you as his only true friend within the corps

RENGOKU

i can never get enough of him i swear

he absolutely adores you

goes out of his way to talk to you every chance he gets

ur all the way on the other side of the butterfly estate?

sunshine boy is hunting you down

ur on a mission a few miles away from his estate?

he's alrdy otw

also very oblivious

you get shy when he starts talking to you

maybe you start blushing

"oh are you sick? your face is all red. i hope you don't have a fever..."

and hes putting his hand on ur forehead to check ur temperature

if he touched me id faint

admires how you genuinely care for the younger slayers

the way you encourage them to get stronger

the way you help them train

the way you make sure they're eating and drinking enough

you remind him of his mother

TENGEN

when him & his wives finally have children..

ur designated babysitter 100%

being the sound hashira he has a great sense of hearing

so he hears your interactions with the younger slayers

you're not afraid to talk to the kids

you comfort them. laugh with them, scold them, etc.

wonders why you act so differently in the presence of the hashira

makes it his mission to make you comfortable around him

u don't have to worry abt affection when tengen is concerned lol

compliments you 24/7

"you look very flashy today!"

"you are a great teacher!"

"You should become my 4th wife!"

no bc that lmfao ^

SHINOBU

you two are very familiar with each other

it's very often that you're dragging inosuke or genya by the ear to the infirmary to be treated

mostly inosuke

so she is well aware of how motherly u can be

she's a regular witness to the many scoldings given out to the younger slayers

you also asked her to train you in basic first aid

your red face and stuttered words were so cute she acted like she couldn't understand you

just so you would repeat it

loves to tease you

nothing too bad!

and never mean!

just thinks you're so adorable

really appreciates when shes sent on missions and you help out in the infirmary

wants to be better friends with you

5K notes · View notes

euphor1a · 2 years

Note

omg you didn't have to all that behind a silly ask😭, but thank you for responding! pretty interesting how you chose some of your biases but left out some others👁️👄👁️! solid reasoning tho ill give you dat! i laughed a lot reading your little hcs😂, you're so cute lmao

Skskshnxc I’m sorry you had to go through that :') got a little too excited and went all out because I genuinely wasn’t expecting any asks 🥲; but HEY THAT WASN’T A SILLY ASK??? I think it was really fun to answer :DD !! I appreciate you taking your time to send me that <3

Hkfhjfjkfhj well I’m glad you got some entertainment out of it 😭??? And WDYM CUTE, I am just a simping clown through and through 💀💀

#📬; aleyna’s mailbox #nonnie 🕊️#it does get really lonely here so random asks are genuinely appreciated all the time 💗#tmi but when i saw your ask yesterday i felt so happy!! i’ve been reblogging a few ask games for a few days now but i never get any asks #so i always just end up deleting them after some time and feel like shit #shout out to my brain for convincing me that no one wants to interact with my annoying ass #yesterday night i opened tumblr knowing full well that i’m just gonna delete the ask game and pretend to move on like nothing happened #but then i saw your ask and i had to like *halt* :'))) someone sent me something #i know it’s not that deep and you were just curious but from my pov it was very very deep #and i had so much fun answering it! even though i was being downright embarrassing🧍🏽‍♀️#it’s extremely hard to be here when there’s no interaction. or maybe it’s just me being sensitive as usual.#sigh that is enough over sharing for today

0 notes

httpsserene · 7 months

Text

ʜᴛᴛᴘꜱꜱᴇʀᴇɴᴇ'ꜱ ꜰ1 ᴋɪɴᴋᴛᴏʙᴇʀ ꜱᴘᴇᴄɪᴀʟ

ᴜᴘʟᴏᴀᴅ 1 : ᴄʜᴀʀʟᴇꜱ ʟᴇᴄʟᴇʀᴄ / ᴍᴀx ᴠᴇʀꜱᴛᴀᴘᴘᴇɴ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ |ᴄᴏʀʀᴜᴘᴛɪᴏɴ ᴋɪɴᴋ

📖ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: innocent and virgin !reader has never touched herself before. she knows how to, in theory, but whenever she tries, she chickens out. her tried and true way of receiving pleasure is failing her. she thinks that maybe it's time to allow her relationship with her two respectful and experienced boyfriends, to reach the next step. and she'll find that they're very willing to teach her a few things. 📖ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢ: 18+ only. smut. corruption kink. orgasm delay/denial. praise kink. dom/sub undertones. hair-pulling. possessiveness. slight choking (glimpse and you miss it?). brief reference to previous dub-con (very minuscule, not charles or max). no penetrative sex. 📖ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 8k words 📖ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: charles leclerc / max verstappen x fem!black!reader 📖ɢᴇɴʀᴇ: oneshot 📖ꜱᴏᴜɴᴅᴛʀᴀᴄᴋ: all mine • brent faiyaz

ᴘʀᴇꜰᴀᴄᴇ: the strength i had to summon to post this is something crazy. it's my first smut fic if you can believe it or not, but the way i feel exposed to the world is wild. i almost forgot to include the actual kink because i got carried away, but it's there i promise you, don't get disappointed too early in! can confirm that while i was writing this i had to take several breaks and stare at the ceiling. the black!reader is vague i think, it's not noticeable until the end, but i had written it with all shades of my poc girlies in mind < 3. n e ways: hope you guys like it!

want to be added to my f1 kinktober taglist? or my general tag list? send me an ask!

huge thanks to my beta readers @lorarri and @sweetpiccolo-blog ! i appreciate y'all so much :)

cross-posted on my ao3, htpsss

here's the link to the masterlist for my f1 kinktober special, and send me a private message if you would like to be added to the list to become a beta reader in the future!!!

it’s late. you’ve kicked jimmy and sassy out of the bedroom, and locked it shut. you’re standing with your back pressed against the door, staring with unfocused eyes. you moved your stuffed animals inside the closet and had them facing the wall even though you closed the closet door. the window curtains are drawn shut, and the only light in the room is the warmth of one nightstand lamp. one of the plushest towels max owns is spread across the bed. in the center lays a single pillow.

this is the last chance you have to get off before max and charles get home in a few hours. they’ve been gone for a triple-header, and you haven’t been able to orgasm once in the near month they’ve been gone. you’ve become depraved enough to consider buying a vibrator, but all packages delivered to this apartment have to be approved by max or charles to be sent up, and you’re definitely not bold enough to go out and buy one (and risk being seen by one of their fans or have to physically talk to someone to buy one).

the obvious thing to do would be to talk to your boyfriends, and tell them that you’re ready to start exploring the sexual side of your relationship. you’ve been dating them for two years now, and you’re afraid that they’re getting tired of waiting for you to be comfortable enough to have sex with them. but, you’re also afraid that once they learn how inexperienced you really are—they’ll make fun of you, leave you, and find some other woman who knows how to please them. you know that’s outrageous and never going to happen. they’re the sweetest boys you’ve ever dated (way better than that one dude you dated who tried to get you wasted enough to persuade you into having sex with him), and they’ve been very respectful concerning your boundaries. always pulling away when they feel themselves getting hard, and constantly reminding you to tell them to stop if you feel uncomfortable and that there’s nothing wrong with that, and that they’re willing to wait as long as you need, and will continue loving you regardless even if you decide to never have sex with them. so—of course you know that they won’t be assholes about your innocence—it’s just your own self-esteem, insecurity, and overthinking that prevents you from saying you’re ready.

you make a deal with yourself. if you can’t manage to get off grinding against your pillow one last time, you’ll force yourself to sit down with your boyfriends, stare them in the eyes and state that your ready to have sex. who are you kidding—you’re going to get off right now one way or another even if it kills you, because you definitely will wither away and die if you have to have that conversation with your boyfriends.

you walk over to the bed, heart beginning to race as you start playing one of those curated “songs i’d like to be railed to” playlists, before throwing your phone somewhere up the bed. you move to straddle the pillow, and begin to calm your heartbeat. you take a few deep breaths and let your mind wander. the first thought that comes to your head is the goodbye kiss you got from your boyfriends before they left.

they had gotten all their luggage together and were pulling on their shoes at the entryway. charles was pouting at you, wide green eyes and all, “you are sure that you don’t want to come with us? for at least one of the races? we’ll be gone for almost a—“

“yes, cha. i’m sure,” you cut him off with a firm nod, “lemme give you a kiss before you leave, okay?”

charles frowned at max who laughed—like he wasn’t the one begging you to come with them last night before you all went to bed. with a little upset ‘hmph’ charles leaned down and kissed you softly. you had pulled away, only trying to give him a peck, and charles grunted disapprovingly. one of his veiny hands rose and gripped at your waist over your t-shirt, strongly pulling you forward, causing you to tumble into his chest. “oh, i am going to need more than that, mon ange,” charles smirked down at you, “i am leaving for so long, and that’s the goodbye kiss you’re leaving me with? no, i do not think so.”

you glanced away from him, cheeks beginning to become warm as you make to hide your face is his broad chest. charles tutted at you, tightening his grip on your waist, and his other hand gently pushed your head up to look at him, “c’mere and give me a real kiss, pretty girl.”

you made a suppressed little squeal in the back of your throat, a noise max and charles became very familiar with, often present when they start teasing you. you surprisingly leaned up and initiated the kiss, causing charles to let out a shocked gasp into your mouth. his hand on your waist moved lower, falling to the small of your back and pushed your body completely against his. his other hand caressed your jaw, soothing you enough to allow him to control the kiss, as he flicked his tongue at the seam of your lips. you shakily sighed, allowing him entrance and the kiss deepened, a pleased humming noise in the back of your throat escaping.

you impatiently shift side to side on top of the pillow, not yet allowing yourself to get any friction. sliding both of your hands underneath your sweater—well, max’s sweater, and you start playing with your chest. flicking gently at your nipples, just the way you like.

you could feel charles chuckle into the kiss, but you dismiss it, and keep kissing at him eagerly. however, you failed to recognize that he wasn’t laughing at you, he was laughing at max. cockily making eye-contact with him, before he let his eyes flutter shut and devoted his attention to you.

max stared on, his mouth slightly open as he watched his two loves give him a show for free. charles’ hand slipped lower, gliding over your ass, across your criminally well-fitted jeans, and found its home on the back of your thigh. max is well acquainted with how skilled charles’ mouth is, so he knows he must have done something spectacular to cause a choked-off moan to escape you, your hand raised to grab at charles’ polo in a fist, wrinkling the pressed shirt. max huffed, deciding to no longer spectate, and took the few steps to reach you across the foyer.

you let out a shocked gasp, eyes fluttering open in surprise at the feeling of your other boyfriend pressed up against your back. you attempt to break the kiss, but charles doesn’t let you. hand slipping from your cheeks to the nape of your neck, tangling in the hairs there and keeping you exactly where he wants. one of max’s hands came to rest at your hip, while the other rested on your navel. your eyes fell shut again in pleasure at how charles gently nipped at your bottom lip, and max’s presence is pushed to the back of your mind.

you didn’t register max’s hand disappearing from your abdomen, but suddenly, the air was cut with a pained moan from charles and his lips were ripped away from yours.

your eyes flew open, and max’s hand was buried in charles’ hair, tugging his head backward and maneuvering it into what must be an almost uncomfortable angle, but with how pleased charles looked—you wanted to feel it too. his eyes rolled backwards, before he pressed them shut and re-opened them to reveal dilated pupils and half-lidded lashes; panting hard, lips covered with your shared spit, and a fucked-out look in his eyes.

you struggle to pull off your sleeping shorts, eventually managing to tug them off to reveal your white cotton panties. your hand leaves your breast to touch at your heat, and you’re shocked at how wet you’ve gotten already. you use that same hand to adjust your pillow, before you let your hips fall all the way and make contact with the pillow. you sigh in relief.

now, max is the one to laugh with his hand firmly keeping charles in place. “oh, you know better than to tease me charlie…” he started, and you barely heard him. fixated on the way charles’ tongue frequently slips out to lick at his lips, but you could hear the smirk max was wearing.

“and you’re also not the only one leaving our sweet girl for a month. you should be nice and let me have a taste too, hm? isn’t that right, schatje?” he directs at charles. max’s other hand made its way up your abdomen, copping a feel at your chest, before it rested across your throat. he wasn’t squeezing at all, but the weight of his hand, how it spans across your neck, and how you can feel the strength lying underneath his skin, caused you to lose your breath. he guided your head back and dropped his to get his own goodbye kiss.

the kiss felt like it lasted for a lifetime, but realistically it had to be less than a minute of max forcing charles to watch how he ravaged your mouth, before charles started whining loudly. max patted your neck gingerly before pulling away and laughing at charles’ teary eyes. your legs were trembling and you were pretty sure if max wasn’t behind you, you would’ve fallen long ago. in one smooth motion, his hand fell to the monegasque’s throat from his hair and pulled him closer, completely sandwiching you between them, as their lips met in a wild kiss.

your hips start to rock against the pillow, keeping it slow in the beginning, learning your lesson about friction burn the last time you got too erratic with your moves too quickly.

charles—completely desperate—whined deep in his throat and max kept pulling consistently depraved moans and grunts out of your boyfriend. max’s other hand moved off of your hip to smack at charles’, a nonverbal command for him to calm down and let max take care of him. you felt charles practically vibrating against you in need, but he slowly started to calm; his posture slackening and lips slowing, allowing the dutch full control.

the two of them were completely ignoring you. caught in their own world, putting all of their energy into their kisses, and in turn gave you a front row seat to something you're never going to forget about. you felt so small in between the two of them, like the only thing that kept you from floating away is the fact that you were stuck in between their bodies.

eventually, max released his grip on charles and separated from the kiss, giving charles air to breathe. the blonde stepped backwards away from your body, and you stumbled embarrassingly. max’s hands went up to hover around your waist (suddenly so shy to touch you) to make sure you actually didn't fall. charles shook his head, physically trying to clear the haze in his mind before he stumbled away from you as well, pressing his back against the wall.

his chest was heaving with exertion, cheeks flushed a pretty red color, while his hands went to tug at his uncomfortably tight pants, failing to adjust himself to make his erection less obvious. he suddenly turns shy as well—it probably doesn’t help that max was laughing at how easy he is to turn on—, and charles tries to try and tug his shirt down to cover up his problem as best as he can.

your hips start to pick up in speed, movements more sure and less shaky. the friction between the cotton pillowcase and panties is multiplied on your cunt, and when you rock down deep enough, the catch of the panties on your clit is nearly immobilizing.

thinking about the moment before your boys left leads you into fantasizing about their dynamic, and how they are in the bedroom. that morning alone proved who was actually in charge; charles will tease and take whatever he can, as long as max allows him to. you can recall many instances of max guiding a well-fucked charles out of the bedroom and depositing him on your lap, before he went on to clean up and run the monegasque a bath.

the multiple post-sex facetimes you’ve gotten from the two when they’re across the world always starts with max softly speaking, “i’ve worn him out pretty good, but he refuses to fall asleep unless he gets to call you.” and the phone is passed to charles, who’s voice and lips are ruined to hell and you have to decipher what he’s attempting to say.

you’re starting to acclimate to the current tempo, so you pick it up another notch. you lean forward, bracing your hands on the bed for support as you focus on doing deeper and slower grinds against the pillow, allowing your clit to get constant attention.

you find comfort in the fact that charles allows max to take him to such a vulnerable state, and sometimes—you even find yourself getting jealous. you started joining them to see their aftercare for yourself, and found out that you're aching to be taken apart and put back together like max and charles do to each other.

the sound of max’s constant praises of charles being “so good for him,” and charles’s constant stream of “thank you, thank you, maxy” has you losing all train of thought.

you abandon the slow-and-steady technique, you’ve tried it several times this month and it’s failed to get you to come. you bite your lip, letting out a frustrated groan. your hips slow, and you grab the front of the pillow with one hand and pull it upwards, hoping that a tighter space allows better friction. you start moving quicker, doing smaller more shallow motions and it’s tons better. you can’t stop thinking that it would be even better to ride charles’ face.

even though your eyelids are scrunched shut, the thousands of tiktok edits you’ve seen of your boyfriends post-race; balaclava lines, sweaty, messy hair, and all—are playing behind them. you moan out desperately, toes curling in your socks. you hear the phantom noises of monegasque moans along with the imagined whispers of dutch-accented praises.

the knot in your navel tightens, your thighs begin to tremble, and you can feel yourself clenching around nothing. this is it, the feeling that’s escaped you for a month, it’s returning, you can finally come.

you start to rut against the pillow, uncaring of how your wetness has seeped into the pillow cover and sticks against your thighs—if anything, it’s just another pleasant sensation. unfiltered squeals and gasps start slipping out, you’re too blissed out to regulate your volume at this point.

but then, a minute passes and you still haven’t fallen over the precipice. it’s right there; you can see it, you can even hear it, but you can’t fucking feel it.

your moans of pleasure turn into cries of frustration. your legs start to quiver with exhaustion, and the orgasm you almost had fades. tears spill from your eyes, as you frantically rut against the soaked pillow, not caring about rhythm or technique anymore. and your chance is gone, your sobs echoing around the room at another failed attempt.

you climb off the pillow and fall on your side, crying into the towel trying to muffle your anguished noises. you have the fleeting thought to think that you're overreacting, but fuck that. you’ve literally been unwillingly denying yourself for a month.

after you’ve cried yourself out, you get up and start to clean up the mess you made. when you lean down to pick up the shorts you flung across the room, you hear jimmy and sassy start yowling outside of the room. and faintly, you hear the front door open.

fuck.

a giggle slips out of charles as the cries of the cats are heard outside of the apartment door. max shoots a glare at charles for laughing at his children, before he loses the fight and a smile slips out in response to the monegasque’s. finally managing to slip the key into the lock, max speaks, “we’re supposed to surprise her by being early, cha—maybe we should’ve let the cat’s know when we called earlier today?” they step through the threshold, quickly shutting the door behind them so the cats won’t run out. charles makes a questioning hum as they both start slipping out their jackets, “they are cats, mon minou. i do not think they care about anything other than when you come back to feed them.”

max side eyes him heavily as he squats down to untie his sneakers, and looks around slightly confused, “i think we are missing a greeting from one more kitten, wouldn't you say, charles?” the man in question nods in agreement, while finally petting jimmy and sassy to calm them down a little bit. whenever the two of them return home, you usually race to the door along with the cats. you give them warm hugs and sweet kisses, help them take their jackets off, and let them know if you cooked a meal for them, or prepared a bath.

but tonight, they don’t hear the sound of your footsteps coming towards them. it’s rare for them not to be greeted at the door, most of the time you beat them to unlocking it, with the alarm system the cats provide.

charles questions, “maybe she fell asleep? we did not tell her that we moved our flight earlier. and we did tell her to go to bed because we would be arriving late.”

max snorts disbelievingly, “when has she ever gone to bed when we’ve told her to,” he starts, “she’s probably just in the bathroom or something.”

the two spend a few minutes paying some attention to the cats, before they begin to get suspicious at the fact that you still haven’t come to welcome them back. they straighten up and start heading towards the bedroom.

max pushes the door open, and everything looks normal except for the fact that you’re nowhere to be seen. the bed is put together, one nightstand lamp is on, and the bathroom is empty. max and charles stare at each other with matching baffled expressions, before you clear your throat in the doorway.

max jumps, “shit!” and charles flinches, “oh, what the fuck!”

your giggles reverberate through the air, and the two men can only laugh along with you. “oh? so you find scaring us funny, schat?” max teases gently. you pad over to him, throwing your arms around his neck to pull him in for a tight hug, nodding softly into his neck as you breathe him in. charles huffs after he’s deemed that you spent too much time loving on max before he pulls you into his own grasp, one arm braced tightly around your waist while his other hand cradles the back of your head resting in his chest. “she’s absolutely frightening, max, can’t you tell?” he teases back, defending you jokingly.

max hums, “definitely. where were you hiding, baby?”

you freeze for second as you pull away from charles’ grasp, before stuttering your way through an explanation, “u-uh oh, i was-um, i was just in the laundry room! i was just putting a few things i had accidentally spilled uh- spilled juice on-yes juice of course, in the uh-washing machine, yes,” you nod firmly, to fully convince them.

the monegasques raises an eyebrow at you and dragged out an, “…….okay, i guess?” max follows up with a sarcastic, “yeah….we definitely believe you!”

you narrow your eyes at him, “are you calling me a liar, max? because, why would i lie about—“

charles cuts you off, turning your head back towards him as he squints at your face. he runs his thumb underneath one of your eyes, and speaks softly, “were you crying, mon ange? your eyes are red and swollen.”

you shake your head rapidly to attempt to dismiss his worry but it’s already too late. max practically teleports to your side and scans your face and with a gasp he reveals, “yes, you did cry. i can still see the tears stained on your cheeks.”

you shift uncomfortably, “yes, okay! i did cry! but it was nothing serious,” you pause and mumble the last part of your sentence, “i was just overreacting anyways, it doesn’t matter.”

max smacks his teeth at you disapprovingly, “hey, don’t be mean to yourself, schatje. anything that causes you to cry does matter. tell us, and we can try and make it better for you.” the two boys wear you down with earnest eyes; the monegasque brushes his lips against your hand comfortingly and the dutchman tucks your hair behind your ears soothingly. they wait patiently and don’t attempt to push you any further, but there’s an unspoken understanding between the two of them; they won’t let this go until you explicitly ask them two. and suddenly, your resistance falls and words start rushing out of your mouth.

“im so tired, okay? i’ve been trying for ages, ages, and i can’t get there! everytime i try, i-i-it’s like i’m right there–right there! and then it never comes! it’s torture. the harder i try to reach for it, the more it slips away, and then it doesn’t even feel good anymore! i thought this was supposed to feel good–and now what’s the point?! i don’t even wanna try again if i’m just going to be–”

“woah, woah, woah.” max cuts you off, “what are we talking about exactly, schatje? have you not been getting enough sleep or something? because we can try and–" you interrupt, “NO! i haven’t came in a MONTH! are you even listening to me?!”

charles chokes on his own breath and max damn near faints. most importantly, they’re shaken at your bluntness around the topic; every time they try to ask if you’ve been finding…relief–for lack of a better word, you tend to snap shut if they use any ‘explicit’ words with you– you tell them not to worry about it. so, to hear you say it plainly reveals how much distress this has been causing you. secondly, the thought that you’ve been desperately trying to get off for a month on your own, is a paralyzing thought. they nearly convinced themselves that you had no idea about anything sexual due to your refusal to answer any of their questions—which there would be nothing wrong with, they’d be happy to teach you how to please them and them alone. it’s a seductive thought, the fact that you’re untouched, that no man has had the opportunity to taint you and ruin your perspective on how you should receive and give pleasure. they’ve been praying for the day you’d be ready to let them teach you how to be good for them. maybe that makes them monsters, for taking advantage of your naivety and innocence, and molding you into their perfect girl, but they stopped feeling guilty for desiring this long ago.

you seem to have missed the fact that you sent their minds reeling and continue venting, “i don’t know what to do, maxy! i’ve been doing the same thing, and it’s NEVER failed me before. it’s cruel that it stopped working when you guys left me for more than a month! no matter how i did it–if i did the exact same things i’ve always been doing, or tried something new, nothing worked! i was literally just considering buying a fucking vibrator! a vibrator, charles, i’d rather run naked in the street than buy that online and have to put in this delivery address–”

charles gently presses finger against your mouth, shushing you. he pulls you into a deep hug, rubbing a hand up and down the length of your back , the motion pacifying you. he hums, and it vibrates through his chest to yours, “mmm, we’re home now, mon ange. there’s no need to run in the streets naked–” “definitely not,” max jumps in, reacting possessively at the implication of other people seeing you undressed. charles rolls his eyes and continues (like he’s not just as jealous as max), “or buy a vibrator. i know it must be so frustrating, to not cum,” you gasp softly, “especially when you’ve been edging yourself accidentally for so long, hm?”

a questioning sound slips from your lips, “hm? what’s edging? i just haven’t,” your voice drops to a whisper, “cum.” max thinks that he’s seriously fucked-up in the head, because he watches how you bury your face into charles’s chest after your whispered word, refusing to make eye contact with them out of embarrassment; and relishes at the fact that you absolutely have no idea about what exactly you’ve been doing to yourself. he’s going to enjoy ruining teaching you everything he knows.

“edging is repeated instances of sexual stimulation and stopping before your orgasm. it’s called that because you are kept ‘on the edge.’ you can do it to yourself or with others,” max states in an unfazed manner. he sees you start to relax, knowing that you find comfort in his matter-of-fact tone.

a pout lowers your lips, “who would enjoy that? it feels terrible.”

max breaks out in a grin, slipping an arm around charles and squeezing at his tapered waist, “you know somebody who enjoys it very much, liefje,” charles blushes at the sudden call out, and watches the way your eyes widen in shock. max continues, “anyways, you may find that you enjoy it when it’s done properly—with people who are experienced enough to make sure you’re feeling good and keep you feeling good… and show you how to have a proper orgasm, hm?” max segways into the important topic, not allowing you to deflect any longer.

charles stops your attempt at hiding in his broad shoulder this time around, and firmly holds your face to keep you facing max. the dutch give charles a nod of appreciation and watches how he shifts on his feet at the acknowledgement; he might have to take care of him after he’s done with you, too. max allows your eyes to avoid meeting his, letting them roam his face as you battle your own insecurity.

“liefje,” max deepens his tone, knowing how you melt at any pitch similar to his morning voice, “there is no need to be embarrassed about your virginity and innocence. you had your boundaries set, and never bent or broke them to make someone happy at the cost of your comfort. no matter how much pressure someone applied to you, you refused to let them have you in one of the most vulnerable positions you could ever be in because you felt unsure or plainly uncomfortable with them. that is something you should take pride in and no one should make a joke out of your virginity for that instance. tonight, you can still make that decision if you are not completely sure on allowing charles and i the privilege of teaching you how to feel satisfied. we will continue to wait for you; you have the power here, not charles or i. do what is best for you at this moment, and if that changes, tell us so, and we will continue or stop at your will.”

the room is silent as the three of you digest max’s spiel. charles and max seem to be completely nonchalant about the matter, but they are trying to hide how anxious they are about your possible refusal, for your sake. of course they are hoping that you’ll accept their helping hands, or lips, or tongues, or coc—but, that’s not their main intention tonight. the goal is for them to start building a deeper level of understanding and trust with you, to where you allow yourself to be in your most vulnerable state with them. and that will take time; they’re not expecting you to completely reveal your innermost workings to them instantaneously. however, they most definitely want to show you how good they can make you feel and how good you can make them feel. and once you internalize that, then they can start working on showing you the wonders of sex—or plainly put, they can start tainting you.

you nod. charles eyes brighten and his cheeks dimple with the appearance of a wild smile. he leans in to kiss you in thanks, but max halts him with one finger to the forehead and a quick ‘aht aht,’ “that won’t do, liefje, i need verbal confirmation—words, please.”

“y-you can…you can help s-show and teach me how to…how to feel good. i am ready to have…,” your voice thins out, and suddenly you shake your head, eyes meeting max’s straight on in an unusual act of confidence, clearing your throat, “i am ready for us to have—i’m ready for you to fuck me.”

max wasn’t exactly ready for that wording and faltered, a little shook. charles on the other hand has to struggle to refrain from laughter. at the mixed reaction, your bravado slips away, and you add, “please?” charles loses the laugh automatically; your timid but desperate widened brown doe eyes stare up at the two of them, flickering between them anxiously, plump lips parted with your tongue flicking out—he has a few ideas of something he can offer to keep that mouth of yours busy.

max rumbles in satisfaction, “see, that wasn’t so hard, was it pretty girl? we’ll work on that confidence of yours for sure—but, i have a few rules for you first before we get started. charles, why don’t you tell our girl the first two?”

“number one, always answer our questions with words; if you don’t, we’ll stop and wait for you to respond. two, if you feel uncomfortable at any point, tell us, and we’ll stop what we’re doing and make it better for you or stop completely if necessary,” charles answers assuredly.

you nod, and max raises an eyebrow at you, “i mean, yes!”

max praises you, “you’re already doing so good for us,” he watches your breath catch at the sentence and figures he may have another praise kink on his hands, “you wanna be a good girl and tell me what you were really doing before we came home?” your cheeks burn and your previous embarrassment returns full force, but you fight through it, not wanting to break the rules right off the bat.

“well, you remember how i said my usual method wasn’t working anymore? i wasn’t lying about that. i only g-get off when you guys leave, andidoitbygrindingonapillow—and i have to put down a towel before becauseimakeamess. so! i really was doing laundry, i just didn’t spill juice on it…i kinda, spilled on it.”

charles’ hands fall away from you in shock, and max really doesn’t know if he can handle another revelation like this from you without actually passing out. you continue to over-explain, “and i i-i didn’t even get to, y’ know (oh my god, she soaked the pillow without even cumming, max!), and i got that wet anyway…and i can’t really control it, but if you guys don’t like it i can try and—“

“NO!” “PLEASE DON’T!”

you flinch away, and they apologize heavily for their overreaction.

“please, don’t, mon ange. i can tell you that max and i aren’t ever going to hate what’s between your legs, or what comes from there,” charles suggests with a smirk, before his face shifts to a more blank state “wait. did…did you have a chance to change?” you hum a little “mm-mm” glancing down at yourself still clad in max’s sweater and cotton panties, “uhm. no, i was a little more concerned with cleaning up the bed before you guys saw it so—sorry, i’m not a little more presentable—“

“are you wearing the same panties, mon ange?”

you freeze, brain lagging at what the monegasque had noticed. “mhm, yeah,” you whisper softly, playing with the hem of the sweater self-soothingly.

“can i,” charles takes a deep breath, “can i touch you, mon coeur?”

you squeak, “yes please, charlie.”

max watches as charles places his massive hand on one of your thighs, spanning the front with no struggle, and gently caresses his hand up, slowly making his way up your thigh. charles taps two fingers gently against you, and you spread your legs a smidge wider, and the sound of your thighs peeling off one another from the stickiness you leaked, reverberates around the room. max can’t help but let a moan slip out. charles slides his hand in between your legs, both of your own hands fisting at the hem of your borrowed sweatshirt, and you gasp at the lightest touch of charles pointer and middle finger against your soaked panties. max sees charles pupils blow wide and mouth drop open in awe—and he can’t wait anymore.

max presses his front to your back, sandwiching you in between them once again, and impatiently asks, “schatje, can i?” you let out a breathy ‘yeah,’ and max doesn’t hesitate to bully his hand in between your legs as well. he cops a more generous feel of your cunt, and groans at the state of ruin your panties are in.

“liefje,” max starts, “walk with me to the bed, please.” max pulls away, and unfastens one of your hands from the sweater to guide you. you turn around stumbling through your first few steps—charles sets you upright more prepared for your legs becoming jello than you are, and helps you over to the bed, one hand firmly set on the small of your back. max sits on the edge of the bed, man spreading comfortably, and watches how your eyes automatically fall to stare at his thighs with a smirk. he glances at charles behind you, who mouths ‘can’t blame her’ with a smirk of his own. the dutch pats his lap, “c’mere and give me a kiss, pretty girl.”

you rush to sit in his lap, slowing at the last minute, not wanting to sit your full weight on him. he huffs, and grabs at your hips situating you firmly on his lap, before leaning in and kissing you stupid. your gasp of shock transforms into a hum of pleasure, letting max have complete control of the kiss. his hand comes up to rest on the back of your head and moves you exactly where he wants, sucking on your bottom lip before slipping his tongue against yours. max kisses like he’s going to run out of time, he ravishes you completely. you squirm against him, pulling away to pant against his cheek needing air. max chuckles, and you only get to whine at his teasing for half a second before charles, who’s now sitting next to max, pulls you into another kiss. charles, on the other hand, kisses like he has all the time in the world, he draws it out. he keeps the kisses slow and closed in the beginning, pausing to pull away and thumb at your lips, relishing at how they’ve already swelled from max’s abuse, the surrounding skin already beginning to turn raw and sensitive from their friction of their facial hair. he continues kissing you, all tongue and sloppy not caring about about the way your hands come up to grasp at his chest in desperation, before switching to absolutely bruise your lips by nipping and tugging at them.

your hips jump forward against max’s, and he can’t stop the groan that tumbles out. you jolt away from charles’ assault and stare at max with an embarrassed expression, “s-sorry—“ max narrows his eyes and dismisses your apology, “don’t apologize for that. you feel good, you’re allowed to show that unless i tell you differently.”

“yes, max,” you answer, even though he didn’t ask a question.

“oh, you’re such a good girl for us, liefje,” he tests. and his instincts didn’t fail him. your hips twitch against his again, and a near inaudible moan slips from your lips.

he turns towards charles, “yeah, that works doesn’t it, cha?” charles nods, eyes still stuck on your lips. max smirks at charles being completely entranced, before turning back to you and clocks the glaze beginning to form over your eyes, “alright now, liefje, i need you to pay attention to me really quickly, hm?”

you hum, bobbing your head a few times, before you manage to get out a “yes, max.”

he holds your head steady with his thumb and pointer finger gripping your chin, “i’m not going anywhere, baby, take your time and focus.” it only takes you half a minute to truly focus in after your heart stops racing to give him another verbal confirmation before he continues. “tonight, neither one of us is going to make love to you—“ your shoulders drop and a frown is quick to spread across your mouth. you really only prepared for the situation that you’d tell them you were ready, and then you’d get railed into next sunday. you start to panic; maybe you came off too depraved, and he’s letting you down slowly—

“hey, hey, hey. no overthinking yet, let him finish, mon ange,” charles calls out to you worriedly, he’s experienced the same thought process you're going through before and would rather try and prevent the self-doubt from overtaking you.

max pets at your waist over the sweater and continues, “not tonight. we’ve just gotten off a flight, and had three back to back races. it’s late, and i’m sure all three of us are tired. we should initiate something like that with a clearer mind,” you feel a little selfish now, his points very valid, “but, i still want to give you an orgasm, okay? sure, you may not be able to get off by grinding on a pillow anymore. you’ve probably just acclimated to it and need to give it a break. so, to compromise: you’ll get off by riding my thigh.”

charles and max wait for your reaction. your frown lightens into a pout, but you’re disappointment doesn’t completely fade away. “how is that any different from riding the pillow? it’s the same thing.” charles laughs shakily, “oh, mon ange. you have no idea. listen to max and give it a try before you take it off the table completely.”

you shrug, and agree, “fine. how do i….uh how do i do the thigh riding, i guess?”

charles turns to look at max, wordlessly asking for permission, and max grants it with a wave of his hand. charles scoots up closer, and shifts your straddle from max’s whole lap to his right thigh. as soon as your pantie-covered cunt firmly presses on the muscle of max’s jean-clad thigh, a soft ‘oh’ croaks out of you. max flexes and relaxes his thigh once and your hips jump up and away from him. max and charles glance at each other; you’re ridiculously sensitive, they’ll have to see if that’s your natural state or if it’s just the result of your prolonged edging and the fact that you were grinding against a pillow not too long ago. charles squeezes your hips, bringing your attention to him, “i’m going to start guiding you now, you ready, mon coeur?”

“mmm, yeah—that felt really good, i want more,” you speak timidly.

“good,” charles states, and then he pulls your hips forward dragging you against max’s thigh, and a flash of heat zings up your spine. you moan, a small, breathy exhale, and charles keeps it slow at first, not pushing you down to roughly or making the motions too quick—he wants you to learn to love the friction again. barely a minute passes before your hips start fighting charles’ guided rhythm, and a frustrated groan slips out of you, not able to fight your boyfriends grip. max clocks back in from where he was watching the pleasure start to flicker on your face and asks, “what are you supposed to do, baby?”

“more-ah, please, charlie,” you moan shakily. charles smirks, “look at you, still using your manners like a good girl—“ a louder moan echoes, “okay, okay, mon coeur. i’ll get you there, i’ll get you to cum like you need, okay? i’ll make you forget all about your manners too, hmm?”

you stopped listening to anything after charles reassured you that he’s going to get you to cum, you believe him. he adjusts his grip on your hips and starts incrementally increasing the pace and pressure for you. your moans start to become more frequent, and increasing in pitch rapidly, the drivers can tell you’re hurtling towards your long-awaited orgasm, sooner than they thought. charles slowly releases his grip on your waist letting your hips take over once he’s sure you’ve gotten the hang of it. you throw your head back in pleasure, your hips have a steady grind and…and you’re feeling good. a suprised laugh slips out of your lips at that and shifts into a sharp moan when max starts flexing his thigh rhythmically giving you a little more texture to work with. max lets his heavy hands fill in for where charles’ and presses you down into deeper slower strokes.

you cry out, it’s a little too much for you, but it feels so good, that you bear with it, they know what’s best for you, anyways. max grins down at you smugly, and you start to tear up a little; he can still feel your hips twitching away from the pressure sometimes. not wanting to push you too far with that motion alone, he lightens up on the pressure but starts bouncing his thigh. the shriek you release surprises all three of you, but you don’t run from it, if anything you lean into it more. one of your hands fists into charles’ shirt for support, and the other falls to max’s, tugging it off your left hip so you can hold it tight. max’s grin softens into a small smile and he kisses your joined hands, and charles leans into press kisses on your neck, praise slipping out of their lips freely.

“doing so good for us, pretty girl.”

“yeah, baby, that’s it. take what you need.”

“don’t be shy, let those sweet moans out for us.”

“just like that, oh! look at that, you’ve leaked all over his thigh,” charles points out. max looks down and registers that his pant leg is sticking down to his thigh and the denim has darkened with the amount of wetness. “oh, yeah. look at that, baby,” max pats on the side of your face, and you can’t even recall when you screwed your eyes shut, but you look down, and a mortified squeal leaves you. not much longer and you’ll have drowned his thigh. the dutchman sucks his teeth at you, “don’t be embarrassed, liefje. i can’t wait until i can taste it straight from the source,” he moves his other hand underneath the sweatshirt, and slips two fingers between your inner thigh while gathering your wetness. he sucks on one finger moaning explicitly at your taste, before offering both fingers to charles to clean off. the monegasque flicks his tongue out teasingly tasting them first, before he makes a quick motion of sucking them in and fully running his tongue in every crevice to get every last drop of your taste.

you moans start to become pitchy little ah-ah-ah’s, and you frantically start rabbiting your hips. you’re so close. max squeezes you hand, and starts up the praise again.

“i wasn’t joking, schatje. when i finally get my mouth on your pretty little cunt, you won’t be able to pull me off of you until i force at least three orgasms out of you.”

charles pulls off of max’s fingers and adds, “i need to give her three or four from my mouth too. i don’t think she’ll be able to handle that many.”

“yes, she can. she’s such a good girl for us, she’d let us keep going until we tell her when she’s done.”

“mmm, yeah—she’s right there, look at that cute little face she’s making.”

“her pretty little o-mouth, we should fill that up for her too.”

“thinkin i’ll fill that sweet little cunt of hers first with my dick—“

what escapes your mouth is definitely a scream, and max can’t bring himself to muffle it even though it’s the middle of the night. he pays a hefty sum of money for this penthouse, they can deal with hearing how charles and him make you scream with pleasure. your orgasm completely whites-out all of your senses; ears ringing, eyes rolled back, skin feeling raw and thighs shaking. max and charles work your hips back and forth a few more times, helping you with the aftershocks until you squirm out of their hands. you fall forward into max’s chest, body trembling, and tears streaming down your face.

max cradles you close and scratches at your head, calling your name a few times to get a gauge of how out of it you are. with no verbal response, he sends charles to get water and a towel to clean you up. max softly murmurs praises at you constantly, and charles joins in with the affirmations when he returns. the both clean you up when you’re still floating; they put you in an oversized tee, not bothering with undergarments, wiping all wetness and cream away from between your legs trying to avoid looking at your cunt directly, they even manage to get your bonnet on for you, and even have time to change the duvet before you start becoming aware again.

you turn and automatically move to snuggle into the crook of max’s neck, but he gently presses a straw to your mouth so you can hydrate after the amount of fluids you seem to have lost. your eyes open, and you croak out a disapproving hum at not being able to go to sleep, and max shakes his head at you, “drink, schat. non-negotiable, pretty girl.” after slowly draining ¾ of the bottle, you pull away and with a shattered voice, start mumbling, “thank you, thank you, thank you—“

and charles leans over to cut you off with a soft press of lips, “no, thank you for letting us give you that, mon coeur.” you hum, whispering out, “i love you, charlie. i love you, maxy.”

they both respond with resounding ‘i-love-you’s back, and start soft conversation just checking up on you before they let you fall asleep.

“i’ve never felt this good before from an orgasm,” you start, “i wanna—i wanna keep being good for you guys. i wanna learn how to feel good like this again, and i want you both to show me how because i trust you. please?”. charles and max both murmur affirmatives to you, and you continue speaking softly, “you guys can take showers now, i’ll probably be asleep before you come back.” after making sure you’re truly comfortable, max and charles head to the en-suite to take the world’s speediest shower so they can cuddle up with you sooner.

shutting the door, max and charles stare at each other in completely silence. charles starts, “are we sure that we’re the ones corrupting her and she’s not corrupting us? because, i’ve almost came in my pants three times tonight.”

max stares at charles with unseeing eyes, “i will never forgot the way she soaked my fucking leg, charles…i’m pretty sure i did come in my pants.”

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russellsppttemplates · 2 months

Text

Never letting you go (Max Verstappen)

There was nothing stopping you and Max now

Note: english is not my first language. This is the first Max big piece to sort of introduce their arc, let me know what you think! ✨️

Thank you so much to everyone who likes and reblogs, your feedback is appreciated 🤍 and I'm taking requests so if you have any ideas or concepts you want to share, feel free to do so as I'll try to get to them the best I can!

my masterlist

Tw: mentions Jos forbidding Max and reader of dating, curse words

Tag list: @myloverjk-blog

"What do you mean you're going to the Grand Prix?", you quirked your brow as your friend Cara sipped her coffee, "I thought you said you'd never be caught dead one of those", you chuckled.

"Matthew's company got a bunch of passes because they got a deal with one of the sponsors - I think? - I don't know much about it, all I know is that he brought three home because he thought you'd like to join us", she offered.

You never hid how much you enjoyed watching Formula One, even if watching it, especially in the last couple of years, often brought emotionally heavy memories back.

"That's nice, count me in! What type of passes are they?", you questioned, taking a bite from the cake on your plate.

"I don't know, he was talking all about them and I must admit I zoned out", she admitted, "but he said they were really good! He was very surprised at what the passes had, but his boss is very cheap so I don't know how great they actually are considering the possible comparison", she smiled as you nodded, "count me in, though. It's been a while since I stepped foot on one of them", you recalled.

The last race you attended was when Max was in Formula Three still. The paddock was so big and crowded with so many people, you doubted you'd bump into him. It wouldn't do you any good, would it?

"How did you get hospitality passes?", you gasped as Matthew handed you the lanyard, "they've invested a lot of money so I guess the sponsors didn't mind loosening the belt", he shrugged, putting his own around his neck after scanning it.

"Thank you for this, by the way", you flashed him a smile, "no worries, Y/N, the only way I could convince her to come was if you joined us, and I don't mind actually spending the weekend with someone who also knows a little about the sport", he chuckled as Cara laced her arms with her fiancé, "I'm glad he has you to talk to as well, there's only so much feigned interest I can muster up", she rolled her eyes.

Scuderia Alpha Tauri had been Toro Rosso, but despite the name change, as soon as you walked in, some faces were still familiar from the pictures you got sent from Max on gia first season with them.

"Why did you get interested in Formula One anyway?", Matthew asked you while you sipped on a latte, "I always loved the idea of the cars going very very fast, and then when I actually had the knowledge to understand how they worked, they really intrigued me", you offered, "I also had a friend who was very into it, so he also escalated my interest in it".

"He didn't pull you enough to work on motor sport though?", Matt wondered.

"I didn't enjoy the competitiveness of all of it", you admitted, "it's very strict, and if you want to be successful, it takes the good things away - your family, your friends", you opened your heart to him, thankfully noticing it and sorting the heartfelt confession seemingly about a job, "they travel a lot and they're really competitive that is, I'd never be able to do that for a job", you smiled, hoping you saved yourself from further questions.

"That's why you did mechanical engineering, then?", he asked, "for the most part, yes", you replied, "Oh, they're starting free practice", you smiled, looking over to the track from the balcony seats.

Sophie walked into the RedBull hospitality, looking for her family. Because it was Monaco, they felt safe enough to bring the Lio and Luka to the paddock, knowing they would be close to home in case things didn't go well as planned.

"Grandma!", the oldest boy called her from his spot on his father's lap, his brother sleeping on his mother's chest.

"Hey, my dears", she greeted, "You won't believe who I found on my way here", Sophie began, "I'm surprised Max didn't tell me he invited Y/N. It's a shame she isn't here with us, though", she commented.

The first indicator of surprise should be the way the blond woman looked at her mother, "what do you mean Y/N is here?", she whisper-yelled.

"I just saw her in the Alpha Tauri hospitality, I was walking with Helmut and he was headed there, that's when I noticed her. Max didn't tell you?", she quirked an eyebrow just as her son sat down next to them.

"What didn't I tell who?", Max spoke, setting his plate of food down on the table.

"Why didn't you tell us you invited Y/N for this weekend?", Victoria was the first to scold him, hitting his arm in a sisterly manner, "and in Alpha Tauri of all places? I'm sure they would've bent the rules a little and give you a pass so she could be a RedBull guest!".

Max thought he heard incorrectly. Y/N, his Y/N was in the paddock, in the sister team of the one he now drove for.

"I, I didn't offer her anything", Max said, his brother in-law looking at him weirdly as well, "I don't know how or why she is here, but I had nothing to do with it. We haven't spoken in a while", he mumbled. A while, three years, same thing, he supposes.

"Well, I just saw her. You should go say hi, I'm sure she would love to but she can't exactly find you where she is, it has to be the other way around", Sophie offered.

"What makes you believe she would?", Max questioned, both himself and his mother and sister.

"Because the way you never forgot her, she never forgot you", Victoria sterned, "don't you think she deserves your attention? She was in it for the long run, Max, and maybe she has moved on, maybe even has someone", the thought alone made Max loose his cool, "but she was your friend, the person you trusted most in the world and you let her slip".

"Don't sugar coat it, please", Max sarcastically replied.

"It's true, Max, and you know it", Sophie said, sensing her son didn't want to talk about the topic, but not allowing him to leave the table without a piece of her mind as well.

Max needed to put on his suit again, ready for qualifying, walking along the corridor until he found his door.

"Hey, before you go", Victoria called her brother as he was about to go into his driver's room, "Lio is really fussy, so we're just going back to your place, I'm sorry", she said.

"It's fine, whatever you feel the most comfortable with", he said, waving at his nephews and brother in-law.

"We will be supporting you from home, then", she said, kissing his cheek, "And Max? I know you're not used to it, but follow your heart", she smiled.

"Can I do that now?", he softly bit back, smiling and blushing at his words.

"What's stopping you?", Victoria said as she walked back to her family.

"Who is that?", Jos asked as Max asked him if he could invite you over for dinner before the season began.

The conversations with Toro Rosso were getting serious and the opportunity for a seat in Formula One was right there, up for him to grab if he worked enough.

"She's my friend, you know Y/N", Max tried to reason with his father.

"For this to work, Max, I think you need to distance yourself from home", Jos advised, ignoring his mention of you and carrying on with his lecture, "I'm talking no parties, no trips to come and see friends and family - I really think those are just getting in the way between you and the career you deserve".

The statement was clear, and Max knew better than to question it.

"I've spoken to your mother - she wasn't the biggest fan -, but you really need to focus on this", Jos reiterated, "no friends, much less girlfriends", he chuckled.

The dinner ended up being just Jos, Max and Victoria, the thought of having you there quickly erased in his head.

When Max met up with you before he left for the season, he was antsy. Just a week before, you had stolen innocent kisses from eachother's lips and revelled in the feeling of being in eachother's embrace without a care in the world. And it felt good, so good, like the piece that was missing in Max's life finally completed the puzzle.

"Hey", you greeted, kissing the corner of his lips and allowing him to pull you down to sit on the sofa.

"I spoke to my dad, I'm leaving in a few days", Max said, "there's some testing they want me to do still", he mumbled, lacing your fingers in his.

"And where do we end up?", you asked the million euro question. Truthfully, you entertained the thought. Even though being away from Max for most of the year would be a challenge, the love you felt for him was too big, too great for you to forgo that challenge. You were his and he would be yours.

"It's not going to work, Y/N. I need to focus on racing", he stated blankly despite how much it hurt him to utter those words out to you as the conversation with his father resonated with him.

"Max your focus is getting a Formula One seat", his father sterned, "do you know how hard it is? How much effort and work you have to put in? There can't be any distractions!"

"But Y/N isn't a distraction!", Max reasoned. If anything, you were the one keeping him humble and with both feet on the ground at all times. You cared for him, not because of his racing, who he was or who he could become, but because you loved eachother.

You'd never do anything to ruin his career, Max thought as he worked up the courage to tell you all of it. He couldn't get distracted, not now. He couldn't afford making mistakes because he had a girlfriend back at home waiting on him.

Your understanding, however, wasn't aligned with his expectations. He hoped you'd fight, at least, but you swalled your tears and nodded, "okay, Max. I hope you get your seat, you deserve it so much, I know it will happen".

Max put in on pole, leaving you to smile and snap a picture of the moment, wondering if you'd have the courage to send it to him.

"So, does this mean it's over?", Cara asked, "Because I could do with going home, actually", she nudged.

"Let's go, then!", you smiled, putting your phone in your bag and looking for the way out, ending up following the other guests into the paddock.

"Y/N, dear!", you heard someone call your name, and on cue, you looked for the voice despite the fact that it wad unlikely someone recognised you there.

Sophie didn't age, you thought, as you looked at the source of the voice that called you.

"I'm not going to hold you up, guys, you can go!", you smiled, waving at Matthew and Cara once you assured them you would be fine.

"I'm sorry, Sophie - they're my friends, and he was the one who got the passes from his office", you apologised for leaving her to wait a little for you.

"It's alright, dear. It's been so long since I've seen you", she nudged, "I'm sure Max would love to see you, too!", she jumped straight in.

"Would he, though?", you squinted your eyes.

"He would, Y/N", Sophie said earnestly, "I saw you this morning - at Alpha Tauri -, and he knows you're here", she smiled, "I'm assuming you're watching the race, too. Pay him a visit, okay?", she rubbed your shoulder and left a kiss on your cheek, "He's also my ride home, so I need to go look for him! Bye, Y/N!".

Race day meant rush everywhere, so you got to the paddock just in time before everyone rushed inside, finding the perfect spot to watch the race.

"I need to take this call, one second", you said to Cara, recognising Max's contact on your phone.

"Y/N, hi! I didn't think you'd pick up actually", you could hear the nervousness on his voice, "thanks for the picture, by the way, it was very... nice".

"It's no problem really, I thought it would be a good memory to keep", you smiled, "are you ready for the race? Or do you want me to give you a pep talk?", you chuckled. Back in the day, whenever he didn't feel too confident about a race, you had the power to help him out his head in the right place and bring his winning mentality to light.

"I'm fine, actually", he smiled, "I- I was wondering if you'd like to meet up later", he gulped, "I'd like to talk to you, but it's difficult until the race finishes, and then debriefs and media and all that".

"Sure, text me when you're done then", you stated boldly, "have a good race Max, you know I'm supporting you".

"Even if you're with Alpha Tauri?", he joked.

"I never stopped supporting you, it's not going to be a guest pass that's going to change it", you said as he bid you goodbye, ending the call and finding your friends.

When Max won, you clapped unashamedly as everyone else seemed to join you in your excitement, and after the race celebrations were done with, you waited patiently for the text to get to your phone.

"So you're staying back?", Cara asked, "I am, I'm meeting a friend", you explained. At her curious stare, you furthered, "do you remember the guy I told you about when you tried to set up that double date?", she nodded, "yes, the guy you were friends with, and when you both wanted to take a step forward, he had this big shot as his dream career and his father wouldn't allow him to date anyone", she said as she realized, "my goodness, he's here? Y/N, go for it!", she encouraged, "I know you still have feelings for him, who knows? Maybe this is your chance to reconnect", she rubbed your shoulder.

After you bid goodbye to Cara and Matthew, a text go through to your phone.

From: Max

Mum is waiting for you at the door :)

Approaching the hospitality, you quickly spotted Sophie, "c'mon in, dear! Max wanted me to get you myself, he was afraid no one would ler you in", she chuckled, guiding you through until you were in their dining area.

"Y/N!", Max beamed, setting down the crayons he was drawing with at the table with Luka and walking up to you.

"Hey everyone!", you waved at Victoria, putting a pin the two little boys' curious stares as they looked at you so you could hug Max.

"Congratulations, Max, I knew you could do it", you whispered into his skin, his arms hugging you so tightly against him.

"Thank you, Y/N", he spoke, "I missed you so much, I missed this so much", he squeezed you one more time before allowing you to greet the rest of his family.

"This is Tom, and that's Lio and Luka", Victoria said after she hugged you tighlty, "say hi, guys!", she encouraged as the two little copies of Max waved back at you.

"We're going to head home, it was great seeing you, Y/N!", Sophie announced, "I'm sure we'll see eachother a lot more from now on", Victoria complimented, helping her husband pack up the kids' belongings and toys so they could retire to Max's apartment.

"I was wondering if you wanted to have dinner sometime this week", he jumped straight forward, "I'm having dinner with the team today and then the rest of the grid want to go to the club, so I wouldn't be able to spend that much time with you, and I want to be able to just focus on you", he smiled.

"That's fine by me, I appreciate the thought", you smiled as he led you to one of the tables, asking one of the caffé staff for something to drink for the two of you.

“Listen, I think, I think we found each again for a reason", he began boldly, not sure if this was the way to go after not having spoken to you in a couple of years. Still, it wasn't a lie.

"Define found, considering we've been iving in the same city for nearly a year", you smiled, "although you don't spend much time here anyway, so I guess that's a nice enough excuse", you teased, your foot tapping his shin playfully under the table.

"So, Monaco, hm?", Max started, "I didn't expect you to live here out of all places", he nudged, wanting to know more about your move but afraid he was stepping in vulnerable territory.

"I did it because of my earnings for sure. I've got to save as much as I can on tax on the fortune I make as a female engineer", you sternly said as he looked the most surprised you'd ever seen him, "I'm joking - not all of us move to Monaco so our million euro salaries have better taxes", you teased.

"Why did you do it, then?", he asked, smiling at how familiar it all seemed. Just like old times, he thought.

"The company I work for was the one that needed the tax benefits", you clicked your tongue, "and they wanted people to move here. Only one of my colleagues moved here with her whole family, as they expected, so they ended up calling the ones that weren't attached to anything or anyone in particular, and I was one of them", you shrugged your shoulders, "I moved to a new country with a different language, the only people I knew were my work colleagues, so I had no one to complain about them to, but I make it work - at least I like to think I do", you smiled.

Not attached to anyone, he recalled, humming at your response, "it's not such a bad place to live, right? Granted I don't spend much time year, but still enough to appreciate it", Max spoke.

"How about you, Mr World Champion", you nudged, "how does it feel?".

"Obviously it's great, and everything that I worked for", he added, knowing the underlying topic in the conversation, "I get to drive fast cars and I travel the world, there's not much left for it to be the complete dream", he said, gingerly touching your fingers over the table and accepting your hold when you laced them together.

Conversation was flowing easily until one of the employees told Max that he would have to go and get ready for the dinner, meaning you would have to part ways.

"Does Tuesday work for you? I'm not sure how well I'll be tomorrow", he chuckled, "yes, that's fine by me, just text me the address and the time", you smiled, getting up and kissing his cheek, "have a good time, Max, but be careful with the alcohol, I'd hate to have to pick you up again", you reminded him of the time he got way too drunk and he insisted he would only go home if you came to pick him up.

Dinner was great and Max invited you back to his place, hoping you'd be able to talk properly about the elephant in the room in a more private and comfortable place.

"You're struggling there, aren't you? Even with your itty bitty small hands?", Max teased as your pinky just about stretched enough for you to not lose everything by dumping the contents of your bag on the sidewalk.

As you and Max left the restaurant, you fiddled with your wallet in your bag, hoping to keep the card the waiter gave you safe for the next time you wanted to visit the place.

"I do not have itty bitty small hands!", you argued, shaking your bag a little to make sure everything was safely in place.

"We need to have the same starting line - like", you rearranged them so your wrists would be touching. Still, it didn't make much of a difference on your end. It looked like it even highlighted a few more differences, "yours is much bigger, I give up", you giggled.

"See?", Max said as he held your hand out against his, "these are the size of fairy hands! Tinkerbell probably has bigger hands than yours!", he exclaimed as you noticed how much bigger his hand was compared to yours. His fingers were a little bit thicker than yours and his palm covered all of your hand almost completely.

Now or never, Max thought as he laced your fingers in his once you let your arms drop and rest by your side. His thumb rubbed your skin and warmed you up, "was this your plan all along?", you wondered, feeling the bravery around you two and choosing to act on it.

"Lacing my hand in yours or proving to you that my biggest mistake was letting you go all of those years ago?", Max stated as he looked deeply into your eyes.

"We should talk about this inside", you bit your lip, allowing him to guide you through the apartment complex he lived in.

His living room was decorated in classy tones, probably with the help of him mother and sister, as you sat down on the sofa and face eachother.

"I know I apologised at the time, but I'm still sorry, Y/N", Max said, "at the time it was the dream and I didn't have much room for my own decisions. Still, I should've fought", he concluded.

"You didn't blatantly acknowledge it and decided we couldn't be together, Max", you conforted despite the hurt you felt at the time, "it hurt, - like a bitch actually -, but not because you were following your dream. I never wanted to pull you back and get in the way of your achievements", you gulped, "but I would be lying if I said I wouldn't like to give this a go, to give us a chance", you smiled.

"I know I have crazy schedules - I am barely here during the season -, but you were always the one I thought about. When I first raced in F1, when I got my first podium, my first win, my bad races - I wanted you there", he admitted, blue eyes looking into yours, "I can't promise that it will be easy, but I'll never risk you or our relationship, that's non negotiable", he stated.

Moving closer to him, you cupped his cheek with your palm, the slight stubble tickling your skin, "I'm in, Max", you smiled, taking the plunge and kissing his mouth, lips moving in sync as his hands pulled you into his lap.

The blissful moment was interrupted by a meow, Jimmy and Sassy walking into the living room, "Oh, guys", Max held you close to him as the cats sniffled you, "this is Jimmy and Sassy, my cats, took then long enough to leave the guest bedroom", he smiled as you tried to pet them, "cute, they seem nice enough - for cats anyway".

#max verstappen imagine #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen fanfic #max verstappen fluff #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #f1 fluff

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