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imsilay · 8 months

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à la folie

“to insanity.”

summary: You shouldn’t have been such a tempting little thing, because he was a jealous man and would want to keep you all for himself :)

not proofread sorry cus i wrote this in 2 hours or something idk. :>

word count: 2.3k (please take this as an apology)

cr: Dwisesz

König was thankful, he really was. God blessed him the most beautiful little thing in world. You. And he knew once he had you within his hand there was no going back. At first he tried to resist the temptation. You were just so young and naive. A little adorable thing who get along with everyone. He knew it would be a problem. He knew he would want to lock you in his house, or preferably chained to his bed, and keep you away from those who’d want to steal you from him. He knew his jealousy was not something he could control even if he wanted. Even when he was a little child he’d hide all his toys so other kids wouldn’t steal or break them. He’d keep them to himself and only for his playing. Even at his age he’d keep his weapons to himself, taking care of them well and not letting anyone to touch but him.

So he knew once you were his he’d want to possess every inch of you. He’d want to own every inch, no, every cell of your being. It was just his nature, it was how he grew up. Thus, he couldn’t get you out of his mind since he first felt your hands on his skin. It was a simple touch, you just had to check his wound since there was no medic around to treat that mountain of a man. Your delicate fingers helping him strip from his gear and hold his shirt up. You couldn’t help but admire how broad he was. His abs looked so hard and toned you had to bite inside your cheeks to not test it yourself. You quickly let go of his shirt letting him hold it to his chest as you focused on the task in hand. You chewed the insides of your cheeks to not make any mistakes or anything that would make him know how his body effected you. Oh, he could see that. Your cheeks flushed bright red and your pupils dilated as you try to hide your face from his predatory gaze with letting your hair fall into the sides of your face. Did you really get nervous like that from just seeing his body? Was that why your hands were shaking as you cleaned and covered his wound? It was really adorable to see you stumble and get all bashful when you gave him some aspirin for his pain.

It wasn’t unusual for him to get ladies nervous around him. His height and his body was a great effect on getting everyone scared of him which lead them to be nervous, frightened. Involuntarily intimidating people was something he couldn’t help, but he wasn’t complaining though. It always made things easier for him when he didn’t wanted to talk with anyone. It wasn’t like he didn’t wanted to, his usual behavior was cocky and energetic but only with the people he was comfortable with. And he couldn’t stop thinking about you since. Because why you weren’t scared of him the slightest, yet you were biting your delicious-looking pouty lips whenever you glanced towards him, thinking he wouldn’t notice or care, making him wonder why you were interested in him and not afraid like everyone else. Although he had tried to ignore you, your little temptations, his efforts were in vain. You successfully captured his mind, filling it with you so much that he couldn’t think anything but you.

After a few months of eyeing and sometimes flirting, you managed to break him. One night when you were about to go back to your quarters for a good sleep after your night shift, a large hand grabbed your arms and pulled you into one of the rooms. Another hand covered your mouth when you were about to scream. The room was dark and the scent lingered in was familiar, but you couldn’t make anything of it. Until the man pinned your body against the door and pressed his forehead against yours. It wasn’t because you saw his face, it was because you felt the fabric against your skin. It was Colonel. You stopped squirming once you recognized him. He pressed his lips on your forehead through his mask as he let go of your mouth. “Are you tired, Maus?” he whispered, his lips still on your forehead as he spoke. His voice was hoarse. Your heart was beating like crazy and adrenaline still rushing through your veins since he pulled you in. “Y-yeah, the night was long.” you stuttered with your slightly trembling voice. It was strange that how casual the conversation was despite your position. One of his hands came to rest on the side of your neck as the other still held your arm firmly as if he was afraid you’d leave. “You can rest in my room, i have a nice mattress.” he mumbled as his thumb stroked your pulse, feeling it increase under his touch. And just to feel your reaction to his touch was making him so fucking hard. His intentions were obvious, and he had no worries to hide it anymore. You were the one who started it anyway. You remained silent but he didn’t needed to hear your answer anyway. He already knew what you wanted and he was more than happy to oblige you. His hand on your neck found his mask and pushed it up just enough to reveal his lips. When he pressed his lips against yours he felt like he found his heaven on earth. Oh, how much he craved these delicious-looking lips. His other hand finally let go of your arm and found your hips. He lifted you up with ease and made you wrap your legs around his waist. Your arms wrapped around his neck, desperately trying to pull him more into kiss. He pressed your back against the wall ince again but this time you could feel his hard cock between your legs. When your nails dug into his nape because how feverish he was with his kiss and not letting you take a breath, he groaned into your mouth. Mistaking -actually just ignoring your pathetic attempts to push him because he didn’t wanted to let go of your lips- your action with a sign to continue he pressed his thumb to your chin, making you open your mouth enough for him to discover your sweet mouth with his tongue. The kiss evolved into a sloppy and messy one as he didn’t stop the attacks of his tongue and the grinding of his hips. You were already soaking from having him kiss you breathless and feeling his cock against your aching cunt. So once he run out of breath and let go of your lips, strings of salvia was connecting between your lips. He looked down at you, his hood fell back onto his face and masked his face again. You didn’t knew how he managed to but he found the light switch and turned the lights on, with you still in his arms whining and grinding whenever his crotch pressed against yours. “Don’t be eager, Maus.” he murmured when you whined as he placed you onto his mattress. His bed was big and comfortable fitting the colonel, unlike yours. “You will get enough of me today.” he promised. The thickness in his accent made your stomach tense. He looked like a god as he got on his knees between your legs, his bulky figure forcing your legs to spread open. You looked so tasty when you were sprawled in his bed, but you’d look delicious if you were naked. So his hands did a quick job to remove your top, unfasten your bra and nearly tore your bottoms with how eager he got to see more of you.

And there you were, on display for him and solely him. He drank up the sight in front of him, carefully tracing his fingers on your skin, from your neck to lower. His gaze was so intense and he looked so hungry for you it made you feel like a prey before a predator. So you tried to bring your knees together when his fingers got dangerously close to your crotch. His brows frowned quickly, he clicked his tongue with disapproval. “Nein, Maus. Be a good girl f’me. Keep those pretty legs open.” he stared down at you until you obliged his wish -demand- and spread your legs once again. “Braves Mädchen.” he purred as his fingers continued their path and stopped on your wetness. His thick fingers spread your folds so he could see your throbbing clit and soaking hole. “So fucking pretty.” he hissed as he palmed his cock through the fabric of his cargo pants. You gasped when the pad of his thumb started to draw slow circles on your clit. Your soft mewls only making it harder for him to hold himself back. “Feels good, ja?” he cooed when you got even wetter and whiny. The sight of you squirming just with his fingers made his heart skip a beat. He wondered how messy you’d get when he buried himself balls deep inside you. Oh, he needed that. He needed to be in that pretty cunt, he needed to feel your tight walls milking him, clinging to him for his hot cum. But he was a man aware of his size and he knew it would only hurt you if he put it in now, despite you soaking his sheets with your slick. So he slid his middle finger into your tight hole. You gasped and moaned softly when your cunt greedily sucked his finger in and wrapped around the thick digit like a glove. He could feel your walls clench around his finger and it only mad his cock throb in his pants. So he hurried to add another finger and to his surprise it went in pretty easily. “Does this pussy wants me so much, hm? She opens up for me so easily.” he chuckled lightly when you whined and clenched around his fingers again in response. “Atta girl.” he cooed when he decided you were opened up enough for him. He withdrew his fingers from your wet pussy and pushed them into your mouth so you would whine too loudly to have them back in your greedy cunt. His free hand quickly unbuckled his belt and pulled down his pants just enough to sprung his cock free. And god he was big. He sucked a sharp breath when he finally freed himself from the confines of his pants. Your eyes were blown wide with how big he was, not just the length of it- it was also thick. You knew it’d hurt with just the look of it. König realized how you looked at his cock. It pampered his ego, since he was a cocky bastard, and made him chuckle lightly. “Don’t worry Maus, König will make it fit.” he pulled his fingers out of your mouth and with a devilish grin, hidden under his mask, he stoked his rock hard length before lining it to your opening and slowly sinking in. "Scheiße." he hissed when your tight hole struggled to take him in. You sobbed and told him it hurt but he didn’t pulled out. Instead of words he kissed your lips to reassure you and his thumb drew circles on your clit, trying to make you forget about the pain and focus to the pleasure. After a few kisses and massages your muscles relaxed and finally he could slide further into you. Your walls were still tight, wrapping around his cock like a glove but not too tight to resist him. And once he was fully inside he groaned into your lips and dropped his head to your neck. He waited until your soft sobs vanished and replaced with pleas for him to move.

You grounded your hips drawing a deep moan from both of you. “Want me to move?” he whispered into your neck, his strong arms caged you underneath him as he stayed balls deep inside you. “Y-yes please… Move.” and he did. His hips started its movements slowly, still not wanting to hurt you or cause any discomfort. But when you whimpered softly as your nails dug into his back, breaking the skin and drawing some blood something in his mind snapped. His thrusts became stronger, faster, harder. He started to rut into you restlessly until you’re a sobbing and blabbering mess. “Slow- oh my…” you tried to tell him to slow down but go faster. You seemed to can’t think properly with how good he was fucking you. “Such a good pussy.” he growled as he straightened his back and grabbed your hips to fuck you harder. He wanted to ruin you so you couldn’t even walk out of his room without his help. He wanted to make you so dependent on him that you couldn’t even talk with others without him being your side. Or even better, if he was lucky, you wouldn’t get out of his room until he’s with you. He knew his thoughts were caveman like but he couldn’t help it. Just thinking about having you to all himself made his head spin. It was your fault tho. He did his best to ignore you, knowing his nature, but you insisted so there you were, moaning his name as he drew orgasm after orgasm from you. And finally emptying his balls into your wet core and plugging his semen in with his fingers. He made sure to not waste any drop. And when you whine about how rough he was he’d kiss you all over, apologize for everything and promise to not do it again.

And later that night when you tried to get uo for work in the morning he wrapped his arms around your body and pulled you back into bed. “You have to rest.” he pressed tender kisses on your shoulders and promised he’d talk with your uppers himself. So you agreed to stay. But it didn’t stopped with one day. When you tried to leave he’d just get you confused then fuck you good in his bed, and the circle never broke after that day.

“Don’t worry, Maus. I will take good care of you. You’re mine now.”

a/n: please support me by reblogging, if you liked the content ofc <3 your comments also makes my day :* and i love to reply all of them :>

not me starting new series instead of finishing my previous works _φ(･_･

anyway hope you guys liked it!

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emo-batboy · 1 year

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I GIVE YOU a totally real list of viral photos of Battinson with his newly adopted son, Dick Grayson, that took Gotham by storm

Bruce crossing the street with a rosy-cheeked Dick Grayson dutifully holding his hand, Dick somehow found the camera and is waving to it excitedly (this is the first ever photo of them together)

Dick balanced perfectly at the top (and I mean on top) of a jungle gym while Bruce looks stressed out of his mind, pleading for Dick to get down before he hurts himself

Dick doing the exact same thing a month later but this time Bruce looks completely unfazed, sipping a coffee like it’s just a normal Tuesday (the photos are regularly paired together as a popular meme template in Gotham)

A selfie of Bruce and Dick making stupid faces at the camera that Dick turned into his class for one of those “About Me” posters you make in 3rd grade

Dick asleep in Bruce’s arms after a fancy dinner party, they’re wearing matching suits, Bruce is kissing his forehead :(

Bruce and Dick propped up against a wall, sharing a packet of fruit snacks in an empty room next to the charity gala they’re supposed to be attending

A plethora of photos of Dick climbing on top of Bruce at inopportune moments (à la this post)

Including a press conference.

And an investors’ meeting (bring your kid to work day)

Bruce standing outside of Gotham Elementary holding Dick in his arms with matching scowls on their faces. A mother and her son have been cropped out after the boy shoved Dick, and the mother refused to make him apologize. (It almost got physical. The mom has since quit the PTA.)

Bruce and Dick wearing matching sunglasses on the Gotham pier, Bruce is sipping another coffee while Dick eats from a comically large ice cream cone. A second photo shows Dick offering some to Bruce, which he accepts

Bruce retying Dick’s tie in the middle of another charity gala (for the children’s hospital)

Dick doing a cartwheel in the park while Bruce looks at him with the fondest look humanly possible

Bruce and Dick in a convenience store at 10pm (on a Friday) wearing matching oversized Nirvana shirts and pajama pants, it looks like they’re having a movie marathon (it’s Grey Ghost reruns <3)

pspspspsps @bruciemilf

#battinson #bruce wayne #the batman 2022 #batman #the batman #batman 2022 #batdad #batfamily #dick grayson #god they’re so cute #dick is so sweet and energetic #bruce is a good parent #pta mom bruce wayne #soft Bruce Wayne #give battinson a child 2k23 #gotham

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gutsby · 8 months

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Dead Ringer

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader

Summary: Weeks of separation and sexual frustration come to a head when Daryl pays you a visit in the middle of the night. Whether it's the product of your own sex-deprived subconscious or reality, you can't be sure—and you couldn't care less. Daryl is happy to fulfill the fantasy in any way that he can.

Warnings: NSFW (2.2k words of pure smut) Unprotected p-in-v, praise kink, daddy kink, breeding kink, somno, and a healthy dose of dirty talk à la dom!Daryl.

If you held on any longer you’d be seeing stars.

Chest heaving, toes curling, fingers tangled tight in a fistful of hair, you were on the cusp of your release and still scarcely breathing more than the man with his face buried between your thighs. Every lap of his tongue a gentle invitation, every moan laced with the sound of your name. A smirk, too, probably plastered on his face in satisfaction as he sensed you were close. It was relentless, as cruel and unkind a tongue-fucking as you’d ever received before, and yet, somehow so good you couldn’t help but beg for more.

Then, like clockwork, you jolted awake before climax—every fucking time.

Daryl had been gone a little more than a month, and you were starting to see him in your dreams on a near-nightly basis.

You’d wake to a set of soaked sheets and ruffled covers, hair in disarray, and find yourself searching frantically for any trace of him there, to no avail. The space between your legs left empty, the imprints of his hands on your hips little more than a figment of your imagination. You’d trail a touch down your body and swear he’d been kissing your skin just minutes ago, but no. It was nothing. He was out and about among the dead and you were here, in Alexandria, with nothing to show for your loneliness but a half empty bed and a head full of filthy thoughts.

“Damn you, Dixon,” you muttered before falling back on the mattress.

You’d lie awake for an hour or more, just counting your breaths and hoping sleep would find you sooner than another Daryl-shaped dream. But more often than not, the thoughts would win, and you’d be left with few options other than to grab the nearest pillow and shove it between your thighs. It didn’t do much to quiet your mind, but it certainly tricked part of it into thinking something was there, and eventually you’d drift off to sleep. By the third or fourth night of this, you’d grown accustomed to the routine—hardly stirring from your slumber as you reached for your stand-in Daryl and hoped the fantasy to follow would be good.

Seconds would give way to minutes, then minutes to hours, and somewhere in between came the comfort of sleep. You couldn’t tell when, or how, Daryl ever joined you there. But he always did.

All you knew was a touch on your skin in the still of darkness. Hands, as broad and calloused as they were careful, traveling the length of your body with a warmth bleeding from every fingertip. Always patient, always cool, always keen to pique your senses while he soaked in the sight of you and smiled. The thought alone sent the muscles in your legs clamping hard on that cushion, aching for relief. This was just a dream, you reminded yourself.

Fantasy man pressed a kiss to your stomach, and your eyes all but rolled back, squeezed shut in a medley of ecstasy and disbelief.

Just. a. fucking. dream.

When his lips moved back up your body, you thought you might cry. One kiss after another peppered gently down your neck, punctuated by the brush of his stubble, and you came undone, begging him to please, please let you cum this time, please.

There was a patience and an urgency together bound tight in his fingers, a kind of quiet desperation guiding them under the sheets and all over your body—almost hesitant to pry but eager to please. He slipped your shorts down your legs and your panties even faster. Slotted himself comfortably between your legs and pressed what felt a whole hell of a lot like his erection against your core. You whimpered. Without thinking, you bucked your hips against his and moaned.

And, if you hadn’t known any better, you could’ve sworn you heard a chuckle just above you. You disregarded it and continued to grind, shamelessly, for whatever modicum of relief you could get. With your eyes shuttered closed and your mouth hanging open, hips moving feverishly over the mound in Daryl’s jeans, you were sure you looked nothing short of pornographic in the moment. But you didn’t care, wouldn’t know, couldn’t even see the man in front of you, and you suspected this dream would be over long before you could, so you kept on moving.

Presently, your motions were stalled by a set of hands fumbling between your bodies, what appeared to be an attempt to unbuckle a belt and unzip a pair of jeans. Both items were discarded in a moment, so fast you hardly knew what to think, then—fuck—the thick, throbbing outline of his length pressed flush against your entrance.

You made one, final telepathic plea. Heels digging deep in his back and warmth threatening to spill down his member, you hoped, you begged, you pleaded for release—almost whined with a hunger you didn’t think was possible and pulled him in as close as you could before he’d breach the last precious inches between you. His lips caught yours, and you kissed him back as fervid and frantic as you felt. You were hot, you were sensitive, practically drenched in sweat, and—

“So fucking wet,” Daryl groaned in your ear.

You froze in your place. No sooner had the realization washed over you and your eyes snapped open that Daryl was pushing himself inside. A familiar face contorting in pleasure was the first thing to grace your vision and the only one to ground you to that bed, save for a mild sting between your legs. You glanced between his expression and the sight below, Daryl’s hips rolling softly into yours, and suddenly, it struck you that this wasn’t the work of your imagination at all. There was a living, breathing man above you with the slightest of smiles tugging at the corners of his lips. It was Daryl.

He continued without a hitch, only slowing his pace to brush the hair from your face.

“That’s my girl.” Even in the dark you could tell he was beaming, eyes drinking you in.

You bounced up and down with the force of each thrust and found yourself ogling Daryl half-dumbstruck, half-cockdrunk. Searching for the words in the thick of this haze but coming up short, you sucked in a breath and settled on one simple, subtle, ‘Fuck me.’

Daryl’s face broke into a grin then, still straining with his motions below but managing to lower himself closer to you. Then reaching behind your head to thread his fingers through your hair and make you meet him eye-to-eye, he stopped. Eased himself out.

“What’s’at?” Daryl hummed as though he hadn’t heard.

You whined at the sudden loss of contact, rutting your hips in desperation. Daryl retreated even further, tightening the hold in your hair.

“Tell Daddy what you want,” he spoke through gritted teeth. Then, when you whimpered, pulled you even closer, “C’mon now, use your big girl words.”

“I want you to fuck me.”

“Fuck you how?”

“Fuck me hard...a-and deep. Please.” You sounded pathetic.

Soaking the sheets with your arousal and begging for more. Daryl couldn’t have been fucking you more than a couple minutes and you were already on the brink of orgasm. After a week’s worth of edging and wildly unsuccessful pillow humping, you couldn’t help it. You sank your fingernails into the flesh of his arms and gave him one more pleading look.

But Daryl wasn’t having it. Opted instead for a shit-eating grin and a hand around his cock, dragging his member up the length of your slit and watching you squirm.

“Daryl, please.”

“Daryl what?” he snapped, pressing the head of his dick firm against your clit.

“Make me cum. Make me yours,” you begged.

With his free hand, Daryl cupped your face and made you look at him. Daryl loved to make you look.

“Yeah?” he sneered, “Gonna let Daddy cum inside?”

“Yes.”

You felt Daryl’s tip circling your entrance now, pressing between the folds and teasing you there.

“Wanna make me a Daddy?”

“Yes.”

As it was, he probably could’ve asked whether you wanted to be fed to a horde of walkers and you’d answer in the affirmative. Daryl was no stranger to the skin flushing, mind-numbing sort of frenzy that enveloped you now, and he was savoring every minute of it.

“You’ve been doin’ so good without me here, dunno if I believe you.” Taking his damn sweet time before he fed you another inch. Rolling his thumb over your bottom lip.

“I need you, Daryl. I-I’ve missed you so fucking much,” you spluttered, close to tears.

Daryl sank his finger in your mouth, fully, and waited for your lips to close around him.

“How much?”

But just as you started to answer, Daryl drove his cock deep inside you, bottoming out in a single thrust. You could scarcely let a moan slip before he pulled back and slammed into you again, and again, and again. Hurrying now, as if to make up for lost time, he fucked you fast and senseless—planting a hand on either side of your head and taking you how he needed. What little you could hear above the buzz in your ears was the sound of his balls slapping your ass and the grunts that accompanied it, hot on your skin and only getting louder.

“Tell me how ya want it,” Daryl panted in your ear, “Tell me how much you missed this cock.”

You were vacillating somewhere between Cloud 9 and your fifteenth almost-orgasm of the week, gripping his member and every last one of his ruthless thrusts like a vice, but you still managed to answer him, weakly, that you missed it more than anything.

Daryl pounded even harder and started to raise one of your legs to get you at another angle. Would’ve paid any sum of money to hear the sound you made at that new sensation a million times over.

“Daryl, I—” Your voice broke off in a moan when he nudged your leg a little higher.

Much to your surprise Daryl slowed his motions then, brow furrowing in concentration as he tried like hell to hit that spot—and keep hitting it, again and again. Knees to your chest and eyes practically glazed over in pleasure, you were scarcely more aware of Daryl kissing you on the forehead than you were of him reaching between your legs and easing a finger between your folds.

You were eye to eye again, short and ragged breaths tearing through your lungs as you both sensed you were close. This time, Daryl’s expression had softened considerably, almost as though he were watching you for the first time all over again.

“You okay?” He nudged your nose with his.

You nodded, breathlessly, and couldn’t seem to conjure up a more coherent response.

Daryl just hummed in understanding and ran a touch over your cheek. Swept a couple stray strands of hair away like he did before, only much gentler this time. When his other hand reached your bundle of nerves and your body tensed with pleasure, he helped brace your legs against his chest and take him even deeper. He’d nod and say how good you were doing, how nice you felt, how perfectly you fit his cock and stretched around him. If you whimpered again, he’d let you lean into the feeling and keep his eyes locked on yours so that you knew he was right there with you. How he managed to hold your gaze, stroke your face, and keep apace with that impossibly languid cadence of his hips was beyond your comprehension. All you knew and all you felt was him.

When Daryl found your lips again, you were practically trembling under his touch.

“Tha’s my girl,” he murmured between kisses, “Tha’s my good girl.”

Your walls clenched at his words, and you both moaned. You didn’t have to exchange another syllable from there, just folding into Daryl’s arms and taking him closer in your own. Squeezing him to you. You moved a little faster as the knot in your stomach tightened, and he rutted his hips even harder.

Daryl panted your name while you moaned his, and each of you kept your eyes on the other like an instant apart might take you away altogether. Another few seconds of him groaning and grinding and pumping inside you and you felt yourself coming apart. Waves of a new sensation struck your core that you nearly cried with pleasure, contracted around Daryl’s cock and felt him spilling inside you just moments later. It all seemed like an eternity and a half and still not long enough to have him like this, shaking and sweating above you.

When you rode out your highs and slowly sank back to Earth, your gaze stayed glued on him. Daryl was drained, barely able to hold himself up and still somehow smiling at you. You couldn’t tell him then—probably wouldn’t tell him ever—but the longer you stared, the greater relief you felt, realizing, at last, that this wasn’t just a dream.

#daryl dixon #daryl x reader #daryl dixon smut #daryl dixon imagine #smut #twd daryl #twd fanfiction #the walking dead #daryl dixon one shot #twd imagine

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norrisleclercf1 · 11 months

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Forever Mine

Pairing: Mafia!Charles x Reader

Rating: R

Words: 2.6K

Warnings: Charles gives us whiplash with his emotions, hinted of kidnapping, smut, nothing crazy descriptive, p in v, drugging, Charles thinks about killing so no one else can have you

Requested: Yes/No

Request: Could you do mafia Charles but he’s like obsessed with reader and maybe kidnaps her or mafia dark obsessed ex Charles who finally found her after reader ran from him?

Synopsis: You had no idea who your boyfriend is

A/N: I did not edit this because I’m exhausted and just didn’t feel like doing it

The buzzing on the nightstand has Charles smacking his phone. Grumbling in annoyance, he pats around for his phone; grabbing it, he squints at it.

3:12 am

"Qui que ce soit, il a intérêt à mourir." Charles snarls, hitting the green button, pressing the phone to his ear. (Whoever this is, better be dying)

Charles fully expects it to be one of his men, instead a sob rattles his chest as your voice fills the other end. "Can you please come and get me?" Words catching as you hiccup on a sob.

He doesn't think twice as he jumps out of bed, hissing as the stitches on his wound stretch and burn. Ripping up his pants he keeps his phone pressed between his ear and shoulder.

"Que s'est-il passé ? Quelqu'un vous a-t-il touché ? Je vais les jeter à la mer avec les autres." Charles hears sniffles, booming music, and people probably drunk laugh around you. (What happened? Did someone touch you? I'm going to throw them in the sea with the others)

"English, Charles." You whimper, yelping when a body crashes into you. He swears red filled his eyesight when he hears you whimper, rushing down the stairs. Ignoring the private doctor that just finished stitching him up. "I'm sorry Mon monde. Where are you?" Heading straight for his signature Ferrari.

"I don't know, some club." He tries very hard not to snap at you. How could you go out? Without telling him? You're crying, clearly terrified in his own fucking city. "Y/n, listen to me. What do you see, anything familiar?" Voice calm, but that deadly calm that'd seen grown men cry.

"Um, oh I see the port. Your yacht I can see it." Calming slightly as you move away from the club towards the comfort of something familiar. "Go there, some of my me-" He stops knowing that you know nothing about his life. "Some people I know and trust are there. I'll be there in 5 minutes." He hangs up.

"You're 20 minutes away." You whisper, staring at your phone confused. Now that you knew where you were, you stumble your way to the gorgeous yacht owned by your boyfriend. "Who are you?" A deep pissed off voice has you jumping, looking up at a giant man tattooed and buff.

"Charles, he said to come here and wait for him." You whisper, clutching your phone to your chest. "Listen, if you're one of his who-" He stops talking when a shrill ringing sounds. Grabbing his phone he answers it.

You watch as color drains from his face, eyes wide as he stares at you. "Yes sir, she's here. Yes, sir. I apologize sir." Hanging the phone up the guy clears his throat, sliding sideways. "Come in." Voice softer as he helps you step onto the deck.

No one talks to you, the sound of a roaring engine has the 3 men around your straighten up. "Where is she?" The accent is like ice filling your veins. He's furious. "She's on the deck with the others." The scary guy from earlier answers.

Thundering feet has you lifting your head, looking right at Charles. "What the fuck were you think?" Mouth open, Charles stops you. "No, you know what? You weren't fucking thinking! Do you have any idea the type of men or women that live here? What'd they do to you? DO YOU?" Curling in on yourself, vision blurs from the tears pooling.

He's never yelled at you like this. A harsh tone, a look, he refuses to even touch you without your permission. So, to have him snap like this has you....scared.

"You're scaring me." Hoarse, that's what your throat is after all the crying you've done. Something in Charles, breaks. You're the one person he's never wanted to scare you. And here he was, showing that one side he's never wanted to show.

Dropping to his knees, he gathers you in his arms. Body shaking, Charles whispers secret apologies, hands running all over your body. "I'm sorry, fuck. I'm so sorry." Nose burying in your neck, smelling the slight hints of sweat, his body wash, and alcohol.

"I didn't do anything wrong, why are you yelling at me." If that didn't sound like such a childish excuse, nothing will. To him you did something wrong, went into his city without telling him. "You scared me, do you know what type of people live here? They're not good people." He whispers, leaving the words I'm not good on his tongue.

Charles chose to leave you in the dark about his secret life. All you knew is that, he has money, people respect him, his name carries some type of power. You've questioned it once, Charles snapped and said for you to never ask him again.

It's a constant tension between you two.

"Come on, we're going home." An edge to his tone, trying to keep that shadow in him tied down. "Just take me to my place." Charles was scaring you more and more by the minute. This was not the man you love.

The sweet giggles, soft touches. How his voice warms you, treats you like his queen. This wasn't the man before, it's a shell of him.

"No, we're going to my place. End of discussion." He gathers you up, standing as he carries you off the boat. Face hidden in his chest, your heart thunders in your throat. You want to argue more, but your scared that it might set him off. "Okay."

Bright lights flash, a beep and you're placed in the black leather interior of his Ferrari. Clicking the door closed, he might as well slammed it with the echoing silence of the car. Even with how scared you are, you can't help but admire his beauty.

The way he slides into the car, his hair pushed in different directions. So enraptured with him, you miss the wincing he does as he sits in the car. Purring of the engine is the only sound between the two of you. It's like he's daring you to say the first words, to submit and explain what you were doing.

He wins.

"It was a friends party." White knuckling the steering wheel he remains quiet, leaving you to further explain. "It got out of hand, got scared. I called you. Should've called Pierre instead." The last end of the sentence a whisper.

Smoke and tires screech, flinging you forward a scream is ripped from your mouth. "What the fuck!" You gasp, chest hurting from the seatbelt that dug into your chest . "Call him." Whipping your head to the side, mouth open in shock.

"What?" Confused by his action. "Call him. You wanted Pierre more than your boyfriend. Call him, see if he's willing to come here and pick your ass up on the side of the road." His voice held no anger, nothing. Utterly emotionless.

"Charles, are you seriously kicking me out of your car?" This sobered you up quickly, the words sucking it right out of you. "I don't know, am I?" The fucker was challenging you, testing you almost.

"I'm drunk and tired, are you really going to holds my words against me?" Forcing yourself to look small. It's a reflex now. Whenever Charles got mad, your body reacted and would submit while your mouth raged to fight back.

His whole demeanor overpowered yours. A tiger and it's prey, the way his eyes bored into you. Waiting to pounce or see if you run.

"Yes, I will. Especially when the woman I fucking love, wishes she called my best friend than me." If you could, you'd slap the shit out of him. Charles is an enigma if you knew how he'd react you'd do it. He was constantly changing, new sides and reactions each time you did something. One thing never changed though.

His jealously.

It's a raging storm, once caught your never free. "Charles, take me home. Please." A soft beg, you just wanted to go home, didn't matter if it was his or yours. The engine purrs back to life, seats shaking softly as he pulls back into the road.

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

"We're here." He startles you, it's the first thing he says to you after his little stunt on the road. You don't answer him, flinging the door open. Heels click on the pebbled pavement that leads to the front door.

How he owns a mansion in Monaco is beyond you, living in the outskirts of the city.

The door slams, rattling the car an Charles with it. "Putain de salope, tu devrais t'enchaîner dans la cave." The hiss of French makes your ears burn. He knew you didn't speak it, and here he was speaking it. "Fucking English, Charles! You know I don't understand!" You hollar slamming the front door open. (Fucking bitch, should chain you up in the basement.)

Unlocked. Why the hell is such a fancy house left unlocked without a care in the world. As quickly the thought comes it leaves, hands wrapping in your hair yanking you into a chest.

"Listen here," Charles voice deep, like thunder whispers in your ear. "I will speak the language I want. Now, stop being a fucking brat and go take a shower." His hand slips out, leaving a sting in your scalp that has you seething.

Stomping up the stairs, Charles storms to his office slamming the door. Heavy breaths pass his lips, trying to calm himself down not wanting to do something drastic.

"Sir?" 3 taps on the door has Charles gruffing out a 'come in'. The doctor from earlier steps in, asking how his wound is. Charles furious with you, forgot about opening his wound slightly opening when he rushed to your side.

"It's fine, get everyone out of the house. Now. I need to do something what I've been putting off." Nodding, the doctor slips out of the door. The soft taps of feet against the marble floor and echoing click of the door lets Charles know, everyone has left.

He makes his way through the empty, cold house following the sound of running water. He doesn't head straight to the bathroom, going to his liquor cabinet. Pouring himself some whiskey he sips on it, watching the outline of your body in the foggy mirror.

"Tu aimes faire croire que tu as le contrôle, je vais te prouver que tu as tort." Charles sighs moving to the bathroom, you knew he was here. The air growing stiff the feeling of eyes on your body let you know that Charles was the one watching you. (You like to act you're in control, how wrong I will be proving you)

"Can I join." It was meant to be a question, with him though he was going to join you wither you wanted him to or not. Sitting his glass down, he undresses not caring if you see his wound or not. A gush of cold air hits your back, pushing you further into the hot water.

Jumping when icy fingers touch you, they quickly remove themselves from your hip. "Fuck.....I've fucked up haven't I?" You hate the way his voice sounds so broken, even worse the way your heart aches hearing it. "Do you have any idea how worried I was? What it's like getting that call in the middle of the night? It terrified me." He whispers.

You hate yourself for turning around, for seeing the way his head is down. The utter disgust deep inside you for wrapping your arms around his neck pulling both your naked bodies close.

"Just kiss me." He wastes no time granting your wish, lips soft press against yours. Hands trailing over your back, fingers moving around your curves. His tongue gently prying your lips open, slipping past he doesn't speed anything up.

He takes his time, remembering every inch of your body. He knew after tonight you'd never remember him the same nor let him touch you. Tonight he was going to relish in this.

"Je t'aime." Air catches in his throat, hearing those soft french words pass your lips. Looking in your eyes, it's like your soul is ripped open showing him the love, trust, hopefulness. "Je t'aime." He repeats, nudging your legs open, stepping between them.

He takes your air, sinking into him your lips move across one another. This time it's not so soft, he's kissing you like it's the last time. Like he's a dying man gasping for air.

"Charles." You whimper feeling him rub against you, he can't help the smirk that grows against your lips. "What is it love?" Voice teasing as he thrusts his hips up forward again you drop your mouth open.

"Take me to bed." Hands move to your ass, lifting you up legs wrap around his waist as he lays kisses over your chest. "Always." Stepping out of the shower the two leaving a trail from the shower to the bed.

Giggling as Charles drops you on the bed, you finally take notice of the fresh wound. "What happened?" Body shrinking in on itself when your fingers ghost over the stitches. "Work injury, no need to worry. It'll heal." Covering your naked body with his, he nips at your breast.

"Mhgm." Unable to help the sound that passes your lips, as his lips warp around your tit the other being twisting and pulled between his pointer and forefinger. "I love you, you know that right?" A lick to your nipple as his eyes bore into yours.

"I know that." His fingers move under your knees lifting them up as he spreads them, making sure he doesn't hurt you. "Ready?" He asks, lining himself up, you nod. "Always." You repeat pulling a smile out of him.

Slowly he slides in, watching the way you swallow him. "Shit." You gasp, the way he stretches you always feel so damn good. Charles says nothing as he takes deep breaths through his nose you wrap your legs around his waist.

Moving his hips back and forth, he can't help but watch the way your face contorts with pleasure letting yourself go completely. How easy it'd be to just take the life out of you right here and now.

End his suffering, the end the constant terror gripping him that someone will take you from him. He refuses to let anyone else own you, to make you moan, see your body like this, anything. He'd kill you before anyone could have you.

"Charles, fuck right there." Biting your lip, Charles moves deeper keeping the same slow torturous pace as he angles his hips to hit that one spot that makes you see stars. "Right here? Hm?" Charles asks moving his hips faster which has you gapsing.

"Fuck yes, right there." Fingers digging into his back as you drag them down leaving your mark on him, it hates how he wants it to hurt to remind him of the pain he's going to be causing you.

The two of you lose yourself in each other chasing your own highs. "I...I'm fuck." Legs tighten on his waist locking him in as you come Charles pumping into you a couple more times before he shudders placing his weight on top of you.

"You'll love me forever, right?" Charles's question shocks you out of your euphoric high. "What?" You can't help the little giggle that escapes you. It dies fast when you see the harsh stare of your boyfriend.

"Of course, Charles." You sit up sliding out from under him. "You're the love of my life. I'm never leaving you." He nods, but hands move around reaching into his nightstand he nods. "I don't believe you." He whispers hand wrapping around what he was looking for.

"Charles, how could you say that? I love you, I will always lo-" Eyes widen feeling a little prick in your neck, Charles staring at you no emotion displayed. "You can say it all you want, but this is the only way. Only way I can keep you. You're either mine, or no one's." He whispers watching you fall back into the pillows.

"The only way, only way."

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anto-pops · 5 months

Text

Heart of Vipers - Ominis Gaunt x Female!Reader

Summary: After an ill-fated confrontation with Ominis' family, you come to learn that they want you for themselves. More specifically, they want your abilities for themselves. Ominis is less than pleased with the revelation and returns home with the intention of proving that the only person you belong to is him.

Alternatively summarized as Dominis turning into a possessive alpha male in the wake of his family's sudden interest in you.

Word Count: 9.3k

Warnings: 18+, aged up characters, minor depictions of violence, explicit sexual content, rough/possessive sex à la Dominis

Descriptions of Marvolo and Aleister Gaunt heavily credited to legacyshenanigans

Full fic can be found here on Ao3 (as always with more eclectic tags)

This was a bad idea. Truly one of the worst ones you had come up with in recent times– which was saying something when you stopped to consider all the stupid shit you’d gotten yourself into since starting at Hogwarts. But this was a decision born of desperation, and one that you adamantly refused to go back on.

Not that you could, realistically. You were already here.

The Gaunt Estate was massive. It was an imposing structure, shrouded in a perpetual darkness that seemed to kill off even the tiniest slivers of light, and you’d noted the distinctly foul scent of dark magic that encased the mansion from roughly a mile away. There were no Floo Flames to utilize for travel, so you’d been forced to apparate to Great Hangleton and walk the remaining six miles to reach your destination. This was your first time setting foot anywhere near Ominis’ childhood home, and the threat of splinching yourself by apparating to an unfamiliar location was a very legitimate concern.

You almost wished you’d taken the gamble, if only to spare yourself the harrowing journey on foot.

Ominis had to already be inside the manor, having left long before you decided you would follow him to essentially eavesdrop on his meeting with his family. You had never seen him so agitated in the hours leading up to his departure, and it was entirely due to the letter he’d received from his father. What it had said, you didn’t know, but you knew Ominis well enough to figure out that it wasn’t anything good. His entire demeanor had changed upon reading the apparent summons, but he wouldn’t tell you a lick of what it was about. He’d promised to return home as soon as he was able and left without so much as a goodbye kiss.

The memory only reinforced the fact that this was a really bad idea. What the hell were you thinking?

Now that you were actually here, you had no clue how to go about your poorly thought out plan. Going inside had always been the goal, but now that you were face to face with the blood-chilling building, you found yourself hesitating. Something told you that getting out would be a lot harder than getting in. You didn’t even know where Ominis could be, especially if the interior was as gargantuan as the exterior. Getting lost– or Merlin forbid, caught and tortured– seemed like the most plausible outcome.

It was as the saying went; curiosity killed the cat. You seriously hoped you wouldn’t end up dead as a result of your inquisitiveness.

Forcing one foot in front of the other, you started down the gravel path towards the arched double doors with your wand in hand. Your anxiety was like a physical entity hiding within your chest, but you smothered it beneath the overwhelming desire to ensure that Ominis was okay. While you knew he could handle himself, his family’s reputation preceded them, and you’d feared the worst earlier when you had borne witness to his expression shifting into something far more sinister than you were accustomed to.

You cast a disillusionment charm for extra measure before giving the handle a testing twist, relieved to find that the door was unlocked. It wouldn’t surprise you if there were other safeguards in place that you were unaware of, but pressing on despite that unknown possibility was a risk you were willing to take. You opened the door a crack– just enough for you to squeeze through before quickly shutting it behind you– and you were instantly encased in suffocating darkness.

The windows that lined the walls were evidently just for show.

It smelled distinctly old inside, as though there had never been a time when the mansion wasn’t inhabited. The wooden columns that lined the entryway were cracked and worn, stretching all the way towards the vaulted ceilings before disappearing into the inky shadows high above. There was a striking amount of antique looking decor that lined the walls; from suits of armor, to ornate vases perched atop mahogany tables. Straight across from the front door was a giant portrait of what could only be the Gaunt family.

Ominis was nowhere to be found in it.

The sound of distant, unintelligible voices echoed throughout the vast foyer from somewhere deeper in the house, drawing your attention and making the hair on the back of your neck stand on end. Your eyes scanned the room once more before you were furtively moving further into the room in the direction of the noise.

Following the sound of the voices brought you to a giant oak doorway– a mere fraction of the size of the main entrance, but still obscenely large. From within you could hear a man you didn’t recognize, his throaty timbre one that seemed to command attention, and you couldn’t suppress the shiver that danced down your spine. Nothing about his tone sounded pleasant.

“It’s been put off long enough,” you heard the man say as you sidled up directly against the door, careful not to lean on it too much and risk shoving it open. “We entertained your rebelliousness while you were at school, but Apollonia has anticipated this union for years now. It will happen. Whether you’re a willing participant, however, is up to you.”

“You already know my stance on the matter.” Ominis. “I’d sooner dig my own grave before I let you marry me off to that deplorable woman. She’s psychotic–”

“A non-issue,” interjected the older voice.

“Perhaps it’s irrelevant to you, but not to me,” Ominis snapped. You hardly recognized the threatening lilt in his voice; he sounded thoroughly fed up with the discussion, and you briefly wondered how long he’d been going at it with the unknown man. “She’s utterly wicked. Moreover she’s family. Have you forgotten my opposition to these incestuous relations you continue to shove down my throat?”

At this point, you were almost positive the deeper voice belonged to Ominis’ father. You knew next to nothing about the man, other than the fact that Ominis loathed him with his entire being. Before you could delve further into your thoughts, a distinctly feminine voice filtered through the thin slit in the doorway, sounding colder than ice.

“Aleister, give it a rest. If he wants to be dragged to the altar instead of walking down it, then so be it.”

Ominis’ laugh was crass and devoid of any genuine humor, and you could practically hear the sneer in his rebuttal. “Bold of you to assume I’ll let myself be dragged anywhere. Try it and see what happens.”

“I just don’t understand why you’re so opposed to this,” the woman continued as though he hadn’t even spoken. “You never used to fight us to this extent– you’ve always known what was expected of you as a Gaunt. Does that girl from Hogwarts have anything to do with this?”

Your entire body went rigid at the mention of yourself, and a tense silence descended over the room. It was suddenly so quiet that you were certain you could hear a pin drop– but in this case the lack of sound allowed you to pick up on something shifting across the floorboards closer to you. You had barely glanced over your shoulder before you were jumping away from the door with your heart hammering in your chest.

The biggest snake you’d ever seen in your life was slithering across the floor, its iridescent scales somehow reflecting the nonexistent light within the hallway. Your eyes went wider than saucers as you stepped away as much as you could, silently backing yourself into the tiny alcove beside the doorway in a bid to remain undetected– because if there was one thing the wizarding world had taught you, it was that beasts of any kind were far more intelligent than they were given credit for. The snake’s long, forked tongue flicked out incessantly as it made its way towards the doors, but it stopped short of the entryway to pivot its massive head in your direction.

It was looking right at you.

Fuck.

Your body tensed in anticipation of the worst; maybe it was venomous and you’d die quickly, or maybe it was more inclined to strangle the life out of you before depositing your corpse in front of Ominis and his parents. The thought made your stomach churn, and your eyes flicked down to confirm that yes– the disillusionment charm was still working– but that didn’t seem to matter where the reptile was concerned, and you mentally chided yourself for ever having let your curiosity get the better of you.

The conversation on the other side of the door continued as your staring contest with the snake pressed on. “That girl is none of your concern. If you know what’s good for you, you’ll refrain from speaking to me about her.”

“Ominis,” Aleister admonished with a rough voice. “Don’t you dare speak to your mother that way. Such hostility for some witch we know nothing about– perhaps it’s time to rid you of her influence once and for all. She’s proving to be a greater distraction than I had anticipated.”

Your eyes stayed glued to the snake’s, but your blood ran cold.

“Over my dead body. If you so much as look at her–”

“That can be arranged. No son of mine will be consorting with some harlot of unknown blood purity. You’d be better off in the grave–”

“Aleister!” Ominis’ mother yelled, silencing the back and forth bickering instantaneously, and you found the willpower to shift your feet sideways so you could better make a break for the front door.

There was another flick of the creature’s tongue as it blatantly scented your presence, but it made no move to inch closer to you. While you were grateful to still be breathing, you were also deeply, irrevocably afraid, and you came to the resolute decision that it was time to get the hell out of there.

You moved out of the alcove slowly while maintaining what you deemed to be a safe enough distance from the snake, and all the while its thin, slitted pupils followed your movements. The blasted thing had an awareness to it that sent shivers down your spine, overwhelming you with the urge to run and get away, but vigilance was key. It wasn’t poised to strike, but that just made you even more nervous.

Why wasn’t it attacking you?

You adamantly refused to turn your back on the reptile, so you kept your front to it as you skirted the edge of the wall in the direction of the entrance. The discussion between Ominis and his parents was muffled now– their voices distinctly lower after his mother had cut off their argument with her biting tone– but you no longer cared to listen in. You craved safety, and nothing about the Gaunt household offered that.

As you came upon the final stretch of the hallway, the snake flicked out its tongue once more before it was turning around to begin slithering towards you, and the remnants of your bravery evaporated. Fear overtook you, and the disillusionment charm that had shrouded you in transparency fell away as you pivoted and bolted around the corner. A chill-inducing hiss echoed from down the corridor– the first real sound you’d heard the animal make– and it only served to propel you towards the exit even faster.

The gargantuan double-doors swam into view, and just as you were reaching out to curl your fingers around the handle, a strong arm was coiling around your waist and hauling you backwards with enough force to give you whiplash. A startled, pained yelp was expelled from your lungs as you were slammed into the wall beside the doors, and your hip connected painfully with a tiny side table that careened against the floor. The vase that had been perched atop it shattered loudly, the ceramic pieces scattering across the tile, but you barely got the chance to gauge the extent of the damage before an unfamiliar face was blocking your sight.

“Well well well, just look at what the cat dragged in. Get lost on your way home, doll?”

It took a second for the statement to register, but once it had, you were craning your head back to glare boldly at the arrogant sounding man. His tawny eyes were narrowed down at you in amusement, his thick forearm pinned horizontally across your chest to restrain you firmly in place between himself and the wall, and the predatory look in his gaze had your stomach sinking into your feet. Everything about him screamed dangerous; from the unruly hair that curled around his temples to the animalistic way he bared his teeth at you– there wasn’t a doubt in your mind that the man would kill you if he deemed it acceptable. You cursed yourself silently for having put yourself in such a predicament in the first place.

The imposing man cocked his head to the side coyly as he teased, “I hardly think I deserve such a cruel expression when you’re the one sleuthing around my house uninvited.”

Your mouth opened and shut a few times before you managed to stammer out, “I-I wasn’t–”

“Don’t deny it,” he cut you off quickly. “What other reason would Ominis’ little plaything have for being here? I sincerely doubt the house-elves held the door open for you.”

The term ‘plaything’ made you scowl, distracting you from the fact that the man even knew who you were, and you brazenly planted your hands against his firm chest to shove him away. It was like pushing against an immovable boulder. “I’m not his plaything, you prat–”

His free hand shot up in a flash to grip the sides of your jaw painfully, the look on his face darkening tenfold as he growled, “Careful now, I’d hate to lose my temper and take away my brother’s pet.” The fingers splayed under your face tightened a fraction as the crazed man angled your head to the side, shamelessly pressing his nose against the sensitive skin of your throat before he inhaled deeply. You shuddered uncomfortably at the contact. “Although I’m beginning to understand his infatuation a bit. You smell… different. What is that, exactly?”

You had no fucking clue what he was referring to, nor did you care to find out. Each passing second brought the towering man closer into your personal space, and when one of his legs started to weasel its way in-between yours, you found yourself attempting to writhe out of his ironclad grip. “Let go of me,” you demanded in a low voice, doing your best to keep your words steady and hide the rampant unease in your tone.

“Answer my question,” he countered easily. “Or I’ll snap your scrawny neck and be done with it. Makes no difference to me whether you live or die–”

“If you have any desire to keep those slimy hands of yours, you’ll remove them this instant, Marvolo.”

Your eyes widened at the sound of Ominis’ booming voice echoing throughout the foyer, which had the elder Gaunt smiling wickedly at you. He didn’t bother turning around, opting to stay right where he was and drop his fingers lower so he could squeeze around your windpipe, and you knew your choked gasp reached Ominis’ ears when he swore viciously and began walking closer.

“Did I stutter? I said to unhand her, you cretin.”

Marvolo tutted disapprovingly, angling his head to the side so he could better keep track of Ominis coming up behind him, but he kept his eyes glued to yours all the while. “Come now, Ominis. You know how I feel about rats, and she was certainly scurrying around like one.”

You finally caught sight of the blond over Marvolo’s shoulder, and the look on his face was downright murderous. His dark, expressive brows were slammed down atop his milky-blue irises, and his pursed lips contorted into a scowl as he leveled his wand with the back of the taller man’s head. Ominis continued to side-step closer, moving with the prowess of a wolf stalking its prey, and to your immense satisfaction Marvolo broke eye contact with you to fix his gaze on his brother.

Maybe you were imagining it, but you could have sworn he looked wary.

“Last chance,” Ominis grit out through his clenched teeth. “Let her go. Or you’ll be nothing more than a stain on the floor.”

The sharp laugh Marvolo let slip past his lips was positively wicked, and Ominis’ threat only served to motivate his brother into tightening his hand around your throat. Stars danced in the corners of your eyes then, and your own hand shot up to grip at the man’s thick wrist in an attempt to pry his fingers away from your windpipe. Panic flooded your brain, your racing heart drowning out the sound of Ominis’ angry voice as your pulse thundered in your ears. Fight or flight was probably an appropriate way to describe what you were feeling, but Marvolo was making both options impossible to act on.

He wasn’t listening to Ominis. He probably never would. You would have to get yourself out of this mess on your own.

Marvolo was barking out insults and threats over his shoulder, taunting Ominis into hurting him as he called his younger brother’s bluff. You were able to school your nerves long enough to focus and dig deep inside of yourself in search of the magic you so rarely touched. Isidora’s abilities were as much of an unknown now as they had been when you’d first absorbed them, but it was comparable to a living entity within you, and the phantom presence of her magic roared to life as you called upon it.

You felt the strange, darker magic crackle over your skin, and Marvolo’s head whipped back around to stare at you with his pupils blown wide. Whatever he saw reflected in your eyes was enough to spark alarm in his heart, and a sick, twisted part of you relished in the apprehension that washed over his features.

“What the fuck is that?” His hand around your throat loosened a fraction, but you weren’t about to let him walk away from this unscathed. The arm that had been hanging limp at your side stretched out until your palm was directly against his chest, and you couldn’t help but grimace when the red bolts of magic skirted across your forearm and blasted straight into his sternum.

Marvolo went flying with a barely there grunt– his arms and legs flailing as he tried to find purchase– to no avail. He hit the stone floor and slid an additional ten feet or so until he came to rest just beside the corridor you’d run out of earlier, and your blood ran cold when an older, imposing man with salt-and-pepper hair stepped out from within the hallway. The look on his face was enough to spur you into action then, and you spared a quick, panicked glance at Ominis before you peeled off of the wall and threw the front door open.

The cool night air was like a slap to your face, sobering you up instantaneously and driving you to pump your legs harder— faster— as you sprinted down the path that led to the dark forest surrounding the property. There was a bang from somewhere behind you and an animalistic sound you could only describe as a snarl, but you didn’t dare look back. Not when it could potentially cost you dearly.

“Marvolo!” Ominis shouted, his voice angry and distant, but as the footsteps slapping against the gravel behind you got closer and closer, you realized it had to be him giving chase. Your heart hammered in your chest and in your ears– drowning out the sound of the encroaching danger hot on your heels– but you knew there would be no outrunning Marvolo. That crazed look in his eyes you’d seen earlier told you everything you needed to know; he would pursue you to the end of the damn country on foot if need be, and you had no intention of getting caught to find out what he had planned for you.

Another growl sounded from over your shoulder, causing you to will your brain out of flight-mode and force your magic into action. It surged in your blood, coursing through your veins as you thought of home– of safety.

One second you were running, and in the next you had apparated. Marvolo’s hand came down on empty air, his heels digging into the ground as he skidded to a stop and realized what had happened. You were already long gone, but his rage-filled roar shook the foundation of the manor, somehow echoing in your ears as you collapsed to your knees in the center of your living room.

***

Your eyes stung as the steam from the bath wafted up into your face, your gaze never straying from the surface of the water. It had been nearly two hours since your narrow escape from Ominis’ childhood home and you had been in the tub for the majority of it– calming your frayed nerves and racing heart with deep breaths that did little to quell the anxiety that still riddled you. The hot water had been charmed back to scalding temperatures twice now, having gone cold multiple times already as you sat with your knees curled against your chest and replayed every second of your fortuitous run-in with Marvolo Gaunt.

The ache in your hip throbbed to life every time you thought back to the primal glint that had flashed in Marvolo’s eyes as he’d thrown you into that table. What had started as a tender red spot on your side had transformed into a nasty, colossal bruise, stark and obvious against your bare skin. You hadn’t been able to so much as glance at the finger shaped bruises that wrapped around your neck without feeling nauseous.

You’d made a mistake in following Ominis– that much was certain.

The man in question had yet to return home, and as a result, the seemingly bottomless pit of unease in your chest only worsened. Part of you was ashamed for having left him alone to face his family’s scrutiny after literally breaking and entering, but you knew he wouldn’t have had it any other way. There wasn’t a doubt in your mind that he would have found a way to get you out as quickly as possible if you hadn’t done so yourself.

Still, you worried.

Another fifteen minutes passed without a sound from within the house, and you dimly registered that the water had gone cold once more. You were half tempted to heat it up again and spend the remainder of the night turning yourself into a human-sized prune, but the ache in your back from staying curled up for so long diminished the idea quickly. Swiftly, you hoisted yourself out of the water, using the rim of the tub to steady yourself as you stood and began drying yourself off. Rivulets of water still cascaded down your body as you draped your robe over your shoulders, but you couldn’t muster up the energy to care. Fatigue overtook you as you combed through your hair with your fingers and padded into your bedroom, and the second you laid down atop the sheets, your eyes were drifting shut.

You had no idea how long you slept before the distinct feeling of the mattress dipping roused you from your light slumber. The room was cloaked in darkness, save for the pulsing, red glow that emanated from Ominis’ wand as he hovered it over you, and you slowly started to blink the fog from your eyes.

You had no clue how he realized you were awake, but his voice was unmistakably tight as he asked you, “Where are you hurt?”

It took your brain a second to fully register the question, and you propped yourself up on your elbow as your eyes adjusted to the dim light and muttered, “What?”

“You screamed,” he gritted through clenched teeth, and despite the low visibility in the room, you watched as his grip on his wand turned white knuckled. “I heard you earlier. You were in pain– I know it’s the truth– so tell me now, where are you hurt?”

On cue, the bruise on your hip throbbed to life, and you swiftly placed your hand on top of it while silently cursing yourself for not having brewed any Wiggenweld potions after returning home. Evidently your mind had been too jumbled to do the most logical thing following the altercation. “It’s not that bad–” you started to say, but Ominis cut you off before you could downplay the injury any further.

“Please,” he implored you, silencing you instantly with his pleading tone. “I’m trying to leave this up to you, but don’t think for a second I won’t figure it out for myself if you don’t tell me.”

Something about the desperate look on his face made you pause, and you took a moment to really take in the sight of him. He was pale– far paler than normal– and the way his brows furrowed told you that he was more anxious than you realized. His posture was still impeccable but less poised– closer to rigid. His shoulders barely moved, giving the illusion that he was hardly breathing, and you honestly weren’t sure he was at this point.

In short, Ominis looked petrified.

Your lips formed a hard line as your gaze traversed his stiff form, swallowing thickly before you slid your hand away from your hip to reveal the dark purple blotch that decorated your side. “My hip,” you murmured, afraid that if you spoke the truth too loudly, the tentative composure Ominis was keeping would vanish.

The muscle in his jaw ticked, and the hand he didn’t have wrapped around the handle of his wand came to skim along your waist before hovering ever so slightly above the bruise. “Where else?”

“This is the worst of the damage–”

“Where else?” His voice was deeper and rougher than you were accustomed to hearing, and the notable difference had your stomach flipping over on itself. It left you feeling queasy, and you honestly couldn’t tell if he was mad at you or at the situation as a whole.

“…My neck,” you relented quietly, all too aware of the blatant anger that overtook Ominis’ face. “At least I returned the favor,” you added quickly with a half-smile, trying to lessen the severity of the claim. It was a failed attempt, however, seeing as the man averted his unseeing gaze to the floor and shook his head minutely. Dimly, you watched as he waved his wand over his free hand, and a small vial of Wiggenweld appeared in the center of his palm before he wordlessly handed it to you. Given his tense demeanor, you opted not to say anything as you took it and removed the cork, then drank down the earthy contents graciously. The relief was instantaneous, and through the darkness of the room you managed to catch sight of the bruise on your hip fading away entirely.

Your tiny sigh of relief reached Ominis’ ears, and the tension in his shoulders seemed to dissipate– albeit barely. “You should never have gone there. Why would you set foot anywhere near that damnable house? Do you have any idea the kind of danger you put yourself in– the kind of danger that you’re still in?”

At that, you finally pushed yourself up so you were sitting with your back against the pillows, setting aside the empty vial so you could clasp Ominis’ free hand in yours. His skin was cool to the touch, and you noted the miniscule tremors that emanated from him as you squeezed the appendage to will his attention back to you. “I’m sorry, Ominis. I was worried about you– you were so upset before you left earlier and I was scared that your family would do something to you.”

“Of course they want to do something to me. They’ve tried puppeting me into a version of myself they can tolerate for my entire life, but it’s for that very reason that I can handle them. I’ve told you what they’re like– how relentless they are– and still you went there.” His head finally snapped back in your direction, and the expression on his face was one you were certain you would never forget; it was a mask of desperation, fear, and most notably, rage. “You have no idea what you’ve done– what it means now that they’ve seen you and what you can do.”

You’d hadn’t really done much of anything, aside from blasting Marvolo across the foyer before running for your life. Still, his words kindled a spark of fear in your chest, and your hold on his hand turned loose and clammy. “What are you talking about?”

“Before tonight, you were just an unknown witch I’d been… ‘cavorting’ with, in my father’s eyes. Easy to get rid of should the need arise. Until earlier, they didn’t believe you to be exceptionally powerful or particularly useful.”

The sudden dryness in your throat became painfully obvious. “Useful how?”

“The Gaunt’s value power and authority over everything. Both things guarantee them the influence they need to further their own ends, and as unknown as your abilities are to them, they are undeniable. They’d be fools to ignore such a potent form of magic, and as much as I detest my family and their convoluted values, I’ll be the first to admit that they aren’t stupid. They will find a way to make that power their own– blood purity be damned– and stealing you away and marrying you off to my brother would be their most likely course of action.”

Ominis practically spat the word, his teeth bared and eyes narrowed as murderous thoughts of his brother flew through his mind. Your own head was reeling at the revelation, nausea crashing over you as you thought back to Marvolo and the sadistic way he’d smiled as he tried choking the life out of you. Someone like that wouldn’t– no, couldn’t have a caring bone in their body. But you also knew that someone of his caliber was bound to be determined to get what he wanted, and if Ominis believed that his family now sought to obtain you for their own ends, Marvolo would do everything in his power to make it happen.

You had really, really fucked up.

Somewhere in-between thinking of Ominis’ brother and the sickening idea of being kidnapped, your breathing had kicked up dramatically. You didn’t notice, but the blond man beside you certainly did. Ominis turned fully so his torso was angled towards you, feeling around the bed for your other hand before clasping your trembling limbs in his cooler ones, and your wide eyes flicked back up to meet his. “I won’t let them have you. Do you hear me? If they so much as glance at you, I’ll leave them wishing they had never set their sights on you.”

“You can’t know that,” you whispered, and your voice was unrecognizable to you. It was small and shaky, timid and so very, very afraid. “Marvolo is– he’s a beast. He’ll kill you in a heartbeat, Ominis. You’ll die and it will be all my fault. I-I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, this is all my fault–”

In a flash, Ominis silenced you with a kiss. It took you by surprise, but it was far from an unwelcome one– especially when his wand bearing hand slid to the back of your neck to pull you impossibly closer towards him. You were pleased to discover that the skin there no longer throbbed with discomfort, the Wiggenweld potion he’d given you having done its job for all the bruises, not just the one on your hip. The revelation calmed you further, and before you knew it you were melting against the taller man, grabbing fistfulls of his shirt to cling to him desperately.

Ominis broke away momentarily to murmur against your parted lips, “No one will ever take you from me, you’re mine.”

Despite the circumstances that led the two of you to this moment, you found yourself enraptured by the possessive declaration, and you couldn’t help but lean closer into the blond’s personal space until your hands were sandwiched between his chest and your breasts. Your mouth found his again, and you fervently bit at his bottom lip as you breathily whispered, “I’m yours, Ominis. Only yours.”

Instantly, Ominis was pushing you back towards the headboard until your head knocked against the wooden frame, not once breaking the kiss as he positioned himself on top of you. His long legs came to cage your own against the mattress as he threw his wand to the edge of the bed, freeing both of his hands so he could plant them on either side of your face. Pulling away seemed physically difficult for him but he didn’t stray far, opting to rest his forehead against yours and fix his hazy eyes directly on yours. How he knew where to aim his heady stare, you didn’t know, but your toes curled at the ardent need for you that reflected in his blue irises.

“Say it again,” he implored you with a voice like pure sin.

“I’m yours,” you obliged him without missing a beat, and a sigh slipped past your lips as Ominis lowered his face to pepper featherlight kisses along your jaw and down the now unmarred column of your neck. Goosebumps broke out virtually all over your body when you felt one of his cool hands fall to the neckline of your robe, and as Ominis slowly tugged the material apart to expose your bare chest, he sank his teeth into the tender spot above your clavicle. The pain laced pleasure left you moaning his name in earnest, your voice steadily growing louder as his thumb came to graze over one of your nipples.

You felt the pressure from his teeth lessen as you arched into his touch, followed by his kiss-swollen lips latching over the bite to suck lightly. “Again,” he breathed, continuing to work his searing brand into your flesh.

There were too many ways to describe his actions; primal, dominant, and greedy, to name a few. Yet there was a softness to his words that left your heart aching within your chest– a tenderness that spoke volumes of the fear he’d felt upon realizing you had entered into that nest of vipers. He had nearly lost you tonight, and when the hand against your breast shifted down to curl around your waist, you realized he would never allow for it to happen again.

“I’m here, Ominis, I’m right here,” you moaned, your reedy voice bouncing off the walls of the bedroom and causing the man above you to shudder. “I’m here and I’m yours.”

Before long, Ominis was moving back into your line of sight to capture your lips in another searing kiss. The hand on your waist traversed the bare expanse of your lower stomach before reaching your aching center, and you mindlessly wound your arms around his neck to tug him closer, bucking your hips into his hand as he slid a slender finger through your folds.

“Mine,” he growled against your parted lips, and your next breath caught in your throat as he tentatively pushed the digit inside your wet heat. Your contented sigh filtered through Ominis’ hypersensitive ears as he pressed his finger in all the way to the knuckle, and the arm he supported himself with trembled minutely as he fought to control his baser urges.

After everything that had transpired tonight, he wanted nothing more than to bury himself deep in your cunt, desperate to feel you clamp down around his cock and suck him in further and further as he claimed you. He longed to mark you, brand you, consume you, in every possible way– his family’s wishes be damned. He would make you his and his alone. Should any of his kin so much as attempt to interject, he vowed he would defend you until his last breath– and then not even death would stop him. Ominis knew without a shadow of a doubt that he would defy the laws of nature if it meant keeping you safe from harm.

As you continued to rock your hips in time with Ominis’ hand, your legs spread apart of their own accord, silently beckoning him closer as you shivered under his dutiful ministrations. Ominis felt the movement and groaned in blatant appreciation, taking advantage of the newfound space to siddle down the bed and kneel comfortably between your legs, and all the while his finger continued to pump in and out of your wet heat languidly. He bestowed another toe-curling kiss upon your lips before breaking away to slide fully down the mattress, your heart stuttering in your chest as he moved low enough to settle between your quivering thighs. It was impossible to overlook the animalistic expression on Ominis’ face as he gazed in your direction– following the sound of your barely there whimpers– and your blood ignited in your veins at the sight.

All too eager, Ominis wasted little time in securing his grip around your waist with his free arm to better pull you harder onto his finger. The keening sound that slipped from your throat was replaced almost instantly by a guttural moan, drawn forth by the feeling of your lover’s lips latching around your clit to suck enthusiastically, and your head thunked against the headboard as wave after wave of sheer pleasure cascaded through you.

Your thighs absentmindedly clenched on either side of Ominis’ head as he shamelessly pulled your bundle of nerves into his mouth, the action accompanied by wet, perverted sounds that had damn near all the blood in your body rushing to your cheeks. “Merlin, Ominis– fuck–”

Beyond a throaty growl, he said nothing. He simply tightened his hold on your waist, his other hand angling itself so he could better curl the finger inside of you, the combined sensations making your head positively spin. Entirely at his mercy, your hands flew to his soft, blond hair as you effectively surrendered to the pure bliss he granted you.

If you had been hot and wet already, Ominis’ mouth felt a thousand times more so as he torturously dragged his tongue up your cunt. He removed his finger from your clenching walls and replaced it with the wet muscle, wriggling it as much as he could as though he were desperate to lap up everything that escaped out of you. Your breathing hitched and your hips involuntarily bucked when his ministrations traveled higher towards your clit, and when he finally reached it, the tip of his tongue was slow and methodical as he pressed firm, torturous circles around the throbbing bundle.

Ordinarily, having Ominis appreciatively go down on you would have been the highlight of the night, but given his domineering persona at present, you knew you were just plain fucked now.

“Ominis, please,” you managed to croak out. “I’m not going to last, I– ah!” You practically yelped when the tips of the man’s teeth raked along your inner thigh, nipping at the soft skin there hard enough for you to jolt.

“Just relax and let me work,” he muttered coolly, pressing a featherlight kiss to the spot he’d bitten as he dragged his hands down your abdomen to squeeze your tensing thighs.

Despite your best efforts, you were quickly losing your grip on anything other than the sensations Ominis was lavishing you with. You felt lightheaded as you attempted to release your tense muscles, struggling to do so as your lover devoured you with reckless abandon. His nose brushed against your clit as he slipped his tongue inside of you once more, the sound of his wet, suckling noises intermingling with your breathy whines as you felt your climax building higher and higher in your gut. You couldn’t tell if your arousal was stemming from how Ominis enthusiastically used his tongue, lips, and teeth on you or if it came from the demanding way he directed you, but you decided that you didn’t care; every feeling had burrowed deep inside of you and taken root in your mind.

You wanted more– no, needed more.

Head whacking back against the wooden bed frame, you needily tugged at the strands of his hair wrapped around your fingers as you pleaded, “Please, Ominis, I need you…”

Those five words did more to stroke his ego than you would ever know. Right now, Ominis needed you to need him. He wanted you to succumb to his ministrations and bend to his will, all to parry the baseless demands of his deranged family. There wasn’t a chance in hell he would ever willingly hand you over to them– much less to Marvolo– and through your rapture-filled begging, he knew he had succeeded.

You were wholly and unequivocally his.

He pulled away for a moment to run his hands up your thighs, over your hips, then along the pebbled peaks of your breasts. The way you trembled at his touch told him everything he needed to know; you were hanging on by a thread, and he didn’t need to see you in order to know you looked absolutely wrecked.

Unable to endure a second more of the teasing, Ominis raised himself up on his knees to remove his clothing. Swiftly and efficiently, he dexterously undid the catch of his trousers before shoving the constricting attire down his narrow hips. There was no stopping the sigh of relief that spilled through his clenched teeth as his cock finally sprung free– long, heavy, and leaking from the red, swollen tip. With his shirt disheveled, hair mussed, and pants haphazardly hanging below his hip bones, he was truly the picture of temptation. You stared up at him through hooded eyes as he stroked himself a few times, taking in the sight of your lover towering over you as you lay prone atop the sheets beneath him.

Once again, Ominis’ uncanny ability to feel your eyes on him surprised you, and a cheshire-like smirk blossomed across his face as he asked, “Enjoying the view?”

“More than you are, I’d wager,” you retorted, and Ominis scoffed as his smug expression turned into one of amused disbelief. That mouth of yours was bound to land you in trouble one of these days.

“Smartass,” he murmured affectionately, keeping one hand on his shaft as the other reached down in search of your waist, squeezing the flesh there with a bruising strength that only served to intensify the ache between your legs. You aided him by wriggling down the sheets in order to press your ass against his bent knees, and Ominis lowered himself once more so the heavy weight of his cock rested against your spit-slick folds. It was hard for you to believe that the wild haired, smokey-eyed man kneeling between your legs was the same boy who had shyly walked with you to your classes all those years ago. Both of his hands pressed against your hips this time as he sat back on his heels, white teeth flashing as he aligned the head of his manhood against your entrance.

“Are you ready for me, darling?” Ominis asked, as though you hadn’t been begging for this very outcome minutes before.

“Yes,” you breathed out shakily, your hands twisting in the fabric of your long-abandoned bathrobe beneath you. “I’m–”

Despite his privileged upbringing, Ominis was a fan of the simple things in life. Good food, long walks during the warmer seasons, and the sound of your voice catching when he took you by surprise and slid inside you abruptly. In one fluid motion, he breached your walls, listening intently to your sharp intake of breath as he inched himself forward until his knees were under your rear and he’d bottomed out completely. The small whimper that slipped from your mouth had a deep, throaty chuckle escaping his, and his thumbs took to tracing encouraging circles against your hips as you clenched around him.

“I’m sure you are,” he purred in an infuriatingly sexy tone while you struggled to regain control over your breathing. Instantly, the dim embers of lust within you were rekindled, every inch of your body warm and borderline electric. Your hips writhed in Ominis’ hold in an attempt to wriggle closer, the unyielding grip he had on you coupled with the hungry expression on his face almost enough to make you come undone then and there.

“Fuck, Ominis–” your words were cut short by a stifled moan as the blond slowly withdrew himself, arching back until only the tip of his cock was inside you before slamming his hips forward in one quick, sharp thrust. Your hands flew to his clothed knees as you dug your nails into the rumpled material of his trousers, desperate to touch every inch of him that you could but struggling to catch your breath in the midst of his slow, methodical thrusts.

Well, methodical at first.

You could feel Ominis’ acute desire for you with every pump of his hips, and a groan snaked its way out of his chest as he freed one of his hands to reach down and thumb over your clit. You hissed triumphantly through your teeth as you saw his expression slowly shift into something needier, his thrusts becoming less precise and more visceral. With how tight he was gripping you, you were positive the healed bruise from earlier would be replaced by long, finger shaped stripes, but you didn’t care. If it was Ominis, it was fine. If it was him claiming you, branding you, consuming you, it was more than fine.

The blue-eyed incubus above you seemed to think similarly, if the low rumble in his chest was anything to go by. He was absolutely lost in the euphoria that came with being encased in your pulsing, tight heat, causing him to abandon his pretenses of control and give into his want for you with gusto. The hand he had on your sensitive bundle of nerves returned to grasp your waist, and even elevated as he was, he still had to thrust down into you– shaking the headboard with every plunge as he effectively fucked you into the mattress.

The distinction was clear and evident in your mind as your legs came to wind around Ominis’ waist; the two of you had obviously been intimate before, and you had definitely made love before, but you had never been so carnally fucked like this a day in your life. It was hard to recall if Ominis had ever ravished you with such need in every stroke, enough so that you found yourself unable to control your shaking breaths or the volume of your voice. It was enrapturing– getting caught up in the way he staked his claim on you– so intent on fucking himself harder and deeper into you that his own husky murmurs of your name fell from his lips like a mantra.

Your inability to fight your moans and curses and feverish pleas for more was what Ominis lived for. The blond craved the sound of your voice like a drug, and he drew unparalleled strength from your vocal satisfaction. Maybe it had more to do with the events of the night than anything else, but hearing you cry his name and feeling you claw at the tops of his thighs made his chest swell with possessive affection, thrilled to hear you unwittingly proclaim that you were in fact his. No one else would ever have you– no one else would ever find themselves lucky enough to have you reduced to such a state beneath them other than him.

“M-More,” you practically sobbed the request as Ominis gripped your hips tighter, dimly registering the thundering crack of the headboard banging against the wall. “More– please– I’m s-so close–”

You asked for it with each breath expelled from your lungs, and Ominis would graciously give it to you. He couldn’t have refused you any longer if he wanted to. “You want to come, darling?” He panted, receiving only whimpering nods in return. “Ask.”

“P-Please, please let me come, I can’t–” you gasped, squeezing your eyes shut as your teeth clenched together hard enough to make your jaw pop. You teetered on the brink of oblivion, waiting only on Ominis’ say-so to fall over the edge which seemed to loom so, so close.

“Beg,” Ominis rasped thickly, his fingers tightening and digging into the skin of your hips as he bucked harder against your ass. “Beg for it– beg for me to let you come.”

You couldn’t even find the brainpower to realize he was demanding to hear you say it to fuel his unrepentant hold on you. The taunting, the pleasure laced brutality– it was all to assuage the bitter anger that had coursed through his veins upon hearing his family refer to you as tradeable cattle. Later on, he would be collected enough to reassure you that you were your own person, free to make your own decisions and go wherever your heart desired.

Right now though, his baser urges had won out, and he needed to hear you say it.

Your head slammed into the pillows as your back arched off the mattress, doing your best to shut out the mounting pleasure that threatened to break through your crumbling resolve. “Please, Ominis! Please let me–” you hiccuped around another gasp, the ache in your gut bordering on unbearable. “L-Let me… let me…”

One of his hands released your waist to feel up your torso and curl around the back of your neck, lifting your head off of the pillow so your eyes were on him as he uttered five words that struck something deep inside of you.

“Then come for me, love.”

Your breaking point smacked into you hard and fast, leaving you equally breathless and brainless as your mouth fell open around a long, drawn out cry of Ominis’ name. Your climax ripped through you ferociously, your vision flashing white and your muscles tensing for a moment of near perfect silence as your lover continued to thrust in and out of you with unwavering focus. Even after you’d collapsed back against the sheets and gone limp in his arms, Ominis continued to chase his own finish, balancing precariously over you on his elbows and burying his face in the crook of your neck to muffle the shaky groans he failed to bite back.

Maybe you were imagining it, but you could have sworn he continued to murmur quiet declarations against your skin that sounded a lot like, “Mine.”

Before long, Ominis was following you over the edge with a throaty purr that slithered out of his throat. His arms trembled on either side of your head, his hands gathering fistfuls of the pillows as he buried himself completely inside of you with one final plunge of his hips. You heard the blond moan hoarsely in your ear as he spilled into you, grinding against your ass to milk every last drop of his seed from his twitching member, and when he mouthed wetly against the sweat-slick column of throat before biting down, all you could focus on was the warmth that filled you as you quivered under him.

After a few moments of the two of you panting softly, you lifted your hands to Ominis’ clothed back in a bid to usher him to the side. He tensed, however, and you paused as he wedged one of his arms under your back to hold you flush to him as he continued to re-center himself. “Not yet,” you heard him grumble into the hollow of your throat. “Not yet… give me a second.”

“…Alright,” you relented quickly, only mildly concerned as you wrapped your arms around his slender shoulders. With your fingers tracing lazy shapes against his clothed back, you allowed yourself to enjoy the feeling of Ominis’ weight pressing down on you, his gentle exhales fanning against your clammy skin, and the steady rhythm of his heart beating against your sternum.

Given the severity of what had happened at his family’s house, you weren’t sure the two of you would ever get another moment like this again. So, you held on tightly to him in the hopes that the night would last just a little bit longer.

The two of you stayed like that for what seemed like hours but realistically could only have been a few minutes, and shortly after Ominis began peppering kisses up your throat and along your jaw, your eyes drifted shut as you dozed off once more. When you woke the following morning and found yourself tucked in beneath the sheets, you propped yourself up on your elbow to glance around the otherwise empty room, noting immediately that Ominis was nowhere to be found.

In a panicked flurry of movement, you threw off the blankets and were still tying your robe around your waist as you hurriedly shuffled down the hallway. Your dread was smothered in the next instant by overwhelming ease as you rounded the corner to find Ominis in the kitchen, gripping the countertop and working a muscle in his jaw while he hovered his wand over a letter that looked eerily similar to the one he’d received just a day ago.

Even though he could hear you approaching, he said nothing as you padded across the room to stand behind him, coiling your arms around his waist to press your front against his back. A shaky sigh escaped him, and you stared at the wall as you contemplated your words before deciding on, “What are you reading?”

A pause, “A formal summons for you, inviting you to meet my family officially.”

Your heart fell into your stomach, arms tightening around the taller man a fraction as you pursed your lips in blatant distaste. “We won’t go,” you announced, and Ominis shifted in your embrace so he could wrap his arms around you to hug you back with a firmness that spoke volumes of his agreement.

“We won’t,” he said. “But we can’t stay here, either. Not anymore.”

“I know.”

He buried his chin in the mess of hair atop your head, shamelessly inhaling your scent before he told you, “We have to leave– go somewhere far away– and we can’t tell anyone.”

“I know.”

The way his nimble fingers gripped the back of your robe told you of just how conflicted he was to ask this of you– to uproot your shared lives here to flee the meddling of his family. His voice was laced with remorse as he asked, “And you’re okay with that? Truly?”

“I am,” and you really were. There wasn’t a lick of hesitation in your voice– not a shred of apprehension hidden in your tone at the prospect of packing up and running as far from here as humanly possible. “So long as we’re together, I am.”

Ominis skimmed his hands up your back to cup your cheeks, angling your head up at him so he could kiss you fully, and you returned the gesture with equal fervor. As long as he was with you, you knew you could do anything. With Ominis by your side, you would fight tooth and nail against every hellish creature or person in existence to ensure your future together.

Wherever the two of you ended up, you already knew that your home wouldn’t just be some place. It would always be him.

#ominis gaunt #ominis gaunt x you #ominis gaunt x reader #ominis gaunt x female! reader #ominis gaunt smut #hogwarts legacy #hogwarts legacy fanfic #ominis gaunt oneshot #dominis #hogwarts legacy fanfiction #ominis gaunt x mc #at last my final 5 month old wip is complete #maybe you can tell it started one year and ended another but I truly no longer care #I'm FREEEEEEEEE #happy reading my smutty gremlins #my writing

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golden-cherry · 1 year

Text

deal - cl16 (8/?)

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Reader

Series Summary: Your whole life has gone to shit. Your boyfriend broke up with you, you just lost your job and the Monegasque, who suddenly stands in your doorway, claims that it’s his apartment.

Chapter Summary: It's always nice meeting new people. Especially British ones.

Warnings: fluff, flirting, one swear word, social media aspect

Word Count: 3.3k

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A/N: this chapter is for everyone who send me kind words when I was feeling down. even tho I don't answer every single message, I read everything you send me. I love you.

You look desperately at the piece of paper in your hand.

You have the chicken breast, the avocado and the kale and garlic. According to the signs in the shop, two aisles down are the jars of sun-dried tomatoes that you also need. But where the heck are the sesame seeds and chilli flakes?

You rub your forehead with the back of your hand.

For twenty minutes you have been walking through the supermarket, which is so much bigger than the one around the corner from you. Ten minutes ago you put the chicken in the shopping basket, which is hanging down on your elbow. And since then you have been wandering the aisles with little success, trying to find the rest that Charles scribbled on the piece of paper.

When you left the bedroom this morning, your roommate had already disappeared. He had stowed his sleeping things in the wardrobe and tidied up the living room. Even the dishes had disappeared from the sink. Apparently he got up very early.

After drinking a glass of orange juice, you found the note on the kitchen table that Charles had left there.

"Bonjour,

Je suis à la salle de sport ce matin. I'm at the gym this morning.

Pourriez-vous acheter ces choses pour le déjeuner ? Could you please buy these things for lunch?

Merci, mon ami.

Charles

PS.: Mes amis et moi sortons ce soir et j'aimerais que tu viennes avec moi. My friends and I are going out tonight and I would like you to come along".

Next to it was another piece of paper with the shopping list for the bowl his nutritionist had picked out for him. Judging by the ingredients, Charles has good taste and for a moment you had considered buying a double portion - one for him and one for you - but the toast lying in your kitchen is about to go bad and you are reluctant to throw it away. Besides, no food in the world can beat a good sandwich.

But reading the list, you also realise that the small supermarket around the corner would not be enough to get everything.

The employee you asked a few minutes ago gave you a rough direction where you could find the sesame seeds, but he disappeared so quickly that you couldn't follow up. And since then you've been standing in a corridor that looks like you might find them here. But you've read through every label on every shelf, and although your French has improved - and you have a translator app on your phone - none of them sounded remotely like sesame or seeds.

"A pretty lady wasn't on my shopping list today, but I can be spontaneous," you hear someone with a British accent say behind you.

As you turn around, a young man is standing in front of you. He is a little taller than you and wears a black hoodie with his hands in his pockets and a black cap on his head. Although it is winter, his skin is tanned, and as he grins broadly, you see a small gap between his white front teeth.

You hesitate for a moment, trying to gauge whether he is really serious, and glance briefly at your shopping list before turning to face him fully. "An overeager man is not on mine either. And unfortunately, since I have to stick to my budget, I can't be quite as spontaneous."

His grin widens even more. "So the pick-up line was that lousy?"

His smile is so honest and friendly it's infectious. "Terrible."

The young man presses his tongue into his cheek before pulling his hand out of his jumper pocket to hold it out to you. "Lando. Nice to meet you."

As you place your hand in his, you feel the warmth of his skin. "Y/N."

Before you can respond, Lando snatches the piece of paper in your hand. His eyes flicker over the ingredients on it and then over the contents of your shopping basket. "You've been standing here for ten minutes. Do you need any help?"

You narrow your eyes and try to reach for the list in his big hands, but he is quicker. He pulls his hand away. "Have you been watching me? See if the note says stalker."

He pretends to go through the ingredients again, but his gaze lingers on you again after a few moments. "Stalker it doesn't say, but helpful stranger it does." He holds the note up to your nose. "Right under chicken breast. See. Right there. In invisible ink."

You push your lower lip forward and consider whether you should accept his help. The only thing against it is the fact that you can usually help yourself. But since he has already noticed how helplessly you search for the missing groceries, the argument is not exactly convincing.

"Alright." You extend your arm and wave it in a semicircle in front of you. "Show me the way."

Lando leads the way as you follow him through the shop. Despite his jumper, you can see that his cross is relatively wide. Not as wide as Charles, but still enough to be noticeable.

"You don't seem to be from around here, do you?" asks Lando as you walk past the cheese shelf. He looks down at you.

"I've actually lived here for months, but I've never been to this supermarket," you admit, shrugging. "The stuff on the list isn't for me, it's for my roommate. I'm not much of a bowl fan."

The helpful stranger stops abruptly in front of a shelf, causing you to bump lightly into him. You can still feel the hard muscles through the many layers of clothing. "What are you more into?" When you look at him with a raised eyebrow, he rolls his eyes. "Food-wise, I mean."

"Culinarily, I'm afraid I've stayed at McDonalds level. Or frozen pizza." As Lando grins, you lightly punch his arm. "I know, I know. Like a kid."

He reaches out and takes a packet from the shelf, and as he puts it in the basket, you see that it's sesame seeds. He then takes the basket from your hand. "So I don't need to take you to a super fancy, expensive restaurant? You'd be happy with take-out as well?" He tilts his head and raises an eyebrow.

Apparently he can't help it. But you find his boyish charm not annoying, rather amusing.

You raise your hand and poke your index finger against his chest. "You could buy me a can of soup, too, and I'd be blown away."

Lando is too surprised to retort, so he lowers his eyes to the list in his hand. You can still see the blush that comes to his face. He clears his throat. "Chilli flakes should be here somewhere too. Ah, there. Right behind you." He leans forward a little and reaches past you. As you inhale, you can smell his perfume.

"Thanks for your help, Lando," you say as you stand together at the checkout a little later, putting your purchase into a bag. "I don't know what I would have done without you." Your smile is genuine and you're glad he returns it. If it hadn't been for him, you'd almost certainly still be standing here tomorrow looking for the ingredients.

"I'm glad I could help." As you take your groceries from him, he shoulders the bag and shakes his head. "Would it be weird if I asked you if I could walk you home?"

"It would." You've both known each other for a few minutes and for sure it's unwise for a young stranger to find out where you live. Yet something about him makes you trust him. As Lando's mouth curls into a thin line, you smile kindly at him. "But weird is okay."

His expression brightens instantly. "Great. Show me the way. I'll follow you."

The walk home takes thirty minutes, but it feels much shorter with Lando by your side. He's two years older than you and incredibly funny, which is why your stomach starts to hurt from laughing at some point. He talks about what it was like growing up in England and that although he has his permanent home here in Monaco, he still works there.

"So you're always flying back and forth? Isn't that very tiring?" you ask him. The house where your home is located comes into your field of vision. In a moment you are about to say goodbye and somehow you have a feeling that he would make an attempt to ask for your number.

"It's very exhausting," he confesses, but shrugs. "But you know yourself what it's like to live here. Monaco is beautiful and I love it. Besides, many of my friends live here. It's definitely worth the stress for me."

You stop at the front door and Lando's smile disappears from his face as he realises that your time - for now - is up. He hands you your groceries, which he's been carrying for you like a gentleman for the last half hour.

"Thank you. For your help and the nice company," you thank him and fish the front door key out of your pocket.

Lando puts his hands back in the pockets of his jumper, undecided whether to hug you goodbye or not. "I have to thank you." He pulls his lower lip between his teeth for a moment. "Can I see you again? Maybe for dinner? I'll get your favourite can of soup too," he grins and you have to laugh out loud.

"I'd love to," you reply. Why green eyes and dimples suddenly flash in the back of your mind, you don't know.

"Great. Do you have Instagram?" he asks and you look at him, confused. He raises a hand and scratches the back of his neck nervously with it. "I'd ask for your number, but I don't think you're someone who gives out their number to helpful strangers just because they're friendly."

You turn your head and point to the front door. "Well, you already know where I live, after all. And yet you ask for my Instagram?"

He licks his lips once with his tongue. "I didn't mean to be too forward."

You look down at your shopping bag, then back up at him. "You? Forward? No way."

You tell him your Instagram name and he saves it before you say goodbye with a hug that, in retrospect, you might find a little too brief. But Lando doesn't seem to want to cross any lines, which is why he only puts one arm around you to pull you close for a moment, not pressing you tightly against him but leaving some space between you.

"I'll get back to you," he says as you put the key in the door lock and turn it. "Promise."

When you enter the apartment minutes later, Charles is sitting on the couch, staring at his laptop, which is on the coffee table in front of him. You feel his gaze on you as you close the door behind you and slip off your shoes.

"Bonjour, Y/N." He gets up and follows you into the kitchen, where you take the groceries out of the bag and place them on the countertop. "Thank you for shopping. Did you sleep well?"

You did indeed. Whether it was the wine or the fact that you really enjoyed your evening with him, you don't know. When you woke up this morning and found that Charles had already left, you had been a little too relieved. The thoughts you harboured towards him last night make you feel guilty, so you decide to repress them and forget about them.

Everything that happened last night was purely amicable, which his "mon ami" on the note also confirms. Secretly, you are glad that he sees it that way too. If he were to give you signs of being interested, you would have to think seriously about the whole situation. And you don't want that.

You're happy living with Charles. And even though you've only known each other for two days, you're sure he's a better friend than anyone else has ever been. No one in your old group of friends had ever been so friendly, so helpful, so caring.

If that's how friends behave, then you never really had any.

"Well," you answer him. "I'm still alive, although I didn't lock the door yesterday. That certainly lets me sleep well."

Charles smiles and reaches for the chicken breast, which he rinses and seasons as you put a pan of oil on the hob. "Or maybe I just want you to feel safe. And someday, when you're not expecting it, I'll catch you," he jokes.

"And that's exactly why I was serious about my offer last night," you return, watching as he puts the chicken into the hot oil. You hear it hiss and bubble. "That you can sleep in bed tonight. I don't mind. After all, it's your bed. And it's only fair that you use it."

Charles turns the chicken in the pan and looks at you. "And you're not just doing this so I won't murder you while you sleep?" His grin widens.

"That, my friend, is a nice side effect."

While the chicken sizzles away, you prepare the avocado and Charles the kale. "It's all right, Y/N. It's only been the second night on the couch. And I promise you nothing will happen that would make you lock the door."

"But last night you -"

"Last night the wine was talking out of me when I sent you the picture," he interrupts. "Don't worry about me, I'll be fine." His smile is gentle. "That's what we agreed and that's what we'll stick to."

"That we agreed, I know," you confirm, digging a bowl out of the cupboard. Charles fills it with the ingredients and finally puts the roasted chicken on top. You turn off the hob. "But I don't think we have to stick rigidly to that rule for this," you point to the space between you, "to work. We're friends, not strangers. And as your friend, I can't have you breaking your back."

You see Charles swallow before turning away and picking up the bowl. Apparently he doesn't know what to say in response, because he changes the subject as you sit down on the couch together. "So, are you coming tonight? We were going out for dinner and then to a club. You don't have to come if you don't want to, of course, but I'd love to introduce you to my friends. We're a cool group and I think you'd fit in quite well." He spears a piece of avocado with his fork. "Besides, maybe I can take your mind off your asshole of an ex-boyfriend that way."

That's right. There was something.

You haven't had to think about him since last night. About him calling you all the time and spoiling your mood. That he cheated on you a while back and broke your heart.

Charles managed, with just a film and his company, to make you forget the pain and anger. In his presence you felt comfortable, warm, which was perhaps also a little due to the wine. And as you thought back over the evening, a feeling spread through you that you could not describe.

The only word you can think of to describe this feeling is Charles.

"I didn't mean to remind you," your roommate says softly when you don't answer him. His eyes are fixed on his food. "Sorry."

You shake your head, more to let him know that your thoughts are not about your ex-boyfriend, but about Charles's kindness and care, but apparently he takes it as accepting the apology. He exhales in relief.

"So? Are you coming with me later? With my friends and me?", Charles asks again.

Isn't it too early to meet his friends? You two haven't known each other for very long either. But after all, you would be there as his roommate slash friend, not as his girlfriend. So for him, there's no reason why you shouldn't be there. So there is none for you either.

"Do I need to wear anything nice? My wardrobe isn't exactly the most elegant," you confess, pointing to the oversized jumper hanging from your shoulders and the black leggings down your legs.

Charles' gaze moves from your face, across your torso, down further to the tops of your feet, which are inches away from his. "It doesn't matter what you wear. You look beautiful in anything."

You hope he doesn't notice how hard you have to swallow the lump in your throat. "Then I'll come with you."

Satisfied, Charles puts a piece of chicken in his mouth and chews on it. As his cell phone vibrates on the table in front of you, he stiffens a little.

From your position you can see that an unknown number is calling him. And you can well understand his reaction to it. You definitely wouldn't answer a call either if you didn't know who it was from. A short time later the phone is silent again and the screen goes black again. Charles visibly relaxes.

"I think calls from unknown numbers are totally nerve-wracking," you try to lighten the situation a little. "There was a time when I let the phone keep ringing, but now I just press unknown callers away."

Charles looks to you. "Would you press my call away?"

You draw your eyebrows together. "Well, since I don't have your number, I probably would."

Your roommate presses his tongue into his cheek. "Then it would be better if I gave it to you, no?"

Without a word, you hand him your unlocked phone - which looks really puny in his big hands - so he can punch in his number before calling himself. As he hands it back to you, he picks up his own phone to put your number in, deleting the unknown call.

"Give me your Instagram, please."

You look at him uncertainly, but give him your name. "Do you need anything else? My credit card number? Birth certificate? National insurance number?"

"No, you dickhead." He taps away on his phone and a moment later a notification pops up on your screen.

bawsixteen started following you

You open the app and click on his account and on the "Follow" button and a few moments later his entire profile is visible to you. He hasn't posted many pictures, some you recognise from Jori's place, but one in particular catches your eye.

"So, tonight we're going out for dinner. Around eight, so we have to leave around around quarter to." Charles puts the empty bowl on the table and turns to you. "I have to leave in a few minutes. Will you be okay on your own until then? I don't think I'll be gone too long."

You wonder if he's going to the woman he spoke to on the phone yesterday. "I'm an adult, Charles. I'll be fine," you smile. "Maybe by then I'll find a nice potato sack to wear later."

Charles laughs, gets up and goes into the kitchen to wash the bowl. "If you can find a second one that might fit me, bring it along. Then we could go in matching clothes. That would be something." You hear him turn on the tap at the sink. "Well, if you find one, you can call me."

"As long as you promise to answer." You turn and lean your arm over the back of the couch to watch him. His back muscles stand out under his shirt and you can see them moving.

Charles looks over his shoulder at you and smiles. "Deal."

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bawsixteen: 📍📸 the most beautiful place in Monaco

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#charles leclerc #charles leclerc smut #carlos sainz jr #charles leclerc blurb #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc prompt #charles leclerc fluff #charles leclerc one shot #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc x female reader #charles leclerc headcanon #charles leclerc instagram au #carlos sainz #lando norris

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chrisevansonly · 7 months

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𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐒𝐢𝐱: 𝐀𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐑𝐚𝐢𝐧, 𝐂𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐮𝐧

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝐥𝐞𝐜𝐥𝐞𝐫𝐜 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦𝐚𝐥𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: marriage and raising a family is never easy, there are bumps and waves along the way, but even the sun has to come out after a little rain…

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: slight angst, mentions of anxiety and mental health, crying, fluff

𝐀/𝐍: alright everyone we are GETTING BACK TO THE FLUFFY GOODNESS AGAIN, and welcome to chapter six, i’ll be honest idk how many chapters this will have yet, so bear with me, this also seems very shitty writing to me so i apologize if it is💀

🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️

Why did you feel so nervous, it wasn’t as if a stranger was coming to your home, no it was Charles, your Charles. The father of your beautiful little boy, and your husband, whom despite everything you loved with your entire being, of course your heart still hurt from the argument a few days ago but you had to recognize that you were in the wrong just as much as he had been

The kitchen smelt like notes of caramel and hazelnut as you brewed a fresh poot of coffee, Matteo’s favourite cinnamon scones on the island awaiting his father who was arriving any second now

“Maman, où est papa?” the toddler asked softly, not wanting to interrupt your meticulous place setting at the breakfast nook

“Il devrait être là dans la seconde, mon amour”

Matteo smiled, sticking to your side wanting to help you as much as he could, it had been a rough couple of days for the little boy, not understanding that his parents were fighting and it wasn’t his fault. Something that you and Charles needed to discuss because the older he got, the more anxious he became.

“Est-ce que papa est déjà là?”

You frowned, brushing some of the unruly hair out of the toddlers face

“Pas ce soir mon amour..”

“Why!”

It wasn’t a surprise to hear Matteo get so upset it had been about two days since he’d seen him, far too long in his mind

“Because Maman and Papa are just having some time apart..”

Matteo looked up at you, his eyes sad as the began to gloss over, sending your heart into a bit of a panic as you watched the gears turn in his brain trying to figure out what that meant

“Est-ce à cause de moi?”

He sniffled, wiping his nose with his sleeve as you quickly scooped up the young boy into your arms

“Petit amour, ce n’est pas ta faute et tu n’as rien fait de mal”

You paused for a moment

“I promise you Matteo it is not your fault, sometimes parents just need a cool off so we can have some space and then come back stronger than before, I promise you baby papa and maman love each other so so much, and we love you so much more.”

Matteo stayed quiet but snuggled further into your chest, and you knew in this moment you and Charles needed to figure things out and do it fast.

Charles arrived at the house rather quickly, eager to see his little boy and even more excited to see you, he missed being home with the two of you, and was hoping today he could finally come home and work to put this behind him, he would do everything in his power to do that.

“Papa!!”

You looked up in time to see Matteo run off to the front door, straight into Charles’s arms, happy giggles spilling from his lips

“Tu m’as tellement manqué petit prince, papa t’aime tellement.”

“Papa je t’aime tellement, tu m’as manqué encore plus!”

Charles smiled pressing kisses to the little boy’s face as they spent a few minutes reconnecting, it made you feel guilty, thinking back on it maybe you should have fixed this problem right when it happened. Not wanting to interrupt them you waited until Matteo took off with his father’s phone to play games, leaving the two of you in the kitchen together, a soft smile on Charles’s face, yet there was evident worry in his eyes.

“Mon amour…”

Deciding against the slight hurt that remained in your chest you walked over and wrapped your arms around him, closing your eyes as your head rested against his chest

“I’m sorry..”

“No please, don’t apologize, I shouldn’t have pushed you..”

Shaking your head you looked up at him

“I threw my anxiety in your face and-and I know how important racing is to you and you want to show Matteo everything but-”

“But nothing amour please, I understand why you are scared, Matteo is your baby as is he mine and it was wrong of me to push and push when you weren’t ready and I saw that from the very first time I brought it up…”

He paused just enough to catch a tear that slipped down your cheek before he continued, his thumb remaining on your cheekbone gently

“I should have never raised my voice at you like I did, I made a promise to you and I broke it, something I swear to you I will never do to you again, all I can say now is I am so sorry amour…tu es mon soleil, mes étoiles, ma lune et le plus beau cadeau que j'ai jamais reçu. Je ne veux jamais te perdre.”

Charles didn’t have to say anything else in the moment, because you were quick to press your lips to his, his hands holding onto your face gently, cradling it as if you were made of porcelain. A kiss that brought you back to your wedding night, one that was filled with so much love you thought you might pass out, but god would it have been worth it.

“I love you, so much Char…come home please and-and we’ll figure out the rest another day.. I should have never made you stay away from us like that, I’ll kick myself for it…”

“No enough, I’m not mad at all baby I don’t blame you..come lets go have a movie day with Teo”

Nodding your head you let him lead you to the living room where Charles was quick to order your favourite lunch, while recruiting Matteo to make the couch into the comfiest movie watching space you’d ever had. A smile coming to your face at the excitement in his eyes, and excitement you’d missed seeing from him the past few days.

There really was nothing better in the world than having your little family back together, even if there was still much to be discussed and talked about but for right now, this was just perfect. Matteo settled in between the two of you, a happy smile on his face.

“I love you Maman, I love you Papa”

Charles looked over at you before pressing a kiss to your forehead, letting you settle onto his shoulder comfortably, everything was absolutely perfect, there was nothing that could come between the three of you again.

He would make sure of it, no matter what he had to do.

ʚlittle karter taglist

@goldenalbon @goldenmclaren @a1leexxa @treehouse-mouse @therealcap @wintfleur

english translations:

Maman, où est papa? - Mom where is daddy?

Il devrait être là dans la seconde, mon amour - He should be here any second my love

Est-ce que papa est déjà là? - is Daddy here?

Pas ce soir mon amour - Not tonight my love

Est-ce à cause de moi? - Is it because of me?

Petit amour, ce n’est pas ta faute et tu n’as rien fait de mal - Little love, it’s not your fault and you have done nothing wrong

Tu m’as tellement manqué petit prince, papa t’aime tellement. - i missed you so much little prince, daddy loves you so much

Papa je t’aime tellement, tu m’as manqué encore plus! - Daddy i love you so much i missed you even more!

Tu es mon soleil, mes étoiles, ma lune et le plus beau cadeau que j'ai jamais reçu. Je ne veux jamais te perdre - you are my sun, my stars, my moon and the greatest gift i’ve ever gotten, i never want to lose you

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lisolo1973 · 2 years

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L'ancien premier vice président de l'assemblée été face à la presse ce lundi

L’ancien premier vice président de l’assemblée été face à la presse ce lundi

Le président du AC Jean-Marc Kabund-A-Kabund face à la presse. Le président Jean-Marc Kabund-A-Kabund s’est présenté devant la presse nationale et internationale ce lundi 18 juillet 2022, il était presque 11h00 quand la réception a débuté, la cérémonie qui était très sobre s’est déroulée à son domicile et a connu plusieurs temps forts. Commencé ce matin aux environs de 11h00, le face à face avec…

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#A-C #face à la presse #Jean Marc Kabund-A-Kabund

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studioghibelli · 5 months

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three’s a party- a joel x tess x reader story

summary: joel knows you, his pretty little girlfriend, has always harbored sexual feelings for tess. he can’t help but oblige you on your birthday.

warnings: joel watches you and tess fuck, he basically gets cucked by tess, porn with no plot, bisexual reader, smut (f on f action, f & m receiving oral, tribbing, unprotected sex, very brief sir kink, light mentions of choking, spiting, daddy kink, dirty talk, use of the word whore and slut, dom!tess, sub!reader, kind of sub!joel (?), threesome)

notes: this is pure filth. i love it. mdni, or else!!! (not spell checked or edited….. sorry besties)

The room was damp, and smelled mildly of mildew.

Outside, the rush of dusk had plastered the night sky in shades of navy and onyx, no light inside the little square room except the dangling bulb which swung from the ceiling, a flickering twinge of gold illuminating the four corners with every sway of the string.

The mattress was old and stale, the coils squeaking with every movement, and to the side, a tattered arm chair the color of the earth rested without movement. Sitting on the dirty cover was Joel Miller, the man who had been responsible for orchestrating this night. And now there he was, watching his girl moan and writhe with pleasure, her legs pushed back by the hands of his work partner, Tess.

You didn’t have to ask Joel or say anything outright for him to notice that desire which lingered in your eyes each time you saw Tess. The way you would suck your bottom lip between in your teeth when her chest brushed against yours, the way you would let out a quiet sigh every time her fingers pushed a strand of hair from your face.

Joel Miller wasn’t an idiot.

It was the end of the world, and he didn’t mind sharing you. Well, not with Tess, anyways. He trusted her and loved her like family, but if anyone else tried to get funny with you, he’d have their head served up on a silver platter just for you, à la John the Baptist style.

When your birthday rolled around the corner, he knew just what he had to do for his pretty babydoll: indulge you- In the one way he knew you’d like best.

It took some convincing with Tess.

“I don’t want you trying to kill me for touching your girl.” She had joked, arms crossed as she stared at him plainly. “Are you sure she wants this?”

“‘Course she does. You ain’t dumb. She ‘bout loses her mind every time you get close to her.” They shared a laugh, and Tess soon agreed.

But with you, well, it took no convincing at all. You about jumped out of your skin with excitement when he brought the idea up, happily complying to the plan he had in mind. You trusted him deeply, more than anyone else on the earth, and knew he would always take good care of you.

And now you were here, in this situation. On the two decades’ old mattress with Tess’ tongue swirling circles around your clit, lapping at your soaked cunt as though you were the last thing she would ever taste. From the corner of your eye you saw Joel, sitting and watching you with his lips pressed into a thin line, arms crossed and face void of any emotion. If he didn’t have a massive boner tenting the fabric of his jeans, you would have wondered if he was growing angry.

No. No anger there. Not an ounce of it.

Your hands clenched the fabric of the cotton sheets tightly within your fists, nails tearing at the seams as the woman you had craved for so long lapped up every drop of your wetness. You were in Heaven, her skilled tongue exploring every inch of you that cried out. She hadn’t missed a spot on your clit, flicking it and slurping incessantly, until you were putty in her hands, for her to play with freely.

Tess pulled away, middle finger sinking deep into your tight hole. She looked up, an arrogant smirk crossing her lips, and relished in the quiet mewl you let out for her.

“You’re loving this, aren’t you pretty girl?”

You whimpered in response, hips bucking up as she flicked her finger just right, tapping up against your g-spot. Your thighs quivered.

“Tess!” You cried out. “Please.”

“No, no, no.” She climbed on top of you, naked cunt straddling your thigh, ring and middle finger now sunk deep into your entrance. Tess leaned forward, lips brushing against your ear, tongue licking a stripe against that sensitive patch of skin that always made you shiver. “You call me daddy.”

With wide eyes your neck snapped towards Joel, who was still watching you wordlessly, eyes dark, hands resting on the arms of the chair. He didn’t speak, didn’t flinch, didn’t make any sort of move. He only watched, like a statue stuck in place, eyes on you, and you only.

Tess began to grind herself against your thigh, a soft groan leaving her, before she grabbed your chin, forcing you to look up. “Not him. Me. Eyes on me.” The blunt edge of her nails sunk into your skin, and you felt her knee gently brush against your clit.

“Need you.” You begged breathlessly. “Need you.”

“Need me how? Tell daddy. What do you need from me, baby?” She cooed softly to you, her words dripping with a faux sense of worry. Behind her closed lips, you heard a faint snicker. Tess was getting off on this. She was getting off on seeing you beg, on seeing you come- quite literally- undone.

“Rub your pussy on mine, please….” A few beats passed before you spoke again. “Daddy.”

Tess grinned down at you, pushing your legs back before lowering herself, her pretty pink cunt pressed flush against yours.

Joel grunted. It was the first time he had made any noise. You glanced over at him, gently extending your hand. “Joel?” You called out softly, beckoning him forward. He wasted no time making his way to you, crouching down by the bed as he grasped your hand, plush lips pressing a gentle kiss to your knuckles.

“I’m here, darlin’. Right here.”

“Stay right here. Stay.” You whispered.

You looked down at Tess’ pussy on yours. She kept her pubic hair short, yet it was still there, and it looked damn good on her. Her clit was bigger than yours, sticking out from her folds in a way that made your mouth water. Pink and pretty, dripping just from pleasing you. Your hips bucked up at the feeling, completely involuntarily.

Tess looked down at your connected cunts, and slowly dragged her clit up and down between your folds, her hands pressed flat against your thighs as she watched, lip stuck between her teeth.

“God, you’re fucking soaked. She get this wet for you, Texas?” Arrogance dripped from her words.

“Wetter.” He grunted, arrogance matching hers, with his eyes burning right into your face. You turned your head to look at Joel, and he gently pushed a strand of hair behind your ear. “How’s it feel, baby?”

“So good. So fucking good.” You whined. He leaned forward and pressed a kiss to your forehead, rough hand cupping your cheek.

“Such a good girl, you know that? Takin’ it like a fuckin’ champ. Yeah, that’s my good girl. Such a good slut for your daddies, ain’t ya?” His voice was low and deep in your ear, for you only.

You looked at Tess, feeling her own clit circling yours. You gasped out softly, her throbbing button slowly poking through your folds, barely penetrating you, but doing so just enough that you felt that familiar tingle of arousal shoot up your body. Tess lowered her hand, flicking your nipple, before her calloused fingers dragged down the softness of your belly, finding your clit and pinching it lightly.

“You really are a good girl, aren’t you?” She purred, thumb rolling circles into your bud. “You’re wet as a fucking waterfall. Such a cute pussy, too. You know that? So fucking tight and pink, I might just steal you from Joel, make you mine.”

A low growl of annoyance came from beside you. “Watch it Tess.” He warned.

She giggled a girlish giggle, her pussy dragging up and down against yours. “Just kidding. No need to get your cock in a knot, Miller.”

You whined as she grinded against you, her wetness seeping in to your own. “I think I’m gonna cum on this little pussy of yours.”

Joel tightened his grip on your hand, leaning forward and kissing your temple, right where your sweat was gathering. You were whining and squirming, your orgasm right there, yet still so far away. You looked at your boyfriend, and he kissed you deeply, hand slowly moving to your throat where he held you in place, his tongue slipping between your lips. You moaned at the taste of his spit, hips bucking in to Tess’, her throbbing clit pressing against your own.

“God fucking damn.” You heard her groan, feeling her arousal dripping down your own thighs. You reached towards her, free hand finding her chest, pinching and twisting her nipple. You guided her chest closer to yours, pulling away from Joel’s mouth to meet hers. Tess kissed you hungrily, with a passion you were sure only a woman could ever carry.

Her nipples pressed into yours, brushing against one another as she fucked you with her cunt, up and down, the wanton noises of your wet slick filling the air. Your pussy was desperate to clench around something, clit tingling at the feeling of her friction. She shoved her tongue down your throat, sweaty body melding to yours, as she grunted and groaned into your throat.

You felt Tess shake with her own orgasm, grunting out your name as she pulled away from your mouth and grabbed the headboard, slowly rolling her hips into your own, staring at your connected pussies, watching the strings of cum tie her folds to your own. Milly white and dripping, she watched her folds fall open as she dragged them down your throbbing clit, moaning out at the sight.

She looked at Joel. “You want to make her cum, or me?”

“Why not both?” The smirk was evident in his voice. You moaned out in annoyance when she got off of you, annoyed at the lack of contact on your clit.

“Don’t worry, angel.” Joel murmured, nibbling at your ear lobe. “She’s gonna make you cum real nice. Then your real daddy is gonna fuck you nice and dumb.”

“Oh.” You moaned out softly at his words, tangling your hand in his curls. “Yes sir.” You murmured softly, and Joel let out a throaty chuckle, his lips attaching to your neck.

As your eyes fluttered close at the feeling of Joel sucking on your skin, your felt your legs being pushed up, and you were soon met with the feeling of Tess’ lips wrapping around your sensitive bud. She dipped her fingers into your soaked pussy, tasting her own cum and your arousal heavy on her tongue.

“You’re a fucking bastard for keeping this pussy away from me for so long, Miller. She’s the sweetest thing I’ve ever tried.” She continued licking at your clit, eyes slowly dragging to meet yours, now half open and heavy with arousal. “Ain’tcha, baby? So fucking sweet. Here, have a taste.” She dragged her fingers from your folds, reaching up towards your lips until you were sucking on them.

You moaned, her cum sweet and salty in your mouth. You continued sucking on them, slowly looking at Joel with a flicker of playfulness sparkling in your eyes. You treated her two digits like a cock, bobbing slowly, eyes never leaving your boyfriends. You finally pulled away with a pop, and Joel groaned out.

“Enough.” He growled, standing up and shoving his jeans down. His cock sprung out, and he pressed his tip against your lips. “Suck. Now.” He demanded.

You whined out as Tess removed her lips from your clit, instead opting to tease your folds, her tongue shoving deep inside of you. You leaned forward towards Joel’s dick, wrapping your lips around it as he grabbed your hand, his fingers interlocking with yours. His free hand reached down, gently rubbing the side of your head.

“That’s it. Suck this cock off, babydoll. Such a good fuckin’ girl for me.” His hips stuttered against you as you took him inch by inch, his tip reaching the back of your throat. You gagged softly, pulling ever so softly away, before beginning to bob up and down, your tongue swirling against the veined underside of his length.

Between your legs, Tess was slurping up your wetness, and when her lips attached to your clit again, you knew your orgasm was soon approaching. How you had lasted for so long was beyond you, you had no clue. You shivered against her pretty face, hips bucking as she returned to fingering you. That, mixed with the feeling of her lips on your clit, did your head in.

You cried out against Joel’s cock, which twitched in your mouth at the sound of your pleasure, your climax hitting you like a double decker bus. It felt so good, in fact, tears were pricking at the corners of your eyes.

You tried to focus on his cock, but you only got sloppier, tongue wild against his dick as you bucked your hips and clenched around her fingers, panting like a bitch in heat at the feeling of your orgasm.

“Get away from her, Joel.”

He grunted in annoyance, nonetheless obeying. Tess laid down on the bed, wiping her shining mouth off with the back of her hand, and patted her lap. “Sit.” She ordered you. Crawling over, you sat on her lap, your back pressed against her chest. “Joel, fuck her.”

A smirk spread across his face, and he positioned himself between your legs, pushing into you in one swift motion, right to the hilt. You moaned out. Tess’ hand crept to your neck, and as she grabbed it, she tilted your head back.

“Open your mouth, baby. Want you to taste yourself.” You leaned your head back against her shoulder, opening your mouth. Tess spit on to your tongue, the taste of your mixed cum and her spit sliding down your throat. You moaned at the flavor.

Joel filled you and stretched you good. He always had. It was like his cock was built specifically for your pussy.

“So fuckin’ good, angel.” He mumbled, his hands dragging up and down your sides. Joel’s thrusts were sloppy, and you knew he wasn’t going to last very long.

“We promised her two orgasms, Texas.” Tess purred. “So you better not cum fast.”

He panted out in annoyance, cheeks reddening as his arousal climbed and clawed up his body, his throat growing raw with desire. Joel’s palms dug into your hips, where he held you down in place against the mattress.

You could feel Tess’ wet cunt against your ass, and slowly her hands began to massage into your skin, until she reached your pussy once more.

“That pretty little clit is just begging for attention, isn’t it?” She whispered in your ear, biting down on your skin. “Should I oblige her?”

“Yes.” You begged.

Her hand came smacking down against your pussy, the sudden feeling causing you to jolt. “Yes what?” She asked lowly.

“Yes daddy.”

Joel groaned at the sound, the tip of his cock pressing against that spot each time he thrust. You weren’t sure how long you would last if he continued his thrusts, especially with Tess’ fingers exploring your pussy.

“That’s a good, good girl.” She began rubbing slow, deep circles against your clit, her hand still tight around your throat. “You really are such a sweet thing.”

You breathed out a jumble of syllables in response, feeling Joel’s fingers gently work at your nipples.

“My sweet thing.” He whispered, and your eyes fluttered open to look at him. Your eyes met, and a shared smile spread across your faces. Joel reached down, gently pressing his palm to your cheek. A shared moment of intimacy in an otherwise heinous, ungodly, sexually depraved scene. Your hand gently wrapped itself around the back of his, pressing him closer to your skin.

“So sweet.” Tess mumbled dryly, sarcastically, and you felt her mouth connect against your neck. You moaned out, and she grinned. “Just a dumb little fuck toy at the end of the day, aren’t you?”

You nodded, legs parting even further as your second orgasm loomed. Joel’s cock twitched inside you, and he leaned forward until he was pressed against you, his face resting in the crook of your neck.

“I-I’m gonna cum again.” You whined, Tess’ skillful fingers still working your clit.

“What about you, Texas?” Tess asked, her lips still working the skin of your neck.

“Please.” He growled through gritted teeth.

“Fine.” She finally gave permission, albeit rather dismissively.

Joel buried himself as deep as he could inside of you, spilling his seed with a loud growl, teeth clenching down on to your shoulder as you shared your orgasm. Waves of pleasure rolled over you, and you wrapped your arms around Joel, holding on to him as tightly as you could. Your belly clenched, clit growing sensitive as Tess carried you through your high, her fingers still rubbing up and down your sensitive nub.

Joel slowly pulled away, but Tess kept rubbing.

“Please.” You whimpered, more tears pooling in your eyes. “Too sensitive.” You tried to push her hand away, but Joel grabbed ahold of your wrist, planting a kiss to your forehead.

“Let her, babydoll. Let her use that pussy.” He whispered. As your over-sensitive clit was toyed with, Joel leaned forward, forehead resting on yours.

You whined breathlessly at that raw, burning feeling which cascaded through you, mixed with the coveted feeling of pleasure as Tess rubbed. Joel’s nose brushed into yours, his eyes boring in to your own.

“That’s my babydoll. Taking it so good. You’re such a good girl for me.” He whispered, gently pressing a series of mini-kisses into your mouth. “For us.” He corrected himself, which Tess moaned in agreement too.

“Thank you.” You moaned out earnestly, kissing him once more. You felt your belly tightening once more.

“Third one’s always the easiest.” Tess snickered, rubbing your clit between her index and thumb. “‘Specially when you’re just a pretty little fuck thing.”

Joel stared into your eyes, a grin gleaming over his lips, as your third and final orgasm washed over you. As you came, his name chanted from your mouth, and you collapsed into Tess’ chest, bodies sweaty and hot.

Joel pulled you in to his arms, cradling you to his chest as Tess threw on her shirt. She grinned at the both of you.

“Pretty cute together, y’know.” She admitted, running a hand through her hair. “Was this a good birthday?”

You let out a soft laugh, slowly coming to your senses as you nodded. “The best one I’ve ever had.”

Tess mirrored your own laugh, and you watched her fingers as she buckled her belt. “Let’s do it again sometime?”

As Joel kissed your neck, you smiled at her. “We can pretend my birthday is next week?”

The three of you shared a knowing look, and each of you knew what you had gotten yourself in to for the coming days, weeks, months- however long you possibly could. A pit of sexual desire and craving that would probably never be satiated, but none of you really cared.

All you knew is that the three of you had always made a great team, and you know what they say- three’s a party.

“Deal.”

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cieloclercs · 10 months

Text

what would you say (if i told you i love you)? — charles leclerc

PART: 5/? (read part 4 here)

summary. in which childhood best friends blur the lines between what they’ve always known, and something more

pairing. charles leclerc x artsy!reader

warnings. it’s GROVELLING time !! sad charles, sad reader, swearing, everyone still kind of hates charles (as they should) angst but not quite as angsty as the last part

face claim. tara michelle

author’s note. i hope this is enough suffering for you guys 😭 i’m weak tho so there’s a tinyyy bit of progress at the end 👀 i feel like this one’s a bit messy so i’m sorry about that?? it’s also kind of just setting up the next part but oh well 😭 anyways, LAST PART COMING UP NEXT ☹️ i’m gonna miss this series :’(

NOW PLAYING | Singapore 2023 post-FP1 interview: Charles Leclerc

COMMENTS 32k

username i’m still charles’ number 1 hater rn but he looked so sad at the end… ☹️

username girl no we need to be strong! don’t fall for the sad puppy dog eyes (i know he’s cute but srsly don’t) 🫠

username you’re right, you’re right 😔 haters until the end 🫡

username sir don’t try and blame your shitty mistakes on y/n 😭😭

username HE LOOKS SO SAD I CANT 🥲

username i really hope y/n sees this and realises he’s actually sorry

username no way that’s too easy. charles needs to apologise properly !!

username oh my GOD the way he started smiling when he said y/n is his ‘lucky charm’ AND THEN THE WAY IT DROPPED WHEN HE REMEMBERED THEY’RE NOT FRIENDS ANYMORE IM GONNA SCREAM 😭😭😭💔💔💔

username charles do you see what you’re doing to us charlesy/n stans?? PLEASE JUST TELL HER HOW YOU FEEL FFS 😫

username i swear if these two don’t pull their heads out of their asses soon I WILL COMMIT MURDER

username so real bestie 😔

username it’s such an invasion of privacy to ask about this though 😭

username fr the press don’t know when to keep out of it 😒

username i think he knows he’s in love with her now, he’s just not sure how to fix things ☹️

username i’m scared this feels like right person wrong time you know? 😃

username don’t say that 🫣 i’m just praying y/n forgives him. as soon as he apologises properly ofc, can’t make it too easy for him mwahahah

username i want to keep hating him but i’ve never seen him look that sad 🥲

username CHARLES YOU DONT GET TO ACT LIKE THE VICTIM WHEN YOU’RE THE ONE THAT’S CAUSED THIS

username so true. he needs to stop feeling sorry for himself and apologise 🙄

liked by yourfriend and 47,837 others

yourusername always on my mind ☁️💫

view all comments…

username SHE’S BACK IN MONACO GUYS EVERYBODY STAY CALM

username MOTHER HAS RETURNED !!!

username wait is that f1 she’s watching on her phone? 🤨

username omg it is 🤭

username SHE WATCHED THE RACE OMFG

username charles podium as well 😩😩

username it’s like he knew she was watching 🥹

username i hate how quickly everyone’s switching up on the charles situation just because of that interview but at the same time i can’t deal with my parents fighting anymore i need them to make up 😫

leclerc_pascale Bienvenue à la maison, ma fille ❤️ / welcome home, my girl

yourusername 🥰

arthur_leclerc YOU’RE BACK

yourusername did you forget? i literally saw you twenty minutes ago 😭

username the caption 🤔

username we can all agree she’s talking about charles, right?

yourfriend ma femme 🤩 / my wife

yourusername mon amour 😘

username she is everything.

username forget her art SHE IS THE ART RIGHT THERE

charles_leclerc belle / beautiful

username EXCUSE ME??

username SIR WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE PHAHAHA

username charles get tf out of here 😭

username i love how y/n’s just straight up ignoring him 😭

username CHARLES IS HERE GUYS HOW ARE WE FEELING

username i’m so conflicted rn

username like i want them to make up but at the same time he needs to SUFFER like he made y/n suffer

username fr, make him squirm a little 😌

username idk guys, if charles leclerc commented ‘belle’ on MY instagram, i’d be on my knees in an instant 🫣

username girl please 😭

username charles babe please go away you’re ruining the vibes x

username i swear to god if he’s here just to fuck with y/n’s head again i’ll fucking kill him

username he wouldn’t do that

username @charles_leclerc if you want to win her back this is NOT the way to do it

arthur_leclerc @charles_leclerc what did i tell you? 👀

username HAHAHA ARTHUR STOP

joris_trouche @charles_leclerc you should listen to our advice mate 😃

yourfriend @arthur_leclerc @joris_trouche shut up both of you 😒

joris_trouche yes ma’am 🫡

username they’re all ganging up on him 😭

liked by formula1updates and 9,736 others

f1gossip Charles Leclerc and Y/N Y/L/N spotted at the same night club in Monaco 👀

view all comments…

username OH MY GOD IS IT HAPPENING??

username there’s no way this is coincidence charles is boutta beg for forgiveness i’m calling it

username y/n’s actually smiling tho 😭 charles please don’t ruin it x

username we need y/f/n to scare him off before he can ruin her night 🤞

username AHAHAHA YES

username what i’d give to be in that club rn 😔

username fr y/n better be roasting him 😭

➜ part 6

taglist: @cxcewg @incoherenciass @formula1mount @allywthsr @meabhcavanagh @driveswiftly13 @zzblooda @gaslysainz @be-your-coffee-pot @siovhanroy

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charlesslut16 · 10 months

Note

BAE I NEED PART TWO FOR “ONLY HIM” 🩷🩷

-him only-

summary : charles punishes you for going to your ex's party...

PAIRING : charles leclerc x fem!reader

WARNINGS : 18+, NSFW; smut, badly translated french, curse words, dirty talk, daddy kink, p in v, oral (female receiving), degrading, sub/dom, fingering,possessive!boyfriend, rough sex, slight aftercare, spanking, unprotected sex (be safe!)

note : i hope you like it! It took very long as i didn't have any motivation but now here it is. Send in more requests, my loves!

masterlist / the first part

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

Charles walked behind you with a slick smirk on his face. He loved how obedient you were for him. As you knew what was coming when you came home.

Your punishment would be very long. Charles knew that you had only gone to your ex's party to get him angry, but you still needed to be punished. You are his girl, no one elses.

You both sat in the car, charles started the motor while you looked out of the window, thinking about all the ways that he would punish you. His hand laid on your thigh, squeezing from time to time.

The moment you walked through the door of your apartment, he had you pressed against the door, his lips attacking your neck and his hands grabbed your hips roughly.

“Allez dans notre chambre, déshabillez-vous et un avertissement de mon côté, ne vous touchez pas.” Charles growled against the shell of your ear, tore away from you, tapped your ass, to get you moving. Go into our bedroom, get undressed and a warning from my side, don't touch yourself.

You went into your room and, well, didn't do as you were told. Half of your clothes were on the floor, the other half on your body, And you started to touch yourself. You needed to release some heat, even if charles will be mad.

A loud moan came out of your mouth, which made sure that charles heard you, and he did. Charles barged into the room, grabbed your wrist to stop you from rubbing your clit, and glared at you.

“What do you think you are doing, slut?”

“Touching.”

“And what did I tell you that you could not do?”

“Touch.”

Charles nodded at your answer and slowly removed your bra and panties, so you were stripped bare for him. After he undressed himself, while you watched him, until he was in nothing but boxers.

“Now what am I going to do with you? You want to cum that bad, huh? Bad enough that you'd disobey me and go to your ex's party?”

All of a sudden, his fingers are inside you, curling against your walls and making you wetter by the second. You gripped his wrist, but he only grabbed both your hands, pinned them above your head.

He pumped harder, faster, and your stomach started to tighten. You moved your hips against his hand, but the moment you did, he stopped and waited for you to settle down.

Your boyfriend continued to finger you, and you started to clench around his big fingers. He pulled away, licked his fingers, and watched you squirm in the bed.

“Nous allons voir combien de fois je peux te border avant que tu ne coules le long de tes magnifiques cuisses. Et j’espère que vous vous souviendrez de ne plus jamais aller à la fête de votre ex. Tu es à moi maintenant, plus à lui.” We are going to see how many times I can edge you before you're dripping down your gorgeous thighs. And hopefully you will remember to not go to your ex's party ever again. You are mine now, not his anymore.

His thumb was on your clit, moving fast. You're squirmed, wanting to cum but being too afraid to. charles pulled away again and stared at how wet your sex was for him. Only him.

He dipped a long, big finger into your sex and then pulled out, sucking your juices off. You try to wiggle your small wrists out of his hold, but his grip was too firm.

Somehow he managed to ram three fingers into you, charles smirked down at you as he pumped them hard and fast and reveled in the sweet sound of your drenched pussy.

Charles leaned forward and sucked on your neck and your chest, leaving bruises that would be hard to cover in the morning. His mouth enveloped one of your breasts and his tongue circled your nipple before he bit, hard.

Your body jolted and Charles stopped moving his fingers, waiting for your hips to stop moving. Frustrated, you didn't stop. You worked your hips in a way that moved charles long fingers.

“Vous voulez vous en sortir si mal?” You want to get off that badly?

Your boyfriend slammed his fingers into you roughly. One by one, he slowly removed his fingers, licking them clean. By now you were dripping down your thighs and ready to suck, blow and fuck to get your release.

“Answer me!”

“Yes. Please. Please, make me cum.” You're beyond the point of enduring. “I should have followed your rules. I'm sorry, daddy.”

“Yes, you should have, baby.”

“Do you need it?”

“Yes,” you said. Anything to have his hands on you.

“Are you sure?” His fingers were playing with your lower lips and your breath was catching.

“Yes, daddy.”

“Good, daddy'll give you what you want. Over and over and over again until you have learned your lesson. And to not go to another man without me.”

His long fingers plunged into you, deeper than ever before. He rammed them into you, taking you fast and hard. Your eyes were wide, as his words slowly sank in.

Before you could protest, you had climaxed for the first time tonight, your back arched, your pussy dripped and your mouth formed the shape of an 'o'. Charles moved on to your clit, rubbing fast without any mercy.

You hadn't even come down from your first orgasm yet, and your stomach was already tightening, ready to release again. You came hard, your whole body shook, and your clit was swollen and sensitive, charles didn't stop rubbing.

He kept moving his thumb in a circular motion, making you come for a third time. His mouth moved to your sex, licking up your juices, before he plunged his tongue deep.

He held your hips down with both his hands, let go of your wrists. You used your free hands to try to push his head away, but he ignored you, continuing to devour you.

“daddy, no. I'm too sensitive.” Even as you say this, a moan escaped your lips when he hit your spot. After a few strokes from his tongue, you came undone, gripped his hair and screamed his name loud enough to wake the neighbors.

In your bout of ecstasy, you barely felt him flip you over, so you were sitting on his face. Here, he had better access to move where ever he wanted inside you. It was also a total turn on to look down on him licking at your pussy.

Your legs were shaking, and you could barely hold yourself upright as he worked you towards a fifth orgasm that you were not sure your body could take.

You gripped the white headboard and moved your hips against your boyfriend's mouth, hoping that this would be the last one… well, maybe the second to last.

You couldn't support yourself when you came again, and charles had to hold you up, so you wouldn't fall over. He licked you clean before lifting you off of him.

He stared down at your tired body, glistening in sweat, before leaning in close to your ear.

“Your lesson isn't over yet, mon amour. Get on your hands and knees. It's Daddy's turn now.”

Your arms shook as you positioned yourself. You felt charles caress your ass before he delivered a hard smack. His tip was rubbing against your entrance, and you didn't know if you could take him for a sixth time.

You sighed, shivered and moaned as he entered you. Charles may be dominant, possessive and a little scary in bed, but he always made sure you were comfortable before he took you. Hard.

Charles slammed into you, destroying your wet and swollen pussy for a sixth and final time. You gripped the silk sheets beneath you and tried to stay upright, wanting to please him.

He leaned forward and nipped your skin, every once in a while he bit hard, leaving evident marks on your skin. He smacked your ass again and picked up the speed.

He was close. You were close too, and every time he smacked your ass with his big veiny hands, you got a little closer to your climax. Charles suddenly pulled out of you and flipped you onto your back.

Your boyfriend slipped back into you and picking up the pace. His lips connected with yours for the first time tonight, and they were hungry. You could taste yourself on him, and you welcome the flavor of your juices on your tongue.

You tightened around Charles before coming undone. You writhed and squirmed and shook, milking him with your spasms. He rode out both your highs and stood up to get a towel to clean you both up.

He gathered your spent body in his arms and chuckled.

“So, has Daddy's little princess learned her lesson?”

You only nodded, too tired to even respond anymore. Even tho you loved his dominant and possessive side, you wouldn't do it again. The happy and gentle charles made you happier than anything.

“Je t’aime mon petit haricot, mais tu dois compère que tu ne me désobéis pas et que tu n’iras plus jamais vers un autre homme sans moi. Tu es à moi. Ma fille. Seulement le mien.“ I love you my little bean, but you need to understand that you don't disobey me and that you do not go to any other man without me ever again. You're mine. My girl. Only mine.

“Je t’aime, sharl” You whispered lightly, not even fully understanding what he said. Nuzzling your head into his chest, you feel asleep as you smell his cologne in.

#f1 #charles leclerc #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x female reader #formula one #formula 1 #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc f1 #charles leclerc smut #sub!reader #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc oneshot #charles lecrelc #charles lechair #dom!charles leclerc

597 notes · View notes

nanamimizz · 3 months

Text

tags: no warnings/fem reader/fluff/obvious self-insert/ use of french/ love confessions/ domestic/kissing/reader used to be a maid.

synopsis: you love javier - to madness, to ruin. to sanity, to salvation.

You’ve been murmuring under your breath, Javier can hear it over the sound of others in camp waking up. Through the rustling and clinging of tin cups your voice is clear through the commotion as you pass the comb through his hair one more time. It is one of the few mornings he doesn’t have morning guard duty, blessing him with the sight of the dawn breaking over the curve of your cheek and the flutter of your lashes. It allows him time to get ready with you and you are giving enough to comb his hair for him.

You’ve always liked his hair you had mentioned and are often found playing with the ends when he has it tied up.

Javier can tell the language you mutter in, it’s french and it sounds like a rhyme. He hums softly to the rhythm of your words before he asks you.

“I didn’t know you spoke french.” His voice is soft, as if it might break the soft bubble you two exist in. You’re humming is lost and you pause, instead bringing the tip of the comb to the crown of his head and begin to part his hair.

“I don’t really, I just know a few phrases.” You say as you let the comb slide swiftly down the ink of his hair. You are jealous of how feather soft he can keep it, when living rough like this.

“My mistress was tutored in French when she was a little girl. What she learned rubbed off on me.”

“So what are you muttering right now?”

You hum, letting the comb lose itself in his tresses before letting your hand collect the strands to begin making his ponytail.

“It’s like the saying he loves me, he loves me not but more detailed.” You explain, holding his hair gently so as to not tug on it while you lean to get his usual hair tie he had handed to you earlier when you had first asked to help him with his hair.

“Say it for me?” Javier asks, a cheeky smile on his lip as he eyes you from the corner of his vision. He catches your smile, the gentle scrap of your nails against the back of his neck makes it feel like there’s a bird in his chest.

You whined the hair tie around his hair once.

“Je l’aime un peu.”

You wrap the hair tie around his hair twice.

“Beaucoup.”

You wrap the hair tie around his hair thrice.

“Passionnément.”

You wrap the hair tie around his hair one last time, and lean to gentle tug at the strands of hair he likes to have in front of his face. Your hand comes to trace his features with soft reverence - the thin edge of your nail running along the scar on his left cheek that you press a tender kiss to. You utter the next part of the phrasing quietly as if to ensure only Javier hears it and no one else.

“À la folie.”

I love you to madness, to insanity. Fervently, wildly, desperately, senselessly and so many other wonderful synonyms . You find it within yourself unable to utter the next part as if the words were lead on your tongue. Not when the words you have just uttered capture you perfectly, as you let your eyes settle and count the long black lashes that fan around Javier’s dark eyes. His voice pulls you from your daze and you find your eyes pinned to his lips.

“And?” Your eyes do not move at all as you utter,

“Pas du tout.”

“What does that part mean?”

“It means not at all.” You whisper to him leaning in close enough to feel his lips brush against yours. It is bitter, like the taste of tobacco on the backs of your teeth, to resist the urge to kiss him.

“And what part do you feel towards me?”

“À la folie. I love you to madness, to insanity, to ruin.” It’s easy for you to admit that to him - it’s always easy to tell Javier you love him. Until the sun rises in the west and sets in the east and until the oceans bring the mountains crumbling down. You love Javier with all you have to offer and maybe he can see it with how gently it is you arrange a strand of his hair away from his face.

Whether Javier comes to you as a lover or executioner you are always ready to accept him.

Javier does not say anything back but you can see how his eyes twitch when he blinks slowly and his throat bobbles. Your gaze is kind and understanding; you press the gentlest kiss against his, undoubtedly pure in this wicked world. A mere press of your lips to his - Javier presses back just as gently and it is enough to profess all that can not be said.

I love you.

I know.

I can’t say it, not yet.

I know, it’s okay.

You pull away with a kind smile, one that makes your eyes wrinkle at the edges; making them soft with adoration. Javier is as well groomed as he is any other day and it makes you proud to have your part in that. You rise from your position at his side to begin to make your way to the opening of your tent. A warm hand goes to yours, stopping you and brings your attention back to him as if it ever truly leaves. Javier stands now, his thumb swiping over the slopes of your knuckles. His hand is different to yours; his palms wide and squared with scars all over. It’s almost painful to see the difference when compared with your delicate and dexterous hands. Your hand is brought to his lips, adorned by his facial and you giggle bubbly and bright at how it feels when the hairs tickle the smooth skin of your inner wrist. He places a kiss where your pulse can be felt and you know he feels how it jumps at the feeling of his lips against your skin.

“Thank you.” His dark eyes are soft when he gazes at you. It’s too much to look at, so you avert your gaze and feel the heat on your face. “I’ll see you tonight?”

“Yes,” you smile softly - a blushing maiden all tender hearted and sweet eyed. “Always.”

It makes him nod his head and grin, tipping his head at you in farewell to begin the day.

Farewell, until tonight that is.

#lamb.writes #javier escuella x reader #red dead redemption x reader #rdr2 x reader #javier escuella fluff #rdr2 fluff #sorry for my use of french and sorry if its not correct i ess over come with an idea

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just-some-random-blogger · 1 year

Note

Since there are quite a few award shows going on, what are your thoughts on a fic about Ewan and reader at the awards together and they are being so flirty (trying and failing so hard to hide it) in the background that even the cast are teasing them. Meanwhile it’s all going viral? As always, this just an idea, no pressure to write it or anything! Hope you have a lovely day :)

Secret Hand Holding

Ewan Mitchell x Reader

Summary: "YALL AINT SLICK, IVE GOT 20 LOW RES SS OF YAZ HOLDIN HANDS AND IMMA BOUTTA THROW HANDS"

Word Count: >600

Warnings: gender neutral!reader, use of y/n cos 🤧 tis unavoidable, crackfic, fluff, typos, etc.

A/N: I need a breather cos i got this commission and i'm panicking over it. i did change some stuff about the req nonnie, so i hope ya still like it <3 also the gettyimages watermark HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH Tagging: @pinksirensong @aralezinspace @sloanexx @deniixlovezelda @risefallrise @slavyanskiyahui @antisociablewallflower @lxdyred

Now Playing: ewan and [y/n] moments that are TOO SUS to be a ✨nothing✨

à la ai generated voice: Hello, Every [...] one i have been thinking about iwan- - - why did he say it like that- IWAN -- YOUWAN- And [...] y/n,,, ever since they did the house of the dragon press thing [...] and [...] i have not been able to get this

[SHAKY EFFECT] [LOUD BG MUSIC] [PHOTOGRAPH OF YOU AND EWAN]

à la ai generated voice: out of my head [...] So [...] here are a few moments during that event where i think it's just [MAX VOLUME] TOO SUS [NORMAL VOLUME] for them to not be [...] [...] idk horn dogging behind the- [CUT NOISE + WHITE SOUND]

You were posing for some pictures. Ewan just came in, chewing gum. Your name was begin called by the photographers and, quite frankly, you were serving like rent was due. You were giving. That in and of itself deserved its own edit (which it does-- it has its own edits).

Your expression was mostly stoic and your hands were relaxed upon the front of your thighs.

Then came Ewan, ready to pose for the carpet, and as he did so, the paparazzi called out his name, making you turn from your side, and immediately break character.

Your otherwise blank face morphs into a wide grin and you gather yourself, walking over to Ewan, though he was at a side where you had just finished posing. The moment you are remotely close, Ewan turns, and his own poker face twists into a pursed smile. He reaches out for you and gives you a hug.

You kiss his cheek and a lipstick mark stays on his skin for a good unknowing 6 seconds.

[loud bg] THAT SIX SECONDS IS WELL-DOCUMENTED.

From the moment you two pose next to each other, the different fan cams and multiple angles wherein the kiss mark and your smiles are visible, to the moment you turn and gasp, reaching out to wipe Ewan's cheek, it's all very much well-documented.

Ewan glances at you as you rub his cheek with your thumb. You're holding back a laugh as you mutter something that makes him thin his lips and mutter something back.

à la ai generated voice: GIRL WE KNOW 😃😃😃😩😩😩😒😒😒🤮🤮🤮 WE KNOW double yew double yew double yew double yew double yew,,, sigh [...] [...] now onto the part that went [...] [DEAFENINGLY LOUD] VIRAL

You were mid posing for the carpet right.

Ewan turns to you. He mumbles something that makes you turn over to your right and break into a laugh. You wave at someone (no one knows who to this day), and with a toothy grin, turn back to Ewan. The arms you had by each other's back slowly glide down against each other as you pull away and tell him something that makes him smirk and nod.

And then, your hands are by each other's wrists, dangling beside each other. Next thing that happens, you're holding hands and you're pulling him away.

Ewan follows you with no fuss. [EDIT IN SCREAMING SOUNDS] As you lead him off, you stop and await him to your side. Once he's close enough, you turn to him from over your shoulder and say something.

In reaction to whatever you said, Ewan smirks and shrugs. He points to the distance and, for some reason, you laugh really hard at that.

[REALLY LOUD GROANING, GROWLING, RABID NOISES]

à la ai generated voice: What the,,, [...] [...] [monotonous but loud] FUCKINGSHITFUCKINGFUCKFUCKINGFATHERFUCKINGFUCKERSHITCUNTRATGREMLINAYAYAYYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA [...] [...] did you just unleash upon this cursed land question mark (?)

#house of the dragon fanfic #aemond targaryen fanfic #ewan mitchell #ewan mitchell x reader #ewan mitchell imagine #ewan mitchell fanfic #ewan mitchell fluff #ewan mitchell x you #hotd fanfic #hotd rpf fanfic

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justjams2003 · 6 months

Text

Fast Pace- 12

Before we start, I'd just like to wish you all a very happy New Year! Know that there is plenty more to come from me in the coming year. And also thank you all for 420 followers (haha nice), I'm still in shock that people keep coming back and wants more. Believe it or not, this is the most active community and website I have ever written for and I'm so glad to have found Tumblr. Anyways enjoy xoxo

Summary: You're a hard-working Chef in Paris and after a freak accident run-in with Carlos Sainz, your life makes a 180. Let's just say with a certain agreement, you get your bills paid and in return stand in as Carlos' girlfriend for the press. But will you be able to handle the pressure and ensure the lines don't blur?

Pairing: Sugar Daddy!Carlos Sainz x Sugar Baby!Reader

Warnings: I've aged up Carlos, he is 33 in this fic. Smoking, smut, sexual themes, age difference, manipulation, control, slight obsession, the word 'daddy', nudity, a garbage family, family trauma, disowning, tell me if I missed any

Taglist: @httpjeonlicious, @f1lov3r, @messersandmesses, @hollie911, @oriconde08 @thehufflepuffavenger1 @fanboyluvr @thatgirlmj @whyamireadingthis @oriconde08 @depressedriches @roseseraj @skepvids @sain55wifey @distinguishedvoidlady @amatswimming @sachaa-ff @lightdragonrayne @lazybot @formula1mount @fangirl-dot-com @saintslewis @carlossainzwho @lordpercevalcharles @topguncultleader @kitixie @serp3ns0rtiae @hangmandruigandmav @therealone4r @keii134 @dark-night-sky-99 @jax-the-oregonian @hachrinnen

Word count: 3,1k

Masterlist

Part 11~Part 13 (coming soon)

“Echanté de voi rencontre, Monsur.” Carlos is trying his best, but at the moment he is butchering your home-tongue. You can’t but be nervous, he however seems as calm as a cucumber about meeting your parents. He’s got the sunglasses on that you gave him. You can see from where your sitting, your initials carved into the side. “No, no, mon cher. Good try, but it’s Enchanté de vous rencontrer, Monsieur.”

He sighs, rubbing his face in his hands. He looks so much more relaxed already. He’s got short khaki’s on and a casual button up shirt. You’ve hired a more practical car for the week, one with a big trunk. You got your family lots of presents and might have overpacked a bit. Still not used to having such a big amount of money. But even still, you have the sunroof open, enjoying the county side air.

“I’m sorry, mi querida,” he shakes his head and rakes his fingers through his hair. You can’t help yourself, tucking the stray hairs that fray in the wind behind his ears. “I should’ve gotten a haircut before we came.” He sighs, but you can see that he enjoys your touch. “No, it is the perfect length, don’t change a thing about it.” He gives a side-eye but you can only laugh. “No, it’s in the way.”

You pout, “No, your hair is just long enough to...grab...” you mutter, taking a handful of hair and pulling on it ever so slightly. Surprisingly, a growl escapes his throat. The noise causes a warmth to spread through your body.

The sunlight hits his skin just beautifully, he looks like hot caramel. Something you want to drizzle into your mouth. You’re sure you could cook a steak on his sizzling skin.

“This is your home then?” He asks, while caring the bags. He refuses to let you carry a single one. You nod and then knock on the door. “It is a small house for 7 people, no?” He’s not wrong. “Oui, us three girls had to share a room and the boys shared a room.” He grimaces at your words, “Then one day we will have a big house.” You blush at his words and wrap your arms around his, all while subtly taking a photo.

The door opens, you only now realise how short your mom has gotten. Or maybe it really has been so long. “Ah, ma fille, tu viens enfin rendre visite à ta vieille mère. Cela fait si longtemps et enfin tu ramènes un homme à la maison!” She instantly starts rambling and then opens up her arms and gives Carlos a big hug. “N'es-tu pas si beau? Quel est votre nom et pourquoi êtes-vous avec ma fille?”

Carlos looks like a fish out of water. His face is entirly blank and he just seems to be nodding along. “Enchanté de vous rencontrer, Mademoiselle,” he stutters through the French, his Spanish accent still blatantly obvious. Your mother just frowns at his bad French. “He doesn’t speak French.” Her wide smile turns sour, “Pourquoi faire venir un homme inutile qui ne parle pas français?”

You sigh and then nudge him, “the presents,” you whisper. “Il s'appelle Carlos et il a apporté des cadeaux.” Now she really does smile as he holds up the presents. “Oui, come in, come in.” Like always, he allows you to walk in first.

“What did she say?” He asks to you in a whisper. You sigh and shake your head. “Nothing that you need to worry yourself about.” You give him a kiss on the cheek, trying to soothe his usually worry.

“Apportez-lui quelque chose à boire, je suis sûr qu'il est fatigué après son très long voyage.” You sigh, of course she asks that of you. As if you and him didn’t have the same trip. You turn to Carlos after he sat down along with your mother to open her present, that you picked out.

“Carlos, what would you like to drink?” He frowns and then stands up. He takes your arm and then leads you to the couch. “You must be tired, mi querido, it was a four-hour trip, I’m sure you are tired.” He leads you to sit down next to him, he pulls you into his side. Everything in you wants to cuddle into his side, but you can feel your mother’s judgemental eyes on you.

Instead, you shake your head, “My mother insists that I get you something to drink. You did drive after all.” You can see the tick in his jaw, clearly not happy with this. He smiles, forced clearly, “Please tell your mother I don’t need anything to drink.” You sigh and do just so and she replies with some comment insisting you do just that. Yes, you are exhausted but even still you stand and pour him a drink.

“Je vais lui montrer la chambre.” You grab him by the arm and pull him up towards your old bedroom. Quite ungracefully you fall on your childhood bed. He smirks, but his smile is quick to fall. “Mi dulce niña, does she always make you feel like this?” Carlos asks you give and exhausted laugh. “You don’t even know what she said,” you peak at him, and he pulls you into his lap.

He kisses your forehead, “Tell me," You sigh and rest you head on his shoulder. “When she met you, she went, ‘you’re so handsome why are you dating my daughter?’ And then she went, ‘you’re so stupid bringing a man that doesn’t even speak French.’ Then after that it was, ‘poor thing he’s so tired bring him something to drink.’ As if I wasn’t on the exact same trip as you!”

His jaw locks and his arms wrap tighter around you, “Does she always speak to you like that,” you sigh and sink deeper into his arms. “Why do you think I brought you with. Call you my armour,” you laugh, actually hiding behind his arms. He laughs, but it’s the same type of awkward type, “Where is your dad, is he any better?”

You hum and then walk down the stairs again after taking your breather and then ask your Maman where your father is. “He is outside with your brother, working hard as always,” she says, still in French.

“Really, which one?” You ask, opening the back door, only to see your oldest brother chopping wood while your father carves the same wood right next to him. “Bér!” You call out and once he sees you, he smiles.

You walk into the back fields, Carlos trailing behind you and when you do finally meet your brother, he gives you a warm hug. “Finally, back in your own country,” he comments, and you can’t help but furrow your brows. “What do you mean?” You ask, you haven’t told anyone about anything. “You think I haven’t noticed? I am not like Mama and Papa who do not own a phone and use the library’s computer to email you.”

You frown and watch his eyes. They’re train on Carlos who seems to be struggling with the mud and his very expensive shoes. “Traveling the world with mister Armani,” he teases you like always, and you can’t help but step on his shoes. “Enchanté, Monsieur.” Carlos holds out his hand and it makes you and your brother laugh out loud. “Don’t worry, race-man... I am not her father.” You jab your brother in the stomach.

“But he’s even worse.” He groans and then begins complaining in French but you’re quick to stop him. “Connard, you know Carlos doesn’t speak French, clearly, you’ve been stalking him. So don’t be an ass,” Bérenger sighs at your words and then translates for Carlos.

“I was just saying that I you see in your fancy Ferrari and your expensive shoes, no one in the family can understand someone like you being with a dull girl like her.” He shrugs and you both laugh, it’s the way you talk as siblings.

Even so, Carlos’ expression turns sour. “He much more than that Bérenger, now, play nice.” Before you turn to leave to say hello to your father, you ask your brother one last thing. This time in French, because you’d rather not have Carlos know just yet. “How is Papa today?” You brother hesitates, knowing exactly what you’re talking about. “He’s there, like before, no confusion yet today.”

You nod and make your way over. “Bonjour Papa, I’ve come to visit.” Your father looks up to you, his eyes clear. Not that his personality has changed much, he replies in a gruff tone. “Who’s the boy?” His eyes are like daggers on Carlos.

“He’s my boyfriend,” your dad rolls his eyes. “Yeah, sure. And for how long is he going to put up with you?” You laugh, like always keeping the peace. “I’m not some terrible burden. At least, not in his eyes.”

Like always he just replies with a scoff.

Before long, you’re washing dishes after dinner. “Mi paloma, please tell your mother the dinner was delicious.” You can feel his big strong arms wrap around your waist. You’re sure he's feeling a bit alone. It’s only been you and your brother here who can even speak English.

You smile, “Thank you, Carlos, but she didn’t make it.” It’s the truth, the whole evening Bérenger and Carlos chopped wood, all while you have to take care of your mother’s ever whim, like always.

It doesn’t bother you; it’s always been like this. But you can tell it’s getting to Carlos. “No wonder I liked it so much, it’s your cooking. But, mi dulce niña, you barely ate, aren’t you hungry?” He caresses yours even as you continue washing. “Thank you, Carlos, it’s nice hearing some positive words after that dinner.” He sighs, burrowing his face on the crook of your neck.

“You’re avoiding my question.” He places small kisses here and there. “It’s not in the diet plan,” it’s an excuse, your mother had been commenting on your weight all evening. Yes, it’s true you’d gained weight, but you’d been working out and most of it is muscle. But her words are sharp, and the thoughts are springing up. If it makes her happy, better so. He does his usual noise when he’s unhappy when something.

“Tomorrow I’ll cook dinner,” you gasp, turning to him, his words have caused delight in you. “I’d like to see that,” his brows furrow but a smug look is on his face. “What? You don’t think I can?” In your mind, yes, he has a difficult life, but that’s just stress. He has personal chefs and personal trainers and likely his father had too. Not way did he ever learn to cook. “No, not at all.”

You cross your arms, and he just laughs. “Fine then, I'll show you. You can even post it on your Instagram.” This sparks joy, you love seeing people’s reactions to you and him.

So far, they’ve been nothing but positive. In these short three weeks you’ve gotten 50k new followers. If they’re there for you or Carlos, doesn’t matter to you. You’ll give them what they want either way.

“You mean it?” Your hands reach up and take hold of his shirt. “Only if you eat,” and with that you bite your lip and nod. “Okay, you’ve got yourself a deal.” He sighs, takes a drying rag and begins helping you by putting away the dishes. “Oh Carlos! Ne perdez pas votre temps avec la vaisselle, Y/N la fera. Laisse-moi te montrer ses photos de bébé.”

You sigh, leaning your head against his chest. “Oh no,” his brows furrow pulling you away to see what the matter is. “She wants to show you my baby pictures.” A deep laugh escapes his chest. “Mi querida, I’d love to help you finish this, but I can’t miss that.” You laugh but do allow him to see little you.

“What colour are you choosing?” You ask your mother, watching as she scans through the different nail polishes. Like expect she chooses a toned-down pink, she rarely does her nails but when she does, it’s always that same colour. “Why don’t you choose something different? Look I’m going with this black with gold shimmer. We’re somewhere nice, don’t you want to use the opportunity?”

Your mother just looks at you over her glasses. “And why is that?” It’s already Thursday, the week had been going by slower than you expected it would and only made you realise why you visit so little.

The only good thing so far has been your father’s awareness, he’s had a few moments of unclarity these past few months. Even so, just like growing up, he doesn’t exactly stand up for you against your mother’s badgering.

Like always, it's just the usual gruff short replies and relative quietness. Carlos, however, has been nothing but kind. The dinner he cooked was amazing, the fans swooned in your comments. At night he’d hold you tight and whisper sweet nothings. All about how beautiful you are and how you’re perfect as is. It helps, yes, but nothing compares to motherly love. You do everything you can, but still don’t feel like enough.

“Ah, Mama, don’t be like that.” After that, she continues about the gossip of the town and the lives of your siblings. That is of course until you’re sitting at the dinner table again. Enjoying the food Carlos has crafted to fit both of your diets, showing him your nails. He loves them and makes sure to kiss your knuckles.

That is, until your mother interrupts your bliss. “Y/N, what did you say Carlos does?” You bite the inside of your cheek. “He is a Formula one driver.” You mutter, trying to hide yourself behind her sharp glare. “And are you still a chef?” You swallow your food; you’ve been avoiding this question for as long as possible. You shake your head, “No, Mama,” her bitter stare grows stronger.

“So, what is it that you do?” She raises her voice, now your father seems interested. “I am working on my modelling career.” Both your parents groan and gasp in raised tones. “This again,” your brother mutters, he too has been harsh with you. “Why do you keep going on and on about this modelling. Ever since you were small. My daughter, you know I love you, but you aren’t like those pretty girls.”

Her words are like knifes; knifes reopening wounds you’d been working so hard to heal. Carlos takes your hand under the table. This whole time he’d been encouraging you to stand up for yourself. Convincing you that what they’re saying aren’t normal and that you shouldn’t tolerate it. You’ve tried persuading him or more yourself that she’s your mother and she does it out of love.

But she’s been ungrateful all week. As if she hasn’t been begging you to come home and talk to her. She comments on everything, your weight, your hair even your laugh. Saying you squeal like a pig, you tried to laugh less after that one. She hates her nails and all the presents you brought home. More than all, you’ve been dreading this happening. Hoping that it never would.

“No, Mama, I do not know that you love me,” she gasps and begins screaming even more. “How could you not know? I raised you. I fed you, clothed you, gave you the deposit to get your degree. Which you don’t even use now!” The anger over comes you and you rise from your chair. “Carlos will gladly pay back all that money if I was such a burden on you!”

The whole table goes eerily quiet. Soon it is interrupted by a scoff from your brother. “So what? He’s like your Sugar Daddy, right?” You take a moment to calm down, trying to decide if you’re going to say the truth. But they're your family. You should never lie to your family, right? “Yes,” you take his hand back into yours. You can see that he’s picked up his name and knows he’s being discussed.

“What is that, Bérenger?” Your mother asks, switching between you and your brother. “She fucks him for money. A glorified prostitute!” His words are harsh and spit flies as he screams. You know for a fact that if Carlos understood French, he’d be raging.

“Unbelievable!” Your mother gasps out and another raging fire starts in you. “What? Is it so unbelievable that someone could actually love me so much that they’d pay to see me?”

Years and years or anger and trauma, built up due to constant belittlement finally breaks through. “Why does it shock you all so much that he thinks I’m beautiful. That he thinks I’m more worth than all the riches in the world. You hate it that someone actually respects me, because you can’t knock me down anymore.”

Again, the table goes quiet before your brother speaks again. This time in English, clearly wanting Carlos to understand what he’s saying.

“He doesn’t respect you. He doesn’t care for you. And he most certainly doesn’t love you. He just wants to fuck you. And once he’s bored of you, he’ll take what he’s given and leave you with nothing.” Before you can curse out your brother, a sharp crack is heard. Your brother is on the floor, nursing a bloody nose. “Don’t you ever, ever talk to her like that ever again.”

You can hear your mother rambling on about her poor son and can only scoff at her reaction. “I’m not some city boy who doesn’t know how to throw a punch. You won’t believe how strong 6G’s of force make you.” Through all the commotion, there is a muttering that can be heard. Listening carefully, it is your father. “Get out, get out,” he repeats over and over.

You bow your head down low, right by his ear but just shake off his words. This irritates him and he too raises his voice. “Get out, you’re no daughter of mine.” You laugh at his words, “Don’t be silly, Papa, you must be having one of your episodes.” You go to rub his back, in your mind to soothe him but he grabs your wrist before he can.

“Hear me when I say this girl, because I am clear of mind when I do. While you are still whoring yourself out to this man, you are no daughter of mine.” The realisation hits you like a truck. So much so, that you stagger back, Carlos catching you as your head becomes dizzy. “Mi pequeña, what is the matter?” All you can do is shake your head.

“Come, Carlos, it seems that we are not welcome here.”

Just so p.s. me not translating the French and Spanish is for a reason. I'm not just being spiteful, it is part of the storytelling. If you want to get a good grade in fanfic reading (which is totally possible and a very normal thing to want) feel welcome to translate it 😉

Tag list is open, just ask!

#Fast Pace #carlos sainz #carlos sainz jr #carlos sainz x you #carlos sainz x reader #carlos sainz smut #sugar daddy!carlos sainz x sugar baby!reader #sugar daddy!carlos sainz #sugar daddy!carlos sainz x reader #formula one #formula 1 #f1 #f 1 x reader

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