hairmetal666 · 3 days ago
Text
Steve goes to a gay club for the first time alone. He and Robin, they'd talked about it since moving to Chicago, but every time they made plans he got cold feet.
But on a random, rainy Saturday with Robin back home in Hawkins, he decides fuck it, puts on his sluttiest jeans and polo, and goes to the damn club. He's sick of being nervous--he's going to make out with a guy for the first time tonight.
The club is crowded, loud, sweaty, the energy a pulsing wave. He's overwhelmed immediately, but it's invigorating. He pushes towards the bar, orders a beer, then cozies himself against the nearest wall.
He sips his drink and watches beautiful men dance and kiss and play, and he wants to be part of it, get out there, find his own person to get close to but--
What if none of this is for him? He feels out of place in his clothes, with his hairstyle, an old version of himself that doesn't belong in this world.
There's a swell of sound at the bar, and he glances over, expecting drunks or fighting. Instead, he sees a guy who makes his plans to leave slip straight from his mind.
He's unlike any other person there, even within his group. Long, curly hair, visible tattoos, ripped black jeans, a faded black t-shirt under a big leather jacket. He moves with purpose and grace, obviously uncaring about fitting in.
Steve can't stop watching him, transfixed. He buys another beer, settles back against his wall. He knows it's weird, but can't bring himself to care. Not when it's helping him feel more comfortable in his own skin.
The guy, he's vibrant, the brightest spot, his laughter reaching Steve even over the pounding music.
He's beautiful.
The lights flash, illuminating his face and recognition hits Steve like a fist. It's Eddie Munson, former freak of Hawkins High.
Steve's spine straightens, chest tightening. He can't believe--I mean there were rumors about Eddie in school, but he's here, right now, in Chicago, and Steve--Steve--
He abandons the remains of his beer, rushing out the door.
---
Steve goes back the next night.
He doesn't mean to; didn't have any plans to do it, but the clock turns to 9 and he pulls on the same slutty jeans, this time with an old blue t-shirt a size too small.
It's not because Eddie could be there again, he reassures himself as he shows the bouncer his ID. It's not like he wants to see him or has been thinking about him nonstop. No, it's because tonight's the night he finally makes a move. He needed a test run to find his footing, but now--
Eddie's at the bar. His hair is pulled up, loose tendrils around his face. No jacket this time; the rolled up sleeves of his black t-shirt showing off his wiry muscles, the swirling ink of his tattoos. Something low and hot clenches in Steve's stomach.
There's no way he's going to be preoccupied with Munson tonight. He came here to flirt and dance and maybe get lucky, and he'll ignore Eddie. He will.
Steve orders a beer, sits at the bar this time, his eyes lingering on black ink and pale skin. No matter how hard he tries, he can't seem to tear his eyes away from the ease and assurance Eddie moves with. He's so unafraid to take up space, it's intoxicating.
He loses track of Munson when he orders a second drink, his face no longer immediately visible in the crowd. Disappointment sinks his stomach until a voice to his left says, "You better be planning to buy me a drink, pretty boy."
The voice is low, oddly melodic, and he turns to find Eddie Munson's sparkling brown eyes gazing down at him. He's surprised, hides it, says, "Sure. What are you having?"
Eddie's mouth opens, but his eyes narrow. "Wait--Steve Harrington??"
"Um." His mouth goes dry. "Munson. Hi?"
"I--uh--wouldn't think this was your scene." Eddie shifts back, puts distance between them, and Steve hates it. Hates that Munson thinks the space is necessary, hates that he used to a person that made people feel that way.
"Yeah, well. A lot has changed since high school."
"Is that right? Surely not this much."
"Wouldn't you like to know."
Eddie's eyebrow lifts, but his mouth is a tight line. "Have a cigarette with me."
Steve nods and follows him out a side door into a narrow alley. Eddie pulls out two cigarettes, hands one to Steve. There's something about the cold politeness that sends a fizzle of disappointment down his spine.
"What brings you here?" Eddie asks.
"To Chicago or to this club?"
"Don't be cute."
"Can't help it." He smirks and Eddie rolls his eyes. "I moved to Chicago three months ago with my best friend, Robin. I'm at this club trying to explore my bisexuality."
Eddie's in the middle of taking a drag, splutters on the smoke. "Holy Shit."
He shrugs, knows he's blushing. "What can I say? I've spent the last few years learning about myself."
"And one of the things was that you like dick?"
"Looks like it."
'Well, goddamn, Steve Harrington."
"Impressed?"
Eddie licks his lips, steps closer. "Maybe I am."
"I aim to please." Steve lets himself grin.
"I bet you do," Eddie's voice goes even lower, and heat dances deep in Steve's stomach. "Wanna dance?"
"Thought you'd never ask." Steve blinks up at Eddie from under his eyelashes.
They go inside and join the bodies packed on the dance floor. At first, they keep their distance, dancing and laughing with an arm's length between them, but it's not long before they're drawn together, arms twining, legs pressed together. Their eyes lock, Steve can't look away, wouldn't even if he wanted to. Eddie's hands go to his waist, pull him closer.
"You're gorgeous, Harrington," he says it with his lips pressed to Steve's ear, goosebumps spreading across his skin.
"Yeah?"
"Can I tell you a secret?"
"Of course."
Eddie's mouth presses closer. "I used to have the biggest crush on you in high school."
"Fuck, Eddie," he says. "That's so--"
"Weird?"
"Fucking hot, dude."
"Can I tell you another secret?" Eddie's voice is all rumble.
"Course,"
"I can't stop thinking about kissing you."
"You could do something about it."
Eddie smiles, eyes going darker, almost predatory. He leans in, their breath mingling, Steve's hitching.
"You sure you want me to?" Eddie asks, mouth barely brushing Steve's.
"Please," and it comes out like he's been punched.
He thinks the kiss will be hard, hot, but Eddie's hand is gentle as it cups the back of his head, slowly pulls him in. It's a soft meeting of mouths, almost tender. His head is swimming, blood thrumming low and hot and sweet. He parts his lips and then all he can feel, taste, sense is Eddie.
It cracks something inside him, and his fingers dig into the fabric of Eddie's shirt, eagerly licking into his mouth. It must crack something in Eddie too, because he's hauling Steve impossibly closer until his legs have to wrap around Eddie's waist, or they're falling.
They break apart with a breathless laugh, both red cheeked and bright eyed. They don't move apart, instead they dance and make out until the music stops and the lights come up.
Eddie twines their fingers together as they walk to the exit, Steve sweaty and elated and a little head over heels.
Out on the sidewalk, basking in the cool air, Eddie stops him. "Can I--uh, take you for a drink? Or back to my place? I don't--not to assume, but I--"
"Both. Anywhere," Steve laughs. "I don't want this night to end."
Eddie's smile is brilliant, heart stopping. "Your wish is my command."
844 notes · View notes
electrosuite · 2 days ago
Note
could you maybe do a fic where eddie is your dealer and you go to him and ask him to take your virginity and it turns out he's been fantasizing about fucking you since the day you met
warnings: swearing, drugs (marijuana), dirty talk, oral sex, descriptive sex
word count: 2.7k
masterlist
Tumblr media Tumblr media
You knocked against the door to Eddie's house, nervously sighing and crossing your arms. It took a moment, but the door opened to reveal a very sleepy looking Eddie.
You immediately felt guilty, relaxing your posture a bit.
"Shit, sorry. Did I wake you up?"
"It's fine. Everything okay? You pounded the shit out of the door."
You nodded. "I don't know. I just..." You were trying to think of a reasonable excuse for waking him up, but the best you could come up with was, "How much do you have?"
"Uhh..." He thought for a moment. "I'm down to my last ounce. I need to get more."
"Great. I'll take it."
"What, all of it?"
"Yeah." He looked at you like you were crazy. "What?"
"You never get more than an eighth."
"Well, I am today."
He was still a bit confused, but he moved out of the way and allowed you to step inside. You walked over to the couch and sat. He didn't take his eyes off of you until he got into his room, wondering what had you so upset.
When he brought his supply out, he laid it on the coffee table with enough rolling papers to make joints out of every last speck. This was what he always did for you. He rolled the joints before you even left because you struggled every time you tried.
The two of you were silent while he rolled the first one, then handed it to you. You pulled a lighter out of your pocket and lit it, that first inhale feeling better to your lungs than oxygen.
As he began rolling the second joint, he spoke up.
"So, what's up?"
"What do you mean?"
"You seem off. Is everything okay?"
You rubbed your eyes with your fingers, propping your elbow on your knee.
After a moment, you replied, "Do you think it's weird not to date in high school?"
He looked up at you. "Are you really asking me that question?"
"I mean do you think it's weird if a girl hasn't dated in high school?"
"Is there a difference?"
"You know there is. People treat it differently."
"Do you care what people think?"
"Of course I do. But that's not what this is about."
"Are you afraid you're weird for not dating?"
"I don't know. I mean, almost everyone I know is, and sometimes i just wonder if I'm... doing something wrong."
"What do you mean, 'doing something wrong'?"
"I don't know how to explain it. Like, if I'm doing something that makes me unattractive, or-"
"Trust me, you're not."
"You don't think so?"
"No," he chuckled. "Absolutely not."
You took note of his comments, noticing his reaction to you suggesting you're unattractive. You didn't say anything for a moment, just watched him roll joint after joint.
You stood up slowly and began pacing in the pathway between the couch and coffee table, shoving your hands in your pockets.
When he got to the last joint, you turned to him and sighed.
"Look, I didn't come here for weed," you blurted.
"What do you mean?"
"I came here..." You could feel your heart pounding. "I came here to ask if you'd be interested in... taking my virginity."
His hand movements froze, his eyebrows raised, and his eyes drifted up to look at you.
"What?"
"I've been thinking. A lot. I'm so close to graduating as a virgin, and I don't want that. I want to lose it before I graduate, and the person I'd want to do it with most is you. I trust you."
He laid the joint in his hands down and got to his feet, walking to the kitchen and washing his hands, taking his time. You followed him, continuing to ramble.
"You know, like I said, every one of my friends are in relationships, and I'm fine with not dating. But none of them are virgins, and I'm the only one." Eddie turned the water off and grabbed a rag to dry his hands. "I'm just worried that if I don't lose it now, then I won't lose it for a while. And I don't really want to be a virgin anymore."
He turned to you and grabbed your face, pulling you in and planting his lips against yours. It caught you off guard but you immediately kissed back.
It was a gentle yet assertive kiss, one with longing behind it. It felt so natural, like your lips were made for each other. You immediately gripped his sides and let out a soft whimper into his mouth.
His hands slid down the backs of your thighs and he picked you up, carrying you into his room and kicking the door closed behind him. He tenderly dropped you down sideways onto his bed, your head hanging off the edge a bit.
He kept kissing you, his hips between your thighs. He was much more dominant than you expected him to be, as if a switch flipped in his head the second he started thinking about sex.
You reached down and pulled his shirt over his head, looking down at his body. He was beautiful, and you pulled him back down to kiss you. But he broke it a moment later to undress you, leaving you in just your bra and underwear.
He stopped, looking down at your body with his mouth slightly agape.
"What?" you asked, beginning to get nervous from his reaction. "Is something wrong?"
"It's just... weird."
"What is?"
"You're my client. I'm your dealer. It's just not something I thought would happen."
"If you don't wanna do this-"
"Woah, I didn't say that." His hands began traveling up your thighs. "I've wanted to for... I don't even know how long." His fingers slipped under your panties, pulling them off of you slowly. "I've wanted you for so long." He watched your face as his digits found your clit. A small whine left your mouth as your eyebrows turned upwards, your head falling back off the mattress.
He didn't take his eyes off your face, and he felt his pants grow tighter. Watching you squirm under him, it was a dream come true.
He was going so, so slow, and all you wanted was for him to speed up. But he didn't, instead loving the idea of teasing you. Making you writhe under him, demanding more.
So he decided to remove his fingers and crawl off the bed, kneeling on the floor. He grabbed you by the thighs and pulled you close, your hips hanging off the mattress slightly.
And the feeling of his warm, wet tongue on your soaked pussy drove you insane. You moaned much louder than you meant to, but you couldn't help it. He apparently knew exactly what he was doing, because this felt magical.
You couldn't physically hold your hips still, so he pressed down firmly on your hips. And when you couldn't move, forced to stay still, it almost made it more pleasurable.
You didn't know what to do with your hands, so they latched onto his hair, pulling tightly. So tightly, in fact, that he groaned. And his voice against your body felt like vibrating. This made you gasp, immediately feeling your orgasm approaching.
"Fuck, Eddie."
He knew you were close just by the sounds you were making. They were needy, desperate. And it was all he could think about. He'd always wondered what you sounded like when you came. The sweet sounds that would fill the room. And the fact that your first orgasm from someone else would be with him... It was almost too much for him to handle.
He needed to make you cum - hard. He was determined to make it as mind-blowing as humanly possible, to wear you out just from his tongue.
So when your hips bucked uncontrollably and you fisted his hair even harder, he knew you were finally there. You couldn't hold in the scream, the original plan of trying to be quiet going out the window. And he kept it going, refusing to let up.
Normally when it was just you, you only came for a few seconds because it was all you could handle. But a few seconds was gone, and he could tell he succeeded in making this intense.
And when your orgasm began to end on its own, he finally slowed down, easing you out of it. But he still didn't completely stop. In fact, the sounds you made got him desperate to hear them again, deciding then and there that he could postpone his own pleasure for the sake of watching you squirm under his mouth again.
So when he picked back up on the speed, it didn't take long to get you there again, maybe twenty seconds.
And during all of that, he never closed his eyes or looked away from you, not even for a second. He needed to watch how good he made you feel, how good your first time was.
When you physically pushed him away, he realized that you'd had enough. And when you pulled him back up to you, he was like a puma pouncing on his prey. You reached under you and unhooked your bra, throwing it somewhere on the floor.
"God, you're even more beautiful than I imagined."
His lips latched onto your breasts, cupping them in his hands. You reached down and unbuttoned his jeans, causing him to sit up on his knees. He watched your hands undo his pants, taking the opportunity to get up and pull them all the way off.
As he stood there, fully nude, you bit your lip at the sight. He looked so good, and he was rock hard. He dug through his nightstand and pulled out a condom, tearing it open with his teeth and sliding it down his length.
You knew he was going to be a lot to take, but if he was as good at sex as he was at oral, you were in for a good time.
When he crawled back on top of you, his hips settled against yours and he kissed your neck. Your hands found themselves against his ribs, fingertips pressed into his skin.
After a moment, he looked at you, making eye contact.
"You're sure about this?" he whispered.
"Are you really asking me that now?"
"I need you to answer me."
You reached up and tucked his hair behind his ear with your right hand.
"I've never been more sure about anything in my life, Eddie." You spoke softly, seductively. You pulled his face down so you could whisper into his ear. "I want you to fuck me until I can't walk straight."
He took in a tiny gasp at this, dirty talk not something he expected from you. You'd always been, for lack of a better word, pretty innocent. But he'd been surprised before, finding the most innocent girls to be freaks in bed.
"For your first time?"
You just nodded. "For every time."
And with that, he was kissing you again. He reached down to line himself up to your entrance, slowly pushing into you. You whined into his mouth and he smiled, the sound like music to his ears.
Once he was fully nestled into you, he also let out a moan. He didn't move at first though, allowing you time to adjust.
"That okay?"
"Oh god, you feel so good, Eddie."
He let out a satisfied sigh. "Good. Tell me if you want to stop at any point, alright?"
"I won't want to."
"Hey, I mean it. If it gets too much, or you change your mind at any point, make me stop. Okay?"
You nodded, smiling at him. "You're so sweet."
He kissed you again, beginning to move his hips. He started with slow, gentle thrusts to let you get used to him. But eventually, he couldn't resist picking up the pace.
You did ask for it rough, after all.
So he gave you what you asked for. He attacked your neck and collarbones with kisses, leaving sloppy spit marks all over your skin. The two of you were moaning and groaning in sync, the bed squeaking almost as loud.
He couldn't keep his lips off of you, sucking your skin hard and kissing you so deeply that your teeth were touching a few times.
He was trying to stay quiet so he could listen to your moans, but he couldn't hold them back. You felt incredible, like a warm wet hug. Like your body was made for him and only him. He fit perfectly inside of you, be it a bit snug.
He fisted the sheets under him and at this point he was going much quicker than he thought he could, which was almost overwhelming for you.
But it was just right. It was perfect.
So you frowned a little bit when he pulled out of you.
"Roll on your stomach," he commanded. You did, and he pulled a pillow over for you to lay your head on. He bent your left leg and when he was back into position, he held it in place with his knee. Your other leg was straight under him, your foot hanging off the bed.
You felt his hands on your lower back, his palms right on top of the dimples above your ass cheeks. He slid back into you, and this position felt even better.
"That okay?" he asked.
"Uh-huh," was all you could get out, so he kept going. Him holding your body down and slamming into you was a sensation you'd never experienced, it was nearly impossible to explain. All you could do was grip the pillow under your head.
He leaned down and kissed between your shoulder blades, leaving prints of his lips with his saliva.
"Goddamn, you feel good," he grunted, his fingers digging into your skin. He couldn't take his eyes off your back, littered with freckles. Your hair cascaded over your skin and in your face, and he noticed how perfectly beautiful you looked right now. Face buried in his pillow, ass jiggling with every thrust.
Fuck, he might be in love.
But the cherry on top was when you moaned his name. Your voice, the tone, the neediness, the desperation. He knew he was going to bust at any second, which was a first for him. Normally he lasted a while, but something about you was different. Maybe it was just how long he'd fantasized about this, how he was far more attracted to you than any other girl he'd slept with, he wasn't sure.
But you did something nobody else could do, which was gotten him there in less than five minutes.
And he decided he wanted to look into your eyes when he came.
So he pulled out of you quickly and rolled you back over, your head still on the pillow. He immediately slammed back into you and held your face with one hand as he kissed you, his other hand next to your shoulder to keep himself up.
"Y/N," he breathed.
"Hm?"
"I've never been so close so quickly before. I'm gonna cum."
"Good."
The hand he used to hold you still moved down to finger you, and you gasped into the kiss. He looked at you when you threw your head back, moving his lips to your jaw and neck again but still looking at your face, wanting to hear you.
And, like something out of a movie, both of you went over the edge simultaneously. It was intense, cumming while being fucked. You'd never experienced this, and it felt like you were going to melt right into the bed.
He kept going for as long as he could, but eventually he had to stop. You laid there panting, his face against your chest and your hands on his sides.
"Holy fuck," you said after a moment. He chuckled, shaking you and the bed under him.
"Yeah. Holy fuck." You lifted his head and kissed him, wrapping your arms around his neck to keep him close. "You okay?"
"I'm amazing."
"You really are."
"Thank you."
"For what?"
"Making my first time memorable."
"I should thank you, too."
"Me? Why?"
"I think that was the best sex I've ever had."
"No shit."
"Shit."
"Well, damn. You're welcome, then."
"You said something about... Every time earlier?"
"You're still inside of me and you're already thinking about doing it again?"
"What, you're not?"
You chuckled, noticing how hot and sweaty both of you were. It was kind of gross, but you didn't care in the moment.
And you knew he made your request come true. You were not going to be able to walk properly for a little while.
437 notes · View notes
goxjo · 22 hours ago
Text
! 𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓'𝐒 𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐄 𝐈𝐒 𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐄 𝐟𝐭. 𝐬𝐮𝐤𝐮𝐧𝐚
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
+ synopsis. you should’ve known better when you reached out to your ex 1 year after your break up to get your stuff back, especially when the both of you have so many unresolved feelings. of course discussions are bound to get heated very quickly, and getting pressed up against the wall was definitely not according to plan
Tumblr media
+ cw. no curse au, kabedon, light angst, lots of reminiscing, ex! sukuna, he’s incredibly lovesick and jealous, you and your ‘new guy’ are broken up but he doesn’t know that (yet), lots of pent up frustrations, hatefucking, wall sex, cunnilingus, standing prone bone (?), biting, pet names (babe), making up, creampie, soft ending, 2,100+ words, MDNI
+ aki's note. this is part of @ficsforgaza's kinktober event (again, tysm for letting me join uwu). this is my first time writing sukuna this way and I’m ngl I kinda dig it!! thank you so much for the request @unheavenlypacked and for being so patient <3 ++ I know I went over the word count too but I couldn’t help it :’) hope you like it!!!
+ masterlists. general ┆ jjk ┆ kinktober ┆ ffg kinktober
Tumblr media Tumblr media
In hindsight, maybe you should’ve just accepted his offer to drop off your things. After all, it has been a year. You’re almost certain he’s already moved on by now. But you were very particular about not wanting him to go through the trouble, even if he says it’s no big deal.
You should have thought this through.
He opens the door to the apartment you once shared, and you realize a mental note would have to suffice for now. Because of course he just has to be shirtless like he usually is whenever he stays home, body decorated with black intricate lines stretching and scattered everywhere. And you mean everywhere, including places only you and very few others are acquainted with.
He’s as pretty as ever.
To top it all off, he wears that all-too-familiar scowl that frequented his face whatever the emotion — whether he’s happy, sad, angry, or even horny. Something you’ve always found endearing.
You huff a heavy sigh when you realize the last time you saw each other, you were at each other’s throats. A quick mental pinch reminds you what you’re here to do and what you’re not here to do.
You know they lay of the land, you know where everything should be. There’s absolutely no need to delay things. You take one step to the open space to his side.
“If you’ll excu—”
An arm blocks your way and cuts your words off.
“Do you have to?” He lowers his head, face inching closer to yours.
You refuse to meet his gaze, eyes dead fixed on his taut muscles instead. This doesn’t help your case at all. You’re reminded of how much you used to run your fingers across every dip and mound, you’ve practically mapped his body like he’s done with yours.
“It’s about time.” You shift your gaze to the concrete wall before you start to get deeper into your thoughts. “Don’t you think?”
Sukuna clicks his tongue, clenching his fist before dropping his arm, finally letting you pass. He runs his fingers through his hair in defeat, something he usually does out of frustration.
“Suit yourself.”
You rummage through what used to be your side of the closet, shocked to find he’d kept all your things tidy. Like you never left.
“Find everything?” He comes up behind you close enough, you’re certain you’ll bump into him and areas you shouldn’t be. He runs his knuckles along the small of your back, a sense of hesitation in his touch sending shivers down your spine. Even now, this man has very little regard for personal space.
“Almost.” You lightly twist your body, enough to make him withdraw his hand.
Sukuna leans on the edge of the closet as he watches you empty out your belongings.
“So this new guy…” He gestures to the air. “Jo… Joso— what’s his face—”
“Choso,” you correct him. Your brows furrow upon realizing one of your shirts is nowhere to be found.
“Yeah, whatever,” Sukuna snickers. “How’s— uh… how’s that coming along?”
“You really care to know?”
“Fuck no.” Sukuna answers hard and fast, almost spitting to the air.
“Then don’t ask.”
Suddenly, you think to reach behind one of the neatly folded stack of clothes, and you hear him cuss under his breath. And lo and behold, you find your old, worn out, fitted shirt - one that used to make him absolutely go crazy when you wear it.
“Wonder how this ended up there?” Hooked on your finger, you wave the garment around while a guilty Sukuna looks away.
“Fuck.” He clicks his tongue, mumbling. “Can’t even imagine you wearing that in front of him.”
“Wha—” You jolt back, taken aback by his words. “Why do you even care?”
“You seriously going to ask?!”
You blink in disbelief, unable to wrap your head around what you’re hearing.
“You seemed to have no problem when I left, where was this attitude back then?!”
Sukuna jaws clench, taking a deep breath as he throws his head back, pinching the bridge of his nose. He’s clearly holding himself back. Slowly, he draws near you, looking into your eyes straight on.
“You told me you fucking needed space.” His voice is low but he emphasizes his words. “But…” His eyes dart to your lips and you don’t miss the way he licks his. “I didn’t ask you to go fuck someone else after 2 whole fucking months!”
“So it’s my fault now?” Your heartbeat thumps against your ribcage as he inches closer and closer to you. “You think I’m gonna sit back after 2 whole fucking months of radio silence?!”
“No!”
“So, then what did you expect me to do?!”
You subconsciously take a step back for every step he takes forward until your back hits the wall.
“I didn’t mean for any of that to happen! I—”
“You what?!”
“Fuck!” he cusses, and the last thing you see is the fist he throws back before you close your eyes and flinch. After that, you hear a thump over your head.
Your eyes flutter open to the sight of him looming over you, arm propped above your head, face just inches away from yours.
His chest heaves.
His eyes are fuming.
And the space is suddenly non existent.
He kisses you so fervently, as if a whole year without you has been torture and your lips are the remedy.
You want to scream at him, pull away and make him pay for what he’s done. The skin on your knuckles thin from how hard you’ve balled them into fists.
You press your knuckles flat against his abdomen, trying pushing him away. But the second your skin meets his, your hands flutter open, roaming his body as you instantly melt into his kiss. It’s ridiculous. This is ridiculous. It’s like you hadn’t just been on a rampage telling him what a big ass he is for how he treated you.
Your hands instinctively try to cup his face but are quickly caught by his, pinning them above your head.
Sukuna pulls away, making you whine at the abrupt separation. Your eyes are drawn to his lips like a moth to a flame. They look shiny from the kiss, and you try to lean forward but he’s got you nailed to the wall.
“Are you being serious right now?” You utter, putting a dirty smirk on his face. “Let me go!” You try to wriggle free off his hold. “Need to wipe that fucking smile off your face.”
Sukuna scoffs. He uses one hand to hold both of yours in place while he cups your chin, thumb glossing over your lower lip.
He takes a deep breath, smug dropping as he scans your face. “I’ve missed you.”
Those words hit the final nail in your coffin. At this point, you know there’s no turning back.
Before you get to answer back, he turns you around, cheek and chest flat up against the wall, entwining his fingers as he presses both your hands on either side of you.
Sukuna grunts, burying his face into your hair as he grinds his erection on your ass.
“Gonna make you forget all about him.”
“Actually, we’re not—” Sukuna doesn’t let you finish, capturing your lips once more.
He lifts your shirt above your tits, smiling in the kiss upon finding you bare underneath. Then he works your pants, pulling them down to your knees, locking your movements.
You hear him shuffling on his knees. You try to turn around but he stops you dead in your tracks. “Keep those fucking hands on the wall.”
Sukuna spreads your ass cheeks open before letting out a hot huff on your pussy. He draws a stripe on your slippery slit, and a moan escapes from your lips.
A soft, wet muscle flicks wonders on your clit, a sensation you’ve missed over the course of a year. You try your hardest not to break but he’s got you so weak in the knees with how good he licks your pussy.
“Sh-it!” You whine. Sukuna sucks your clit and buries his nose in your entrance, making you hold onto the wall for dear life.
A thumb enters your pussy, curling and hooking inside you as his tongue fiddles with your sensitive bud, and at this point you’re a crying mess. He pumps your pussy with two digits as his tongue flicks your clit so fast, you start shaking in your high, doing your best not to fall over.
“Fffuck, Sukuna!”
“God, I’ve missed that sound.”
You catch your breath. The familiar sound of his belt shuffling plays in the background. His pants drop to the floor and you feel his cock spring on your ass.
His wet tip leaves a trace of slick on your ass. His knuckles run up and down your ass as he pumps his cock behind you.
“Oh!” You flinch, mouth forming an ‘o’ and Sukuna chuckles, catching you off guard when he gathers slick from your pussy to lube his cock.
Head ducked, you press your forehead on the wall in your anticipation, feeling your hot breath fan your face as it hits the wall. You’d forgotten how big he is — jaw dropping when just the head of his cock stretches your pussy wide open.
“Sukuna, please— fuck!” Right on cue, his cock slides into you with ease, making you mewl like a kitty.
“Missed your tight pussy, babe.” Sukuna groans as he bottoms out, hand cupping and kneading your tit while he peppers kisses on your shoulder. “Fuck, babe, I’ve missed you.”
“S’kuna~” You tilt your head back and rest on his shoulder, humming his name in a tune that just scratches the itch in his heart and on his cock. “F-fuck me!”
He picks up the pace, practically ramming your body into the wall. His cock feels so good, stretching you out in ways no one’s ever been able to since you broke up. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t miss this — Sukuna whispering the nastiest nothings in your ear, mouth always preoccupied with yours, your tits, your skin, every part of you, fucking you like it’s always the first time.
“Say my name, babe. Fuck! I’ve missed you so fucking bad.” A hand finds your clit and rubs hard and fast and sloppy circles till you’re creaming on his cock.
“Sukuna! Don’t stop— ffuuck!” Your heart beats out of your chest as he fucks your high. Tears prickle your eyes and you’re reminded of a familiar euphoria — one you’d so painfully missed all year long without his company.
You feel a mix of pain and pleasure when teeth sink into your shoulder. You run your fingers through his hair, grabbing hold of his locks when he fucks you so deep his balls start to stick to your pussy. He releases a low grunt, shoving his cock into you a couple pumps more till he starts to fill your insides.
When his cock slides out of you, and his cum begins to drip from your pussy down to your legs, the realization hits the both of you of whatever the fuck just happened.
“I—” Sukuna breaks the silence, “I want you back. Please? Come back to me.”
You turn around seeing his pleading eyes. You weren’t even sure that was ever possible.
Sukuna waits for an answer, but you kiss him instead of giving him one.
“I’m here, aren’t I?” You wrap your arms around his waist, his softening cock pressing against you.
He lets out a low chuckle, corners of his lips upturned as he pulls you closer to him.
“Also, he and I… we’ve broken up months ago.”
The look on his face is priceless. He definitely feels cheated but that slowly turns into relief.
“You idiot. You could’ve told me that sooner.”
“Sorry.”
“Do me a favor,” he mutters. “Wear that shirt for me, please?”
In hindsight, it was a good idea to do this after all. You’ve got your stuff back, and your boyfriend. Plus it’s back to fucking like bunnies for an entire week straight.
Tumblr media
pspsps. reblogs and comments are appreciated ♥︎
Tumblr media
322 notes · View notes
nicholasluvbot · 2 days ago
Text
୨୧ TOUCH ME WITH A KISS ( BOYNEXTDOOR )
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
( when you pepper their face with kisses >_< ) 761 words fluff & lots of kisses. happy birthday to me !! special thanks to @hanninova for helping me with the layout !! feedback + reblogs are highly appreciated.
Tumblr media
JAEHYUN
he’s so giggly omg.
doesn’t matter if you do it every hour or once in a blue moon, he always happily accepts kisses and affection from you.
he’d immediately drop everything he’s doing to let you shower him in kisses, and he gives in so easily. you cup his cheeks, guiding his face toward you, and he’s already pulling you onto his lap by your waist so you have better access to his face.
the way he gently guides your hands to his cheeks, nuzzling into your palms makes you want to kiss him even more.
he’s just so endearing, every bit of him inviting your affection like its his favorite thing in the world.
and once you’re done giving him kisses and pull away, he goes, “babe, i think you missed a spot here,” pointing to the space between his eyebrows with a cheeky smile. you indulge him, laughing as you leave one more kiss on his chin, his nose and wherever else he claims you’ve “missed.”
“i don’t think you kissed my lips enough,” he murmurs as he pulls you in, the sweet little kisses quickly turning into an hour-long make-out session.
SUNGHO
at first he’d be so confused, his arms hanging by his sides as you squish his face and pepper it with kisses.
he would be frozen, especially if he’s not used to such overt displays of affection from you, but he would soon melt under your touch.
you can basically feel him turning to putty as soft giggles escape his lips while you press kisses everywhere—his nose, forehead, cheeks, temple, jaw—anywhere you can reach.
and he immediately frowns when you stop because why??? would you stop?? giving him kisses???
the tiny pout on his face immediately turns into a smirk. without hesitation, he wraps one arm around your waist, pulling you closer, while the other hand cradles the back of your head, holding you in place.
before you can react, sungho peppers you with kisses—twice as many, each one paired with obnoxiously exaggerated smooching sounds. you can’t help but giggle as he continues, murmuring something about "returning the favor," his breath tickling your skin between kisses.
RIWOO
riwoo’s soft giggles spill out the moment you start.
his face would turn red, and he’d squirm a little, barely able to contain his laughter as your lips tickle his face.
there’s a wide smile on his face, and he’d turn all giggly and affectionate for the rest of the day. (pushing the babygirl riwoo agenda)
once you’re done, you lean back to admire the pink hue on his cheeks, his gaze dropping shyly to avoid your eyes. he doesn’t let you get too far though, gently pulling you back in and burying his face in the crook of your neck, hiding his flustered expression as his arms wrap around you.
you’ve got him absolutely undone, and it’s adorable!
once his heart has stopped racing, he’d place a few shy, soft kisses on your neck and jaw.
TAESAN
he’s trying so hard to maintain his composure, almost failing because he just wants to be in your arms and get showered with affection all day.
he bites his lip, trying not to grin or show how much he enjoys being smothered. but you can see his barely-contained smile that tugs at the corners of his mouth.
he doesn’t say anything, and you don’t expect him to, just places his hands on your hips as he lets you kiss every part you can reach (which is mostly the lower half of his face and neck because, even on your tiptoes, that’s just how far you can get).
and after you’ve finished, he gives you this gentle, tender look, then leans in to kiss your forehead softly—his way of showing you how much it means to him to be wrapped up in your love like this, even if he’s too shy to say it out loud.
LEEHAN
leehan is sitting on the couch, idly scrolling on his phone when you “attack” him.
you climb onto his lap and cradle his face, and he immediately puts his phone away, giving you his full attention as his hands rest lightly on your hips.
he’s a bit taken aback when you pull him in and smother him with kisses, but you don’t hear him complain.
his eyes soften every time your lips brush his skin, and a soft smile lingers on his face.
after a while, you pull away, and there’s an adorable blush dancing on his cheeks as he stares at you with such adoration that its almost overwhelming.
you mess with his hair and place one last big, fat smooch on his cheek. then, as quickly as you appeared, you’re gone, leaving leehan confused and flustered. 
“cute,” he murmurs to himself with a tiny smile before going back to his phone, no longer really interested in it. he’s too busy wondering what he did differently for you to act this way, so he can do it more often.
WOONHAK
he pretends to hate it at first—squirming away from your grasp as he makes whiny sounds, dramatically wiggling in your hold, asking you to let go of him.
he tries to keep his cool as you continue to pepper him. “you’re so extra,” he mutters nonchalantly, but his stiff posture and red ears tell you he’s flustered.
still, you keep going. each kiss, soft and gentle, has him fighting to keep a straight face.
and then it happens. his faux dislike crumbles, because he just can’t ignore the butterflies in his stomach as soft laughter escapes his lips.
his heart feels like it’s about to burst every time your plush lips tickle his cheeks and forehead with kisses.
he’s still begging you to stop, but there’s a wide grin on his face that tells you otherwise.
when you finally pull back, thinking you’ve given him enough, you’re greeted by a pouty woonhak who looks almost betrayed.
“what?” you ask, amused. “weren’t you begging me to stop just a few moments ago?”
he lets out a defeated sigh as he drags you closer by the waist. his voice softens as he places a tender kiss on your shoulder. “fine, you win. i like it,” he murmurs as his lips barely leave your shoulder.
“but i’m not done yet. i want more.” he pulls back just enough to look into your eyes, his cheeks flushed and his voice playful, as he leans in again, clearly not done receiving kisses from you yet.
Tumblr media
© nicholasluvbot , 2024.
@onedoornet , @kstrucknet , @k-films
335 notes · View notes
earthchica · 3 days ago
Text
Give In
Tumblr media
bodyguard! terry richmond x black fem! (Singer) reader
summary: you are a rising singer in need of a bodyguard, and that is when Terry gets hired. Your first encounter didn’t go well; he was a stern jerk while you acted like a bit of a diva. Despite your disagreements, you both eventually found a way to work through your differences.
warning: angst, teasing, enemies to friends. brat behavior, insults, fluff, poetry, explicit smut (18+), dom/sub kinda, oral (f), protected rough sex, ass slaps, nicknames (baby, baby girl, beautiful)
note: so sorry for the wait! I changed the summary a bit to make it sound better. I had a lot of fun writing this. I just hope y'all enjoyed it as much as I did, haha.
-
Your singing career grew faster than you expected, taking you on an amazing journey to stardom.
However, your new rise to fame has come with pros and cons like stalking paparazzi and crazy fans.
Your manager recommended hiring a private bodyguard. You were initially hesitant, but eventually, you decided to accept the idea.
When you were introduced to Terry Richmond, you couldn't help but think he was the most handsome man you had ever seen.
However, despite his striking looks, he was a complete asshole with a cold demeanor.
For example, at a meet-and-greet photo op, Terry stood at the entrance as each fan walked through.
He patted them down and gave them a rude remark and an intimidating stare.
“Could you please relax your face a bit? And why are you patting them down like airport security? You need to chill; you're scaring all my fans,” You expressed.
"Brenda, where did you find this clown?" You asked your manager, and she tried to reason with you, but you didn't listen.
Terry glanced at you blankly and said, "I'm just doing my job; it's protocol, ma’am,"
“Fucking protocol, this fucking protocol that is it protocol to be an asshole…and what did I tell you about calling me, ma’am? You know, you’re older than me, right?” You asked, and he didn’t respond.
You rolled your eyes, crossing your arms while patiently waiting for the next fan.
Brenda nudged him on the shoulder and whispered something to him you couldn't hear.
"Look, lady, I'll do my best to appear less intimidating, but I will not tolerate your diva behavior. I'm here to protect you, and protecting your life is serious, which means adhering to protocol. Do you understand?" Terry asked in a softer but still dominant tone.
"I understand, but you need to understand that you are working for me; you can stay on your "protocol shit" but by my rules. Okay," You replied.
“Brenda… I’m sorry, but I can’t work with this,” Terry said, looking at her with frustration, which caused you to look shocked.
"Look at you…running…I thought you were a tough guy, just a clown," You yelled teasing him as he walked out of the room, and Brenda ran after him.
As you talked to your assistant, Chole, Terry, and Brenda walked back into the room. They must have had a talk.
"I apologize for my behavior, miss. I will cooperate with you, but only if you do the same." Terry clenches his jaw, and you smirk, noticing that it probably hurts his ego to say that.
"You know what…It's cool. And fine, I will cooperate," You said, clearing your throat, and oddly feeling slightly aroused.
As the days passed, you noticed subtle changes in Terry's behavior. He started engaging in small talk, asking about your day, and even cracking a joke here and there.
You tried to be less of a bitch and more nice and playful with him. He was still professional but more easy to talk to than before.
Walking together one evening, you paused in front of a quaint little bookstore.
The window display featured a collection of classic novels, their covers slightly worn, as if inviting readers to delve into their pages.
You glanced at Terry, who gave a slight nod of approval, and you both stepped inside.
There weren’t many people inside, thankfully. The smell of old books and polished wood enveloped you, creating a cozy atmosphere.
You wandered through the aisles, your fingers occasionally brushing against the books.
Terry followed at a respectful distance, his eyes still watchful but softer for you.
As you reached the back of the store, you found a comfy armchair tucked away in a corner.
With a contented sigh, you sank into it.
Terry stood nearby, glancing around at the shelves, and you noticed his gaze lingering on a book of poetry.
You pointed it out with a smile. "See something you like, Terry?" You asked curiously in a playful tone.
"Uh," He hesitated momentarily, then picked up the book, flipping through its pages with a surprising gentleness.
"Yeah…I used to read a bit of poetry," He admitted quietly. "It’s been a while."
You nodded, understanding. "Well, maybe today’s the day to start again," You suggested, feeling warm.
“Maybe!”
“Can I ask you what your favorite poem is?” You asked, genuinely curious.
Terry paused, a thoughtful look crossing his face. "There's one by Langston Hughes that I always liked," He said, voice softening.
“What is it?”
“Uh…The Dream Keeper.' It's about dreams, how precious they are, and how they must be protected and cherished."
You smiled, touched by his choice. "That's a beautiful one. Wow, I wouldn't have thought you would be a guy into poetry."
"Well… there's a problem. You didn't know me enough," Terry said, a rare, full smile breaking through his usually composed exterior, which fluttered your heart.
"You right…maybe…I should get to know you more on a deeper level." You flirted playfully, looking into his pretty eyes intensely
"How about you? What's your favorite poem?" Terry asked, ultimately shifting the subject.
He was good at that; change the topic whenever you asked about getting to know him.
Terry comes over with the book in his hand and sits next to you. You think for a moment.
"I think I'd have to say 'Phenomenal Woman' by Maya Angelou," You replied as your eyes lit up.
"It's such an empowering piece, full of strength and grace," you continued.
Terry nodded thoughtfully, his fingers gently gliding over the pages of the poetry book.
"Angelou's words have a way of striking right at the heart," He agreed, genuinely interested in the discussion.
“You are a Phenomenal Woman,” He mumbled in a low tone, hoping you didn’t hear him, but you did.
You smirked. “You think so?
“Damn it! nothing gets past you, huh?” He chuckles softly; his little chuckle is music to your ears.
“Do you mean it?” You asked, looking at him, fluttering your eyelashes, waiting for him to respond.
His expression changed from gentle to serious, and Terry stood, stretching a little.
“Let me know when you’ve finished,” He said, glancing over his shoulder as he prepared to walk away, a hint of cold in his voice.
"Wait," You said, stopping him, and grabbing the poetry book from his hand before heading to the front cash register.
“What are you doing?” He asked, his brow furrowed in confusion as he trotted closely behind you.
“I’m getting this for you,” You replied, smiling, handing the book to the cashier.
"As a thank you for cooperating with my attitude. I know it's your job to protect me, and you want to do your job right, but who says we can’t be friends, right?" You added with a smile.
"You didn't have to do that," He said, looking surprised, but a hint of gratitude shone in his light eyes.
"Well, I wanted to," You said simply. Both of you waited for the car inside, and soon, Terry guided you out of the bookstore, shielding you from the paparazzi.
You shivered slightly when you felt his hand on your lower back. The two of you managed to get into the car.
The car ride was quiet, filled with the soft hum of the music and the occasional rustle of paper as Terry thumbed through his new book.
You watched him from the corner of your eye, noticing how his expression softened as he read.
Seeing this side of him was amazing, a reminder that maybe you could get him to open up a little bit.
"Thank you," Terry said suddenly, breaking the silence. "For the book."
You smiled, touched by his sincerity. "Of course, Terry."
He simply nodded in acknowledgment, then turned his attention back to the pages of his book.
As he immersed himself in the book, you couldn't help but admire his caramel-brown skin tone emanated a warm glow under the sun shining from the window, highlighting his essence.
You watched his mesmerizing blend of greyish-blue or perhaps hazel-green eyes, depending on the day, move back and forth through the words.
“You know, it’s not nice to stare,” Terry remarked playfully, glancing up from his book.
His eyes sparkled with mischief as he offered you a warm, infectious smile—the kind that lingered in your thoughts long after you had seen it.
You looked away, trying to suppress a smile; this man was going to be the death of you if you didn't do something about it.
As months passed, Terry finally began to share his life before becoming a bodyguard. The more you learn about him, the deeper your feelings for him become.
You now consider him a friend. In public, Terry maintained a professional bodyguard demeanor.
In private, he was like a big teddy bear you couldn’t help but want to embrace.
Although spending almost every day together, there was still a boundary he wouldn’t cross with you, and you wanted him to cross it so bad.
Your first global tour was a complete success. You traveled worldwide, singing and meeting your fans; it was a dream come true.
It was around eight at night, and you found yourself alone in your hotel room, wearing pajamas and waiting for room service.
Out of nowhere, a firm knock echoes through the quiet room. You pause, glancing toward the door, and call out to see who it is.
A familiar voice responds—it’s Terry. You invited him in, and he entered with the room service server.
His reassuring presence stood tall as he watched the server set everything on the table before dismissing them.
"Are you hungry?" You asked, your voice slightly hoarse from the last evening's performance.
Terry caught your gaze, his eyes sparkling with that familiar glimmer.
"No, I’m fine. I just wanted to make sure you got your food," He replied, his tone sweet and sincere.
"Come on, are you sure? There’s plenty to share, Terry," You said, motioning toward the spread of food.
"I guess, maybe just a little," He agreed, pulling up a chair beside you.
You both began to eat in a lovely, comfortable silence, but Terry broke it by asking you something.
"I never really asked you this but how are you managing and feeling all of this?" Terry asked, gesturing to this rising fame.
You shrugged, a small smile gracing your lips. "It's been exciting, anxious. I have my moments, you know that,"
"Oh, I know…you still do, bratty attitude and everything," he said teasingly, but stating facts, you playfully hit him on the arm.
"But I'm trying to meditate and stay grounded, surrounding myself with trustworthy people like you and Brenda."
He nodded, a warm grin spreading across his face. "I'm glad to hear that."
"You're doing an incredible job. It's not easy being in the spotlight all the time." He added, his simple yet heartfelt words warmed your heart.
"Thank you, Terry. That truly means a lot," You replied softly, and he gave you a nod with a smile.
After eating, you and Terry began watching a movie in bed, and you unexpectedly fell asleep.
Your head fell on his shoulder, and you began cuddling against him.
Terry removed you from his arm, reluctantly preparing to leave, but you stopped him.
"Where are you goin', T?" You whined sleepily, holding his arm tenderly.
"I should let you get some rest," He said, a touch of remorse in his voice.
“No….wait..,” You said, letting go of his arm and clumsily getting out of bed.
You almost stumbled, but he caught you. You and Terry shared an intense gaze before your eyes shifted to his lips.
You leaned in, lust swirling in the air between you. Just as your lips were about to meet.
Terry stopped you and gently placed a hand on your shoulder, his expression serious.
“We can’t,” Terry said, the weight of his words hanging heavily around you.
“Terry, it’s okay. Let it happen,” you said, leaning in closer again, feeling him shift, especially when he didn't push you away.
You kiss his lips softly, and he melts into the kiss, loving the warmth and sweetness of your lips.
Just as you were to rest your hands on his shoulders, a sudden shift occurs, and he gently pulls away, your eyes lingering on his back.
“Fuck, you're making this real hard for me,” He says, moving towards the couch on the other side of the room.
“Terry, don’t you feel this attraction between us? Because I do…I really like you.”
“I-i do but…it’s….”
You moved toward him, knelt before him, and placed your hands on his knees.
“Wrong,” You quietly inquired, your voice barely above a whisper, while pressing your forehead gently against his.
The warmth of your skin is connected with his, creating intimate and intense feelings.
“Because it’s unprofessional, and you work for me. Well, who fucking cares? We're attractive to each other, and we want each other. Let's just say fuck it," You expressed, grabbing his hand and placing it on your exposed wide hip.
You heard his breath hitch as Terry shook his head, trying to resist as he uttered your name, his voice barely above a whisper.
"Come on…Daddy," You whispered softly, heart racing as you just risked calling him that.
Terry tilted his head and grunted his teeth before grabbing your face with his hands and pulling you into a passionate kiss before lifting you up to straddle him.
The world around you seemed to fade away as you lost yourself in the feel of his hands on your body and the feel of his sweet, soft lips.
A muffled moan leaves your mouth as Terry's tongue begins to dance along with yours.
He pulls away and starts kissing your jawline and your neck before opening your button-up PJ shirt roughly and your breasts popping out.
"You've been driving me crazy, you know?" He asked, squeezing them and sucking them, causing you to let out a moan.
You gazed at him with intense desire; his dirty talk and the hunger in his eyes deepened your arousal by the minute.
Terry had you stand up with him, and you both began removing each other's clothes.
His breath hitched, feeling you unbutton his pants and push them down to his feet.
"Mmmmm, I thought it was bigger, Daddy. This is disappointing, " You said playfully, aware that you were treading on dangerous ground.
You bite your lip while gently caressing his big, throbbing dick through his underwear.
He grabbed your neck roughly and said, "Oh, is it? You better watch, girl. I'll have you begging and crying for it; I'mma have to teach you a lesson. keep playing with me."
And indeed he did.
Terry smiled up between your legs. You were a hot, crying, and moaning mess who should've shut your damn mouth.
This was your third orgasm; he was working out of you, and you were so damn sensitive.
"Look at you, a fucking mess. Shouldn't have been talking all that shit." He says, plunging his tongue between your wet folds again, seeking out your most sensitive spots.
"Daddy, ahhh, I'm sorry, oh fuck right here," You cried, feeling him spread your legs further apart, slowly sliding in one, then two fingers, pumping in and out fast.
Pressure began building deep inside. "Right there, baby girl?" He asked.
"Yes, ahhh yes!" You moaned, feeling your walls start fluttering around his fingers. 
A third finger slips in, and in one thrust, your body tenses; in two thrusts, your eyes roll in the back of your head.
"Mmm fuck….I'm close, daddy," You moaned softly, gripping the bed sheets tightly while bucking your hip a little bit.
"Cum for me, baby girl." He says, lapping his tongue through your folds, and the orgasm hits you like a bus.
"That's it, such a good girl. Look at you," Terry says, placing your legs down and kissing your inner thigh.
You look at him hungrily while coming down from your high. You watched him get a condom and stroke his dick.
"How do you want me, Daddy?" "You asked, propping yourself up on your elbows.
Terry looked at you, still stroking himself; the way he was doing it was turning you on even more.
"I want you to ride me, but reverse," He said, going to lie on his back, and you climbed on top, reversing yourself to face away from him.
He held your waist with one hand while his legs were slightly spread apart.
You grip his dick gently and slowly slide down, causing you to let out a hiss, just the tip only was just too much for you.
"What's the matter, baby girl? Too big for you?" He asked, playfully teasing you.
"No, I can handle it; I've had much bigger than this," You said, with fake confidence, which earned you a nice ass slap.
"Watch it, baby girl," Terry said with a growl, and you moaned, continuing to slowly slide down his big dick until he was entirely in you and stretching you out.
"Okay, good girl, you got through that; go ahead fuck yourself on it, do all the work if you can," He said, propped up with his arms behind his head, and a mischief smirk played on his lips.
Why couldn't you just keep your mouth shut? You told yourself you could've had what you wanted, but Terry was punishing you for your teasing.
You bite your lip and place your hands between his legs, bouncing up and down slowly.
"Mmmm, fuck, there you go, beautiful girl," Terry groaned, giving your ass a nice smack; even when he's trying to teach you a lesson, he's praising you.
You adapted to his size quicker than expected, bouncing faster, but this still didn't achieve the desired results.
You tried to keep going, but you needed him; you needed his dick, and you needed him to fuck you and take control.
"Daddy?" You cried, shifted to look back at him, and he smiled with his brow raised.
"Yes, baby girl? Is something wrong?" He asked with a bit of amusement in his tone.
"Fuck me, please. I'm sorry. I need you, I need your dick, please," You begged desperately.
"tsk, tsk, tsk. I don't know…have you learned your lesson?" Terry asked, waiting for an answer.
"Yes, I swear, yes." You nodded desperately, and tears began streaming down your face.
"Nah…I don't think you have, but Immma turn this pussy out and show you when not to play with me," Terry said dominantly, grabbing your waist and thrusting up harshly, causing you to let out a moan.
"Ahh, fuck" You moaned, placing your hands on his chest, watching his length move in and out of you.
This was what you wanted to feel him move in and out out of your pussy, skin on skin, slapping, filling the room.
Your breasts bounced every which way while you cried and moaned in great pleasure for more.
"You like that, don't you? You like me being in control and fucking the brat of you huh?" Terry asked as his hands moved to your hips, grip tighter than before.
"Yes, Daddy, ahh, just like that, ahh fuck me." You moaned, grew in volume, on the verge of being screams of ecstasy.
The pleasure that he was giving you felt so good that the knot in your stomach was exponentially reforming with every thrust.
Terry could tell from how your pussy clenched around his dick. You whimper when he pulls out, but you get excited when he says.
"Turn around. I want to see that pretty little face of yours, baby."
You turn your body, slightly shaking, and quickly, Terry grabs you to flip you on your back.
You bit your lip, watching him slide in, and start thrusting slowly but quickly, picking up the pace.
"Fuck, yes, Terry," You moaned, wrapping yourself around him, clinging to his skin and leaving scratches down his back.
He grabbed your hand and pushed it above your head, pressing his entire body weight against you.
"Fuck, you feel so good, and you look so damn beautiful; look at you, ahh fuck" Terry moans, kissing you first before pulling away to grip your waist tighter and watch your breasts bounce up and down.
You gripped his arms, letting out louder moans as he went faster, harder, and deeper than before.
"Tell me this is the best dick you've have ever had," He growled
"Ahh…this-this is the best dick I've ever had, Daddy," You cried out, making him smirk.
"You love this dick, don't you?" Terry asked, pulling out and slamming back into you hard, hitting your sweet spot.
"Yes. daddy. I love it; I love it so much. Fuck, It feels so so good I'm gonna-! " You screamed, arching your back.
"Fuck, that's it. You're so fucking good, baby. Such a good girl, cum for me," He moans, kissing your lips, and without a doubt, you orgasmed fourth time tonight.
This one was gushing out of you, causing Terry to pull out and hit his dick against your sensitive pussy before continuing to thrust back in until he had reached his own mind-blowing orgasm.
Terry pulled you into a kiss and moaned your name. You loved hearing every sound he made; he thrusted once more and spilled into the condom, falling against you.
Both of you remained there, trying to catch your breath. You stroked his back as he kissed your neck and collarbone.
Terry rolls off of you, throws the condom away, and pulls you close to cuddle.
You caressed his cheek and gazed into his eyes; words were unnecessary. There was much to figure out, but that could wait because this moment was worth it.
231 notes · View notes
alllgator-blood · 1 day ago
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
'IT'S JUST A BURNING MEMORY' (part 4/5)
(part 1) (part 2) (part 3)
*punches drywall* I must've rewritten this part a million times and I'm still not sure I worded it as best as I can. I usually write SO MUCH in my descriptions but rn I don't have much to say about this one.
I guess I just wanna say if you're someone who rb's these comics and writes your thoughts in the tags, or comments or really has said anything about these pages so far, I'm really grateful. I made the original sketch for this months ago just for myself, didn't think I'd finish it or show anyone, but rn I'm going through some grief in my personal life and I needed a big project to distract me. It means a lot that people are reading this one and giving their thoughts, I've even seen people I never thought would look at my art read this comic?? Idk this is a special project to me and it makes me Feel Emotions that people like it. Thank you
224 notes · View notes
mrs-monaghan · 3 days ago
Note
I’ve seen a lot of talk about how JK loves Jimin in the show, many have pointed out all the things he says and does for Jimin. But what does Jimin do for JK? How did we see him love Jk in the show because I’m struggling to see it and hate that.
You mean apart from claiming him?
Tumblr media
Coz anon, letting the world know a person is yours kinda goes to show Jimin loves the hell out of JK... hard enough to announce to everyone, but okay. If u want us to look at a few instances then we shall...
I gotta say though, not seeing how Jimin loves JK is wild. But, let's proceed.
I personally still can't get over Jimin waxing himself for JK. Its giving, amazing boyfriend who knows what his man likes 😏
Tumblr media
I'm sorry but that is so gay
Tumblr media
Alright anon. To really start us off, is the reason why AYS exists in the first place.
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
We saw JK missing Jimin here and Jimin missing JK here. So Jimin doing this did not surprise me at all. I mean, we all remember he's it done before in 2019, so he's a grand gestures type of boyfriend. Wbk 😍🥺 I mean, man did say he would travel to the moon for JK. Literally.
So yeah, that's Jimin for ya. The guy who you can't seem to see just how much he loves JK 🤦🏽‍♀️ Moving on... so they decided to play RPS
Tumblr media Tumblr media
Jimin wins and what does he do?
Tumblr media
That's right. The rule of the game is to pick what you want first and eat that. But no, Mimi knows his baby loves to eat so even though he won, he finds out first what JK wants.
They play again, Jimin wins and once again,
Tumblr media Tumblr media
He offers JK first.
Makes you wonder what the point of this game is atp 😂😂 but Jimin will always put his man first and that's on fax. Cue editors pointing it out for you anon;
Tumblr media
Still you missed it... smh.
Next.
When he allowed a probably tired JK to rest on his shoulder.
Tumblr media
How cute was that? It reminded me of this:
Tumblr media
Jimin doesn't love JK you say? Let's continue ☺
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
JK is special. We've known this for years. Jimin has always given JK that special treatment and has never even tried to hide it.
This post would feel incomplete if we didn't talk about their none existent hyung/dongsaeng dynamic.
Tumblr media Tumblr media
Not me going into bedroom territory and cackling at the fact that JK probably loves to rile up top Jimin. 🤭🤭
Ahem. Moving on swiftly 😌 to this other sweet moment.
Tumblr media Tumblr media
i.e Jimin giving up his seat for JK.
And you who is reading this saying that aint a big deal... umm, I beg to differ??? They were filming something that was gonna be viewed by millions so of course one wants to look their best. And JK knew this which is why he asked Jimin about his best side in the first place. So yeah, this was a very sweet thing Jimin did for JK.
Jimin is a really nice person. You know? Like, Jikook aside, this dude is the real deal.
Anygays,
Jimin supporting JK's music. Standing next to you especially 😂 but I also loved when he sang hate you. That was awesome. And don't forget SEVEN too.
Last but definitely not least (due to maximum image space) Right in the beginning anon, the show opens with Jimin being super worried about JK's voice.
Tumblr media Tumblr media
Jimin is not even subtle with how he treats and loves and dotes on JK.
I'm struggling to see it and I hate that.
Anon I can't believe you. Struggling? With Jimin of all people? Just for that I'll be coming back with a part 2. Hope these moments ring some bells for ya
205 notes · View notes
yooniivrse · 2 days ago
Text
uh oh, i'm falling in love | myg
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
summary. the night that yoongi realises you might be a lot more than just a close friend to his heart.
pairing: yoongi x reader
genre: fluff, best friends to ??, one sided love? (up to reader's interpretation)
word count: 1.5k
warnings: none <333
notes: this was a request from my love, @perfectlyoongi-main. you can find the ask for this oneshot here. listening to labyrinth by taylor swift on repeat while writing this definitely made me feel very very single, but i loved writing this sm. as always, likes, comments, reblogs, asks and feedback is so so appreciated!! i hope you guys enjoy <333
────
main masterlist
────
You stop in front of the small, old-fashioned photo booth, hands on your hips as you look it over with mild scepticism.
It’s a flimsy structure tucked in a quiet corner of the mall, slightly worn down with chipped paint and a fading sign hanging above it. It’s the kind of booth that hasn’t been updated in years, where the pictures are low-quality and slightly off-colour, but you look at it with the excitement of someone who’s just discovered a hidden gem.
“I don’t think we’ll both fit inside,” you muse, tilting your head as if a different angle might magically increase its size.
Yoongi stands beside you, hands shoved into the pockets of his dark denim jacket, eyeing the booth with a barely hidden look of reluctance.
If he's being honest, he’d much rather be back home with you, watching movies in the comfort of his living room, eating pizza, and letting the night pass by as it usually does. It’s how he’s spent his birthdays for the past three years since meeting you, a quiet tradition he’d grown to look forward to. But this year, you’d insisted he get out of the house, brimming with excitement at the idea of taking him somewhere, refusing to tell him what you had planned.
And even though he could’ve turned you down, Yoongi knew he wouldn’t. Not with the way your face lit up when he agreed, that joyful glint in your eyes that made his heart beat just a little faster.
“Maybe we should just do this somewhere else,” he suggests, already eyeing the dim mall corridor as an escape route. “There’s no way we’re both fitting inside unless you sit on my lap or something.”
He means it as a joke, but the moment the words leave his mouth, he realises the weight they carry. His heart skips a beat as you turn to him with that playful smile he knows so well, eyes sparkling with a mix of determination and mischief.
“I don’t think—”
“Oh, come on! It’s your birthday,” you say, nudging him with your elbow. “And we’ve been best friends for long enough that it won’t be weird.”
Yoongi opens his mouth to respond, but the words seem to disappear before they can reach his lips. The suggestion should feel casual, even funny, but there’s a strange tension that settles in his chest, stopping him from brushing it off like he usually would. It’s the same tension that’s been creeping up more often these days, the one that leaves him feeling almost breathless whenever he’s around you.
“Unless,” you add with a sly smile, your expression feigning innocence, “you’d rather sit on my lap?”
He chuckles, the sound more nervous than he intended. “Fine. Whatever,” he mutters, rolling his eyes. But as he steps forward, he feels a strange warmth creeping into his cheeks, something uncomfortably close to anticipation.
You squeeze into the booth first, settling onto the small, tacky leather stool with a satisfied grin. You pat your lap playfully, but Yoongi only shakes his head, stepping into the cramped space behind you.
His heart thrums erratically as he settles onto the stool, his knees brushing against yours as he wraps his arms loosely around your waist, pulling you just close enough that you both fit within the booth’s limited space. You lean back against him, so naturally that he wonders if you can feel the way his heart races at the contact.
“See?” you say, glancing back at him with a grin. “This isn’t so bad.”
The camera’s light starts blinking, giving a brief warning before the first picture snaps. You immediately turn to him, nudging his cheek to bring him closer, and in the tight space, it’s all he can do to keep his balance as he leans in, resting his chin on your shoulder.
“Smile!” you chirp just as the flash goes off.
The light catches him off guard, and he blinks, momentarily dazed by the brightness. He hears you laughing softly, your shoulders shaking against him, and he’s hit with a wave of warmth, one that spreads through him as he watches you, momentarily forgetting about the camera entirely.
With a slight grin, you shift in his lap, angling the two of you for another shot as the timer counts down again.
You’re so close he can feel the faint trace of your perfume, the warmth of your skin, the rhythm of your breathing as it syncs with his. And for some reason, the thought of being this close to you—closer than he ever thought he’d be—stirs something unexpected within him.
Another flash, capturing you mid-laugh, oblivious to the storm of emotions brewing within him.
As the countdown begins again, you glance back, your gaze meeting his, and Yoongi feels himself freeze. There’s a hint of something in your eyes—an invitation, perhaps, or maybe a question—that makes his heart race all over again.
His eyes drift to your smile, the soft curve of your lips, the brightness of your gaze, and he can’t ignore the way his own heartbeat echoes in his ears, loud enough that he’s sure you can hear it too.
The timer clicks down to the next flash, and he forces a smile for the camera, though his mind is elsewhere entirely. He’s trying to make sense of the strange rush of feelings flooding through him, feelings that have been building up slowly, subtly, over time.
The booth is quiet now, the only sound the soft hum of machinery and your shared breaths. You tilt your head slightly, resting it against his shoulder, and his entire world narrows down to this single moment. Yoongi feels his arms tightening around you, an instinctual gesture that’s both protective and vulnerable.
The timer clicks down to one last shot. "Alright, funny face!" you call out, pulling an exaggerated grin, and he chuckles, trying to shake off the gravity of his own emotions as he mirrors your expression. The flash captures the both of you, frozen in a moment of joy.
As the final picture fades, you stay in his arms a beat longer than necessary, and the realisation hits him like a tidal wave, too strong to ignore. This isn’t just friendship, he thinks, feeling a pang of something so overwhelming that it borders on painful. Somewhere along the line, he’s fallen in love with you, and he doesn’t know if there’s a way back.
But you’re oblivious, still laughing as you climb off his lap, crouching down to grab the strip of photos as they print out. “Look at this!” you say, waving them in front of his face. “I'm definitely hanging these up on my fridge.”
He blinks, his gaze lingering on you as you sort through the photos, laughing at the silly faces, the close-ups of your laughter, and his slightly dazed expressions. You’re so focused on the photos that you don’t notice the way he’s looking at you now, eyes soft with something deeper, something he can no longer deny.
“See, I told you that it'd be fun.” You glance up, still beaming, and he forces himself to nod, plastering a smile over the vulnerability he feels beneath the surface.
“Yeah,” he says quietly, his voice almost lost in the small space. “I guess it was.”
But even as he smiles, the weight of his realisation settles heavily in his chest, pressing down on him with a strange mixture of longing and fear.
He wonders if he’ll ever find the courage to tell you, or if he’ll spend his days hiding this quiet, aching love, content to stay by your side as a friend, the way he’s always been.
You turn to him, still laughing over one of the photos. “Hey,” you say softly, a note of seriousness creeping into your voice. “Thanks for tonight. I know this isn’t your usual birthday thing, but… it means a lot.”
And for a brief moment, he thinks about telling you everything. He thinks about confessing, about admitting that the thought of spending his life without you, without these small moments of joy and laughter, terrifies him more than anything else. But the words catch in his throat, stuck beneath the weight of a love he’s too afraid to speak out loud.
“Anytime,” he finally says, his voice a whisper, barely audible above the hum of the booth.
You look at him for a moment longer, a soft smile playing on your lips before you hand him one of the strips of photos. As you walk out of the booth, he follows behind you, trying to ignore the ache in his chest, the quiet, unspoken confession that lingers in the space between you.
Maybe one day, he'll find the courage to tell you how he feels; maybe one day, he'll get to be more than just your friend.
But until then, his love will stay hidden in the attic of his thoughts, known only to him.
And for now, that's enough.
234 notes · View notes
rawbin-hsr · 2 days ago
Text
Rating HSR characters in relationships
Title is self-explanatory <3
Characters: Boothill, Dr Ratio, Blade, Aventurine (separately)
⊱ ─── ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ ─── ⊰
CW: cursing, mostly fluff and some crack
CW Aventurine's part: toxic dynamics, emotional neglect, jealousy, Aventurine in general
Lmk if there's any warnings I should add!
Had to restrain myself on Dr. Ratio I have soo bad brain worms about him rn he’s all I think about
。゚•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• 。゚
Boothill
10/10
DO NOT. AT ME. I PROMISE I’VE THOUGHT THIS THROUGH. I know most people who read that will be like “what the fuck Boothill would NOT be a perfect partner” and that’s where you’re right ! No, he would be an awful partner !
For MOST people. 
But see, he wouldn’t be just ANYONE’S partner. 
If you’re dating him, it means you’re exactly his type and he’s exactly yours. You wouldn’t date a guy like him if he wasn’t exactly what you wanted. He lays out all his cards on the table right away. Your relationship won’t have the chance to even begin if you’re not head over heels immediately bro 😭😭😭
With most characters I can imagine them in a relationship with a lot of different kinds of people. Like for example yeah I can imagine Aventurine both dating someone more reserved and sweet or someone bold and loud. Or someone like Argenti Lord knows that man could love ANYONE (or anyTHING tbh), but with Boothill there’s just a very narrow range of personalities I can imagine him with. Hence the rating cause he’d only be in one kind of relationship. 
You guys are a POWER COUPLE I tell you. It’s SICKENING how much you love each other and how well you fit together. Two peas in a pod. I’m gonna throw up. 
You both love the exact same things, you both HATE the exact same things, and you are both equally deranged and insane
The IPC hates to see you coming 💀🙏
You’re constantly in a friendly competition to outdo each other. Who has the higher bounty ? (Usually him) Who can drink most alcohol before blacking out ? (You, surprisingly) Who can kiss the other the most times during this high-speed chase ? (You always tie on this)
He swallows a bullet. You say “I’ll do you one better!” and swallow a knife. You are a human and so he needs to take you to the hospital so you don’t fucking die
(You both think it’s funny afterwards so it’s okay)
Even when you guys “argue” it’s never really that serious. Honestly you both think it’s kind of hot…… you argue in a devious, sexy way……. *smirks mischievously*
Sorry I cannot take him seriously
You match his freak <3
Nobody fucking likes you together. Separately ? Sure people like you. But the moment the two of you are in the same room it’s like you merge into one singular, horrible, annoying entity and NOBODY wants to be around to see it 😭😭😭🙏🙏🙏 neither of you have gotten a lecture about how inappropriate pda can be and also the two of you speak total nonsense it’s incomprehensible to everyone else
Considering putting Boothill on my “do not request” list, not because I don’t like him but because even I don’t understand how the two of you would fit together I can’t write it y’all are that weird
Boothill is for the freaks and he is PERFECT FOR THEM !!!
。゚•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• 。゚
Dr. Ratio
9/10
Okay I’ll be honest I’m not very caught up on Dr Ratio (I briefly hated him I only recently started liking him again HELP) so forgive me if there is some mischaracterisation in this I’m working on it my view on him isn’t complete yet 🙏🙏
Though Ratio is very ruled by logic, that doesn’t mean he doesn’t have emotions. Furthermore, he views these emotions as important. Logic is not inherently opposed to emotions, and in fact, ignoring them would be illogical. 
That is to say, yes, he’s an intellectual man. But he also has a high emotional intelligence 😇😇
Like not in the way of knowing how to cope with them. I don’t think he feels many strong emotions regularly (except for annoyance lol), so I think he in fact gets kind of overwhelmed by them around you and never knows how to regulate them properly HELP
But what I meant to say is that, in a relationship, he considers your thoughts and feelings a lot and makes an effort to prioritise them. He does not want for you to be unhappy. 
He values you very highly. He takes all your opinions into consideration and treats them with respect.
He loves you a lot it’s actually ridiculous. He frequently gets annoyed at himself for how much he finds himself downright SIMPERING over you. 
And like yes Ratio can be very harsh in the way he speaks but I think that 1, his care for people (including the “fools” and “idiots” he seems to scorn so often) shows and it shows even more apparently for people he cares about, and 2 I think he realises it would be inappropriate to be as rude as he usually is to you. You two are in a relationship, you are not some stranger. He cannot go around criticising you constantly, that would not be a healthy dynamic. Meaning he softens his vocabulary for you. 
His care for you is very blatantly obvious. In the beginning I think he’s a bit embarrassed to show you affection. He hasn’t ever dated anyone, much less been in a relationship, with anyone before you (I honestly don’t even think he’s had his first kiss 😭😭), so I think his inexperience plays a part in it. But he still shows you as obviously as he can that he loves you, and he doesn’t shy away from vulnerability in private moments. 
Bro has researched how to be a good partner trust 🤞
He communicates very clearly with you as often as possible. He hates misunderstandings, and tries to avoid them whenever possible. The two of you are almost always on the same page. 
Whenever you argue, he still does not want you to leave the argument feeling unloved. Type to sigh, let his eyes soften and say “I believe it would be best if we both had some time to cool down”, then squeeze your shoulder as he passes you out of the room. Kisses you goodnight before you go to sleep. It’s often easier to talk it out the next day. 
The only things bumping him down from a 10/10 for me is the fact that he doesn’t have that much time to spare for time with only you (his schedule is very packed), and the fact that he cannot cope with his OWN emotions 😭 Great with yours because he can logistically figure out how to handle them, terrible with his own because they’re affecting his own mind and he isn’t used to it
。゚•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• 。゚
Blade
7/10
Surprisingly high rating for a guy like him but I swear I’ve thought about this ok don’t leave 😔😔😔
I think it takes…. A lot. Like a lot a lot. To break through Blade’s tough outer shell
He hates letting people in so much it’s actually crazy
The closest person he has before he meets you is probably Kafka, and that’s not really by his own choice he would shut her out too if he could 😭😭
(Not to say he isn’t like, calm and polite to people. He’s pretty reserved and just, like, quiet ig usually, he only really gets weird and aggressive when the Mara flares up or he needs to be for a mission. I just mean he isn’t gonna be open and available for basically anyone lol)
It’s mainly difficult to GET INTO a relationship with Blade, but if you do manage it, it turns out a lot sweeter than you’d expect
He’s just a deeply tired man. He is not malicious, he is not unnecessarily cruel. He is worn out and sick of living, of never getting the rest he so desperately craves. He finds some sort of respite in you, and so he treasures you. 
He trusts your judgement. He stands by you, no matter what. He’s loyal to a fault once you have him. The worst that could ever happen to him now is losing you. Even when he thinks you’re about to do something stupid (and he always tells you when he thinks it’s stupid), he’ll come with you. Better he’s there to take the hit for you than letting you go alone. 
Even with the smaller things, he shows it even more obviously. He cooks you dinner and lunch every day, so you don’t have to. He lets you decorate his apartment, and he never adjusts the things you place in it, even when it clashes horribly with his own style. He lets you drag him along anywhere, whether it be a concert or a park, without complaint. 
The main downsides with Blade are that he never, ever, verbally tells you that he loves you. Maybe once during your entire relationship he’ll say it, and probably when you’re on your deathbed, but he usually won’t. Even if you try to pry it out of him. 
He can be really mean in the way he says things sometimes, like telling you straight up your ideas are dumb, but it’s always softened by the way he agrees to do whatever you want anyways.
Another frustrating thing is how he cares very little for his own wellbeing. It’s a regular occurrence for him to come home with guts spilling out of his abdomen, and it’s really uncomfortable to see even if you know he can’t die. He can still feel pain, even if he’s learnt to cope with it well. It’s scary to see him so hurt so often. 
But you wouldn’t get into a relationship with him if you didn’t already know all this, hence why I rank him so high. He’s a lot better than you expected when you met him, which means you’re effectively in a better relationship than you’d have hoped 😭😭
。゚•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• 。゚
Aventurine
4/10 💀💀
I love him so much (my content is mostly Aventurine centric) but holy fuck man,,,
I have never and will never sugarcoat it Aventurine is TOXIC. Like GENUINELY. I wouldn’t say abusive but he can be really cruel. He gets lost in his own head and takes it out on you in ways he doesn’t really mean to. Aventurine is not a good person. 
He’s fucked up in all sorts of ways and it’s no surprise it could easily destroy any relationship
Trust issues ? Jealousy issues ? Commitment issues ? Attachment issues ? Insecurity issues ? Mommy, daddy AND sister issues ? Every kind of possible issue you can probably imagine ? Yes on all fronts, bro’s the full issue package 💀
It would take a very special kind of person to endure in a relationship with him (I would not be able to do it if he was real I’ll be so honest)😭
When things are good, they’re really good. He can be so fun and playful and sweet and he loves to spoil you and everything that belongs to him belongs to you. He loves you more than the air he breathes and he’d do anything to make you happy
The issue is, most of the time, things are not in fact good. 
I keep mentioning it but his relationships are always such a push and pull. A game of hot and cold. One second he clings to you and begs you to never leave him, and the next he won’t respond to your calls or messages. 
Even worse, sometimes he’ll be outright mean in order to push you away, insinuating you’re “holding him down” and that you’re “wasting his time”. You’ll find yourself questioning if he actually does love you, because what sort of person does this to someone they love?
(It keeps him up at night when he treats you badly. He hates doing it, but he needs you to hate him as much as he hates himself.)
Usually he’s a really smart guy. Even when he does stupid things (things like making a purposeless high-risk gamble, playing Russian roulette), he’s fully aware of what he’s doing. (He does it because he kind of hopes he’ll actually die this time.) But with you, he loses all his composure and can’t really think straight. 
He feels safe with you, and that scares him. He’s a danger to your safety, and it’s better to push you away, make you hate him, than it is to let himself be happy with you. His life is beyond saving, so all he can do to you if you stay is drag you into his mess. He can’t fix himself, not even for your sake. 
He lies to you, he neglects you (sometimes for weeks at a time), he builds up new walls between you constantly, but at the same time he gets insecure and jealous when you hang out with others. Only when you threaten to leave him does he finally start getting his act together, because he realises that now that he’s had you, he couldn’t bear to live without you (even if he knows that’s very selfish of him). 
He gets better with time, but I really, really doubt he’ll ever be fully healed. It doesn’t help that his job wouldn’t really allow it, and he can’t leave the IPC through any other means than death. 
I originally ranked him as a 3/10 (diabolically low rating I know 💀💀) but I bumped him up one because he will get better. If you stick around long enough, he’d probably make it to a 7/10, but since that would take like over 4 years of being in a relationship with him I felt it would be unfair to rank him much higher 😭😭 At the start he really fucking sucks dude I’m so sorry my condolences 
。゚•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• 。゚
My inbox is open, feel free to send in asks or requests, I'd love to ramble about things <3
295 notes · View notes
cherry-leclerc · 3 days ago
Text
method acting ☆ cl16
genre: angst, yearning, humor, fluff, journalist!reader, established relationship
word count: 13.2k
There’s a lot of things you’d like to do differently in life. And the weeks leading up to that night is one of them.
inspired by this, this, and this !
cherry here!… hello there. sooo this was supposed to go up a few days ago, but silly me scheduled the wrong date, haha, so this is me formally apologizing for that. on a more lighter note: i’m so excited for you guys to read this one considering this is the re-written version of ‘method acting’ if you guys even remember the original version. love u all very much, and enjoyyy :)
Tumblr media
From his boyish smile, to his dominant smirk—you knew it all. 
The way it would slowly start to spread, but always ended with a dimple. You loved many things in life—many, many things—but nothing comes close to him. From the very start, he’s been gentle. A gentle giant, you’d sometimes joke with a teasing voice, to which he’d roll his eyes yet never deny. 
The way he’d start every sentence with—honey—and end with—I love you. The way he’d cradle your face between his hands, kissing the corner of your mouth first before pressing down completely. The way he’d translate for you with all the patience in the world. Everything about him had been so easy to learn, so easy to love.
But here, in a room, staring at each other, you begin to wonder if you ever knew him at all. Because suddenly you don’t know what the frown on his face means. What the furrowed brows with the pinched expression interpret to. You don’t know any of it. 
Why are you so surprised, though?
You caused this, anyways.
-
“I still can’t wrap my head around the fact that you don’t know how to use a USB, Lis. Aren’t you supposed to be, I don’t know—tech savvy?” 
Lissie aims a harsh glare before tapping her nail against the computer screen as if that might make the process a whole lot quicker. “So what? I lied on my resume. Everybody does it.”
You chuckle. “Who even uses USB’s nowadays?”
“Apparently Grandpa Will. Oh, yay, it's done!” She shimmies. “I’ll see you later, m’kay?” With that, she zips down the paddock without a second glance. You sigh, gathering your stuff and making your way down the busy crowd, heading straight towards Ferrari Hospitality. 
He’s on his computer when you first walk in, keys clicking. He nibbles on his bottom lip, knits his dark brows like he’s in pain. As soon as you tap your finger against the wall, he perks up, all his interest suddenly gone. He grins. “And to what do I owe this pleasure?”
“Lis,” you respond, claiming a seat next to him. 
The Monegasque hums, leaning in to kiss your lips swiftly. “Thank you, Elisabella.” You giggle, sneaking a quick peek at his open screen. “Whatcha’ workin’ on? Wait—let me guess. You’re getting your marriage license annulled?”
“To be with you, yes,” he agrees, nodding enthusiastically. “How do you think Joris is going to take it?”
A playful shrug. “He’s just going to have to accept it, no?”
“I suppose.” Snapping the computer shut, he fixes himself, head pressed softly against your lap, closing his eyes. The sight of his even breaths and curved nose makes you smile as you start threading your fingers through his hair. He sighs, tense shoulders instantly rolling back. “Journling, and whatnot. It’s a habit that has a near expiration date, for sure, but is quite nice as of now.”
And though he can’t see you, your neat brows raise up in surprise. “Journaling on an electronic device? Why not an actual journal? You know—something authentic. I actually know of a place back in Portland where they sell some cute ones, ver—”
“I’m not looking for cute. I’m looking for security.” A beat. “I’d lose it in a week, and we don’t want that happening, now do we? My laptop works just fine. Plus, I feel more at peace knowing it’s not something I will just leave behind.”
“I wouldn’t put it past you,” you declare, enjoying the way his lips twist with a childlike snarl. “Anyways, I’m glad you’ve picked up on a new hobby. It’s good for you, Charlie.”
“Learned from the best.” You blush. “By the way, media shouldn’t last longer than an hour? Wanna go out?”
“Aren’t you tired?” you question, forcing his eyelids open as he squirms, pushing your hand away.
“A little. But I still want to do something with you.”
A tired sigh. “Cute, but I can’t. Lissie and William are out for today, so it’s just me, which means I have to conduct all the interviews by myself.”
The brunette bats an eye. “Why?”
“She forgot she had a deadline—hence why I was busy helping her—and Will still has to look it over. They have to send it in by midnight and it’s—it’s a lot.”
“Why couldn’t she just email it?”
“That’s what I’m saying!” you screech, causing him to flinch and squeeze his eyes. Sheepishly, you pat his head. “He insisted on a USB. Says he wants all work done like the olden days.”
“That sucks,” he mumbles. “And who even uses USB’s nowadays? They’re so outdated.”
“That’s what I’m—” You stop, mid-sentence, lowering your voice when he sits up and scoots away. “Saying,” you finish, whispering. You purse your lips, sending a slight grimace. “You get it.”
Charles nods, standing up and placing his laptop into his duffel bag. “I’ll come back and pick you up, yeah? Meanwhile, I can maybe cook something for us.”
“Honey,” you coo. “I love you, but please don’t.” His face drops. What the fuck? You giggle. “How about take-out?”
“How about,” he mutters, stiff as a statue when you press your lips down onto his jaw, but quickly melts. “Chinese?”
“Sounds good.” Another peck. “I’ll call you!”
-
If you remember—and you do remember—you fell in love with writing ever since you watched The Devil Wears Prada. It was a reset for you because before that you had seriously considered going to law. At first, you started with column writing in your school's newspaper. No one ever read it, you’d always find it on the floor after being trampled on, but you never cared. 
Soon after, you started publishing smaller pieces here and there on your fashion blog that has since been taken down, but that was the moment you knew. Thing was, you wanted to nurture this into a career, you really did, but nothing to do with fashion, rather sports. 
Maybe it had to do with the fact that every Sunday your Grandpa would beg for you to come over to his house and watch the races with him. They were extremely boring at first. Who willingly drives for roughly two hours in loops? Then, it clicked. Everything changed and you were enthralled. 
After that, all you knew was that you wanted it bad. It was hard, studying over time in order to get done quickly and just start working, but it was well worth it. You met Lis the same year she started working with Formula One, so you both figured a lot of things out together, and for two years, it was just you and her, interviewing and writing about the drivers on the grid.
But he noticed you both years ago.
He first noticed the burn on the back of your left leg. He initially thought it was a band-aid by the way it healed, but later found out you had burned yourself with a curling iron back in highschool when you were rushing to get your senior pictures taken. Then he noticed your eyes and the way they always had a glimmer to them, even if something wasn't going your way. He respected the hell out of you after that.
 How do you do that? 
You freeze. Do what?
Stay so…so—optimistic. Happy, I suppose.
You laughed then, and he saw the way your hair fell over your shoulder like a silk curtain. He would have smiled if he wasn’t so stuck up on that. It’s all a facade. They way you see me—it’s not real.
Believe me, I don’t think you’re real.
You blush, looking back down at your journal where you’ve been too busy scribbling prior to his question. You just have to ignore them sometimes, you know? Remind yourself that they don’t know you and you don’t know them. Trust me, it helps.
And after that, you two never stopped talking. 
Whether it was about work, or perhaps even the weather, you two always had something going on. Something everyone noticed, but never brought up. And at one point, you confessed your next dream.
Journalist of the Year, he repeated, a goofy smile slowly itching his skin. Yeah, I can see that.
It’s not that easy, though, you retort, exhaling heavily. I mean, I’ve been doing this for quite a while now and I haven’t even been considered once, which is fine, maybe I’m not good enough, but maybe it’s also time to…I don’t know—give up?
He kept quiet, kept his eyes focused on you, and frowned. If it’s something you want, then it’s most likely something you can have. 
Pft, you scoff. Nah. Not this. It’s nearly unattainable for someone like me. Even Lissie has won, and we’ve been here for the same amount of years. Now I’m not saying she doesn’t deserve it, but that just comes to show that there’s always someone better. And I’m just here. You look up. It’s okay, you can laugh.
A beat. I could be a hypocrite to tell you that it’s not good to measure how talented you are or how talented you can be based on some award, but Jesus Chrsit, I do the same thing. I understand. And it’s because I understand that I’m telling you to keep working hard and prove yourself to them. You have it in you—I’ve known ever since we met. You smile. Your time will come, yeah?
And for the first time: you believed it. 
A nod. Thanks, Charles. Yours will too.
About a month later, you two started officially dating. It almost seemed too good to be true at times, but wherever he looked for you in the crowd, you knew it just had to be. 
But the start of your relationship was also the end of something else.
Interviews and articles? 
He nods. Right. None of that.
You follow his actions, nodding numbly as you blink. So, no more working together? Because you want me to have a fair shot?
Yes, he confirmed. I just don’t want you to be nominated—because it’s only a matter of time, I have a feeling—and feel as if they picked you simply because of your dating status. 
Who’s going to do all of that, then? 
There’s plenty of other reporters. Lissie? Will? Maybe even Natalie. He took a step closer, grabbing your hands gently. What I’m trying to say is that I want you to feel accomplished. That what you did was simply because of your work, and not having to do with your connections because trust me, that doesn’t feel good.
But I love working with you. You give his hand a squeeze, tilting your head and smiling sadly. You’re my favorite person to write about and talk to…
And he genuinely seemed to be pained by your words, wincing.
But you suck it up because you know he’s right. I’ll always be your favorite?
Only the best.
A hum. Alright then. You take a step back, extending your hand for a professional handshake. He smiles, taking it and giving it a good tug.
 It was nice working with you, Mr. Leclerc.
-
“I’ll never understand,” Lissie starts, pressing the elevator button for the twenty-fifth floor and chewing on a licorice. “Why you two ever create such a stupid rule like that?” A hard chew. “All I’m saying is that it could have definitely helped you out a whole lot. You probably would have won by now.”
You roll your eyes, but not without thinking how she might be right. You’ve definitely wondered about a world in which you two hadn’t taken this approach, and while it would have been nice, you also know that it would have felt a little less special knowing that being a nepo to Charles had something to do with it. Which is most likely what would have happened, let’s be completely honest here. 
“You came to this arrangement, what? Twenty years ago, maybe fourty? And it’s not to be rude, but you haven't been nominated, so was this really worth it if it hasn’t made much of a difference?”
“Okay,” you grunt, ripping the red candy away from her and throwing it into the nearby trash as soon as you step out of the elevator. She pouts, following along. “I think we get it, I fucked up, very funny.”
“No,” she hums. “I never said you did, I was simply thinking, that's all.” You scoff. “But whatever. I have a feeling this is it. You definitely have it in the bag. They’d be crazy not to add you for a fourth time!”
Spinning, you smile bitterly at the Brit girl. She gulps. “Thank you, Lis, your mild support is very much appreciated.”
You turn back around, walking faster.
“Sheesh, sorry,” she hisses, entering the familiar office with a lost expression.
Carly, your manager runs over, practically jumping onto you and hugging you tight. “Lis, close the door!” You groan at the loud sound against your ear, but she's none the wiser, already embracing you harder. “You did it!”
“I told you!” Lissie shoots smugly.
You freeze, heart racing. “You’re lying.”
“I’m not lying—”
“Why would she be lying?”
Letting go, Carly lets out a delirious laugh. “Everything—all of it—has finally paid off. You did it, you’re on the list!”
“Holy shit,” you whisper in disbelief, playing with your necklace as you pace the spacious office. Lissie and Carly both grin at each other from ear to ear, nodding enthusiastically. You come to a halt. “Are you making this up because I said I would kill myself if I didn’t make it this year because, for your information, I was totally kidding!”
“It’s not a joke,” the redhead squeals, jumping again. “I’m so proud of you!”
“I am too!” Lissie shrieks, running and kissing you face as you try your best to swat her away even though you’re laughing. “Even after what I said in the elevator, I knew this shit was the real deal this time! Didn’t I tell you? Carly, I told her.” She twirls you, making you grin harder.  “You won!”
“Okay, let's touch some grass, ladies,” Carly cuts in. “We can’t forget that this is just a nomination and that there’s still work that needs to be done in order to secure our best chances.”
“Right,” you respond, elegantly fixing yourself and nodding up and down. You freeze. “Wait, what work? I thought this was it?”
Carly shakes her head. “Oh honey, we’re just getting started.” A pause. “You have to write an article.”
“I am—confused. What do you mean by article?”
The Brit takes a seat in a nearby chair, tossing her hair over her shoulder. “It’s their one and only requirement. Show them why they should pick you.”
Carly nods, red hair bouncing. “Shouldn’t be too hard. You’re as talented as they come. Just do what you do, but…better!”
Color drains your face as you go back to pacing. “What do you mean better? This is all I got! There’s nothing left to show, oh God—”
“What are you talking about?” your manager yelps. “There’s always more!”
“Exactly,” Lissie hums, somehow munching on another piece of candy. “There’s always—that, yeah. More.”
Your eye twitches. “Okay, you already went through this and won. How did you do it?”
She pouts, tapping the licorice against her lips before clicking her fingers. “I wrote my piece on fashion and how it’s made its way into Formula One. Wasn’t even that hard. Well. Shouldn't be. Write what you know and it’ll come to ya, they say. Or maybe they don’t, but definitely still do that.”
Your shoulders drop, plopping down next to her and placing a pillow over your face. “Fuck. That’s genius.” It is, isn’t it? she mumbles, slowly chewing in deep thought. Screaming into the pillow, you feel the frustration you didn’t have a second ago finally erupt. “What am I going to do?”
“Sweetheart,” Carly starts, forearms pressed against her glass desk, and stern eyes trained onto you. “You have got to be one of the most raw writers I have ever worked with.” A beat. “Sorry, Lis.” 
“Screw you,” she snarls, focusing on her phone now. 
Your manager sighs, rubbing her temples. “And please take that as a compliment because it is. You don’t hold back, and you tell it how it is. That’s what makes you one of the best! And if it weren’t for you wanting this, I would have definitely sent an angry email on your behalf because you deserve this more than anyone.”
“Wow,” the Brit muttered, raising her dark brows. 
“Sorry,” she mumbles, cringing. “But you’ve won already, Lis, and we supported you, and now…” She faces you again with soft eyes. “We’re doing this for you. You got it, m’kay?”
“But—” your voice cuts off as you blink rapidly, losing focus with the thought of failing, imprinting itself into the forefront of your mind. “I don’t know what to write about, which is weird because I always have an idea, at least. That’s simply a bad sign, that much I know.”
“It’s only bad if you think it is,” Lissie says, clicking her phone off and smiling gently. “But in all honesty, I think it’s actually quite good. That means you know what's at stake, and you know you have to make this the best goddamn article in your entire life.” A beat. “Write what you know, I’m telling you.”
“What she said,” Carly squeaks cheerfully, eyes crinkling as she starts pouring champagne and handing them one by one. “But just so you know, we have to get this in by October thirteenth because they make their decision by the sixteenth.”
“But that’s Charles’ birthday week,” you wail, rubbing your eyes harshly. “Fucking hell—”
“He’ll understand,” Lissie cuts you off, clicking her glass against Carly’s who shrugs, sipping neatly. “All of us know he will.”
“Okay then,” you whisper slowly. You curl your hand tighter against the glass. “Cheers?”
“Cheers, mate!”
-
Entering his Monaco flat, Charles lets out a tired sigh, taking his shoes off and flinging his keys to the nearby coffee table. The loud thud makes him flinch before running over hurriedly. A large scratch lays across the rich wood as he panics, kneeling down to inspect it carefully.
“Are you serious, Charlie?” he hears over his shoulder, jumping to find you with a frown on your lips and hands on your hips. “That was a gift!”
“I’m sorry!” he squeaks. “From your Grandpa, I know, I’m sorry!”
You let out a breath, shrugging. “It’s fine. How was your day?”
He eyes you suspiciously once before getting closer to you and kissing you hello. “Eh. Decent. Yours?”
Plump lips twist before flattening back out. “Decent.”
He squints, noticing the way you play with your necklace. “You’re lying.”
“No, I’m not,” you answer quickly. Defensively.
His brows furrow deeper. “Blow me.”
“Blow you?”
“Yes. Right here, right now—blow me.” He demonstrates, letting out a breath as if taking a breathalyzer test. 
You let out a sore laugh, rolling your heels as you stumble back. What? Your laughing stops, though tears run down your face as you try to get your words out. “You mean breathe out, not blow you.” Your giggles pick up once again, making him blush deep red. “God, you need to learn a bit more proper english.”
He looks away, cringing at the sound of his voice replaying, and then turning with a stoic face. “Don’t change the subject.” A pause. “Breathe out.”
You freeze. “Why?”
“Don’t ask questions, just do it.” “I’m not going to do it.”
“Just do it,” he presses harder.
You glare. “No. I’m not.”
Taking one last glance, he leaps forward with zero warning and starts tickling you, making your squeal. Stop! “Breathe!” I am breathing, you twat! “Blow me—God damn it! Whatever! Blow! Breathe! Blow!” 
“Fine, fine, just stop!” you screech, giggles coming to an end as he nods and stares down at you, which by now, you’re laid down on the couch with him towering over. You blush, breathing out lightly, nearly nothing. He rolls his eyes. Blow me harder. “Blow me harder,” you mimic, copying his accent. 
He groans. “You get what I’m saying—”
“I don’t, though,” you joke, laughing harder. As soon as your eyes shut, he smiles down at you affectionately, but when they open again, he reverts his lips back into a straight line. Your lips wobble playfully. Letting out a big breath, he whiffs strongly. “Gross, Cha!”
“You smell like strawberry sorbet, relax.” A beat. “Open your mouth and stick your tongue out for me.”
“Okay, this is getting really kinky.”
He aims for a deadpan expression. 
Rolling your eyes, you do as you're told and he lets out a scream. “What the fuck!”
“It’s red!”
“No duh, Charles!”
“Strawberry sorbet. The last pint. You ate it all, didn’t you?”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“So that's a yes.”
You frown.
“And we always share, but when we don’t it’s because you’re going through something and you couldn’t help yourself.”
“Okay, Sherlock Holmes, we get it,” you grunt, pushing him off as you sit up. He does the same, staring at you, concerned. “By the way, does that upset you?”
“The ice cream? Nah.”
You nod, then yawn. “Why do you have to be so attentive?”
“Because I love you.”
You smile. “I made it onto the list.”
“The list?”
“The list.”
A wide grin dances across his pink lips as he jumps onto the coach, up and down, making you bounce and stare up with a soft look. “The list! Thee list. Holy crap, congratulations, honey!” Landing on the ground, he hugs you, digging his face into the crook of your neck and kissing it over and over. “You smell nice—congrats—is that citrus—wait, this smells really nice—”
“It is citrus,” you giggle as he separates from you. “And thanks. It means the most coming from you.”
Silence takes over for a second or two before his brows knit neatly. “What’s wrong?”
“No. Nothing.” They raise up higher. “I’m not gonna lie—I’m scared.”
Tugging you closer to his chest, he drags so you two are laying back down. You close your eyes at the feeling of his arms wrapping around you like some blanket. “About what? You totally got this.”
“Hmph. It’s just that, I, uh. I have to write an article on a topic of my choice, and—I. Don’t know? I have no clue what to write about.”
Listening attentively, he doesn’t interrupt as your words begin to pour out like a prayer. He doesn’t even interrupt when you say something along the lines of being “at best—mediocre”, even though he really wanted to. You scoff. “It’s a silly problem to have, I’m well aware, but…it’s the truth.”
The Monegasque picks your breathing patterns, mindlessly copying as you cuddle him. “You’ll figure it out.”
You swiftly look up, cheek pressed against his heart beat. “That’s it?”
“What else do you want me to say?”
What do you want him to say? Your lips open aimlessly, then close forcefully. 
He grabs a nearby blacket, covering you both and hugging you the same he’s seen you hug your teddy bear. “I think you need to have a little bit more faith. In yourself, that is. Because your mind…” Green eyes connect with yours as your breath comes to a strong halt. He tends to make your body react that way, quite often. He sends a simple grin. Dimples and all.
“It's the most beautiful thing on this earth.”
-
Abu Dhabi 2021.
It’s been talked about too much already.
Spain 2016.
You’re kidding, right?
Fine. Azerbaijan 2018—
You let out a muffled scream. “Pierre, no! I need something better.”
“Better than all that drama?” he dead pans, genuinely confused as to why his ideas are being shut down.
You exhale, hair flying outward. “I love it too, but I need something new. Unheard of.”
The Frenchman pauses, curling a brow. “I’ve gone blank.”
You bite down on your tongue, shrugging it off. “It’s okay. I should probably come up with my own topic, anyways.”
Getting up, you wave goodbye and make your way to the ice cream truck that’s been rented out for the weekend. Smartest investment, you think to yourself as you twirl your tongue around the lavender spoon. 
“This time I really do mean it—blow me.”
Squinting up at the sun—which so happens to be behind Charles like a halo—you chuckle, feeding him a spoonful. “Good, no?”
“Delicious,” he hums, going in for another. “Have you tried the funnel cakes?” They have funnel cakes? you squeal, eyes shining. He nods. “Want one?”
You deflate. “Later.”
Watching the crowd walk by, you two sit there, switching turns and enjoying each other's company. It’s amazing how no one comes up to Charles, either. Not that he would mind, but it’s definitely a nice surprise. Glancing over, he hands the spoon back to you. “Come up with something?”
“I have a few ideas, but nothing solid yet.”
Pistachio ice cream melts away faster. “I told Pierre to leave you alone, I hope he didn’t bother you too much.”
“He’s actually the reason why I have these ideas. Don’t let him know, though, I would never live it down.”
Watercolor eyes go wide. “Really? Pierre actually helped?”
“Weird, huh?”
“Without a doubt.”
“Don’t stress out too much, honey. You still have time.”
You purse your lips. “But the sooner I figure it, the sooner I can start and just focus, and do the proper research and try and—”
“You have time,” he reaffirms with a knowing look. You cock your head and he sends a sly grin. “Plenty.”
“Plenty,” you copy as he nods along. Extending his arm, he signals to the spoon. You shake your head. “You can have the rest.”
“You’re the gift that keeps on giving.”
-
Write what you know. Write. What. You. Know.
What the fuck does that even mean?
Biting down on your pen, you’re spaced out, staring at the picture frame. In it, Charles and Carlos smile, you can tell, behind their helmets. While the Monegasque’s eyes crinkle sweetly, the Spaniards are dilated and wide. Both nice, but nothing beats those green eyes. 
You can slowly feel your sanity slipping away, day by day. There’d be times where you thought you had it figured out, but then you’d bring it up and Lissie would smile and say—
“Yes! Stick to that one! Start it. Right now.”
It wouldn’t seem genuine because you know she just wanted you to get it done given it’s due in less than two weeks. And even though it was good, it wasn’t good enough. 
“I’m just going to brainstorm a few more ideas.”
She’d given up, mumbling beneath her breath and grabbing her keynotes and headed to her meeting. Well, technically it was your meeting too, but again. Time crunch.
Hence, why you’re admiring the picture and thinking harder than you were a minute ago. The door slides open then, the two Ferrari drivers back from their media duties. You rip your gaze away as soon as they make their way closer. “How does one fake their own disappearance?”
“Oi,” the brown eyed boy warns, toothy grin expanding. “Good question, though.”
“Oi, you,” your boyfriend warns back, glaring at his teammate. “At this point, I’m sure she’d go through with it.” He turns to you. “Honey, you’ve got to decide already, it can’t be that hard.”
“I know that!” you burst out, ears burning as you avoid their eyes. “But there’s just so much! I don’t want to jump the gun and make a mistake, is all.”
Carlos juts his lip, then rolls his jaw. “If only you took someone’s very good proposition.”
A scoff. “I wasn’t going to write about Papaya Rules, Chili.”
“It would’ve been so good, though!” A beat. “What about—”
“Nor multi-21.”
His expression drops, along with his shoulders, and strolls away, flipping you off. I hope you figure it out, then! A low chuckle makes its way as you exhale loudly. “C’mon, what’s the problem this time?”
You bite your lip, brows drawn in together as you gaze back at Charles. “I’m not entirely convinced.”
“Honey…”
“A-and I know I’m running out of time, but I just want it to be perfect!”
He smiles, throwing his arm on your shoulder. “And it will be, but you need a topic.”
“Yeah…” You raise a brow.  “What happened to having ‘plenty’ of time?”
The Monegasque wiggles his brows. “You can’t take up too much advantage.”
-
I’ve decided. 
That’s the lie you settle with because quite frankly, you’re done with the constant questions. If you were going to come up with the best matter to write about, then you need to have a clear head. Carly is over the moon, Lissie is ecstatic, and Charles is proud. 
Great! What’s it going to be about?
It’s a surprise. 
At first, they were all as curious as can be, but later when you insisted that it’d be better that way, they nodded, though the interest was still there. 
Now—with only a week and a half before your due date—you lay, plopped on your stomach, fingers teasing the keyboard as you watch Charles jump into his race suit. You sigh, sitting up. “I think I’m going to stay in here today.”
He fixes the zipper. “Yeah?”
You nod. “That way I can work and watch you.” You point to the T.V. hung up on his room wall. “Is that okay with you?”
“Whatever you need to do in order to focus, baby.” A wink. “It’s fine by me.”
They’re in lap sixty out of seventy-five, the last time you check, and your page remains as white as a ghost and as bare as a newborn baby. It’s both amusing and mind-boggling. Groaning, you hit your head with the back of your hand before running it down your face. Then, to make matters worse, your laptop dies.
Shit, you grit as you look around and spot Charles’ placed neatly on top of a nearby chair. Strolling over, you grab and open it, typing in his passcode and signing into your account. A few seconds later, the blank page resurfaces. Blinking slowly, you spot it. 
Notes. 
You take a look around, but really don’t know why since you’re the only one in his motorhome, and then click onto the App, furrowing your brows with concentration. 
Turns out, you really like to read because one after another, you skim through his journal entries without a second thought. Eagerly, might you add. Some things you know, others you don’t, but nevertheless, you’re caught off guard. How sensitive he is and how it portrays in every word. Not only are you amazed, but you’re completely engrossed. 
And it sparks something in you.
With a large grin, the brunette makes his way back to his room, trophy in hand and handshakes and pats on the back all around. Grazie mille, he beams as he makes his way closer, sending a final wave before opening his door. Finding you with his spare helmet over your head, he laughs. You giggle, opening the visor. “That’s one good looking winner!”
He laughs, placing the gold trophy down and enjoying you the way you struggle to take it off. You let out a loud gasp as soon as he assists you, tugging it off. “Shit.” Another gasp. “How do you wear that thing for two hours?” Fixing your hair, you pat it down as you send him a sheepish smile. “Give me a kiss!”
“No thanks. Too sweaty.”
Pouting, you pinch his ear tenderly before he gives in, pressing his lips against yours. “You were amazing out there, Charlie. You really were, I want you to know.”
Green eyes soften as he tries his best to savor this moment. “Only cause you say so.” You giggle, hugging his waist and he drapes his hands over your shoulders and rests his chin on top of your head. “How far along were you able to get?”
A hum. “Quite far, actually.”
He lets out a whistle, making your cheeks glow. “Looks like we’re both having a good day.”
“Looks like,” you swoon. “Looks like.”
Tilting your head back, you match with his eyes as he sends a dimpled smile. 
Write what you know, you think to yourself as he leans back down to kiss you. His lips greedily crash against your own as you let out a soft moan, playing with his hair, large hands making their way down to your ass. And you, my dear Charlie…
He groans, shuddering as soon as grind back against his thigh. You smile, admiring his open mouth.
I know you very well.
-
You feel guilty when you start on your first page, but by the time you make it to your third, you’ve talked yourself out of it. You would explain. As soon as you’re done, before you turn it in, you would explain it all to him. Tell him that this is simply because you love him. How he’s your biggest inspiration, and how this wasn’t you using him, but rather you showing others how amazing he truly is.
He notices it right away—the determination. And he admires you for it because he hasn’t seen you like that ever since your writer’s block. So, he tries not to intrude in moments where you’re on a roll, and instead makes sure to have a bath ready for you. He joins you sometimes, too.
Cracking your fingers, you yawn, exhausted, and stretch like a cat. He chuckles, closing his book like a light thud. “Update?”
“Six pages.”
“Wow. You really got it going on.” You blush. “You deserve something sweet. What do you want?”
“But it’s so late, and you have to be up early tomorrow…”
He rolls his eyes, already grabbing your trench coat. “It’s a bit cold out right now.”
You smile.
It’s not that far of a walk, three miles. After buying you a hot chocolate—with extra whip—he takes your mitten covered hand and leads you out the small coffee shop. By now, not many people are out, so it makes for a calm stroll.
“Shhh—ah,” you hiss, tongue sticking out as your face twists with subtle pain. He laughs, eyes crinkling. Drink slowly, he says, voice laced with humor. “The cool air helps,” you murmur, blowing on the hot drink. “Are you sure you don’t want anything?”
He shakes his head. “I just wanted you to unwind.”
“You’re so thoughtful,” you coo, enjoying the way his ears turn pink. You giggle. “Why do I feel like you’re thinking about something, though?”
“I am. You.” A gust of wind dances. “Always.”
You purse your lips, taking a slow sip, lipstick painting the white lid. “I’m serious, Cha. You’ve been quiet ever since you got off that phone call two hours ago.” Neat brows knit together with concern. “Is everything okay?”
“Yes,” he answers, but it’s too quick for it to be the truth.
Giving his large hand a squeeze, you send a knowing look. His breath hitches. “You can talk to me—”
“Are you almost done with your article?” he asks, obviously changing the topic as he stares up ahead, and if not, down at his shoes. Pink nose twitches. “I miss you, and call me greedy, but I was hoping you’d be done before my birthday, at least, that way we could…I don’t know—” He shrugs. “You’ve just been really busy—which I get why, and I understand—but I miss y-you.”
Wincing, you chew your bottom lip a couple times before letting go. “Almost, but.” His shoulders drop, making your stomach twist. You panic. “I feel like I’m missing something. Like the final bang in order for it to be…” A beat. “I’ll be done before your birthday, you can count on that.”
Round eyes finally flicker up as he nods, a more relaxed look evident. “This makes me sound so needy,” he says. “Which I guess I am, bu—”
“Don’t apologize,” you cut him off with a reassuring smile. “But please, tell me what’s going on…”
The Monegasque stiffens. Despite walking, you can tell. You can feel it. Also, it doesn’t take a genius to notice. “They’re not renewing Carlos’ contract for next year.”
You stop walking, making him stop too. He’s still holding onto you, rubbing small circles against cashmere. “W-why?”
“Guess.”
Your mind races. The rumors have definitely been swirling—everyone’s heard—but really? “They’re actually doing it?”
He nods.
“Lewis,” you whisper like it the first time you pronounce his name. “This is, uh…wow. I mean, wow.” 
“Yup,” he says, popping the p. “Wow, for sure.” Letting go, he takes a small step back, but still faces you with an uneasy look. “They brought it up as a possibility, but I don’t know why I never thought they’d be capable of…” He grimaces. “I can’t even begin to imagine how Carlos must be feeling.”
“Weren’t they just praising him last time during your guys’ team meeting?” You curl the cup towards your chest. “That’s fucked up.” Charles sighs, pinching the tip of his nose swiftly. Your eyes fill up with concern. “What about you?”
“I got an extension.”
You let out a breath of relief, nodding. “O-okay, okay. That’s good, Charlie, that’s really good.” When he keeps quiet, you pause all movement and blink feverishly. “Why are you upset, then?”
“I’m not,” he answers. “Only worried.” Listening closely, you silently wait for him to continue. He sighs, rubbing his eyes, suddenly tired. “It’s just that…he. He’s Lewis,” he finishes like that’s enough explanation.
You curl a brow. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
A weak chuckle. “It means he’s better, and the team is going to favor him over me.” A timid shrug. “I get it, though. If anyone can bring a Championship home for the team, it’s going to be him.”
“It’s going to be you.”
“No.” The light in his eyes gave out, slowly and painfully so. “It’s not.”
Berry lips open, then close lamely, analyzing him like the world's biggest mystery. Sternly, you narrow your eyes down like knives. “World Champion?”
He flinches.
You click your tongue. “Do you realize how crazy you sound?”
“What?” he says, puzzled.
You nod. “Why are you giving up so easily, huh?”
Sharp jaw clenches. “I don’t know. Maybe it’s because he’s a former World Champion, and I’m not.” He chuckles sourly. “It’s really not that difficult to figure out. I mean, I’ve been working for it for so long now, and look at me! I’m nowhere close to being there!”
Silence. Chest heaves. You never let go of your gaze, and he has no other choice than to do the same. He’s not mad at you—not mad at anyone, really—but he’s frustrated. And yeah. Maybe he is giving up the fight, but anyone else who was in his position would too. No one wants to be the laughing stock, no one wants to be compared. 
“Listen to me Charles Leclerc, and listen to me closely because I’m only going to say this once.”
He waits.
“If it’s something you want, then it’s most likely something you can have.”
Pink lips turn upward as he tilts his head in the slightest of tilts.
Holding his face between your delicate hands, you raise your brows, shivering at the icy air. He can feel your hand vibrate against his skin as he grabs them, brings them up to his mouth, and blows hot air onto them. “I believe in you. Everybody does. Do you believe in that?”
And it takes a moment for him to answer. It takes a moment for it to register. He nods. Sure of himself.
“Only because you do.”
-
“A USB?” He frowns. “I thought you hated those?”
“I do,” you say, combing through your hair, staring at him through the reflection of the mirror. “But I feel like this makes it real. Physically turning it in, I mean. It’s dumb, but…” You check the time, shrieking and grabbing your things. “Carly is going to kill me! Okay, I’ll be back in an hour, and then we can go with your family for dinner, or I’ll meet you there, yeah?” You huff. “Red or white wine?”
“Sparkling water,” he ponders. “Maman is trying to get to ‘quit.’ Which is probably not the right way to put it because it’s not like Lorenzo, Arthur, and I are alcoholics.”
“Oh. Alright then, I’ll just get that instead.” Tippy toeing, you peck his cheek briskly, sweet perfume hitting him. “I love you.”
Adoration fills his watercolor eyes. “I love you, too.”
Who knew?
Who knew that’d be the last time you’d hear those words coming from him?
-
Entering the familiar office, you wheeze, crouching down to catch your breath before sending over a coy smile. Carly laughs, clearly amused, before signaling to the chair that sits right in front of her. “We could have done this any other day as long as it was before the deadline, you know?”
“No,” you pant, heart beat barely switching back to its regular pace. Well. Sort of. “I need to get this out of the way, I promised Charles I’d be free before his birthday. He said it was his one and only wish, could you believe that, he’s so cute, isn’t he?” She blinks. Pink dusts your cheekbones. “Anyways, here it is.”
Looking down at your extended hand, she almost lets out a snicker. “I get I’m older than you, but really? You emailing it to me would have been just as effective.”
“I didn’t want to risk it going straight into your spam folder.” That, and I don’t want to see when you actually read it because I have a funny feeling you’re going to disapprove, which is okay, fair. “Here.”
“Very well, then,” she mumbles, retrieving it. “Why don’t we proofread it together one more time before send—”
Horrified at the innocent suggestion, you leap up from your chair, pushing back. “There’s no need, I checked it about a thousand times.” She raises a sharp brow at your outburst, the defensiveness in it. You laugh nervously. “And I should get going, anyways. Pascale is cooking Cha an early birthday dinner, can’t be late.”
Placing her forearms against the table, she nods slowly, but still unsure. “I won’t hold you back any longer, then. Tell him I said happy birthday.”
Tight lips form a forced smile, uneven breaths expanding. “Of course.”
You’re expected in an hour, so when you should be up forty-five minutes early, Pascale is pleased, but a bit surprised. Hugging you hello, she opens the door wider, letting you in. “They’re out in the back. Dinner should be ready in a bit.”
“No worries. Do you need any assistance?”
She shakes her head, thin blond hair swaying. “I’ve got it all under control, chérie.”
Nodding, you put your things down and start making your way towards the sound, beers clinking. You let out a snicker. “And here you are claiming not to be an alcoholic,” you joke. Flustered, Charles turns to face your soft voice. 
“It’s my first,” he squeaks.
“Third,” both Lorenzo and Arthur shoot, greeting you with a gentle nod. 
“It barely even has any alcohol,” your boyfriend tries defending, but the crack in his voice makes everyone burst out with laughter. Blood rushes to his cheeks. “Weren’t you supposed to be with Carly?”
“I was, but we got done pretty quickly.”
“What’d she think?” he asks, tugging you onto his lap. You giggle, meanwhile Arthur gags and Lorenzo blinks unbothered. “Bet she loved it.”
“I wouldn’t know. I left before she read it.”
He cocks his head. “Seriously?”
You nod. “You said you wanted my full attention.”
“I didn’t say it like that—”
“Well, now you have it.” You kiss his nose gingerly. “Happy early birthday, Charlie.”
The Monegasque smiles deeply. “Thank you.”
“Arthur! Lorenzo! Come help and set the table!”
Arthur groans. “Why just us? What about Charles?”
Poking her head out the window, Pascale aims a stern look, making him dash up. You laugh, ideally going to stand up, but gets tugged back down onto his thigh. You roll your eyes. “I should help, too. But you stay here and relax.”
“I will, but only if you stay with me.”
“Pascale needs my help—”
“Right, but she has both of them already.” He gives your hair a gentle tug. “Stay.”
Sighing, you nod, resting your head on his shoulder as he holds you. From here, you can see the breathtaking view of Monaco’s sunset. The ocean, the trees. Filled with satisfaction in life, you kiss the side of his neck, making him squirm slightly. “Carly says happy birthday. Early. Early birthday.”
A hum. “Make sure to tell her that I said thank you, the next time you see her.”
The sound of waves crashing sings softly. He traces shapes down your leg. “When will I be able to read it?”
You’re sure you stop breathing. “S-soon. After Carly gives me the green light, at least.”
A beat. “I’m excited.”
Your stomach churns. “You are?”
“Mhm. Very. Didn’t you know I was your biggest fan?”
Fixing yourself to look at him, you open your lips, feeling how dry they’ve become. “Charles—”
Buzz. Buzz. Buzz.
A sore laugh. “They’re calling you.”
You reach towards your back pocket, pulling it out. Carly Freeman. Clicking it off, you shake your head. “It’s nothing.”
Buzz. Buzz. Buzz.
He wiggles his brows. “Doesn’t seem like it’s nothing. Answer her, it’s fine.”
“She’s going to have to wait until tomorrow,” you announce, standing up and dusting your hands off. “I’m here with you, and she's going to have to wait. Whatever it is, it can’t be more important than this.”
Buzz. Buzz. Buzz. 
He sends a worried look. “Are you sure? What if it has something to do with your article? You should pick up—”
“I said I’m here with you,” you affirm. “Tomorrow. She’ll be fine.”
“Okay…” Standing to his full height, he sends a gesture towards the house. “Let's go?”
His hand reaches out, waiting for you. You smile, taking it. “Let’s go.”
-
Your phone keeps buzzing and it doesn’t let him sleep.
That, and Carly is a terrible liar.
Shifting in the bed as quietly as possible, Charles reaches for your phone, trying his best not to wake you. “Hello?” he croaks. The line stays quiet, static rolling. “I know it's you, Carly.”
“Charles! How’s my favorite driver?” 
You twist, unwrapping your leg that was draped over him. He freezes, soothing you a bit before you settle down. Climbing off the bed, he walks out, gently closing the door and heading towards the living room. “I know your favorite is Fernando, what’s up?”
She laughs nervously, cursing underneath her breath. “Is my little journalist with you?”
“She is.”
“Great! May I speak with her very quick—”
“But she’s asleep.” She groans. “Why? Is something wrong?”
“Well…”
Sitting down on the couch, he leans back, placing his feet onto the coffee table. Normally, he wouldn’t, but you weren’t here right now, and lucky for him, he wasn’t wearing any shoes. He clicks his tongue. “Does this have something to do with your guys’ meeting today?”
“Yes. And no.” More static. “Do you mind waking her up for me?”
“Um…well I do. Sorry, Carly, but she needs to get some rest, she’s been working non-stop, and—”
“No, no, I get it!” she squeals. “I totally understand. Can you let her know that I need to talk to her as soon as possible? Like—urgent. Please and thank you and have a good night!”
“Wait,” he says, furrowing his brows and pushing the phone closer to his ear. “What’s going on?”
“Nothing to worry about. Too much,” she adds. “It’s just that I need a bit of clarification, that’s all.”
“Clarification?”
“Yup. On a tiny mistake of hers. But we can fix it together, she still has time, and if she hurries then we can still meet the dea—”
“She doesn’t make mistakes, though. Ever.”
A hiss. “It’s a tiny one, Charles—”
“Okay, tell me and I’ll tell her.”
“What? I can’t. I need to speak directly with her first.”
“Carly…”
“What now?” she grits. 
“What’s the issue?” he presses harder. “I’ll let her know right now.”
The line goes quiet. For a moment, he begins to wonder if she’s hung up already, but when she clears her throat, he listens carefully, but can’t decipher her mumbles.
“She gave me the wrong USB.” That’s it? She groans. “Listen to me Charles—the USB she brought to be today only has her title written on it along with a few notes about what it’s supposed to be about. It’s the wrong one and I need the other one now.”
“Okay,” he mutters slowly, nodding. “I’m sure she’ll bring it to you once I let her know, but that’s going to have to be until tomorrow.”
She gasps. “You said you’d let her know right now!”
He winces. “I know I did, but it’s late! Trust me, though. I’ll tell her you called and I’ll even drive her myself tomorrow to drop it off. It must be around here somewhere right…” And it sure is. Sitting nicely on the coffee table, inches away from his feet. He sits up straight away, picking it up as if it were some sort of new discovery. Which in a way, it was. “Carly, why is this so important to you?”
“She’s my favorite client,” she answers without missing a beat. “I only want what’s best for her, and right now we need to fix this little mishap and get this article in as soon as possible.” A beat. “Also, maybe don’t mention the first part to Lissie, she’d totally kill me.”
Analyzing the black USB, he remains stoic, blinking only because he needs to. “Goodnight, Carly…”
“Yeah. I, um—goodnight, Charles.”
Once he hangs up, he’s quick on his feet, retrieving his laptop from the counter and sticking the drive in without a second to process what he’s doing. He shouldn’t. Probably. Definitely not. But the interest Carly clearly has was enough to poke his mind and for him to start wondering what on earth is so significant? 
And it’s so obvious now why.
Charles Lecelrc: The Man Behind the Helmet
His eyes skim fast, narrowing sharply.
Like any other human being, he struggles with depression, though fails to admit. Many sleepless nights, many fights, many canceled therapy appointments, I begin to question: does every praise his fans give him make him think he’s above all these things? The truth hurts, but it's only because it's real. And Charles Lecelrc, you are nowhere close to being as perfect as everyone makes you out to be.
His heart stops, re-reading the last sentence. He wishes for it to say anything but that, but it never changes, and it only mocks him like a school bully. 
Many assume that the death of his late-father, Hervé, and his late-godfather, Jules Bianchi, have made him stronger in a sense. That it has fed the drive in him to succeed. To be the best of the best, but what if that wasn’t true at all? Would any of you be surprised? Probably, but again, no one truly knows him the way I do. So, what feeds his determination? 
The thought of failing the same way they did. 
Anger bubbles up inside of him, grinding his molar until they crunch loudly against his temples. 
But who can blame him for having that fear inherited down onto him? Tabloids also have a part in this, and so do unwanted changes. One way or another, we can relate with the latter, but never in the way he does. Reading and hearing rumors takes a toll on Charles, that much is true, but what can we expect when his next new teammate is a seven-time World Champion. 
I guess the only question that stands in not only our minds, but also his… 
Is he strong enough to come head to head with someone as talented as Lewis Hamil—
“Wake up.”
Groggily, you rub your eyes. “Charlie, it’s dark out, come on. Come back to bed.”
“Stop calling me that, and get up.” In a single movement, he rips the blanket away and yanks you from your wrist, forcing you to sit. You gasp, his change of heart sobering you up from your sleepy daze. 
“What’s wrong with you?”
He laughs. “Me? What’s wrong with me? Are you serious right now or are you stupid?”
You flinch, taken aback. “Don’t talk to me like that, what did I do?”
“I won’t waste my breath explaining.” He drops his laptop on the bed, making you freeze as soon as you spot the familiar USB. “I'll let you re-read it.” 
“Where did you get this from?”
“Really? That’s what’s important to you?” He rolls his jaw, rubbing it until his skin turns a light shade of red. “If you don’t want me finding it, then next time don’t leave it out.”
Your lips go dry, crawling to the edge of the bed, but as soon as you’re about to reach out for him, he grimaces, shaking his head and taking three steps back. “Charlie—”
“No,” he hisses, glaring at you with utter hatred. The sight alone makes your eyes well up. “You don’t get to call me that. You don’t get to call me that ever again.” A cry rings through the air as you cover your hands over your face. “A-am I supposed to be impressed by what I read or what?”
“It’s no—”
“Did I do something to upset you or w-why were you talking about me like that?” he questions, genuine confusion taking over as he furrows his brows until they cause his eyes to pinch up too. 
Sniffling, you get up quickly, shaking your head adamantly until you get dizzy. “It wasn’t supposed to come off across that way! Are you kidding me?” Grabbing your heart, you soften your eyes. “I’m your biggest supporter.”
“Yeah? Well, that,” he snarls, pointing at the open screen like it's the most disturbing thing. “That doesn’t make sense with what you’re saying…” A beat. “Why would you do this to me?”
“Do what, though?” you whimper. “Everything I wrote about you is based on what you told me!”
“Exactly!” he shouts back, making the distance between you smaller, making you shrink. “I told you! Just you! I never once asked you to air out my business, and quite frankly, I thought that was common sense.” He lets out a dry chuckle. “You called me crazy and troublesome among other things. Are you my girlfriend or wolves in sheep's clothing? I’m trying to understand your logic here.”
You push your hair back, breathing hard. “You can’t just say that, there’s context behind that, come on…”
“Oh. Okay. My bad. I’m crazy because I talk to my father’s tombstone and Jules’. It's troublesome because I used to do cocaine in order to de-stress. I’m in over my head because I actually think I stand a chance against Lewis—a chance you convinced me I had!”
“That’s not what I meant!” you squeak. “You’re taking it all wrong, Charles, I would never say that about you!”
“But you did,” he states firmly. “And you know? If I’m so unready to face a friendly competition against my future teammate, then maybe I’m unready to face a lot of other things, too.” You freeze, dreading his next words as you plead him silently not to say them. “Maybe I’m not as ready to settle down with you as much as I thought I was…”
That does it. That seems to cut the little oxygen you had, off. Stumbling back, you feel the tears start to form again. “You don’t mean that…” You smile weakly. “You’re just a tiny bit upset right now, okay, fine. That’s fine. But you don’t mean any of that.”
Glaring until it hurts, he maintains eye contact. “Don’t tell me what I’m feeling, you don’t get to do that!”
You flinch. “I’m sorry.” A droplet slides down. “I’m sorry, okay?” More follows. “For all of it. For all of this. If I could take it all back, I would, you have to believe me, Charles, you know I would.”
His gaze lingers for a while longer, taking in your rosy nose. Your swollen eyes. Your wet cheeks. Everything that's supposed to make him feel better, but it doesn’t. “I really did trust you…” You breath hitches. “And I really did want you to win…” Pause. “And I still do.”
Strolling over, he disconnects the USB, making the screen go completely black, and hands it to you. Blinking down, you shake your head, too embarrassed to even look at it. “I don’t want it.”
“Yeah, well I don’t want it either…” Forcing your palm open, he places it down, instantly making your skin burn. “Journalist of the Year.”
You let out a wet sob, shoulders shaking. You don’t know exactly what you’re feeling, but what you do know is that this doesn’t feel good and that your heart breaks with every passing second.
Never in a million years did you think you would experience any of this, especially with Charles. The Monegasque cocks his head, curls following. “I’m glad you’re about to get everything you’ve ever wanted, I really am.” He chuckles softly, eyeing you intently. “I just can’t help but wonder what that must feel like.”
“I was going to tell you,” you whisper meekly. “And you were supposed to understand where I was coming from.”
And if any anger was gone, well fuck that, it all came right back.
“Understand where you were coming from?” he spits out, shocked by your choice of words. “You really thought I would understand? I planned my entire future around you, and this is how you repay me? You went behind my back to write an article I didn’t even know about! We made a choice years ago!”
“No, you did!” you retort, despair rising hard and fast. “You came up with that decision all by yourself, Charles, I never agreed!” You look down. “Not entirely.”
“Huh,” he scoffs, squinting his eyes. “I was simply looking out for the girl that I love given that the internet is a scary place and she probably wouldn’t have been able to handle it, for God sakes, I guess this is my fault now, isn’t it?”
“I would have been able to handle it, but you never gave me the chance!”
“Yeah, because reporting on a driver and driver who's your boyfriend are two completely different things that you can’t seem to comprehend!”
Trembling, you blink carefully, gulping. “I would have done just fine.”
“You think so?” he challenges, a sour smile forming. You nod. “Okay. Sure. Why not?” Closing the final distance between you two, your breath gets stuck as he sends a dirty glare, one that's meant to sting. “You’re not talented. You only have your position because of your dating status, when in reality, your work is utter shit. Everything is handed to you.”
There’s a mix of a whimper and a plea that comes out of you as you screw your eyes shut. “You’re being mean, Charles…”
He laughs, clapping his hands once with amusement. “That’s what the internet is! Maybe I was right, then—you can’t handle it.”
“I could…” you murmur, but it's no use. 
The brunette catches himself wanting to comfort you. To apologize for everything. But then he figures—why? It’s not like he truly did something wrong. 
“You’re the greatest disappointment of my life.”
Something ended the moment those words left his mouth—you both knew it. Sobbing hard, your shoulders vibrate violently as you seemingly gasp for air. He looks away. 
“You know, our life could have been so good. So fucking good. But you went and ruined it.” Green eyes flicker back. “Why would you do this to us?”
“I never meant to hurt you,” you declare with wet lashes. 
“You did a bit more than that,” he replies, wincing, blinking rapidly. He smiles. “If you wanted to write your article on me, you should’ve asked me. You should have talked to me. But no. And the thing is, I would have let you! God. I would have let you write whatever you wanted—but not like this. You stole an interview from me with no right, honey…”
Quickly, you flicker your gaze up at him, hoping to see any trace of  love in that one word, but you’re not surprised when you don’t find any, deflating furthermore. He shrugs. Like what you did to him was no big deal. 
“You took it from me. But I would have given it to you.”
-
“Are you sure you want to do this? You can always change your mind, babe, it’s totally fine!”
“No.” You fix your hair, posture straight. You smile. “I need to.”
Lissie shares a slow nod, nibbling on her bottom lip before handing you her keynotes. “Alright. Good luck.”
The idea first sparked when the Brit girl mentioned how she was the only one granted permission to interview Charles at this year's FIA prize giving ceremony. You had debated back and forth with what seemed like forever, both Carly and Lissie trying to talk you out of it, but you pleaded until they reluctantly agreed. 
You haven’t seen him ever since that day.
It’s insane to think about, sometimes. You knew each other for two years, dated for three, and haven’t crossed paths for another two. And now, you’re here. He’d been upfront that day, didn’t even flinch with his one and only birthday wish, meanwhile you felt the last stab hurt more than anything.
I wish to never see you again. 
Not long after, he grabbed his things and left. But not before turning around, sending you one last glance, dull, empty, and nothing like him anymore. You still recall.
Turn it in, he said, smiling warmly despite his better judgment. Despite not meaning it. Don’t let this all be for nothing.
Shaking your hands, you grin, fixing your silk dress. The Brit girl stares worriedly, but as soon as you wink, she hides it. Not that well, but enough. “He’s going to be so mad at me,” she jokes, but it’s probably true. He has a soft spot for her, and he only gave permission to her. No one else. 
You wince, grabbing her hands delicately. “I really appreciate this, Lissie. More than you’ll ever know.”
Waving goodbye, you make your way to the private conference hall. It’s daunting, actually, the sight of the large table where he’ll be sitting and the small chair where you will. Quite the narrative. His picture is hung in almost every corner, from the beginning of his career to now. The latest one makes you smile as he lifts the trophy high up with a beaming grin, dimples poking out and eyes crinkled just the way you remember. 
You thought about apologizing again. Better this time. Once things simmered down. You really wanted to, but as soon as Carly informed you that the article would need to be published in order for fans to engage with your content and for them to decide on a winner, you knew the gist of him accepting your apology was most likely never going to happen. 
And you contemplated not posting it. Carly did too. Lissie did too. No one thought it was a good idea, but you still did it. Like he said—you couldn’t let all that be for nothing.
The hate came immediately, you expected nothing less. In their minds, you were a loyal girlfriend, but after reading your work, the comments came rolling in. You were honestly quite grateful because you know you deserved every last bit of it. 
But somehow—somehow—you won Journalist of the Year. 
You were shocked to say the least—bewildered. And you could see it in Lissie and Carly’s eyes too. So, while accepting the award with a forced smile, it hit you like a truck.
Did you truly earn this or was it all thanks to him?
Either way, does it matter anymore?
The door gently opens as he steps in, a loopy smile stretched onto his lips before coming to a complete stop. With your heart in your throat, you cough awkwardly, standing up and waving. You cringe, putting your hand down as soon as he furrows his brows, looking around. 
“S-she’s not here,” you say, voice cracking. You blush. “You’re looking for Lissie, right?” Utter silence. He blinks, unresponsive and as stiff as a tree. You lick your lips. “I-I-I can leave if you want.” But you really hope he doesn’t want you to.
The Monegasque’s features strike with something familiar—something you knew not long ago. Then…
He smiles at you. 
“It’s alright.” Carefully, he makes his way closer, scooting his chair right next to yours as you blink, sitting back down and staring with your plump lips slightly open. He cocks his head. “Y-you look the same.”
You giggle. “Is that supposed to be a good thing?” When he fails to answer, you bite down on your lip hesitantly. “You haven’t changed much, either.” 
He clears his throat, averting his gaze. “I don’t mean to sound rude or anything, but why are you here and where is Lissie?”
You flinch. Okay. This was expected. You practiced hours for this very moment. “Don’t be mad at her, okay, I asked her to let me do this. I wanted to…see you, Charles.” The sound of his name leaving your lips makes his heart stop because it's been so long since he’s heard it. Too long. A subtle blush. “I’m here to apologize.”
“Ah,” he winces, scrunching his nose. “Don’t. We’re cool.”
“Are we, though?”
He stiffens. 
Exhaling, you place your things down, pursing your lips. He watches the way your knee bounces up and down. How you play with your ring before covering it neatly with the opposite hand. That catches him completely off guard as he blinks rapidly, thinking he must be mistaken. 
“I know I don’t deserve any of this,” you say nervously. “By all means, I should have been kicked out five minutes ago, but you…” Round eyes soften, lashes batting slowly. “You’ve always been a kind and generous human being, Charles.”
“Stop,” he whispers. You frown. “Saying my name, I mean. You can talk—we can talk, but please, just. Don’t say it.”
“O-okay,” you mumble, stomach churning. “I won’t.”
He lets out a tight smile, tilting his head. Years ago, his hair was a tad bit longer, fluffier even. Now, it’s still the same, but somehow more mature. His eyes are still young and naive, but with a hint of wisdom. He usually would wear mismatching suits, but now it matches. A lot of him has changed, and you weren’t there to witness it.
“Congrats, by the way,” you add happily. “World Champion, eh?”
Pink spreads across his cheeks, slowly but surely. “Thanks. I was close to losing my mind.”
You laugh. “Seven years later, but it’s well deserved. I’m so proud of you.”
And for a moment, he goes completely numb. He’s heard plenty of kudos ever since winning his first title—and they were nice, they made him feel nice—but this. You? It’s the first time it makes him feel accomplished. And that feels more than nice.
Playing with his bracelet, he nods sheepishly. “How have you—how, um…God. I, um, how have you been?”
“Oh.” You let out a genuine smile. Soft. Angelic. And everything he wishes to find in any other girl that isn’t you. It’s not something he should notice. “I’ve been well.” You raise your hand. “Engaged.”
“You sure are,” he mumbles, finally acknowledging the silver band before flashing an easy smile of his own. And maybe it was real, or maybe it wasn’t, but he wasn’t as upset as he thought he’d be. Just a tiny bit bothered, is all. “Who’s the lucky guy?”
You lick your lips awkwardly. “You remember Carly’s son?”
A tide hits him as he internally screams. “Grayson, right?”
You nod. “She, uh, set us up a while ago and we hit it off.” You wince. “I’m sorry, is that weird?”
“No. Of course not,” he replies, shrugging. “You’re allowed to build your life with whomever you want. What happened between us was…” He chuckles. “So long ago. I’m happy for you both, I really am.”
And he means it this time.
Admiring the oval-shaped ring, you swoon as if you’re thinking of the exact moment he proposed to you, and that’s the prettiest sight Charles thinks he might ever see. Even if it didn’t end up being him. Once you look back up, he looks away, feigning interest in anything else stupidly.
“Yourself?”
“Myself?”
A playful eye roll. “Are you seeing anyone?”
A retch. “Ha ha, no! No, that’s not—that’s not for me.” You frown. He winces. “Please don’t be offended, but after you, I sort of lost interest in meeting other people. Pierre calls it trauma, I call it precaution.” A sore laugh. “B-but maybe one day. Never say never, am I right?”
The lights reflect directly towards you, so that lets him see the rosy blotches beginning to hug your cheekbones as your lips wobble. He panics. “N-no! Fuck. I didn’t mean to—”
“I ruined your life,” you wail, throwing your hands over your face. “Oh my God, I wrecked it!”
“You didn’t!” he tries. “I’ve gone on a couple of dates, here and there!”
You’re tiny cries take a quick pause. Sniffling, you shoot him a look, shiny eyes beaming back at him. “You have?”
“Yeah,” he whispers, slowly relaxing against his seat. “Sort of. Kind of.” A horrified expression maps out against your face. He grimaces. “I-It’s just not my thing!”
“I’m sorry, Ch—” You pause, rethinking your words. “I’m sorry.”
The Monegasque shrugs, hoping that’d be enough for you to drop the topic. “It’s okay, really. It’s a decision I made long ago, and I’d like to keep it like that for a while, at least.” You bite down on your bottom lip, nodding halfheartedly. “But please, um, tell me, how far along are you? Heard from Lissie that it’s a boy.”
You let out a wet giggle, wiping your tears away to the best of your ability. “Nineteen weeks. I’m in my second trimester.” Gingerly, you rub your tiny belly before your eyes light up. “Give me your hand!”
“What?”
Leaning in, you grab his large hand and place it down on your stomach, looking up at him to watch his reaction. At first, he’s weirded out, you can tell. He makes a silly face he probably doesn’t realize he’s making, but seconds later his features soften. His green eyes go round, no tension behind them. His brows lay flat, then knit together in amazement. He laughs, rubbing his thumb gently.
“Does it hurt?” he whispers. “When he kicks?”
You hum. “Sometimes it can. But I suppose it’s more discomfort than anything.” You wiggle your eyebrows. “Cool?”
He nods rapidly. “Super cool.”
Pulling away, he can feel his adrenaline as high as a kite, and as fast as his car. He feels different, he notes, as if something has finally shifted inside of him. With this, he takes time to admire you in a way he hasn’t been able to ever since.
Your hair is cut into layers now, glossy and shorter than he remembers. Your lips, round, plump and berry tinted. Your eyes, doe, innocent, and pure in a way he can’t seem to wrap his head around. Smile, even, wobbly, and everything in between.
Your gaze flickers. “Question…”
“Answer,” he replies, studying your body language. 
It’s harder than you had initially thought it would be, asking him what you’d been wondering for these past two years. Was it all that bad? The answer might be yes. Yes, it was. To him, perhaps. But it tugs your tongue, and it burns a bit, but you push through, focusing on him and his watercolor eyes.
“Do you—”
But he still knows you. He can still read you. Before you, it’s always him who understands your train of thought. 
He shakes his head, dimples imprinting like a finger in sand. “No regrets.” 
A peach seed forms as you let out a sheepish laugh. “I’ve made a lot of mistakes in life,” you admit, cringing slightly. “Just yesterday, I bought the wrong plane ticket. Got stuck in the airport for three extra hours.” He chuckles. “Totally unnecessary.”
“It happens,” he comforts you, clicking his tongue. 
“I guess so,” you say, sighing. “But betraying someone you love? Yeah. That’s got to be the worst mistake of my life.”
He flinches, an old wound suddenly opening. “Hey, you—”
You raise your hand, pleading with him. “Let me just…” So, he forces himself to sit there quietly, to not intrude no matter how much he really wants to. It’s fine, he wants to say, I’m fine now, we’re fine now, seriously.
A wince. “Do you know how guilty I feel whenever Grayson polishes my award?” A scoff. “He means no harm with his actions, but it makes me feel like shit everytime I walk past it. I’ve begged him to put it away somewhere in the attic, but he’s as proud as can be. Say’s an accomplishment like that deserves to be shown off. That it’s proof of all my hard work.” You smile. “Much like you and your trophy.”
You exhale. “You were right, though.” A hum. “I don’t deserve it.”
“I never said that.”
“Sure,” you give in quietly. “But you did say that if I won, I’d always wonder if I was truly respected for my work or if I was respected because of you.”
He bites his tongue. 
You shrug lamely. “And that’s just something I’m going to have to live with for the rest of my life…” Steadily, you ease your eyes back towards him as you find him already staring at you, listening close and curious. “And I want you to know that I’m fine with that.” A beat. “What I’m not fine with is you being mad at me for the rest of your life.”
Charles opens his mouth, feeling his tongue as dry as the desert and his throat as dusty as the highest mountain. “I’m not mad at you…anymore.” He sits up straighter. “I said a lot of things to you that night that I shouldn’t have said, but you have to understand that you hurt me a thousand times worse.” 
Tears well up your eyes as you nod shamefully. He continues despite feeling the need to reach out for you. “I just wanted you to feel what I was feeling, even if that meant—well. You know. And, um…I tried to forget all of that, but I, too, felt guilty, so—I’m glad you’re here. That way I can say…I’m sorry.”
“No!” you wail, raising your arms up. “No, I’m sorry! I broke your trust, and I was a God awful girlfriend.”
“You did,” he chuckles before scrunching his nose in deep thought. “But you were also the best I’ll ever have.”
A wet sob escapes.
“I forgive you.”
“S-shit,” you let out. “You don’t know how g-good it feels to finally hear you say that.”
A gentle smile. “You?”
You giggle, standing up. “I have nothing to forgive you for, but yeah. Okay. I forgive you, as well.” You open your arms for a hug. He blinks. “It’ll make me feel better.”
Tsk. “You used to do this all the time wherever we fought,” he says, a hint of sadness wavering in his eyes before disappearing into thin air. Extending to his full height, he towers over you before going in to close the distance. He halts, coughing awkwardly.
You snicker, eyes crinkling with amusement. “Right. You're hugging two of us now.”
A wave of jealousy pangs his chest for a second. You’ve moved on, and he’s stuck in the year you were still in his life. Still his. He envies Grayson in every sense there exists, but he swallows down that pill because he’d always been a nice bloke the very few times he interacted with him. He needs to move on, too. 
Even if it takes him his whole life to figure out how. 
“The more the merrier.”
Your face has gone completely numb by now from how hard you're grinning from ear to ear. Wrapping your arms around his waist as he goes over your shoulders, you sigh contently as you catch the whiff of his cologne. His heartbeat quickened at the smell of your perfume. 
“Question,” he whispered. You chuckle against his chest. Answer. He gulps, nose twitching. “Would it make me a bad person to say that you’re probably the only girl I’ll ever love?” Silence. He screws his eyes shut, gritting his teeth. Why the fuck would he ever say that—
“I’d only say that I don’t deserve to be her,” you respond. “Anyone but me.”
A flinch. “O-of course. You’re getting married, you’re having a baby, what was I th—”
“Honey…”
He freezes. 
You lean back, holding his face between your hands and smiling. “It’s not your name…”
His voice catches. “It’s not…”
A deeper smile. Nostalgic. “A piece of me will always love you.” A pause. “You know me so well. Better than anyone. You’ve seen me naked. You’ve dressed me. You’ve seen me with makeup. You’ve seen me without. And…well—you’ve seen my good side. But you’re also the only one who's seen my bad.”
His palms quickly get sweaty as he tries his best to not do anything he might regret. And not because he’ll wish to take it back, but because you would. Neat brows draw in together as you graze his stubble with your thumb. As nurturing as a mother, which he supposes you already are. 
“I’d say that makes us pretty close, no?”
“Not as close as I’d like to be.” 
“You’ll find someone.” A beat. “Someone who’ll love you right.”
“You didn’t?” he questions before he can stop himself. “Sorry—”
“My love for you was honest. But I blew it.”
I’m still here, he wants to yell out. If you still want me like I want you, then I’m still here.
But he refrains from doing so.
“You’ve never done me wrong,” he attempts, kissing your palm gingerly before softening his gaze. You send a playful glare. “Except for that one time.” You snort. “But I don’t want to talk about it anymore because—because it doesn’t matter anymore…”
Maybe it's the hormones, you sort of wish it was, but you know it’s due to his gentleness. You don’t deserve his sympathy, you don’t deserve even a fraction of it. Crying, you kiss his cheek, hoping everything you feel transfers itself into the warmth of his skin. And you don’t know, but it does just that.
Closing his eyes, he prays to dream about this kiss forever. Have nightmares, who even cares. As long as he doesn’t forget. 
You step away carefully, taking him in as his eyes flutter. 
“Charles Leclerc, first time World Champion…”
He smiles. You smile. 
His dimples pop out. Your eyes crinkle.
He loves you. You love him.
And maybe it didn’t work out in this life.
But maybe in the next.
“May I have an interview with you?”
taglist: @blueflorals @starmanv @coolio2195 @lovrsm @weekendlusting@chanshintien @brune77e @myownwritings @timmychalametsstuff @milasexutoire@alesainz @c-losur3 @darleneslane @togazzo @urfavnoirette @namgification @lpab @d3kstar @anniee-mr @nebarious @notkaryna @emmaxdelicate
316 notes · View notes
rafey-baby · 2 days ago
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
dealer!rafe can't keep his promises and she can't keep doing this...
c/w: mostly angst, yelling & arguing, dealer!rafe being kinda toxic
wc: 1.5k
inspired by this ask (sorry it took me forever but it's here now!)
part one
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Exhaustion weighs down Rafe’s shoulders when he finally clicks the front door shut; hoping his arrival won’t disturb his sweet angel he assumes is already buried safely under the covers and lost in some saccharine dream of hers.
However, when he kicks off his shoes and turns around, he notices her sleepy form standing in the hallway— clad in pajama bottoms and his favorite hoodie along with something akin to dissatisfaction flashing in her drowsy eyes.  
“Hey, baby. Did I wake you?” he asks as he pads over to her; greeting her with a gentle kiss on her cheekbone.  
“No, couldn’t really sleep. Was worried something happened cause you told me yesterday you were gonna be home in time for dinner,” the last part is drenched in accusation as she takes a step back.
“Shit, forgot to text you I wasn’t gonna make it, m’sorry,” his apologetic eyes flit over to her as he scratches at the back of his head.  
“Yeah. But then again, think I would’ve been more surprised if you actually had shown up when you promised,” her displeased tone is crystal clear and it forces a heavy sigh to leave his throat. 
“Okay, I know I haven’t been the best boyfriend recently, but there’s just been a lot of shit going on with the business and—”  
“It’s always gonna be about that with you, isn’t it? Like why would you even care about my feelings when you’ve got the fucking money and the drugs, right?” she nearly snaps; drained from the constant lies and excuses that make her feel like he’s never going to put her first.  
“What do you— what do you mean? Of course, I care about your feelings, why would you even say that? And you’re more important to me than all that other shit, okay?” there’s a furrow between his brows when he tries to comprehend what sort of a train this conversation is traveling on.  
“I mean, do you even know how anxious I get whenever you come home late? When you don’t answer my calls? I— sometimes I think you’re…dead, okay? Do you know how exhausting that is?” she says with her face contorted in frustration due to the endless nights she’s spent thinking the worst and wondering why he could never keep his word.  
“I’ve told you so many times that you don’t need to worry so much, nothing bad s’gonna happen,” he tries to reassure her but she merely shakes her head and rubs a hand over her face. 
“But I do, cause it’s not something I can just turn off. And all you do is make these promises that you never keep and I just…I don’t know if I can do this anymore,” her watery eyes stare up at him in despair, making him frown. 
“What are you talking about? You know I can take care of myself, I promise—” 
“But that’s the thing, I don’t trust your promises anymore! You say you’re gonna do one thing, but then you get a call from Barry or whoever and you’re gone. Sometimes, you come back days later and that entire time you barely even text me!” her distressed voice is loud when she begins to pace around the hall. 
“Hey, hey, c’mere, yeah?” he tries to placate her by pulling her flush against his chest for a hug that, despite her protests, she melts into. “Listen, I know my job isn’t always…ideal, but you— you knew that when we met, right?” he tries to reason along with a comforting squeeze to her waist.  
“I just— I guess I didn’t realize it was gonna be this hard. I’ve never dated someone whose job is illegal,” she mumbles into his shirt before reluctantly withdrawing from the solace of his arms to get her point across.  
“But when we started this, you also promised this wasn’t gonna affect my life. But wanna know what happened the other day when I was out with my friends? This creepy guy approached me and said he wanted his money, and if he wasn’t getting it soon, he was gonna find another payment method.”  
“What the fuck? Did he— he didn’t hurt you, right?” he halts his movements while awaiting her answer with bated breath.  
“No, but it was really fucking scary,” she mutters out as she recalls how shaken up by the whole scene she’d been. However, when she’d dialed Rafe’s number with trembling fingers, the call had merely went into voicemail since he was apparently too busy to answer, as always.  
“I swear he’s never gonna so much as look at you again, alright? You remember what he looked like?” he asks while tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear, followed by his thumb petting at the apple of her cheek with his concerned eyes flickering over her face. 
“Um…dirty hair, crazy eyes and this scar on his lip?” it’s easy to describe the guy’s appearance when the picture is permanently burned to her memory.  
“That piece of shit— we already had an agreement on the fucking money. Why didn’t you tell me about this sooner?” a crease forms between his brows.
“Cause you’re never home!” she yells at him when her protracted emotional turmoil finally boils over the edge; saturating their entire relationship in the process.  
“I was home yesterday and I’m home right now!” he matches her volume while his fingers tug at the roots of his bleached hair.  
“Well, it’s not enough for me! And I just think that all of this is…too much, okay? I can’t— I can’t live like this anymore,” she admits with a forlorn tone.  
He pauses.
“What are you saying? You’re…you’re leaving me?” he narrows his eyes in disbelief.  
“I don’t know, I just— think I need some time,” she murmurs out.  
“Time for what?” he seems perplexed by the entire concept of what she’s suggesting. 
“To think! All I’ve been able to think about these days is whether you’re alive or not, whether you’re even gonna make it home! And I’m fucking tired of this, okay?”
It’s clear that she’s upset and that these thoughts have been bouncing around her skull for quite some time now. If this is her attempt at breaking up with him though, he’s not going to allow for that to happen.  
“No, no,” he shakes his head. “Listen, I understand where you’re coming from, but you can’t just leave…no, okay? We’ll figure this shit out, yeah?” he tries to decipher what’s going on inside that head of hers with his gaze glued to her face— as if it’ll magically reveal all the answers he’s in a hopeless search for.
“I just— I don’t know if that’s possible.”  
“No, don’t say that. We’ll get through this like we always have,” he’s determined to change her mind, but she merely lets out a weary exhale. 
“Rafe, you’re not listening to me.” 
“I am! You’re just not thinking clearly. Why don’t we, uh, go to bed and tomorrow when we’re both well-rested we can talk about this better and—” 
“I don’t wanna talk about this tomorrow!” she huffs out, frustrated, making his distraught face crumple up as he tries to decide which way to approach this in order to not upset her more than he already has.
“Listen, listen. I’ll, uh, I’ll be better, okay? I’ll work less and—” 
“You always say that but— but you’re never gonna change! And I thought I could handle this, but I can’t,” she sounds defeated; rueful eyes flitting away from his pleading ones when teardrops begin to trickle down; dampening the skin of her cheeks.  
“No, you can’t— you can’t leave me. I need you. I love you,” his frantic rambles pour down his tongue when he takes her face into his callused palms— her eyes momentarily closing in response to his tender touch.  
“Rafe…please don’t make this any harder than it already is.” 
“And you love me too, yeah?” he doesn’t pay her resistance any mind. She notices how his own eyes grow glossy as well, even if he tries to blink away the liquid yearning to leak.  
“Of course I do,” she hums out; nodding her head that’s squished between his paws— heavy droplets soaking his palms.
“Then that’s all that matters. We can make this work,” his tone is definitive. 
“I just— I don’t know if we can,” she sniffles. 
“Don’t say shit like that. We can, okay? I’ll call Barry right now and tell him I need some time off with my girl, yeah? And we’ll figure this shit out.”  
At that, she lets out a melancholic sigh— resting her forehead on his chest when he pulls her flush against him with a consoling grip on her waist. The warmth of his body feels familiar; feels like home, but she’s already made her decision.  
He holds her close until they both travel to dreamland with their limbs tangled together, the steady rhythm of their breathing creating a muffled melody in their bedroom.  
However, when the amber rays of sunlight tickle his cheeks in the following morning, and he turns around to face her; he finds nothing more than her side of the bed bleak and desolate.
The entire house void of the only good thing in his life.
256 notes · View notes
angelpuns · 2 days ago
Text
Just another day wishing I didn't live with my parents but having to because I can barely take care of myself
57 notes · View notes
deerspherestudios · 2 days ago
Note
Hi, I'm curious, what is little Mychael's personality like compared to the current one, ?
(por cierto amo tus dibujos tienes un estilo de dibujo impresionante y hermoso, gracias por leer)(by the way I love your drawings, you have a very beautiful drawing style and thanks for all the effort you put into the game, I really appreciate it, thanks for reading bye)
I assume you mean kid!Mychael! There's a lot I wanna say about him, but I'll place it under the cut in case of potential spoilers! And thank you for the kind words!
Back then, he was pretty non-verbal and timid. He didn't know how to speak the local language and mostly mimicked whatever the kids said to each other when he sees them playing outside. I've also mentioned he pays closer attention to children talking to their mothers, trying to garner some meanings even if a little bit. His favorite word was "home".
He was a major scaredy cat, living his life like clockwork because a routine feels safer to him. His days were spent figuring out how to find food and shelter, usually from the same source (like foraging in the same area or sleeping in abandoned spots he knows nobody visits) so he doesn't get to explore as much as he would've wanted to. He also avoids human adults like the plague.
Only when he became a little older around his late teens did he get brave and tried to expand his horizons a little after years of self pep talk.
254 notes · View notes
rafesbangs · 2 days ago
Text
pairing: rafe cameron x fem!pogue!reader
summary: ♪ am i making you feel sick ♫ - you and rafe get into a heated argument at a party because he starts brushing you off when you try to talk to him:( angst.
warnings: heavy drinking, strong language, strong themes, classism, drugs, yelling, insecurities, arguing, mention of cheating, toxic relationship.
a/n: omg hello my first story on my blog and its angst LOL. mb its like 2am and im listening to ethel cain soooo enjoy (?)
you were sitting quite comfortably on the end of the couch, watching your boyfriend laugh and talk loudly with his friends, scooping a little bit of coke out of a baggy sitting on the glass coffee table in front of you every so often. were you impartial to his coke addiction? no. but did you want to get in another shit fight about how worried you are and how much rafe doesn't care because he's 'fine' ? also hell no. so you sit there, looking pretty, minding your own business.
rafe shifts to the edge of the couch, leaning towards his dickhead friends as he tells them a story of how he ate shit on his motorbike the other day - funny - you instinctively reach your arm out and gently caress his bicep as he gets to the particularly 'funny' part of the story, where he explains how he was thrown a few feet but got out of the situation 'with only a few scratches.' in the split second that your hand makes contact with his arm, his eyes dart to your hand in his peripheral and he immediately yanks his arm away without missing a beat.
you pause, arm still lingering in the air from where it once was and a pang of hurt strikes in your chest. kelce and topper noticed as it happened and silently scoffed to themselves, but continue listening to your boyfriend talk. you squirm in your seat, now feeling more and more self-conscious about your position at this random kook party.
after a little while, you decide that he probably just wasn't thinking or got distracted trying to tell the story, that he didn't mean it. so once again, rafe was now leaning back into the couch man spreading (of course), you decide to casually rest your closest hand on the top of one of his thighs. the way that he usually did around guys wherever the two of you would go, all protective, though he hadn't done it once at this party all night.
your hand sits there for a few seconds this time but now you notice rafe's head turn towards you, and you look right into his eyes before he flashes you this halfway disgusted and irritated look, before he once again swats your hand off of him.
now you were upset. it was clearly on purpose. both times. so you tap your foot for a second, weighing your options. your situation was a bit shit, boyfriend is deciding to be an ass towards you in front of his judgey kook friends, and you have no way of getting home that wouldn't be like a three hour walk alone in the dark. you roll your eyes at him, though he isn't even looking at you, and get up quickly before walking off in another direction.
you don't even know where you're going, its dark, the figure eight mansion is packed full of random people and you have never been here before. somehow you find yourself in a second kitchen on another level of the house, its a lot more quiet and there are a small group of people playing pool so you decide to watch the game.
"hey, do you play?" a deep voice asks, you turn around, pretty startled having not been talked to by anyone all night.
"oh- hi, er- no i'm pretty bad at pool, i've only played it once when i was drunk" you reply awkwardly. you couldn't recognise the guy, but he was definitely a kook, must not be someone rafe knows because you thought you knew just about everyone on figure eight because of your king kook boyfriend.
the deep voice laughs a little before looking at the pool table, the current game is almost at an end, only two balls left to sink, "i could teach you? if you wanted to be on my team maybe?"
you nervously laugh and glance at the pool table before looking around instinctively for rafe, obviously you realise he's too busy being an asshole to care where you are right now, nor who you're talking to.
"honestly i think i'm a hopeless case, but thanks for the offer... er, you wouldn't happen to know anyone sober that would offer a ride home?" you hesitantly ask, realising you were way too tired to deal with anything or anyone for the rest of the night.
"uh, yeah i do actually, i haven't had a lick of anything the whole night" he admits, lips pursed together as if he's embarrassed by it.
your eyes widen a little, you weren't an idiot, you weren't the type to just get into anyone's car and drive off without telling someone where you're going... but you were desperate for a ride home and the guy in front of you had kind of a nerdy look to him. not really the kidnapping type, you concluded.
"oh, guess i'm pretty lucky i can't play pool then" you laughed a little.
he shrugged and glanced at the pool table before looking back at you, "guess so, so was that a yes to the ride home?"
you nodded politely and he said something about heading down to the front yard where he'd parked. you followed close behind him as the two of you made your way back through the mansion and the crowds of drunk kooks.
finally you were standing outside, watching as the pool table guy walked towards a range rover when suddenly you feel a harsh grip on your arm as you're forcefully turned around.
"rafe- ow what the fuck!" you exclaim, tearing your arm from his bruising grip. he threw back the rest of whatever he was drinking before scoffing at the sight in front of him, pool table guy now standing at his car with his arms folded as you stood between them.
"where the fuck do you think you're going with him? huh??" he shook his head, "think your trashy pogue ass can just cheat on me at a party that i invited you to??"
"cheat?? what rafe-" you began, but his yelling cut you off again.
he narrowed his eyes at you and back at pool table guy who was now walking closer to cut in himself, "fucking ridiculous, this is what i get for dating a fucking pogue. i can't believe you y/n."
you were fighting back tears at this point, but felt the burning hot rage rise inside you like a volcano, and you erupted.
"how fucking dare you accuse me of cheating rafe cameron! you know i would never fucking cheat on you! i left you at that table with your buddies to do coke all you pleased because you kept fucking swatting me away like i was some desperate stranger!"
his eyes widened at your outburst, you two had been in yelling matches before but the way you were giving him a tongue lashing now was something he'd never experienced before.
"this guy was nice enough to let me know i can actually get a fucking ride home because i was just stranded somewhere random in this fucking mansion! and you don't even care to fucking look for me until i catch your eye because you think im cheating rafe?? why do you care if im cheating anyway. im just a 'dirty fucking pogue.' am i making you feel sick rafe? can you just so not believe that you ever slept with a pogue!"
"y/n, i didn't mean all that- fuck! god, look what you've gone and made me say" he yelled, now directing his anger to the pool table guy.
he just shrugged, "dude you left her to wonder around, can't be surprised when another guy tries to get in her pants... pogue or not, she's hot"
you could see the gears turn in rafe's head before he finally attempts to lunge at the pool table guy, thank fully you put your entire body weight into pushing rafe back and even though you weren't really doing much, pool table guy was already driving out halfway out the mansion's gates.
rafe finally straightens up and then looks at you wordlessly, you take the opportunity to speak again, "don't ever fucking treat me like that again rafe. i'm too tired to have this conversation right now, we're going back to yours. i want to sleep."
still breathing heavily, he looks up past you before making eye contact with you again, "okay."
Tumblr media
203 notes · View notes
tapwater-made-everyone-gay · 16 hours ago
Text
!!!SPOILERS FOR THOSE WHO HAVEN’T LISTENED TO THE VENGEANCE SAGA OF EPIC THE MUSICAL!!!
I find it really interesting that people are so upset about the Poseidon loss, using “it’s weird that a mortal beat a god” when the whole thing with gods in Greek mythology is that they’re parallels to humans. That’s why they have emotions, human anatomy, feel pain, and bleed (even if it is ichor that comes out). There are multiple cases of gods being beaten by humans, primarily demigods, but still humans—MORTALS. What makes them so powerful is their domain. Take that away? They’re practically powerless.
Poseidon is shown to be arrogant, claiming that the only reason he’s still hunting Odysseus (DESPITE killing his men, teaching his lesson, and even likely knowing about the brutal siren deaths) is because “the top dog can’t be seen letting his prey go. How else can I send the message that I’m a big dog? It’ll ruin my reputation!” He’s a cocky bastard, playing with his prey, telling Odysseus to get in the water because it’s more entertaining to him than just getting his revenge and killing him then and there. He talks like he’s never felt pain in his life and doesn’t think he ever will because “the top dog is untouchable”.
But he forgets that he needs his domain, needs his range to keep himself from losing. When Odysseus pulls the same trick with the wind bag (which he should’ve seen coming), he isn’t ready, because he’s never had to fight that fight. Odysseus has, and he has the anger to push himself farther. The god gets downed (which has happened many times with many gods as discussed earlier), and he still acts cocky. Odysseus opened the bag. He can’t leave. But that knowledge—knowledge that he’s stuck here and will eventually die anyway—allows Odysseus to make his decision. He can hurt Poseidon for as long as he’s capable of, make him suffer just as much because, hey, he’s going to die anyway, right?
Now, Poseidon has an out. He can get rid of the storm before Odysseus even lays a hand on him, let him go home, and flood Ithaca like planned. But he doesn’t, because he’s so in his own head that he doesn’t realize the position he’s in. And then Odysseus makes the first stab, and then the other. It hurts, even more because, like I said, Poseidon has probably never felt this pain before. And Odysseus doesn’t plan on stopping, not until Poseidon calls off the storm. He’ll go until his arms stop working, and if Poseidon hadn’t given in, he probably would’ve.
Poseidon can’t stop him either because the wounds are made before the others can heal. Does this punishment seem familiar? It should, because it’s the exact same one given to Prometheus by Zeus. Truthfully, it’s a punishment made for a god.
I should probably stop here because this has gone on way too long, but I do understand why some people might think it’s weird. We’re raised to believe that any god is untouchable, that they’re all-powerful and incapable of harm, especially at human hands. But that’s not Greek mythology. Gods aren’t capable of death, but they are capable of suffering, and a lot of them do. Just because the one suffering this time is one of the “big three” doesn’t mean it’s unrealistic.
Epic’s message isn’t the same as the original, and it never has been. It’s about what you’re willing to sacrifice, how far you’re willing to go for your own gain, and what the repercussions are when you do. Poseidon really kick started that message hard, and I think it’s poetic that it ends with him facing the outcome of that message himself.
Ruthlessness is mercy upon ourselves, but it’s not the same being on the receiving end, is it?
159 notes · View notes
taeyongdoyoung · 1 day ago
Text
lobos, we cannot stop hunting
Tumblr media
summary: the full moon comes and you insist on staying with your best friend despite his valiant warnings to make you run away from him... pairing: werewolf!chan x reader genre: smut, fantasy, best friends to lovers warnings: *takes a deep breath* heat suppressants, hugging, werewolf transformation, kissing, making out, hair-pulling, eating out, begging, fingering, overstimulation, consent is established multiple times, slightly mean dom!chan but overall a sweetheart, praise+degradation, size kink (duh), unprotected sex on the floor, knotting, breeding kink, mating *exhales* author's note: happy halloween, baby stays!!! 🐺 make sure to get some yummy treats and always remember to say the magic words please and thank you 😈 but ESPECIALLY please as the king of the wolves taught us 😉🛐 word count: 1.8k
"It's a full moon tonight," your werewolf best friend Chan says.
"So?" you murmur, not even bothering to look up from your phone. Those F1 reels that keep popping up on your feed are so interesting! "You've got your pills and stuff? You'll be fine, same as always."
"I ran out, actually," Chan scratches the back of his head nervously.
You put down your phone. Sorry, sexy F1 guys, you can wait.
"Can't you get more?" you ask him.
"No, my doctor is out of town. It's his anniversary with his wife and his phone is turned off."
"Goddamnit, Chan, and you tell me that now?" you are immediately worried about your best friend.
Before he started these pills, Chan told you that the full moon was like really bad on him. As in, he was completely out of control and had these...urges that he had to take care of by himself. Basically, he was in a lot of pain. He's been using these pills for the last two years and they've been working miraculously. Chan was pretty much like a human during the usually dangerous for werewolves full moon. Thankfully, his doctor has been very helpful in giving him plenty of these amazing pills.
"I'm sorry...I thought I had one left but I must have miscalculated."
"Chan, I keep telling you to write these stuff down in advance," you shake your head. "What are you going to do tonight?"
"Suffer through it, I guess. I was just giving you a heads-up so you can get out of here...like right about now."
"What? No way I'm leaving you alone!" you argue passionately. "What if you die?"
"Uh, I'm pretty sure I won't. But you don't get it, without my pills, I could unwittingly put you in danger. My best chance to make sure I'm not a menace to civilized society is to lock the door and tie myself up or something."
"That sounds horrible!" you cry out, feeling intense sympathy for your best friend. "I don't want to leave you alone."
"You have to!" Chan insists. "I would hate myself if I hurt you."
"You won't!" you keep trying to persuade him. "I trust you more than anyone else in the universe."
Chan shakes his head, still hesitant.
"Please, you should leave before the moon comes up."
Little does he know it has already begun to rise...
"No, I'm not leaving you," you keep saying and wrap your arms around him.
Chan desperately tries to push you away. But it is too late.
As the moon's power grows, so does his. The only thing that prevents you from continuing to embrace him is his oncoming transformation. Your arms fall weakly to your side as you witness the impossible. His generally tender, adorable features quickly turn into sharp, wolflike and kind of intimidating ones, if you have to be honest. But this is your best friend, your Chan, you keep reminding yourself. And all the fear disappears from your body. As you kneel down next to him, you run your hand through his soft fur, trying to pet him.
He initially snarls and tries to scare you off but the more you insist, the more he relaxes under your gentle touch. God, you can't believe he was afraid he'd harm you. He's just...a big puppy.
You can't resist the temptation and you hug him again. He's so fluffy you're gonna die! And then, the unimaginable happens. He fucking purrs! Oh dear, if you had already been having a hard time trying to hide your feelings for your best friend, then seeing him like this would surely be your demise.
Then, unexpectedly, he shifts back to his human form, taking you by surprise. One, because that was faster than you'd expected. Two, because he's entirely naked, but doesn't seem perturbed by it. You try your best to look him in the eyes because uh...you're still not sure where this is going.
"Please, go, I don't think I can control myself any longer," Chan begs.
"Control what?" you're so confused. "I already witnessed you in your wolf form, you seem pretty chill."
"It's not my wolf form you should be scared of," Chan warns darkly.
"What do you mean?"
"I mean, if you don't get out of my sight in the next ten seconds, I'll fuck you until you pass out. And maybe even after that."
Oh? Wait...OH!!!
"Was that supposed to be a threat or a promise?" you quirk your eyebrows at him.
"Hold on, don't tell me you're actually excited by the prospect?" Chan wants to make sure.
"I mean...don't threaten me with a good time," you shrug calmly.
Chan kneels next to you, grabbing your hands tightly.
"I'm serious right now, don't play with me."
"What makes you think I'm not serious? I trust you, I want you, I lo- Uh, I like you a lot, whatever you do, that won't change," you mentally curse yourself for almost saying the big L-word. You hope he didn't catch that.
Judging from Chan's expression, he seems pretty satisfied with your statement.
"Well, don't say I didn't warn you," he whispers and kisses you harshly, biting your lips and making a mess.
Your mouths are linked by an unending streak of saliva, but honestly you couldn't care less as he claims you, pushing his tongue deeper down your throat, gripping your hair with his fingers for better access. You are already melting. You spoke too soon. You are definitely not ready for this. But you wouldn't be able to make him stop, even if you wanted to.
"Last chance," Chan breaks the kiss to give you the opportunity to back out. To get out of here while you still can.
"Do your worst," you challenge him recklessly and he kisses you again, even harder than before if that is possible.
You know that your best friend, despite his shy and cute demeanour, is physically stronger and bigger than you, but seeing him like this, completely losing control is such a thrill you make sure to commit the picture to memory as vividly as you can.
Chan takes off your clothes in a hurry and just like a hungry wolf, attacks your pussy. And starts devouring it as if it's his last meal on Earth. He doesn't even make the effort to get to the couch, which is so close. He just takes you right there, on the floor. You shake uncontrollably, but he grips your thighs to stop you from moving.
"Please, please, please," you keep repeating even though you have no idea what you're asking for. For him to keep going? For him to stop? You don't know anymore.
"I like it when you beg," Chan smirks against your folds and dives back in, swimming in your water.
It doesn't take you long to burst, completely letting go for him.
"Fuck, you're so beautiful," he praises you, not giving you time to recover and tracing circles around your entrance with his big fingers.
"No, you," you whisper weakly, trying to make him slow down by pushing his hand away. Needless to say, your efforts are in vain. "I'm s-sensitive."
Chan laughs cruelly.
"You can take it," his words are meant to be reassuring but they're not, as he sticks his finger inside of you.
It's just one but it's already so thick you are beginning to lose your mind.
"C-chan, p-please," you cry for him.
"What is it, sweetheart? You want another?" he mocks your lack of coherence and adds a second finger without waiting for your approval.
"N-no, I c-can't," you shake your head desperately.
"Yes, you can," Chan seems fully convinced, adding a third finger. "You're so tiny, gotta stretch you up real good to be able to take my cock next. Don't you want that, babygirl?"
"Yes, I want it," you are quick to agree and do your best to relax for his big fingers.
"Gonna let me take this sweet pussy with my wolf cock? Claim you as mine? Give you my pups?" he asks gently, his unrestrained actions in complete contrast with his sweet words.
"Yes, yes! Gonna let you breed me like the stupid bitch I am," you answer, degrading yourself in the process.
"That's what I like to hear, darling," Chan praises you and makes you come again on his fingers.
You are almost about to pass out. But somehow you manage to hold on for the next part. You want to feel it. Every second of it.
"Are you sure?" he asks once again, melting your heart.
"I've never been more sure about anything in my life," you reaffirm your belief in him.
Chan doesn't wait for a second offer and slides his cock inside of you. Fucking hell, if you thought his fingers were pretty huge, his manhood is on a whole different level. You try to adjust to his monstrous size and focus on his beautiful eyes instead. He's still your Chan, your sweet-
"Fuck, your pussy's so small, gonna rip you in half," Chan grunts loudly.
Okay, not so sweet after all.
"Please, don't. Or do, it's fine by me," you attempt to make a joke.
He laughs and kisses you again, going in deeper. You wrap your hands around his neck in a tremendous effort to ground you, help you remain conscious through it all.
"You'd like that, wouldn't you?" Chan keeps talking meanly. "Want me to ruin that tiny pussy of yours?"
"Yes, yes, I want it all," you repeat mindlessly, not caring about the consequences anymore.
Then, as if by some miracle, you feel his cock growing even more while inside of you. Is that even possible? You thought it was just a myth.
Luckily, you're wetter than ever and your pussy easily swallows his knot.
"Gonna fuck you full of my cum, make you my mate, is that okay?" Chan wants to be sure.
"It's okay, Chan, I'll be your mate," you promise, not even sure what that means. But whatever it is, you're fine with it, as long as it's with Chan...
Then, he releases his wolf seed inside of your pussy, making you feel so full, so warm, so complete.
"Take it, baby, I know you can," he reassures you and you do your best to accept his overflowing victory.
It is a total mystery how you still haven't passed out. But you're grateful for it. You'd like to treasure this moment forever.
"I don't think I'll be able to let go of you anytime soon," Chan chuckles softly, still inside of you.
"That's alright, I think I can get used to this," you respond happily, kissing him again.
"Great. 'Cause I don't plan to ever stop hunting you, my sweet little prey," Chan vows.
"I am but a willing victim to whatever it is the full moon did to you," you smile contentedly.
"And if it's not just the full moon?" Chan asks, biting your earlobe playfully with his sharp teeth. "What if I want to have my way with you every night?"
"Who needs sleep anyways?"
The End
149 notes · View notes