#and they’re very fun to dance with!!!

[laomelettedufromage]

One of my pet peeves after having gotten very into swing dance as an aroace is seeing videos of people swing dancing or really doing any type of partner dance and over half the comments just being stuff like “how are they not in love😳” or “friends🤨” like please free yourselves, you can have a lot of chemistry and fun dancing with someone and it doesn’t have to be anything more than that!! Just fun!!! I’m not saying a little bit of lighthearted friendly love can’t be involved but it’s not always that deep, it’s just having fun!!

[ilovefredjones]

i love in z1 when the zombies vehemently hate cheerleading and then they have a whole underground nightclub where they do choreographed dance routines

[quietwingsinthesky]

Drabble 52/366 - Doctor Who

“I thought she- she would regenerate.”

“She might have, if you’d stopped.”

“I didn’t know- I thought- Don’t touch me!”

“I see what the Doctor enjoys about this now. Fun new learning experiences around every corner.”

“I didn’t- I didn’t want to.”

“No one made you.”

“She had a-”

“And it was pointed at me.”

“…It was pointed at both of- of us.”

“Optimistic and delusional. So cute. You really are one of his.”

“He would never have- Never.”

“You believe that—”

“—I said don’t—”

“—when you’re standing on the planet he destroyed?”

…

…

…

“Get your hand off of my face.”

[futureforged]

Dance threads..

Beloved…

[ezraphobicsoup]

the car seat is headresting that’s for certain

[pokemonfrommemory]

All right! *bursts through your walls and does a dance*

[ghosts-and-blue-sweaters]

He wonders if, had he had a taste of friendship with all those things before returning to his reality, if he would feel quieter, and lonelier, and more sad, now that he wasn’t friends with them.

The answer is probably yes.

Wilbur tries not to think about this very often; it just makes him hungry for all the things he’ll never have. An insatiable hunger.

Wilbur wonders if Phil ever feels like this.

~~~

Finally, Wilbur settles on something, because he taps the screen once before lowering his hands, keeping hold of the phone and letting a song play from it.

Guitar. That’s what starts this song off.

Tommy tilts his head. He’s never heard this before. It’s a new song to him.

But it’s… pretty. As far as the first bit goes, at least; all gentle guitar and soft singing, all that. It sounds like something Ghostbur would like.

And then the chorus comes around, and Tommy’s eyes widen a little bit as the lyrics hit his ears.

“Jesus, my heart, your home. Jesus.”

Tommy flicks his gaze to Wilbur, inquisitive.

Wilbur gazes back, even and calm.

The song continues playing, and after a few seconds, Tommy turns his attention back to it. He’s paying more attention to the lyrics now.

“I will sing for you, all my days. Always quick to give you praise. When I was in sin, you saved my soul. No greater love will I ever know.”

“Do you go to church?” Tommy asks, because he couldn’t keep the question inside his chest any longer.

“No,” Wilbur answers, quick but sure. “Not really, no. I don’t even believe in most of the things this song talks about.”

“Oh. Then…” Tommy furrows his brow. “Then why do you listen to it?”

The song turns loud, strong guitar strums and almost yell-y singing, and Wilbur turns thoughtful, tilting his head ever so slightly as he looks off into the distance.

For a moment, he doesn’t say anything.

The song keeps playing.

~~~

“You tried to revive Wilbur,” Ghostbur said, hoping that the king would understand what so few seemed to. “You tried to kill me."

~~~

Wilbur hums, and with a quick prayer to whoever is listening, Niki starts to drive.

~~~

Ranboo’s heart drops. Oh no.

“Hey, hey, um… W-Wilbur? What… what uh, what’s wrong?” Ranboo hurriedly kneels down, as close to Wilbur as he dares.

~~~

(Another one for heart because I wanted to share :)

No. Everything is warm and hazy, drifting in and out of focus with each beat of his heart—a heart which, as far as Wilbur can tell, is slow, lazy, irregular. Irregular. A wobbling spotlight that shines in the wrong places, doesn’t follow the cues.

~~~

“Hello!”

Wilbur blinks, peering up from his phone to see Ghostbur walking into the kitchen, blinking the sleepiness from his eyes. “Hey. I got, um…” He gestures vaguely to the island. “McDonald’s.”

“McDonald’s,” Ghostbur repeats, sounding inquisitive and amazed at the same time.

Wilbur blinks.

Ghostbur comes to a stop in front of the island, looking around at the paper bags filled with breakfast food. He blinks hard, as if trying to will away any leftover wisps of unconsciousness. “It’s been a long time since I’ve had McDonald’s.”

~~~

“You can sleep after this,” Tommy assures, hovering in case the cup spills from Ghostbur’s hands. “Just- make sure you drink enough, y’know. I don’t want you getting diehydrated or anything.”

Ghostbur doesn’t smile at Tommy’s joke, and Tommy suddenly feels lonely. Which is weird, because Ghostbur is right here. He’s not lonely.

His heart just gave a proper pang though, didn’t it?

“You’re not ever yourself after doctor visits,” Tommy says softly, watching as Ghostbur sips at the straw with nearly-closed eyes.

~~~

(Couldn’t find one for gentleness so I went with gentle instead!)

He hopes that his voice sounds gentle. He wonders if it’s possible to bend his voice in such a way that sounds gentle.

~~~

When they get inside, the song isn’t finished, so they stay in the living room and Ghostbur sways the both of them back and forth, back and forth, all the way until they finish na-na-na-na-ing. It doesn’t matter that they can’t see very well, with all the lights off; they know they’re both here. They can hear each other. Tommy can feel the soft wool of Ghostbur’s sweater sleeves.

They finish the last lyric, and for a few seconds, the whole house is quiet.

Ghostbur leans forward, pressing a kiss onto Tommy’s head. Tommy blinks as he pulls back.

Ghostbur smiles. “I think of you whenever I hear that song."

Tommy doesn’t know what to say to that, so he doesn’t say anything.

As they both lay in bed, facing each other, Tommy moves a little closer than usual. Ghostbur keeps his eyes closed, but he rubs his thumb along Tommy’s arm until they both fall asleep, and that makes Tommy feel better.

When Tommy wakes up, the first thing he does is check to make sure Ghostbur’s still here. He is.

Ghostbur’s thumb is still resting against Tommy’s arm.

Tommy moves a little bit closer, and he falls back asleep.

~~~

“You could’ve been trying to pull a prank on me, or a joke.”

Wilbur’s heart twinges, just a bit. “I wouldn’t do that.”

Ghostbur says nothing.

“I’ll help you, alright?” Wilbur takes a step closer, water sloshing up his legs. “I’ll make sure nothing… bad happens, or anything.”

Ghostbur finally looks up, meeting Wilbur’s eyes. He looks skeptical.

Wilbur raises his brows. “Promise. Y’know, we’ll be like… we’ll be like brothers, right? This is the sort of thing brothers do!”

Ghostbur tilts his head thoughtfully. “Perhaps.”

“Look, I don’t wanna stay out here all day, man. Just try it. Look, you suck in a breath and hold it, so your body stays buoyant. See?” Wilbur breathes in to demonstrate, but Ghostbur wrinkles his nose.

“I know how to hold my breath.”

“Then do it, man! Come on!” Wilbur gestures at the water, grinning. “I’ll make sure you don’t sink. I’ll grab you if things go south, alright?”

Ghostbur looks at the water again, nodding after a few moments. “Okay.”

“It’s just fl-“ Wilbur cuts himself off, eyes widening with surprise as Ghostbur lowers himself down and takes a deep breath, shutting his eyes.

And Ghostbur freaking floats. He lays there in the water with his eyes shut and his freaking shirt on and he floats. He barely even moves, actually; just floats there, like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

For a minute, he stays like that, and for a minute, Wilbur stares, not quite sure how to react to this.

I didn’t know he was going to do it that quickly.

After a minute, Ghostbur blinks his eyes open, quickly widening them as he tries to right himself.

“You’re fine,” Wilbur assures, stepping forward and letting Ghostbur cling to his arm and get pulled up. “See? Right here, just like I said.”

Ghostbur says absolutely nothing, squeezing Wilbur’s arm with both hands and breathing hard. His hair sticks to his forehead in a dark mess.

Wilbur realizes that his own hair probably looks the same.

“You did it, man.” Wilbur laughs, because there’s really nothing else to do. “You floated! Y’know? And I didn’t even have to do anything! Man, are you sure you don’t know how to swim? I’m being serious. Because that was fantastic, right there.”

Ghostbur stares at his hands, wrapped around Wilbur’s arm, and then he slowly brings his gaze upward, until they meet his brother’s. His eyes are wide. “That water is cold!”

Wilbur laughs again, louder. His feet nearly trip over themselves, but he manages to stay upright and not fall into the river. “Yeah, I suppose it is.”

“And… I floated.”

Wilbur smiles. “I suppose you did.”

“Oh.” Ghostbur glances at the water again, eyes dancing. He looks back to his hands, holding onto Wilbur, and blinks. He pulls his hands away. “I think I hurt you.”

Wilbur looks down, noticing how his skin is white where Ghostbur had held onto it. “Nah, I’m fine.”

“That might bruise.”

“It won’t.”

“I was just a little nervous.”

“I know. But you floated anyway.” Wilbur raises his brows. “Yeah?”

Ghostbur looses a breath through his mouth, nodding. “Yeah. I did, I did.”

Then he brightens. “Oh. I really did, didn’t I?”

“Heck yeah, man.”

“Oh.” Ghostbur slowly runs his fingers through the river, creating small waves. He smiles—a flickering sort of thing. “I did. I did.”

Wilbur grins. His arm probably will bruise—Ghostbur has a hard grip, man—but he can’t bring himself to care. He doesn’t care.

There’s birds chirping everywhere.

~~~

He glances at the window, watching orange light bleed through the closed blinds. Is it too early? He planned to do it tonight, after the sun set and the world grew cold.

But there’s nothing else to do.

Wilbur huffs a laugh that sounds more like a sickness. Might as well. The timing won’t change anything; it’s inevitable either way.

He grunts as he rises to his feet, wandering towards his dresser. The slivers of sunlight that worm their way between the blinds cast lines on the wall. Wilbur blocks them with his shadow.

~~~

“But,” Tommy continues, dipping a fry into some ketchup. “This makes it better.”

“What does?”

“Food. Five Guys. Even you.” He holds up the ketchup-dipped fry, waving it about with a glint in his eye. “I love salt!”

Wilbur huffs a smile, gazing at the table.

~~~

(Another one for love just because)

Ghostbur smiles, huffing quietly to himself. Tommy is very funny. He does such strange things. Ghostbur loves him more than he loves anything else.

~~~

(Annnnd another one)

Niki shakes her head. “My bakery is gone.”

“Wh… gone?”

“I burned it.”

He stops walking, and some of the leaves go quiet.

Niki walks ahead of him. After a second or two, she hears leaves again.

“Oh. Okay!” He comes up alongside her, and he’s taller than her, because he’s always been taller than her. “That seems like a strange thing to do to something you love. Why did you burn it?”

[oak-swallows-garcia]

sparrow for the character thing!!! (you’re welcome)

YEEEEEAH LETS GO

Sexuality Headcanon: I think this is a pretty popular one, I’m really attached to the idea of aroace Sparrow. I definitely think Rebecca was the main driving force behind their relationship, and maybe there was a point in their lives when they were the absolute best of friends and shared a lot of love but just from how unconcerned about her he’s been the rare moments he’s both had talk time and she’s been brought up… I dunno, dude, doesn’t sound like a man in love to me.

Gender Headcanon: Cis but he’s thought about it a Lot

A ship I have with said character: well! i don’t have ships for sparrow, but i hc grant as having had crushes on both the twins growing up (his crush on henry just transferred), just at different times. i think it’d be cute if they shared a kiss once and it was awkward for a While.

A BROTP I have with said character: I think once Lark has been distancing himself for a while and Sparrow realizes they’re never going back to the way things were he leans Hard into the rest of the group, and while Grant means well, he’s pushy with his questions and too solution-oriented- it makes Sparrow feel like he’s somehow not done enough to fix his family and the feeling sucks. Nick is in hell half the time, and Sparrow never really knows what he’s going to get from him anyways. He and Terry become really close, they bond over having bumbling idiots for fathers. They’re both really observant, and they get to the point where they’re able to read each other so well they know what the other needs even if they don’t know themselves. I think Terry never really processed everything that happened to them as kids, and being able to talk it through with Sparrow without the expectation of a breakthrough or anger or cavalierness really gets him to a point where for better or for worse, he’s at least able to accept it all.

A NOTP I have with said character: Rebecca. Lmao.

A random headcanon: Short but hurts me a lot. He tells Hero he’s proud of her often. Not as big statements, but I think he notices when Hero’s doing something right more often than he notices it from Normal. Little things like report cards or new skills or hobbies she’s picked up; he’s not doing it on purpose but he’s so worried about Normal being Like That everything Normal could do to potentially make him proud is a step in the right direction but it isn’t enough for Sparrow.

General Opinion over said character: Generally I want to put my favorite characters through the shredder and pick them apart piece by piece but I wanna put him back together actually. Current favorite of the sondads (or kiddads whatever you wanna call them). Your Honor, I love him.

[dozydawn]

Marina Klimova and Sergei Ponomarenko Original Set Pattern “Quickstep” 1985

Hello, Dolly!

[cheekyquokka]

.

[vampiresavior2]

went to see an african dance troupe w my friend n the place (our local community college) served us free food like i literally had no plans to do anything today blesssss

[cats-in-the-clouds]

it’s all been said before but the whole pronouns thing for some people is getting so ridiculous it’s honestly just sad

[trollbreak]

Ough *is struck with ship thoughts and has to lay on the floor*

[collegeoflore]

accidentally killed gale and had to revive him and Immediately after he asked for his first tasty treat LMAO

[harleybarbarahandler]

and if I said margot and cillian look hot together?

[monzabee]

pon de replay - cl16 (+18)

masterlist ||

Summary: The one where Charles decide to prove to everyone that it is him that you belong to, and only him.

Pairing: charles leclerc x reader 

Word Count: 4.8k

Warnings: smuttt, nothing but pure filth, one might even say it is pwp, unprotected sex (cover your willy don’t be silly), oral (f receiving), kinda exhibitionism?, public sex, jealous charles, possessive charles, carlos being a little shit because he’s bored, poor lando, not even sure if i fulfilled the request or not, minors dni!! 

Request: “HELLOOOO! i have an idea and you don’t have to write it but it’s been rattling around in my brain and im never gonna write it (i constantly have way too many ideas to write them fr) myself so i figured i’d send it to you cause you’ve kinda restored my F1 phase with your work. basically, reader being very goofy, funny, and maybe a little bit too loud at times. just like a very silly and bubbly personality and she hangs out with some of the f1 boys (maybe because she’s famous in her own right like a dancer or something) so naturally EVERYONE ships her with lando. like hardcore, almost as bad as one direction fans ships (iykyk), and it sorta makes sense cause when they’re together it’s pure and utter chaos and they both express themselves with physical touch B U T ! she’s actually with charles. to her it makes total sense to be with charles instead of lando cause while lando is definitely attractive he’s too much like her and it’d be like dating herself whereas charles brings out a new calm side to her and she can bring out a goofier side to him. opposites attract type shit😭. maybe a little angst cause charles hates seeing all the edits and also feels a little insecure cause lando and reader DO make sense together in his mind so why’d you pick him instead? then like soft fluff/smut reassurance that charles is literally the man of her dreams, a literal fucking prince, and the best person she’s ever been with. ANYWAYS, im rambling! again, you don’t have to write this if you don’t connect with it or don’t have time i just needed an outlet SOMEWHERE for all the F1 brain rot.”

Author’s Note: hi, hey, hello!! i first of all want to start by saying that i’m very sorry that this isn’t exactly like the request, like at all, but it took me a criminal amount of time to actually get this finished so we’re not going to focus on that. okay? okay, great!! in all and all it was actually quite fun to work on this at the beginning, it was just kinda hard for some reason to work on the actual smut part, but i hope you guys enjoy! good morning, noon or night wherever you are, xoxobee

Please also note that all of my works are protected under copyright, and not available for reposting on other platforms. 

Charles wouldn’t call himself a possessive person, not a chance. He might be ambitious, and competitive, but possessive? That, he is not. He’s never been the type of get jealous of his partner’s friends, whether male or female, because he likes to think that he is mature enough to understand that people have friends. It’s that simple. And he is most definitely not the type of person to comment on what you wear when you’re going out, he is just not that guy. He’s fairly certain that his mother would materialise out of thin air and give him a good beating if he were to do that. So when you asked him about the dress you have on earlier before you left his apartment, the one that clings to your body so tightly that he can practically make out the outline of your tits from across the room? He just smiled and told you to have fun tonight – because he’s there to make sure you’re not put off by anyone staring at you in it.

So yeah. He’s not usually the type to let the jealousy take over his ability to think things out rationally, but when his girlfriend is dancing her heart away in the middle of the dance floor while every red-blooded men watch her with the same look in their eyes? Yeah, it’s not easy to keep his emotions in check at the moment given the circumstances. And it’s not that he even intends to pout like a petulant child at the bar, making sure to keep an eye on you, it’s just that he is an expressive person and his face reflects what he’s feeling that well. Totally because of that. It’s scary how utterly focused he is on you, watching your every move to make sure no one is bothering you, though you don’t seem to be in need of his help as he watches you dance with one of the girls you met when you first arrived to the club – and with Lando, though he tries not to focus on that part too much.

It's fine, though, he tries to make himself believe, it’s fine as long as you’re having fun. Though that doesn’t necessarily stop him from throwing daggers into Lando’s direction as covertly as he can. The way he has a friendly arm around you is driving him crazy, and he is not above stomping over there to pull you under his arm, drag you to the nearest bathroom and– Well, maybe he shouldn’t get too far ahead of himself just yet.

“They look good together, no?” He hears someone ask him from the side. He realises it is his teammate when he turns to give the person a glare.

“Who?” He asks, deciding to play dumb, but he can’t help himself as he makes a face while focusing his gaze back on you.

“You know who I’m talking about, cabrón!” Carlos exclaims, laughing as he pats him on the back and points to the two of you with a tilt of his head, “I’m glad he’s finally doing something about it rather than sulking around like a geriatric toddler.”

If he would have turned around any faster, Charles is sure his neck would actually, possibly, break. “What?” he spits out as he turns around, “Do you mean her and Lando?”

Carlos gives his teammate a confused look, “Yes,” he drawls out, “you didn’t know he had a crush on her? I thought the entire paddock knew!” Charles feels a surge of disbelief and a tinge of anger bubbling within him.

He wouldn't call it possessiveness, more like a primal instinct to protect what's his. But this revelation catches him off guard, shattering his carefully constructed facade of nonchalance. With doing his best to keep calm under the situation, he asks, “Are you sure you’re not making things up? I feel like you’re misreading the situation here.”

That receives another confused look from his teammate, and though Charles is quite the perceptive person, he misses Carlos starting to put the pieces together – thanks to his overreaction. “I guess so,” Carlos mumbles, loud enough for Charles to hear him in the loud club, “he’s always talking about her, though. The way she smiles, her hair, her dresses; did you know he even went to see one of her performances in Vegas?” Carlos feels bad, really, but there is also something so fulfilling in confirming his theories as he watches his teammate’s eyes bulge out at the mention of one of your dance shows in Vegas. Because Charles knows what those entail.

“I-in Vegas?” He stutters out, eyes moving to focus on your dancing figure again. And at that moment, he absolutely hates Lando. He hates him for having his arms around you, he hates him for dancing with you to the beat in a rhythm he never seems to be able to keep up with, he hates him for the way everybody seems to think the two of you seem to make a handsome couple, and he absolutely hates him for the way he makes you smile.

Charles Leclerc is not a possessive guy – until it comes to you, that is.

“Charles?” He hears Carlos call out his name, but he’s out of his seat long before he can hear the end of his sentence. He doesn’t mean to stomp across the dance floor to get to you. He really doesn’t. He also doesn’t mean to grab you by your arm and put a pause on your fun. And the smile you give him and the way you wrap your arms around his neck while you call him ‘Charlie’? Makes his heart stutter in a way that makes him forget why he ever came over in this first place. Because this should be normal – you, having male friends and spending time with them should not make him insecure. He should be fine with you and Lando spending time together because you both love the hustle and bustle of a club. But at that moment, he doesn’t care about what should be normal, no. He cares about the fact that someone other than him has managed to make you smile, and that he needs to remind you that he’s the only one who should be on the receiving end of all your smiles.

So when he drags you away from the dancefloor (and Lando, for that matter), he doesn’t listen to your objections. He doesn’t care about the way Carlos is watching from his place from the bar, putting all the pieces together as he shares a look with Lando. And he most definitely doesn’t care about the fact that he’s about to fuck you in the club’s bathroom. Well, maybe he does care about that last part. “Charlie,” you whine, your voice clearly scratched from shouting along the lyrics of the songs playing throughout the night, and he doesn’t miss the way you slur his name ever so slightly – which tells him that you had at least two drinks. Cosmopolitans, if he had to guess. “Pleaaase,” you drag out the word, pulling on his shirt to get his attention, “they are playing my song!”

His first mistake is to look at you, because the way your lips form a pout and the way you’re giving him puppy dog eyes is usually strong enough for him to give in. Though this is no usual situation. So instead of moving the two of you back to the dancefloor, he grabs you by your cheeks and presses his lips against you. In the middle of the club, where everybody can see him doing it. The way his lips move against yours is aggressive, and you’re definitely out of breath when he does move away. Cosmopolitans, he realises after tasting you. You've had cosmopolitans. Then, he just gives you a look, threads his fingers through yours and raises an eyebrow. Then he asks, “Are you going to be a good girl and come with me now, or should I do this the hard way and just carry you on my shoulder?”

If this was any other situation, you would totally say something bratty back. Hell, you might have actually said something rude if it meant him being rough with you, maybe spanking you a few times just enough times for you to learn your lesson. But you understand that this is no ordinary situation from his voice and the expression on his face. Charles is like that, you suppose. He’s an open book – meaning that it is very easy to understand what kind of a mood he’s in just by looking at his face, or listening to the undertone of his voice. And right now? Right now you know he’s pissed. You don’t necessarily know what you did, nor do you care. Mainly because all you want to do is make him feel better simply because of the reason that he is one of those people who’s just meant to smile at all times, not frown.

And so you nod gingerly, squeaking out a thimble, “Yes.” You finally meet his eyes as you wrap yourself around his arm, pushing yourself closer to him in the crowded club. “I’ll be good.”

This thumb does that thing where he caresses your knuckle, and he starts moving you through the crowd again. This time, however, you try to stick to him by matching the speed of his steps rather than trying to stay back. You told him you’d be good, you intend to keep your promise. He’s quiet all the way to the bathroom, and he’s quiet when he motions you to get inside, and he’s quiet when he closes to door and promptly locks it behind your back. You think for a moment you’re just there for a chat, maybe about that something you might’ve done, but Charles takes you by surprise as he grabs your waist and pushes you against the door, causing your eyes to widen with realisation of what you’re about to do in that bathroom.

“Charles, what’s wrong?” You try to ask, but he shuts you up with another kiss. And if you thought the previous kiss was aggressive, this one absolutely consumes you. He doesn’t even give you a fighting chance as his tongue quickly dominates yours, and he is relentless as he nips at your lower lip. You can’t help the mortifying moan that leaves your lips, and you push him away to inhale deeply. “What has gotten into you?” You ask, eyes wide due to the adrenaline coursing through your veins, “What happened?”

“You, happened.” He growls. And by that, you mean that he actually growls. His voice is a few octaves deeper than his usual voice, and you can see that he’s snappy. There is this dark look in his eyes that would otherwise scare you if you didn’t know him, but you do. Because he’s your Charles.

And you know this because the quickly leans into your touch when you bring one of your hands up to cup his cheek, giving him a confused look. “Did I do something?” You ask, voice soft amidst the humid bathroom. “Oh my god, is it my dress? Is it too short?” Your eyebrows draw closer as you start properly spiralling. “I knew I should’ve worn the shorts, why didn’t you say something?”

Your mini monologue about your party attire must have struck a chord because Charles suddenly exhales heavily, his forehead resting against yours as he closes his eyes. “No, non, it's not about the fucking dress,” he lashes out, his voice strained, and lace with something else that you can’t quite catch. “I don’t care what you wear, though I do appreciate the easy access.”

“Easy access?” You repeat, testing out the words as you come to a realisation. “What?” You exclaim, quickly taking your hand away from his face to lightly slap at his chest. “No! We are definitely not doing that here, are you out of your mind? You pulled me away because you can’t keep it in your pants until we’re home?”

“And why not?” He asks, and this time, you can see the unbridled rage behind his look. “Would you rather go back to Lando out there? You looked quite happy in his arms after all.”

And the realisation dawns on you right then and there. That this isn’t about your choice of dress for the evening, no. It is about Lando. Though you don’t get that part, since he’s both of your friend, so why is Charles being like this? And you would ask him, of course. But the look he gives you indicates that he doesn’t want to be tested in that exact moment.

So instead, you attempt to calm him down, by dragging your hand gently down his chest and wrapping your arms around his middle. He is like that, your Charles, sometimes he just wants to be held to see reason. “Charlie,” you call out, voice soft as you give him a pleading look, “why don’t you tell me what this is about, hm?”

You think he’s going to finally give in for a moment, but then he just gives you a blank stare. “I don’t want to talk,” he grunts, pulling you flush against him by the hands he has on your waist. His lips are on your neck faster than you can say anything, working his way towards your collarbones. The faint whimpers that come out of your lips bring a small smile to his lips knowing that he’s the one causing them, not Lando or any other guy.

“Charles,” you gasp, your fingers tangling in his hair as his lips trail along your skin. Despite the confusion and frustration swirling within you, you can't deny the way his touch ignites a fire deep within you, consuming your thoughts and leaving you breathless with desire. But as much as you crave his touch, you know that there are unresolved issues between you, issues that need to be addressed before you can fully give yourself to him in this moment. “Charlie,” you repeat, your voice barely above a whisper as you gently push against his chest, urging him to stop. “Stop, we need to talk about this.”

“Talk about what?” He asks, all breathy and with a wild look in his eyes. You can see that he’s trying to hold himself back, but at the same time his hands keep moving on your body in a way that makes you want to let him lose control and perhaps even join him. He successfully ignores your attempts at pushing him away, sliding his hands down on your body to grab the hem of your dress, clenching the material in his hand while dragging it upwards on your thighs until he reaches the soft skin of your stomach. “I have a thing in mind which might help me feel better.” Unable to take your eyes off of him, you take a stuttered breath as you watch him slowly get down on his knees, his lips pressing kisses starting form your sternum continuing down your body over your dress until you feel his lips on the exposed skin of your stomach. His kisses stop once he’s met with the top lining of your underwear, looking at you with a mischevious glint in his eyes as he nips at the nimble lace adorning the top. You call out his name in a weak whimper – though it is not clear to you, nor him, whether you’re asking him to stop or go on. Charles decides to go with the latter. “You know what to say if you want me to stop.”

You don’t really need his reminder, you realise, but it is a welcome one. Your cheeks blush even further when you feel his gaze on you as he lowers his face towards your core, leaving a sweet kiss onto your clit through the fabric of your thong. Suddenly, you want nothing more than to just rip to whole thing apart so there is nothing separating you from him, but you know the game, and you especially know that the ending is sweeter than what you could ever imagine at that moment. And so you wait – you wait until he eventually makes his move and gives your slit a generous lick through the fabric. Watching you is equal parts thrilling and painful, mainly because he wants to drag out his teasing as long as possible just to see you falling apart for him. It’s second nature to you, the way your hand threads through his hair to move him the way you want to, but it is of course not an option because it’s Charles who is in charge.

He makes this known by the way he pulls away, ignoring the way your hands scramble to guide him back to where you want him to be. He nips at the skin of your thigh in a warning manner, pulling a whine from your lips as he fixes you with a look, “You’re not in control tonight, mon bijou, I’ll stop if you try to take over. You got that?” It’s sobering to see him take control in such a way, you sweet little Charles. Usually, he has no problem just laying back and letting you take all the control, or even just making you believe you do. But now? With the way he’s looking at you with such hunger? You know you’d be soaking through your underwear if you weren’t so wet for him already. All you can do is offer him a meek nod, with your lips hanging open in shock, but he is not satisfied with your answer. No, he needs to hear you say the words. So, being the initiative person that he his, he tips at your skin again, this time earning himself a whimper along a grumble about how he’s being unreasonable. He isn’t, but that’s a topic to discuss another time, he decides. “I said, you got that?”

“Yes! Fine, yes!” You whine, grabbing your dress even tighter with your fist that isn’t buried in his hair, “Please just make me come.”

“See?” He asks, flashing you a sweet smile as he lowers his face back onto where you need him the most, “It wasn’t that hard now, is it?” The grumble about how he’s about to be the hard one, makes him chuckle to himself, the rumbling from it making you moan his name as he finally gives you what you want. His tongue works fast as he laps on the wetness through your underwear, soaking the material even more without a care in the world. If you weren’t wet before, you’re sure you’re definitely wet as he drags his tongue through your slit and back onto your clit to suck it through the fabric, causing you to let out a string of moans, each getting considerably louder as he works on your cunt.

The breath is knocked out of your lungs as the moments pass, as you become closer and closer to your impending release. You don’t even notice the fact that you’ve started to move your hips to match the rythym of his tongue, seeking something more to make you tip over the edge. You’re also very aware of the fact that Charles is letting you what you want to do, and though you’re scared out of you midn that he’ll stop like he threatened to do before, the little nod he gives you when you give him a pleading look assures you that he also wants you to come undone on his face.

Or so you’ve thought.

Because he knows your body so well that jus as you’re about to come he pulls back, leaving you high and dry, and even has the nerve to chuckle when he hears his name coming out of your mouth in a high pitched whine. You’re so lost in the moment that you almost miss the way he gently grabs your hands and removes them from his hair, pinning them above you and pushing you against the wall. “Why?” You whine, lips pushed out in a pout as your voice gets gradually whinier, “I was so close, Charles.”

“Oh, baby,” he cooes, “I know you were, I could feel it too.” He starts peppering your feverish skin with kisses, as if to say sorry for leaving you on the brink of an orgasm, and you find yourself arching your neck to expose more of your skin to his skillfull lips. You should stop him, some part of you screams to you in your head, because with the way he’s disguising the fact that he’s marking you with hickeys, but you don’t care at that moment. Your every breath and moan seem to motivate him to work faster, and harder, and when he eventually pulls back to leave a bruising kiss on your lips. A smirk finds its way onto his lips as he gives you an eyeing down, taking in how breathless you look. “Don’t worry, mon bijou, I’ll fuck you now, okay?”

You don’t even realise the nod you give him, too lost in his eyes to put words together to form a proper sentence. He’s gentle with you as he lets go of your hands and positions you the way he wants. With one of your legs wrapped around his hip he has better access to your soaked underwear, his fingers working quickly to pulling it aside. You don’t know when he managed to get himself free from his pants and underwear, but that doesn’t stop you from letting out a loud moan when you feel the tip of his cock circling your clit. “Please, please, please,” your voice cracks as you frantically beg him to do something more. You’d love nothing more than to scold him for the way he shushes you condescendingly, but any complaint you had evaporates when you feel him nudge your entrance. “Please,” you breathe out again, giving him pleading looks as you try to pull him closer somehow, “You promised me you’d fuck me.”

That manages to pull out a beathy chuckle for him, and as if he’s trying to console you, you feel his fingers gently caressing the skin of your hip. “Why don’t you do it yourself, hm?” A grin widens on his lips when you give him a look of confusion, and he leads one of your hands between your bodies for you to wrap it around his cock. “You want me inside you, right?” He rewards your tentative nod with a series of kisses down the column of your throat, “Come on then,” he mumbles into your skin, “put it in, pretty girl.” Exhaling a shaky breath, you keep your eyes on him as you guide him through your entrance. A gasp is torn from your lips when you feel his tip entering you, the initial stretch being more overwhelming because of the fact that you’re standing up. But Charles is quick to soothe you with his kisses down your neck, letting you control the rhythym and how further he can move inside you at first. With your hand making its way down to his hip, pressing him close to you, he quickly gets the message that you’re ready for him. “You’re ready?” He double-checks, raising his head to fix his eyes to yours.

“I swear to god if you don’t fuck me right now–” Your words are interrupted when you feel him move his hips back, just enough to have his tip inside you, and then he snaps his hips forward to thrust back in, making your breath hitch at the back of your throat. It doesn’t take very long for you to become a moaning mess, in fact, you’re more than ready to fall apart for him then and there, but you know he won’t let you until he gets his point across.   

“Look at you, mon bijou,” Charles darkly chuckles, hips matching the rhythym of the song playing outside at the dance floor, “what would people think if they saw you being such a mess for me in a club’s bathroom?” And the whine you let out in response to his question nothing if pathethic, but you can’t find it in you to care because of how good he’s making you feel. “Yes?” He prompts you, mocking the whiny ‘Yes’, that leaves your mouth before you start begging him to let you come. But he doesn’t, because he knows you can hold it until he’s ready for you too, and he tells you just that.

“So good, Charlie, so good,” you can’t help the broken moans you let out as he fucks you to the brink of an orgasm. But that is not enough for him, no. He needs everyone to know the two of you are together now, needs to get out all of his pent up frustrations out.

So when the opportunity presents itself with Lando knocking on the door asking if you are okay? A knowing smirk find its way onto his lips, and you try to silently plead with him with your eyes. “You want to cum?” He whispers in your ear, his thrusts becoming faster. “Say my name if you want to come, baby.”

“Please–” You gasp, hands grabbing the shirt he’s wearing. It’s no avail even if you try to keep your voice down. Because when Charles finds a way to slither his hand down between your legs and starts rubbing your clit in firm circles? You know there is no way you can stay quiet through your orgasm. “Why?” You manage to get out, “God, Charles please.”

“Tell me who’s making you feel so good, pretty girl.” He encourages you, his rhythym now almost brutal as he tries his best to make you come for him. “Come on, tell me who you belong to.” He chuckles darkly when he sees you shaking your head. “It’s not Lando, it’s me. You hear that?” Uh-huh, is the only answer he receives in return, but he is of course not satisfied with it. So, he gently pinches the inside of your thigh. “Tell me who’s going to make you come, or I’ll stop.”

“N-no!” You exclaim, too overwhelmed to see that his threat is an empty one, because he would never actually do something like that to you. “Please, please don’t stop.”

“Come on,” he cooes, the sweet words he whispers into your skin making you more and more malleable to his request. “Say my name baby, let me hear you.”

“Charles,” your loud moan cuts the heavy air in the bathroom. Cheeks flushed, breath unorganised and with that wild look in your eyes? There’s nothing Charles wouldn’t do for you. With every move of his hips, you moan his name louder, eventually tipping over the edge as he feels you squeezing his cock so tight that he almost loses himself then and there.

That’s not to say he doesn’t, of course. Because just as you’re about done with your orgasm, you feel him come inside you, chanting your name alongside mine, mine mine. It takes a long time for the both of you to get back to your senses, but he’s extremely gentle with you as he helps you down and fixes your underwear. You find yourself snuggling up to him when he eventually takes you into his arms after fixing his own clothing, nuzzling your nose to his neck. “You know, I think I like the jealous side of you.” You mumble, leaving a few kisses across his jaw.

“Yeah?” He asks, a breathy chuckle leaving him as he cradles your face with both of his hands, his thumbs caressing the apples of your cheeks.

“Yeah.” You nod, giving him a small smile, “But I need you to take me home, please, I can feel your cum dripping down my leg.”

“Oh baby,” he coos, tutting as he slides his hands down your body to grab you by the waist, “we’re not going home, it would be rude to leave our friends by themselves. Don’t you think so?” The flabbergasted look that you give him makes another chuckle come from his lips as he slowly turns you towards the door. His lips find the junction between your neck and shoulder again as he announces, “We’re going to go back out there, and we’re going to dance. We wouldn’t want you to miss your song now, would we?”

And when he opens the bathroom door and you hear the first words to a Rihanna song you love? You know it’s going to be a long night ahead of you.