#not me sundays come back to me i beg! | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

strawchocoberry · 29 days

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TRADE MY WHOLE LIFE JUST TO BE

୨୧ featuring: dr. ratio, blade, sunday, jing yuan, aventurine x fem reader

ଘ cw: smut, spanking, dacryphilia, oral sex, orgasm denial, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, creampie, sword play (blade’s part | knife play, but with a sword), praise kink, degradation kink, fear play, nipple play, thigh riding, choking, fingering, rough sex

୨୧ synopsis: you become their slave for a day

ଘ wc: 4.8k

ʚ DR. RATIO ɞ

It’s not a state secret that Dr. Ratio despises idiots. He does make it abundantly clear any chance he gets. And yet you just had to keep pestering him, asking — begging to be exact — for his attention. Ratio was going to kick you out and go back to his book, when your suggestion piqued his interest.

“A game of chess. The loser will become the winner’s slave for a day. They’ll have to do anything the winner says, no complaints.”

“Anything, huh…?” Ratio smiles, closing his book and readjusting himself on his chair.

He contemplates only a moment on the matter, as you bring over the chessboard and start arranging the pieces. The magnanimous genius allows you to take the white pieces, giving you not only the first move advantage, but also a higher chance of winning against him. And yet, the outcome is all the same in the end; you lose miserably.

Ratio notices your change in demeanour. He can basically hear your thoughts; I need to get out of here. But a bet is a bet. Silently, he finds himself behind you and you startle when he grips your shoulder softly. “I hope you’re prepared, my dear.” His ominous tone and wicked smirk makes you gulp.

The next second, Ratio has you bent over the chessboard, cautious not to move a single piece. He gently caresses your body, his touch feathery, although you know it’s only the beginning; the worst is yet to come. He lifts the skirt of your dress up to your waist, goosebumps erupting on your exposed skin.

You yelp, instinctively biting your lip to muffle your shriek of surprise, as Ratio spanks you once with his book. “I gave you many chances to win,” he starts saying, landing another spank. “And yet you exploited none of them.” Spank. “How utterly disappointing, my dear.” Spank. “Let me explain how you could have won.” And as he goes on to list off all the moves and strategies you could have followed, he continues spanking you, until your arse has turned a beautiful shade of red, stinging from the pain. By the time he’s done, your lip is bleeding from how hard you bit it and your cheeks are smeared by your tears.

“Looks like you enjoyed yourself,” he whispers in your ear, his fingers rubbing your damp panties. He tears them off your body, leaving you gasping, as he takes a few steps away, then stops and turns to look at you again. “Come here, my dear,” Ratio orders. And before you take even a step, he clarifies, “Crawling.”

You’re momentarily frozen, but drop to your knees when you meet his hard gaze. You crawl to him, just like he asked, keeping your eyes on his. When you’re right in front of him, Ratio undoes his trousers, sliding them down just enough to free his cock. “You’re a terrible chess player, but perhaps you’ll be better at this.” His hand caresses your jaw, his thumb pushing through your lips and opening your mouth to slap his cock on your tongue. “For your own good.”

Ratio pushes his cock through your lips, sliding into your warm mouth. When he doesn’t make another move, that’s your cue to start sucking him off. You twirl your tongue around his length, lolling it over that vein on purpose. Your one hand strokes the part of him you cannot fit into your mouth, while the other tends to his balls, softly caressing and squeezing them, earning a few grunts from him.

Usually, he isn’t one to let his emotions show on his face, but his poker face cracks for a moment, lust and greed flashing in and out of his eyes in an instant. Ratio gathers your hair in a messy ponytail and starts thrusting in your mouth, making you gag on his girth. But he couldn’t care less if you were uncomfortable or deprived of oxygen. He pistons his hips, saliva smearing the corner of your lips.

You’re out of breath with tears streaming down your cheeks and it makes him go feral. A moment later, he pulls out of your mouth and strokes his cock, hot cum spilling all over your face. Quite the masterpiece if he says so himself. You’re panting hard, trying to regain the breath he stole from you. And yet this messy appearance of yours makes Ratio hard again, despite just cumming.

“You might be an intellectual failure, but you’re quite the expert in other fields.” Your face is so adorably lewd that he can’t help but pull his phone out and take a photo of it. “Wouldn’t it be wonderful if I shared this with everyone? I’m sure other stressed geniuses would seek out your services.”

“No—” you protest, when he grabs your elbow and pulls you back on your feet.

“Did I hear you complaining?” he asks, a cruel smirk on his lips. The way you keep your mouth shut and that look that indicates you’re cursing at yourself makes him chuckle. Swiftly, he slams you on the wall, his chest pressing your back further into it, your breasts flattening against the cold surface. “If you don’t want this photo to be distributed around the galaxy, then you better keep your mouth shut.”

You don’t immediately pick up on the meaning of his words, but when he thrusts balls-deep into your soaking pussy, you cover your mouth with your hand to muffle your noises. Ratio pulls your arse further out, making your body curve and give him better access, as he pounds into you. Of course, he has no intention of releasing that photo for the world to see. His intentions are rather self-beneficial; first, he’ll get to see that pretty face and jerk his stress off and second, he can blackmail you to relieve his stress for him whenever he wants to.

He pities you for being an imbecile and believing he’d ever do something so low. But even a genius like him has to admit that your idiocy has its perks. Perhaps you’re the only idiot he can tolerate. As long as you allow him to use your body however he wants, torturing you with multiple denied orgasms, whilst filling you up with his own. Why would he want you as his slave for only a day when you can be his slave forever?

ʚ BLADE ɞ

The sounds of swords clashing fill the room, as you spar with Blade. It was supposed to be just a usual sparring session, but Silver Wolf decided to spice things up by making you and Blade agree to a bet; the loser would obey the winner’s every command for a day. Blade wasn’t really interested, but was somehow convinced — or coerced into it — after Silver Wolf’s constant complaints.

However, the little gamer left almost immediately after you agreed on the bet, since Kafka needed her for something. And now, you’re fighting against Blade, the two of you dancing as you evade and attack. You groan, as his sword barely grazes your skin when you dodge his attack in the last moment. Something has changed in his attitude, you can tell. A moment ago, Blade was barely paying much attention to your fight, yet now his eyes betray he’s dead on winning this bet.

He doesn’t want to admit it, but after a brief moment of thought, he did find this bet quite… enticing. Which was Silver Wolf’s plan from the start. You are allowed to feel tricked, because that’s exactly what happened. Blade has been in an awful mood these past few days and you are the only one who can cheer him up. Silver Wolf just provided some aid into that. Besides, you both know that either you win or lose, it won’t really matter, will it?

When Blade disarms you, sending your sword flying behind you, you know you’ve lost. And there’s no mistaking the burning fire in his red eyes. You must resemble prey cowering before its predator, because he chuckles as he approaches you, his heavy footsteps echoing in the silence that rules between you. He wraps his arms around you, slamming your body on his. Yes, he’s already feeling much better.

“B-Bladie, wait—”

“Hmm?” he hums, tearing apart your blouse, revealing your bra-clad breasts to him. He dives his face into your plum tits, kissing and nibbling on your soft skin. “Did you say anything, darling?” he coos.

Your head falls back and you’re suppressing a moan, as Blade rips your bra off your body, leaving your upper part completely naked under his eager gaze. You gasp as he takes one nipple into his mouth, flicking and pinching the other one with his thumb and forefinger, toying with it till it stands erect.

You don’t register when he’s discarded the rest of your clothes, his eyes feasting on your delicious form. Blade pushes you on the ground, having you lie on your back, while he’s standing over you, your eyes locked with one another’s. Your breath hitches and you break eye contact with him, your eyes immediately flying to his sword that caresses your body. You’re trembling, but you’re too afraid to move in fear of his sword cutting you.

“You’re so lovely when you’re scared, darling,” he coos, trailing random lines over your body with his sword, cautious not to cut you.

“Is this…” You swallow the lodge in your throat. “Is this what you wanted to do?”

“Part of it,” he replies.

Blade kneels down, spreading your legs with his thigh. A wickedly sick smirk curls up his lips when he sees your dripping folds. He glances at you, then back to your soaked pussy. He didn’t expect you to like this; perhaps neither did you. He leaves the sword aside for now, holding two fingers in front of your mouth. You don’t need to be told to open your mouth and suck on his digits, coating them in your saliva.

As he looms over your body, Blade thrusts his fingers into your eager pussy that clenches around them almost instantly. He can’t help but chuckle as he leans closer to bite down on your neck. Your body arches off the floor, moans leaving your lips as the sound of your squelching pussy echoes around. Your sharp intake of breath is audible when Blade chokes your neck just enough to make you lightheaded.

Aeons, you’re just… so breathtakingly beautiful. All sprawled out on the floor for him, whimpering his name and squirming under him. He couldn’t take his eyes off you even if he wanted to. Blade won’t admit it, but there are a lot of things he’d like to try. And now that you cannot deny him anything, being his little slave, he’s going to act upon every single fantasy he’s ever had.

You’re so close to that euphoric bliss, only to be denied altogether. You whine and are about to complain, when Blade throws you a hard stare that shuts your mouth, leaving only a small pout. He kisses your pouty lips, while simultaneously freeing his hardened throbbing cock from its confines. He strokes his length a few times, rubbing it on your folds, before pounding into you.

Blade pins your arms over your head, holding them there by your wrists with one hand. He grins, noticing the instant trembling of your body and the way your pussy clenches his cock tighter when he holds his sword to your throat. Your eyes are so big and full of fear and he can’t help but drink it all, thrusting relentlessly into you. And he doesn’t need long to have you cumming all over his cock.

“You love the fear, don’t you, darling?” Blade asks devilishly, biting down on your breast. “Now, you’ll be my good cock slave and let me fuck you till I’m satisfied, right?” He brings the sword closer to your neck, threatening to cut you, as he leans to whisper in your ear. “We both know I need it desperately.”

ʚ SUNDAY ɞ

Despite his benevolent façade, Sunday thrives on coercion. And you’re his favourite toy. He cannot help his urge to break you, make you cry and beg. It’s not unusual for him to use some of his manipulation tactics to lure you where he wants you. And bewitched by him, you’ve yet to realise it. But is that such big of a deal when you secretly enjoy everything he gives you?

You were set to fail from the start. And you would have never guessed that the ethereal man over you was the one responsible for it. Blame it on yourself for not knowing any better than accept a bet from Sunday. Failure was never an option for him. And victory proves to be sweeter than he had anticipated.

“S-Sunday…” you whimper, squirming as you lie down over his desk. “P-P-Please…”

Your entire body is shaking and fat tears stream from your eyes. Instead of indulging your plea, Sunday increases the volume of the vibrator to the max and you cry out. Your mind is long gone to the overstimulated pleasure of your multiple orgasms. You wouldn’t be able to remember what your bet was about even if you tried; only that you’ve signed a deal with the devil to serve him for a day.

Your scream as you orgasm for what seems like the millionth time echoes in the study, curling Sunday’s lips in a vicious smirk. He lowers the volume and leans over you, planting a soft kiss in faux affection on your sweaty forehead. His dark gaze drinks in your pathetic state; quivering body clad in the maid outfit he made you wear, pussy so soaked and sensitive he swears you’ll cum again the moment he slides his cock inside, eyes glossy with tears, pleading for reprieve. His desk has become a mess, but he couldn’t care more about it.

You don’t know this, but Sunday arranged this little — and seemingly innocent — bet to punish you. No, he wasn’t the least bit happy about you spending all that time with that new guy in the general staff. But simply punishing you for giving another man the time of the day instead of him would be too easy and somewhat… boring. What Sunday wanted to see was this; your fearful pleading expression, despite you knowing he wouldn’t show you any mercy. Aeons, his cock has been hard ever since he saw your cheerful expression become terrified when he won the bet.

A small sigh of relief leaves your lips when he removes the vibrator, leaving it aside. You momentarily close your eyes and relax on the hard surface of his desk, your chest rising and falling steadily. For a few seconds, you’ve lost all connection to the world, retrieving yourself in your mind. Sunday chuckles at your rather peaceful state that is then violently twisted into a whiny pout as he rubs his cock on your oversensitive folds, making you whimper.

Before you even have the time to complain, he thrusts inside and stills. He covers his amused smile with his hand, his eyes devouring every inch of your body as your orgasm coats his girth. “I can’t believe you came by only having my cock inside you,” he coos. You can’t believe it either, but you don’t have time to lament on it. Not when Sunday places your legs over his shoulders and thrusts inside you hard, reaching deep that soft spot that makes you cry out in pleasure — and perhaps pain from being overstimulated.

“My angel, the fun has only just begun,” he whispers in your ear, his hand pressing down on your stomach, as he ravages your pussy.

The desk rattles with each thrust of his and you’re holding onto the edge for dear life. You feel as if you can pass out any moment now. And as if reading your thoughts, Sunday whispers, “Even if you pass out…” Thrust. “I’ll fuck you back to consciousness.” Thrust. “There’s no escaping this, my little slave.”

And you’ll find out the hard way that Sunday meant every word of his promise — or threat; depends on how you interpret it. One moment he’s pounding into you and you close your eyes only for a few seconds, your orgasm hitting you like a tidal wave. And the next moment, you open your eyes and meet his, his head buried between your legs, his tongue lapping at your delectable juices. Realisation that you passed out hits you as hard as your next orgasm.

Sunday rises to his feet and buries his cock inside you once more, smirking evilly at your cute whiny whimper. He devours your lips, his fingers getting tangled in your hair and his hips slamming against yours, his balls slapping your arse with each thrust. “I told you, there’s no escaping this, angel.”

ʚ JING YUAN ɞ

You’ve been working closely to the general for a long time now, yet sometimes you can’t help but feel as if Jing Yuan underestimates your capabilities. So when a minor problem arises at the Xianzhou Luofu and the general is called to resolve the situation, Jing Yuan decides to give you the chance you’re so desperately looking for. Besides, even if you fail, it won’t pose any risk for the Alliance.

“But if you do fail, then you shall accommodate my every need for a day,” Jing Yuan warns.

“And if I don’t fail?”

“Then I shall become your retainer for a day.”

To have one of the seven Arbiter-Generals do your every bidding for a day is something straight out of the craziest dream in the whole galaxy. And it shall remain but a hopeless dream, since in the end, Jing Yuan had to bail you out of your predicament.

“Mmm very nice,” the general says, grinning pleased. “Now, a small turn.”

You slowly twirl around yourself, the frill long dress eloquently following your every move. This is already the third dress Jing Yuan has made you put on for him. Smiling sweetly, he hands you the next outfit, this time a fitting blouse and a short mini skirt. He enjoys his afternoon by sipping on some delicious tea and watching you put on a catwalk show for him. He might have made you do it, given he won your bet, but he likes to think you’re doing it on your own volition.

Dolling you up in clothes that leave him mesmerised by your beauty has always been one of the general’s favourite past time activities. He just loves spoiling his princess and dressing her up for his eyes to feast on. To his dismay, Jing Yuan needs to enlist some sneaky tactics to have you indulge him, since more often than not you find some kind of excuse to evade him. And that’s because you know him too well and how he’s going to end your little catwalk show.

You’re not even a bit surprised at the last outfit he’s prepared for you. Can you call it an outfit though when it’s just a sexy lingerie set? When you walk out, the general’s eyes widen the tiniest bit, a sign that he’s surprised. But of course he is, when you’re standing in front of him with your blushed cheeks wearing the white lacy bra and thong he had picked for you. His eyes travel down to your thighs that are clad in matching white above-the-knee socks.

Jing Yuan motions for you to approach him and you take timid steps towards him. Despite having done this countless times, he always makes your heart flutter and your breath become uneven. When you’re close enough to him, he grabs your waist and pulls you on his lap, your legs on each side of his thighs straddling him. He leaves soft feathery kisses over your neck, down your collarbone and all over your exposed breasts, smirking at your low moans that echo in his chamber.

“Ride my thigh, love,” Jing Yuan orders in a low and deep tone against your neck.

And you’re a goner, your body moving on its own as you adjust your position over his thigh and start to dry hump yourself on him. His arms snake around you, keeping you close to him, as he captures your lips, muffling your moans. His tongue penetrates your mouth, subjugating yours, while his one hand rests on your hips, grinding you harder on his thigh.

One hand is on the headboard behind his head, giving you some kind of sense of balance, while the other grips his white hair, pulling his locks as you moan against his lips. Jing Yuan feels your wet core soaking his trousers as he buries his face in your breasts, kissing and biting them. He chuckles as your body jolts when he spanks your arse, caressing the stinging spot afterwards.

“Jing Yuan…” you moan, looking at him with pleading eyes and flushed cheeks.

He hungrily feasts on your lips like a famished beast as he makes haste with undoing his trousers and pulling them down. His cock is hard and already leaking some precum. Jing Yuan pulls your thong aside and aligns you with his throbbing length, groaning as you go down, your tight pussy engulfing him. And he stays perfectly still, tilting his head to the side with a small smirk curved on his lips.

You receive his message loud and clear and start bouncing on his cock, your previous frown dissipating as your lips part to moan. Jing Yuan pulls the straps of your bra down, spilling your breasts from their confines and taking one in his mouth. His tongue twirls around your nipple, causing the bud to tighten, then gives the same treatment to the other one.

Jing Yuan allows you to ride him at your own tempo and only interferes like a bloody minx when you’re on the verge of an orgasm. He grips your waist in his strong arms and slows down your movements almost to a halt, laughing at your protests and the curses you throw at him. Your frustrated face with those pouty lips and hazed, glossy eyes is a sight to behold. The general doesn’t mind edging himself, as long as he gets to see this utterly bewitching expression on you.

And when he’s had enough of that expression for now, he orders in a stern voice, “Grab the headboard.”

Yet he barely gives you any time to receive, process and execute his order before he’s thrusting up inside you fast and hard, hitting the spot that has you throw your head back and your eyes roll to the back of your skull. Your grip on the headboard is so strong, your knuckles have turned white. But you don’t care as you shamelessly cream all over the general’s cock that rearranges your guts. Your body convulses in his embrace and you’re crying out his name when your impending orgasm floods you.

ʚ AVENTURINE ɞ

Your mistake was letting him get you to agree to his bet. Gambling is his domain. It’s where Aventurine thrives. It’s something everybody knows. Yet for some reason you forgot all about it in those few seconds when you agreed and shook his hand. You only seemed to have snapped out of your halo when you noticed his wicked smirk.

Your doom was to be expected. Yet Aventurine has to admit that you put up a good game. You were just unlucky to go up against him. But well, in the end, he’s the winner. And that’s all that matters, isn’t it?

Aventurine leans back on his seat, as his eyes roam all over you, taking in every little detail about you. His scrutinising gaze makes your cheeks blush and you nervously bite down on your lip. Your nervousness makes him all the more excited to claim his prize, namely you.

“Strip,” he orders, a hint of mischievousness tinting his voice. “Everything but your undergarments.”

And when you freeze before him, looking at him like an idiot, his smile disappears and his gaze darkens. It’s the gaze of a predator about to lunge at its prey. Your body moves on autopilot, discarding your clothes and leaving only your undergarments on as he had requested. His eyes devour you, even though he has yet to touch you. You steal glances of him, noticing lust and desire flash in his eyes behind the frames of his glasses.

Taking his glasses off and leaving them on the poker table, Aventurine motions you to approach him and sits you on his lap. He places a stray strand of hair behind your ear before gently caressing your cheek with his knuckles, his cold rings sending shivers down your spine. He wraps his arms around you and pulls you closer, your body moulding into his. Goosebumps erupt everywhere he touches you and he feels your heart beat like crazy as he kisses your neck. His hand covers your bra-clad breast, squeezing and eliciting a moan from you.

He captures your lower lip between his teeth, biting down just enough to make you tense and your legs clench around him. As if to ease the pain he inflicted, he caresses your lip with his thumb. “I want to feel your lips wrapped around my cock,” he muses, his eyes stuck on your lips. Then, he glances up into your eyes. “On your knees, sweetheart.”

You needn’t be told twice before you slowly stand up, kissing his lips, then his chest through the opening of his shirt, before finally dropping to your knees between his spread legs. Aventurine adjusts himself and relaxes, his eyes following eagerly your every move. You unbutton his trousers and pull it down, revealing his semi-hardened cock. You pepper soft kisses along his length, smearing the tip with precum.

When you take him in your mouth, Aventurine releases a guttural groan. Tentatively, you suck on his girth, while keeping your eyes on him at all times. He finds you utterly perfect like this. Your warm mouth makes him harder the longer he’s buried inside. Your lips leave him and are replaced by your hand, as you tend to his balls, sucking each one in your mouth, blowing his mind and making him throw his head back.

You know he’s close when you feel him tensing under your touch. Your tongue swirls around him, working him to his release. But Aventurine doesn’t let you finish what you started. Standing up, he lifts you up and kisses your lips, tasting himself on you. His hand slides down between your legs and rubs your folds, a smirk curving on his lips at how wet you are. “Such a dirty whore,” he sneers, his lips brushing yours.

The next moment, he bents you over the poker table and positions himself between your spread legs. You gasp when he tears your panties, the torn pieces of fabric falling on the floor. The table rattles when he thrusts inside you, bottoming out. His thrusts are hard and hit deep from the start. Aventurine grabs your hair and peels your upper body off the table, having you support yourself on your hands, as your body curves against his. Your tits bounce and spill out of your bra, as you moan and whimper.

“You’re so tight, sweetheart,” Aventurine breathes. His hand leaves your hair which falls freely all over your back and wraps around your throat, pulling you back to him. “So tight for me,” he muses, biting down on your shoulder.

Your jaw drops to the floor with an inaudible scream as he cums inside you, filling you up with his seed. But he doesn’t stop. He continues pounding into you, a white ring forming around his cock as he fucks his seed back into your eager pussy that clenches around him. Aventurine bents you back down, face down on the poker table and holds your arms behind your back with one hand, while the other grips tightly your hip, slamming your body hard on his.

You cry out his name for everyone to hear as your orgasm comes crashing down on you, which pleases him greatly. Aventurine leans over you without interrupting his rhythm, his hot breath fanning over your ear. “That’s right,” he whispers. “You belong to me, sweetheart. Now and forever.” Because if you thought he’d let you go just like that, you had another thing coming for you.

#୨୧｡˚₊♡꒰ strawchocoberry ꒱♡₊˚｡୨୧ #honkai star rail #honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail smut #dr ratio #dr ratio x reader #dr ratio smut #blade #blade x reader #blade smut #sunday #sunday x reader #sunday smut #jing yuan #jing yuan x reader #jing yuan smut #aventurine #aventurine x reader #aventurine smut

2K notes · View notes

astonmartinii · 2 months

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it's got to be time travel | charles leclerc social media au

pairing: charles leclerc x fem footballer!reader

face claim: jessie fleming (i'm a chelsea fan and i'm sad she left :()

they've got all the time in the world for each other, don't ask them where they got that time from though

note: we're also gonna pretend that the women's football and f1 seasons line up here lol

MASTERLIST | TIP JAR | MY SMALL BUSINESS

charles_leclerc

liked by landonorris, lewishamilton and 1,203,784 others

tagged: yourusername

charles_leclerc: last sunday lunch before we both have to go back to work :(

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user1: ffs why do their ACTUAL jobs have to get in the way of my regularly scheduled charles x y/n content???

user2: i personally think that the fia should just give charles the championship and y/n the WSL title so they can just chill together :)

maxverstappen1: not on my watch

charles_leclerc: you don't even follow me? get out of my comments

maxverstappen1: you can't just get given the championship because you have attachment issues WE ALL HAVE ATTACHMENT ISSUES

charles_leclerc: me i get, but y/n doesn't deserve to win?

maxverstappen1: i never said that. y/n is girlboss slay queen

yourusername: too right i am

charles_leclerc: why are you peace and love with her and not me?

maxverstappen1: she's cool, you aren't

yourusername: can't disagree with that babe soz

user3: i have a feeling that these spats might get worse the longer charles is separated from y/n

user4: waa waa we're all sad their being separated but all i'm thinking is UP THE CHELS

user5: i need the treble right fucking now, a charles championship would be a bonus i guess

lewishamilton: will i get a formal introduction to y/n before we're teammates?

yourusername: YES, YES YOU WILL

charles_leclerc: i guess that answers that

lewishamilton: don't hate the player, hate the game

yourusername: i better see your ass at kingsmeadow at some point, it's fun, even if others think they're too good for it

lewishamilton: i'll be there 🫡

user7: can 2025 come quick.... PLEASE

user8: lol does this mean that charles has offered to take carlos to a game but he didn't go?

user9: ugh what a bore

yourusername

liked by charles_leclerc, oscarpiastri and 1,402,667 others

tagged: chelseafcw

yourusername: excited for the new season back with the girlypops :))))))

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user10: treble or nothing I BEG

user11: it's their year for the champions league i've seen the script

alexalbon: no seatbelt ? way to set dangerous examples to your young audience

yourusername: if you're not careful i'm gonna teach my audience how to put their foot up the ass of those annoying her

alexalbon: ugh i hope you lose :P

yourusername: i don't have to hope, i know your ass ain't gonna be in q3

alexalbon: that's TOO far @charles_leclerc does our years of friendship mean nothing?

charles_leclerc: sorry buddy, i am y/n stan first, human being second

yourusername: as he should.

user12: so like... will we see charles in a y/n jersey again in the paddock?

user13: @ferrari stop being so annoying and let him wear what he wants

user14: i think i tasted paradise when they actually let him wear a y/n canada jersey in montreal

charles_leclerc: never seen someone make blue look so good

maxverstappen1: i'm right here?

sebastianvettel: did the homoeroticism of our challenge videos mean nothing?

danielricciardo: do not lie to yourself

yourusername: sorry sluts, you wish you looked this good

charles_leclerc: they'll never be you 🫶🏻

user15: i know the cfcw admin and pr department have a heart attack every time y/n posts

user16: the way she's out here calling three f1 drivers sluts with no repercussions

yourusername: can't be told off for telling the TRUTH

liked by lewishamilton, fernandoalo_oficial and 1,205,489 others

tagged: charles_leclerc & yourusername

f1: couple goals! charles leclerc takes pole in bahrain while his girlfriend, y/n y/ln, scored the winner for chelsea women!

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user19: okay but i've never been in a relationship and am currently rotting on my couch... so who is the real winner here x

yourusername: my handsome boy is so talented :3

charles_leclerc: not as talented as you, pretty girl

yourusername: nuh uh at least my team is competent

charles_leclerc: errrrr

samkerr20: i think you broke him lol

yourusername: sometimes i think he's more loyal to ferrari than me

charles_leclerc: no!

scuderiaferrari: huh?

charles_leclerc: wait...

yourusername: i see :(

charles_leclerc: i'm LOGGING OUT

user20: charles is so lover boy stuck in his tortured poets department (ferrari formula one team)

user21: the way he's probably yelling down the phone to y/n about how much he loves her right now

samkerr20: he is and it's so loud the whole locker room can hear it

yourusername: but he's so sweet isn't he

niamhcharles17: i guess?

alexalbon: we heard it from his side... barf

yourusername: @lilymunhe are you being starved of romance?

lilymunhe: compared to you and charles YES

alexalbon: ummmm get out of my business y/ln

yourusername: you're ALWAYS in my business buster 🤨

alexalbon: NO! i am just passing down the ancient skill of communication?

yourusername: you're such a gossip girl alex

user21: i know they bicker like siblings, but i know deep down that there have been double dates

charles_leclerc: yes, but y/n and i are much better (no offence lily)

yourusername: did you log back in to restart the argument with alex

charles_leclerc: yes!

alexalbon: boo you whore

yourusername: don't talk to him like that 🤨

samkerr20

liked by yourusername, charles_leclerc and 303,445 others

tagged: yourusername & charles_leclerc

samkerr20: forced to hang out with the straights... they're actually kind of cute

view all comments

user22: you know the couple has to be real cute when even the gays think they're cute

user23: no one can resist the charms of y/n and charles

yourusername: these photos make me think that we are cuter

samkerr20: we are but i didn't want to hurt charles' feelings

charles_leclerc: consider them hurt

samkerr20: boo hoo

yourusername: noooooo i love you xxx

charles_leclerc: hehehehehehehe i love you too xxx

yourusername: i miss you, hurry up and win and come home to me

charles_leclerc: i'm doing my best :(

yourusername: you are the bestest boy

samkerr20: STOP THAT MAKES HIM SOUND LIKE A DOG

oscarpiastri: when will australians stop being victims of this relationship

danielricciardo: this is your first season dealing with them properly, buckle up

oscarpiastri: i'm in a relationship but they make me feel so lonely

maxverstappen1: you get used to it after a while

yourusername: we're right here

landonorris: let us commiserate in peace

charles_leclerc: ??? do you or do you not get free football tickets out of it?

landonorris: yeha but when we go we just have to watch you cry when y/n inevitably wins another trophy

charles_leclerc: I'M PROUD OF HER AND YOU WON'T SHAME ME FOR THAT

user24: chelsea women players must be so confused when these grown men start arguments in the comments of THEIR posts

yourusername

liked by alexalbon, charles_leclerc and 1,529,556 others

tagged: charles_leclerc

yourusername: weekend off... you know what that means

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user25: i know there's over 1.5 million likes but how can i gatekeep y/n?

user26: for real

charles_leclerc: the best weekends are with you here

yourusername: i may have a love/hate relationship with this team, but the catering is banging (i may have to move to italy)

chelseafcw: NO MENTIONS OF LEAVING CHELSEA, NOT EVEN A JOKE - NOTHING!

yourusername: okay, sorry guys (the pasta was so good though)

charles_leclerc: not even for me?

chelseafcw: DEFINITELY NOT FOR YOU, WATCH OUT OR WE'LL BLACKLIST YOU FROM KINGSMEADOW

yourusername: okay, let's pedal this back. i'm not leaving london and we all still love charles, right admin?

chelseafcw: .... yes

user27: when you're in a who has attachment issues with y/n y/ln and your competition is the chelseafcw admin and charles leclerc

user28: no point even showing up

maxverstappen1: i for one am glad when y/n is in the paddock because it means i can sneak in without the cameras seeing me

yourusername: i am a woman of the people

charles_leclerc: she's such a star, everyone wants to see her

maxverstappen1: yeah i'll give you that

yourusername: we're also hot

charles_leclerc: don't you dare respond to that one max

maxverstappen1: 🫡🫡🫡

user29: patiently waiting for the hq photos of them 😚

user30: gonna print them out and put them in my heart locket

charles_leclerc

liked by landonorris, yourusername and 1,398,452 others

tagged: yourusername

charles_leclerc: babe is top of the league (and top scorer)

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user33: get yourself a guy who flexes your achievements as much as charles does

user34: setting the example tbf

yourusername: my lucky charm, that hat-trick was for you xx

charles_leclerc: would mean more if you didn't score them every week 😭

yourusername: they hate to see a girlboss winning

charles_leclerc: wanna share some wins with me?

yourusername: you're doing great this season babe, not your fault that nasa decided to rebrand to red bull racing

redbullracing: adrian says thanks 😊

charles_leclerc: DON'T SAY IT Y/N

yourusername: you don't even know what i was going to say

charles_leclerc: ....

yourusername: @redbullracing you got a seat???

charles_leclerc: Y/N!!!!!!!!!!

yourusername: whoops

user35: y/n really out here trying to get charles that damn seat

yourusername: i'll stop when the horse team makes a championship worthy car that they don't break halfway through the season...

user36: add ferrari to the group of people who shudder in fear when y/n posts

chelseafcw: fine... we hope you enjoyed (no more italy jokes)

charles_leclerc: i had a great time, i always do when i watch y/n do what she loves (slay)

yourusername: awwwwwwwwww i love you charlie

chelseafcw: okay no need to make admin feel that lonely, damn

yourusername

liked by charles_leclerc, alexalbon and 1,782,309 others

yourusername: finishing my best ever season with a big trophy haul :) now time to support my trophy husband in his day job

view all comments

user41: she really be out here doing it all

user42: i need her to win the Ballon d'Or Féminin PLEASE IT IS TIME

user43: with charles in attendance, first couples red carpet appearance YES, YES RUN IT TO ME PLEASE

charles_leclerc: unbelievably proud of you, mon amour, constantly inspired by you

yourusername: i love you so much, thank you for being there to support me through it all

charles_leclerc: it's the biggest pleasure in the world

yourusername: i'm all out of winning this season, your turn next weekend?

charles_leclerc: for you, i'll do anything

user44: PLEASE I NEED HIM TO WIN GOOD PLEASE

alexalbon: congrats i guess, you're pretty good

yourusername: thanks, since my boyf is so supportive, it's only natural that you have to try and humble me at every turn

alexalbon: you're more famous than us now, we need to keep you grounded

lilymunhe: don't worry y/n he cried nearly just as much as charles when you won the WSL

yourusername: I KNEW IT

charles_leclerc: i still cried more

alexalbon: it's not a competition bro, we all know you're both helplessly in love

yourusername: that we are

charles_leclerc

liked by maxverstappen1, yourusername and 1,309,855 others

tagged: yourusername

charles_leclerc: happiest when i'm with you (and whoever has decided to tag along), oh and winning a race helps as well i guess

view all comments

user45: CHARLES WIN I REPEAT A CHARLES WIN WE WON?

user46: the way y/n went just as mental as us, her and zecira jumping around the garage (and starting the champagne shower after the podium)

user47: really proving that y/n and charles really are each other's biggest fans

user48: thank the lord the WSL season finished when it did so y/n could be there for this win

user49: y/n would've ran to austria to be there i'm sure

yourusername: you know it 🫡

maxverstappen1: had to let you win so you could look cool in front of your infinitely cooler girlfriend

charles_leclerc: not even gonna bite, i'm too happy to care

yourusername: i'll bite - HIS TALENTED BEHIND SCHOOLED YOUR ASS

maxverstappen1: but i called you cool?

yourusername: i'll accept the compliment now, i had to defend charles' honour first

charles_leclerc: heheheehe i'm blushing

maxverstappen1: gross

user50: i need y/n to permanently be in the ferrari garage, they were on it today (i think out of fear)

landonorris: damn i thought i thirdwheeling lestappen was bad, but y/n and charles is a different beast

yourusername: we're both athletes, need to savour the time we have together when we can

charles_leclerc: sorry not sorry you'll get it when you're in love

landonorris: .... i guess i'll die then

fin.

note: i hope you enjoyed !!!! one last WIP to go and good lord the writers block is kicking my ass. but f1 being back should help!!! + f1 academy, much enjoyed it so far.

#f1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 instagram au #f1 x you #f1 #f1 social media au #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x female reader #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc #charles leclerc social media au

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d10nyx · 1 month

Text

over again

ft. leon kennedy x fem!reader

cw: 18+ content, dark content, heavy dub-con, forced ddlg, kidnapping, stockholm syndrome, fingering, p in v, creampie, mentions of past drugging, daddy kink, lots of pet names

a/n: took me forever n ever to write this ahhh sorry :/ hope you all enjoy it !! feedback always appreciated !! hopefully the writers block will finally perish.

word count: 1.6k words

14 weeks. 98 days. 2352 hours.

Leon leaves the house at 7.30 am every morning, except for Sundays. From Monday to Thursday, he's home around 6 pm. On Fridays, he isn't home until around 9 pm. Saturdays are the worst because he's home just after lunch.

Usually, when he comes home, he goes to the bedroom and unlocks the door to let you out. He threads his hand in your leash to take you upstairs, giving you a kiss on your forehead as he takes you to the kitchen to eat a meal. He gives you your food on a pink, plastic princess plate with plastic cutlery, and cuts the food into bite size pieces. More often than not, he hand feeds you.

You don't fight it. You'd learned your lesson. You refused food from him once. For 2 out of your 14 weeks locked up in his home, he'd underfed you to the point of starvation until you were begging him to feed you. He sat you in his lap, cooing all sweet as you chewed and swallowed every mouthful he'd given you. That day was the first day he slept with you.

It wasn't all bad. He was sweet. Gentle. If you closed your eyes, you could pretend he was a loving boyfriend. Someone who cared for you, not the creep who'd snatched you from the street after you had a few too many drinks at your friend's party, promising you a better life, safe from the world.

But he isn't sweet, or nice, or kind. He didn't do this for you, despite what his twisted brain tells him. You can pretend all you want that he's something other than what he is, but it doesn't change what he is. A monster.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

“Where's my little princess?” Leon's asking as soon as he walks into the house, kicking his shoes off and hanging his jacket up at the door. You recently got free reign of the home for being on your best behaviour. Didn't even have to keep the leash attached to your collar anymore. Lucky you.

“Here, daddy.” You say meekly, poking your head out of the living room to approach him, fiddling awkwardly with the edge of your shirt. Head down, so he doesn't have to see the defeated expression on your face as you force out the words, swallowing thickly to hold back your tears.

“You have a good day, sweetheart? You do any coloring in those cute little books I got you?” Leon's hands come up to your cheeks, gently stroking his thumbs back and forth across your cheekbones. You shake your head, gritting your teeth to stop yourself from saying something.

“No? Why not, baby? You don't like them? I got the one with lots of kitties. Pretty girls like you like cute things, don't they?” He coos, squishing your cheeks in his hands to make your lips all pouty so he can lean down and give them a little kiss, letting out a loud ‘mwah’ as soon as his lips make contact.

“You eat at least? I left some food in a lunchbox for you.” You shake your head again, and this time it seems to elicit a worse reaction. His brows furrow, and his hand grips your face even tighter. “No? Silly baby… can't do anything without daddy, can you? Come on. Daddy'll feed you, cutie.”

He heats up some food for you and puts it on a plate. The pink, plastic princess plate. He sits you on his lap and feeds it to you from a fork. Pink, plastic fork. The routine is the same, no matter how much you wish for it to change. When you finish eating, he presses a tender kiss to your head and rocks you in his arms.

“Such a good girl. Good girls get rewarded, princess.” He murmurs, pressing soft kisses against the skin of your neck, trailing them up until he's nosing at the hair behind your ear. His hand slides up your thigh and under your skirt, his thumb swiping your swollen bud through the already damp fabric. It didn't matter if you didn't want it. Your body didn't seem to understand what was happening - all it knew was Leon made you feel good. You hated how compliant you got when he touched you, how any thoughts of defiance melted away.

You go limp when he touches you. Docile. You let him do what he wants to you, just like a good girl should. Back-talking daddy is a big no-no. He wrote that in big writing on the rule list that's pinned to the fridge. Escape didn't use to seem impossible, yet now the thought never even crossed your mind. You'd tried, but he kept a tight lock on you. You wouldn't be surprised to find out one of the many injections he gave you when you were unruly had a tracker in. He always seemed to know exactly where you were.

You whimper as he dips his hand under the waistband of your panties. He parts your puffy lips with practiced ease as he continues on with the next part of his routine. 98 days later and he's mapped every inch of your body perfectly - found out everything that has you keening under his touch. Your hips buck as he runs his fingertip between your folds, gathering slick before rubbing small circles into your clit.

“Poor, dumb baby. She's soaking me already. You couldn't make yourself feel good when daddy was gone, huh, sweetheart?” His words are followed up by a finger burying itself in your tight heat, curling to find that gummy spot that has you clenching around him and bucking your hips. “Pretty princess cunt's been drooling for me all day.”

A choked sob leaves you when he pulls his cock out and sits you on top of it. He pulls you down until he's buried to the hilt, groaning as you tighten around his length. He buries his face into the crook of your neck, peppering it with tiny little kisses. You can't help but cry whenever Leon fucks you. 98 days later and you still sob whenever he bullies your cervix with his dick. No matter how many times he makes you cum or makes you go dumb on his cock, it doesn't change anything. He took everything from you - your family, your friends, your job.

You hated yourself more than Leon. For letting him break your walls down. For clinging to him as he tightens his grip on your waist, manhandling you on his cock, lifting you up and down. For finding yourself missing him when he's at work.

“Love…love you, daddy…” Your words come out more like a cry, nose all runny and cheeks wet with tears as he fucks up into you, his head shifting to hang back in pleasure. His fingers dig into your waist as he hears the words, a breathy laugh leaving him as he smiles - all toothy and bright like it always is when you say that.

“Love you even more, princess.” He grunts out, leaning back on the seat to force himself deeper into your pussy, guiding your hips back and forth so you're grinding his cock inside of you, rubbing your pretty clit against his happy trail. You gasp at the sensation, your hands gripping into his shoulders as your brows furrow in pleasure.

“Daddy… daddy…” You gasp out as your orgasm hits, your lips parting as you gush all over him. The look on your face as you cum is enough to have his balls tighten, his teeth gritting as he starts to shallowly thrust into you once more, chasing his own release. You always cry when you cum, and Leon always kisses the tears away when you do, his lips pressing against the wetness on your cheeks repeatedly. Another part of the ritual, another moment repeating day after day.

“Want daddy to fill you up, sweet girl?” He grunts, nipping at your neck as he wraps his arms tight around your waist in a bear hug, holding you steady as he fucks up into your drippy cunt. “Gonna warm you up right in that cute lil’ tummy.”

His hips stutter as his orgasm hits him, his jaw going slack as he presses the tip of his cock right up against your cervix, filling you to the brim with his sticky cum. He slides a hand under your shirt, his thumb rubbing gentle circles into the skin of your tummy.

“That's it. Keep it all in, okay? Daddy doesn't want to see his little angel spill a single drop.” He says softly, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips. He holds you there for a couple of minutes, cradling you against his chest until it's time to go to sleep.

Before bed that night, Leon ushers you into the bathroom. Like every night before this one, he gently grips your jaw with one hand as he stands behind you, his other hand gripping your pink princess toothbrush as he brushes your teeth, his eyes locked onto you through the mirror. At bedtime, he tucks you in and curls up behind you, spooning you with one hand on one of your tits, and the other wrapped tightly around your waist.

Tomorrow is a Friday. He wakes you up at 6.30 am with a kiss to your head as always, a warm cup of milk in one hand and your breakfast in the other. He feeds you off of a pink, plastic princess plate and presses a kiss to your lips before leaving at 7.30 am on the dot.

#leon s kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy smut #leon kennedy smut #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #leon s kennedy x you #resident evil x you #resident evil x reader #resident evil smut #tw dark content

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hier--soir · 6 months

Text

a lover's pinch | five

joel miller x f!reader

pairing: professor!joel miller x f!reader rating: explicit, 18+ minors dni summary: you and your professor enjoy a day in new york. warnings/tags: au, university professor joel, age gap [20 something years diff], ethically dubious relationship due to inherent power imbalance, oral [m receiving], a smidge of cock worship, spoilers for antony and cleopatra by shakespeare lol, flirting, these fuckos kinda go on a date, prof joel is man of the arts idgaf, a tlou2 easter egg, oral [f receiving] and then oral [f receiving] again, sex acts in public, jealousy, sexting/nudes, unprotected piv sex, exhibitionism, dirty talk, light choking, overstimulation [f], pain kink, kinda dom!joel, describing men as pretty and beautiful because I LIKE IT, soft!joel. word count: 8.3k series masterlist | main masterlist a lover's pinch playlist a/n: so this whole thing is almost entirely sucking fucking and flirting, and i hope you enjoy it before we encounter angst. all credit to willy shakes for the passage from A&C that joel reads in the opening scene. thanks king for inspiring the title of this series lol xo this is part five of ALP. you can read the previous parts here: one, two, three, four.

Sunday.

The sound of paper rustling wakes you. Muted scrapes of page shifting against page.

Through your lashes you can see a thin reed of sun streaming in the window, flaring across the end of the bed to warm your skin. And there’s a dull ache between your legs; a rhythmic throb that dances and twists through your core, through the muscles in the inside of your thighs. The type of pain that is warm – soft in its caress, like the trail of a lover’s fingertips down your spine. A sort of remembrance, or celebration. And you welcome it eagerly; delight in the sharp reminder of how it felt to welcome his body inside yours again. The hot sting of every third second, the meticulous pulse and ache of flesh that you hope stays with you for days.

Another page turns.

You tilt your head to the side, eyes open a mere crack, and smile at the secrecy of it. At the private sincerity of this man who lies awake, sporting nothing but the thin veil of a sheet, gaze fierce and focused on an endless stream of text that raps his attention. It’s a type of heaven for him, you realise. This resting place, as calm and tranquil it is. The only weight that bears down is in the place where his wrist bends, hand coiled around the spine of a book, fingers poised, flicking impatiently against the corner of a page, begging to turn it, to see more.

You take in every ripple of muscle, every dip and curve and freckle and scar. The jut of his elbow. The hard line of his jaw. Watch pink lips part and purr as he whispers the words on the page to himself, and think about how perfect that mouth felt between your thighs.

His fingers pinch the corner of a page, pressing it down into a dog ear before he moves onto the next. You wonder what piqued his interest, what collection of words made him want to mark it, to leave a trail for himself to come back one day and remember.

You break the silence finally. “What are you reading?”

Joel flinches, glasses jolting to the tip of his nose.

“You’re awake.”

“I am,” you hum. When he stares at you for a moment you just smile, snaking a hand out from the sheet to tap the page of his book. “Tell me.”

“Shakespeare,” he murmurs, a faint blotch of red rising at the base of his neck. You want to kiss that blush—taste it. Want to know if his skin smells like you. “Antony and Cleopatra.”

“I love that one,” you yawn. “Where are you up to?”

“Act five,” he says. “Cleopatra’s big scene.”

“Will you read it to me?” you smirk.

There’s an upward shift of an eyebrow. The spark of a curious glint in his eye.

“Really?” he drawls, unimpressed.

“Please?” your smile softens into something kind, something honest.

With a sharp sigh, and a quick adjustment of his glasses, Joel begins to read.

“Give me my robe, put on my crown,” he begins slowly, as if unsure. “I have immortal longings in me: now no more. The juice of Egypt’s grape shall moist his lip: yare, yare, good Iras; quick.”

His voice is a low vibration, a honeyed sound that drifts through the air and has goosebumps raising across your skin. You watch his mouth shape the words, enamoured. Savouring every glimpse of his teeth, every slip of his tongue between them.

“Methinks I hear Antony call; I see him rouse himself to praise my noble act. I hear some mock the luck of Caesar, which the gods give men to excuse their after wrath. Husband, I come. Now to that name my courage prove my title.”

His hair is a mess. A shock of greying curls that have flattened against his scalp after a night of being pressed into his pillow, threatening to spring up again. That dull pain flares in your core again and you rub your thighs together in an attempt to quell the ache. But something stirs there—low, prowling just behind the pain. Something wet and wild that whispers his name.

“I am fire and air,” Joel continues obliviously, licking his thumb to turn the page with ease. “My other elements I give to baser life. So; have you done?”

Slowly, listening—hanging—you shift against the mattress. Allow the sheet to fall down to your stomach, exposing your breasts to the morning air. Your nipples stiffen, chest tightening as he glances at them from the corner of his eye. He pauses, mouth ajar. Swallows. Brown eyes return to the page, and he continues to read.

“Come then, and take the last warmth from my lips.”

Your hand drifts across the mattress, hidden from sight as it traverses the soft plains of the sheets, the blankets, and then the skin of his thigh. Bare, but smattered with soft hairs that tickle your palm and fingertips. Goosebumps tear across his skin and his breathing hitches; the faintest cracks in his calm façade. You surpass where you can see him hardening, fingers floating up his side to rest against his stomach. Gently, you feel across the soft slopes and curves of his tummy. Glide your finger over the dip of his belly button and smile when he clears his throat, legs shifting in a restless dance. And then your hand shifts down. Past his happy trail, past the dark curls at his base, to wrap your fingers softly around his length.

“Farewell, kind Charmian,” Joel’s voice deepens. “Iras, long farewell.”

You lower yourself on the bed, dragging the sheets with you until they rest wayward and wrinkled around his knees. Your cheek nuzzles against his thigh as you stroke him, humming in delight as his cock stiffens in your palm.

Joel sighs. “You don’t have to—”

“Keep going,” you hush, glancing up. He watches you over the top of his glasses, gaze darkening. There’s still sleep in the corners of his eyes, and it’s so soft, so domestic, it almost hurts. You look down, simpering as you admire the sight of his cock, now fully hard and leaking in your grasp.

The head is swollen, a flushed shade so reminiscent to that of his lips that you want to kiss him. But his skin is warm and smooth, like silk as you nuzzle his length against your face. Feel his wetness streak across your skin, over the closed line of your lips, the apple of your cheek. “Joel,” you urge him quietly when he still doesn’t speak.

“Have I the aspic in my lips?” His voice is hoarse when he continues; wanton, rough with sleep and desire. “Dost fall?”

You lathe soft kisses against the tip, along the vein that pulses along the side of his shaft, against the tight swell of his balls, taking your time with him. You giggle when he sucks in a sharp inhale, the muscles in his thighs tightening beneath your cheek.

“Such a pretty cock,” you whisper, swiping your fingers over his weeping head.

“Yeah?” he exhales and drops the book against his stomach, fingers reaching to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “Gonna show me how much you like it?”

“Mhm,” you bat your eyelashes up at him.

Joel raises the book again, slowly, eyes unfocused and glassy but still watching—still devouring—the way your lips purse around his tip. His stomach tightens when your tongue leaves soft kitten licks against the slit, lapping at the salty precome that rests there.

“If thou and nature,” he murmurs. “Can so gently part.”

And it’s almost painful, the way he sounds. Exhalations of tragic Shakespeare mixed with soft gasps, with curses loosed beneath his breath. The occasional revered whisper of your name, spurring you on.

His free hand settles at the back of your head, thick fingers curling in your hair as your lips part to take him deeper inside your mouth. “Fuck,” he groans, hips shifting against the mattress. “That’s it, baby, god you’re good at that.”

You hum around the weight of him, stomach warming at the praise. Swirl your tongue generously around his girth, lathing saliva over his skin until it’s dripping down to his balls. You cup them gently in your palm, massage him as your lips drag to rest around his tip again, paying close attention to the way he gasps and sighs when the point of your tongue dances along the ridge at the underside of his head.

“Sensitive there?” you ask quietly, eyes flitting up to look at his face. His cheeks are flushed, eyebrows furrowed as he nods.

“S’good,” he confirms, fingers tightening in your hair as you rub that spot again. A fresh bead of precome oozes from his slit and you smile, fingers curling around his length to tap his tip against the flat of your tongue. “Jesus,” he mutters, eyelids fluttering. “Yeah, good girl.”

You shift down on him eagerly, letting the heavy weight of him slip against your tongue, inside the warmth of your mouth, until he’s pressing against the back of your throat and you can hear him moaning.

“Got the prettiest fuckin’ mouth, baby,” Joel whispers. “S’like a fuckin’ dream, seeing those lips on my cock again.”

You whimper and swallow around him. A tear squeezes out of the corner of your eye, trailing a shiny path down to your chin. In steady, measured movements, your head bobs up and down on his length, guided by the gentle press of his hand.

“Yeah,” he sighs. “Take it all, baby, yea—yes.”

You relax your throat and take him deep enough to feel your nose brush against the rough hairs at his base.

“The stroke of death is as a lover’s pinch,” he reads, the cadence of his words stilted and breathy. “Which hurts, and is desired.”

Suddenly, his hips jut upward and you gag, throat constricting around him until your eyes are wet and blurry. He tugs gently on your hair, pulling you backward until you part from him with a splutter, messy strings of saliva dangling between your swollen mouth and his cock.

“God damn,” he swipes a finger across your lower lip. “Doin’ so good, sweetheart. So so good."

You think your eyes water more at that. Sweetheart.

“I want it,” you slur, lids heavy as you make eye contact with him.

“What do you want?” he pushes, cupping your jaw in his large palm. “Tell me.”

“Want you to come in my mouth,” your face warms and you lick your lips, fingers stroking him slowly. “Want all of it.” Everything.

“Okay,” Joel soothes, and then his hand drops from your hair so he can grip himself. Gently, he glides the tip along your bottom lip, trailing his salt across the skin of your chin, your cheeks, your nose, before finally pressing the head back against your tongue. “Take it, come on. It’s yours.”

He presses between your lips, jaw tensing, and his eyes drift back to the book as you begin to move.

“Dost thou lie still?” he reads. “If thus thou vanishes, thou—Christ—thou tell’st the world.”

Your lips are tight around him, mouth sucking and moving in tandem with the strokes of your fingers, wrapped loosely around his base. Carefully, you shift to straddle his shins, forearms resting heavily against his thighs as you bring him to the brink of his orgasm. Yours.

“Fuck,” you hear him spit, and then he’s arching forward, the splay of his palm moving down the length of your spine until his fingers slip into the crevice between your ass cheeks. Gripping and squeezing the flesh there until you’re moaning too, the vibrations of your voice muddling with the wet sounds of your mouth against his cock.

It doesn’t take much longer for coherent thought to evade him, Antony and Cleopatra flung to the wayside of the bed as his broad hands cradle your head, the tip of his cock nudging the back of your throat with every thrust. Your entire body is hot, slick with sweat, the musky scent of Joel filling your nostrils with every rushed inhale. The sounds he’s making turn rougher, deeper; raspy grunts and exhales that are almost animalistic in their intensity, and then—

“Fuckin—look at me,” he bites out, and watery eyes flutter open to meet his gaze. “Need to see those pretty eyes when I fill you up.”

And fuck you’re wet. So wet that it’s seeping onto the skin of your thighs, drooling out of you as you clench around sweet sweet nothing, cunt desperate and begging to be filled again. Tightening your fingers around his cock, you drag your mouth back to suck gently around the pulsating head, and when he comes it’s with a drawn-out, laboured groan that fades into harsh mutterings of your name and fuck and so fuckin’ good at that god damnit and that’s it, swallow it all baby, it’s yours, it’s yours, it’s yours.

You pull off him with a gasp, sucking in deep desperate breaths as you fall onto your back beside him.

Soft sheets stick to the sweat on your skin, and you close your eyes, vaguely aware of how the two of you breathe in sync; a high-strung cacophony of sharp inhales and heavy exhales.

After a few quiet moments you ask, “What time is it?”

“Eighty thirty,” he answers. The mattress jostles and tilts as his large frame shifts on it.

“Probably time to start the day,” you grumble, throat raw and tired.

But you can feel hands on your waist, nudging you backward until your head is slumped amongst the soft pillows again. And when your eyes peak open Joel is getting comfortable between your legs, glasses forgotten somewhere out of sight, hands pressing your thighs into the mattress to reveal your glistening sex to him.

And he says, “No,” shaking his head slowly, near-black eyes piercing as his lips lower to meet your cunt. “Not yet.”

You were unsure, initially, whose idea it was.

Unsure of who spoke first; if you or him brought up the idea of the museum. Unsure if he mentioned the bookstore or you mentioned The Iliad. Unsure, unsure, unsure.

But as you stand on the outskirts of Central Park—showered, dressed, sure—eyes scanning the front window of the shop, the glass overflowing with newspaper cuttings and novel covers and author profiles and ads for signings – you are certain that it was him. Certain that he asked what your plans were for the day, head resting on your thigh, lips and beard still glistening with your come. Certain that you mentioned going to the museum, and that those brown eyes lit up, mouth splitting into a smile as he revealed that he had plans close by. Certain that he introduced the idea of going together.

A bell tinkles and your gaze sharpens, watching as his broad frame slips out the door with a brown paper bag tucked under his armpit. Joel ticks his head wordlessly to the side and you fall into step next to him, two sets of shoes scuffing against the pavement in a perfect rhythm.

“Can I see it?” you ask, eyes roaming curiously around the street.

“Sure,” Joel holds the bag out and you take it carefully, fingers peeling back paper so you can take a peak inside.

“The cover is beautiful,” you breathe, fingers tracing vibrant swaths of gold and red, the white lettering that spells The Iliad. You balance the spine in your palm, curious to flick through to the first page. To see the acknowledgements, her author photo, anything. And as your eyes skirt over the very first page your feet stutter to a stop, pulse increasing as you spot the black marker on the page. A messily scrawled signature.

“Joel.”

Joel says your name, pausing a few steps ahead before turning back to face you. “What’s wrong?” he frowns.

You hold up the page, brows lifted in awe. “She… how did you get a signed copy?”

“We’ve met a few times in passing,” he admits sheepishly, eyes glancing between the book and your face. “I’ve always admired her work, and she offered to set a copy aside for me here. She’s very impressive, the first woman to—”

“The first woman to publish an English translation of The Odyssey,” you interrupt. “Yeah, Joel, I know exactly who Emily Wilson is.”

“And now she’s published The Iliad,” he hums. You begin walking again, the museum in sight now. “I’m lookin’ forward to readin’ it. Especially now that I’ve heard all your thoughts about how women and men translate differently. I’m sure it’ll be on my mind as I go.”

The skin on your face prickles and tightens under his attention. You’re still smiling, a wide and satisfised flash of your teeth, when the two of you reach The Met. Still smiling when he pays for your tickets and leads you toward the Cloisters.

You wander together through the exhibit. Medieval, Bohemian, Byzantine. Jean Pucelle, Robert Campin, Tilman. You catch Joel staring at the Bust of the Virgin, one hand on his hip, knee jutted out as he admires her elegance, the tenderness with which her face was carved.

“You like her?” you tease.

His shoulders stiffen and then relax into a sort of indignant laugh.

“I like terracotta,” he smarts, reaching out to pinch your forearm. When he pulls his hand away you see his eyes dart over your shoulder – a quick glance around the room to see if anyone noticed.

“Oh of course,” you nod, a mock serious expression on your face. “Me too. Terracotta virgins.”

“You know,” he huffs, turning to face you head on. “You oughta start showin’ me a bit of respect. Where’s your reverence for an authority figure, huh?”

“Authority?” your eyes widen, smirking broadly as you take a step forward, the material of your jacket brushing against his. “And what authority might that be?”

“I could fail you,” he murmurs, glancing down at your lips. “Tell everyone you’re the worst student I ever had. Never does as she’s told, always talkin’ back.”

“Oh, Professor,” you whisper back, fingers curling around the hem of his shirt, your snark emboldened by his. “I hate to say it, but you’re not very convincing in your distaste.”

You don’t wait around to see his reaction, turning on your heel and heading into the next room. Your cheeks are sore from smiling at the end of it, eyes tired from reading, and then you reach the courtyard gardens. See the cloisters. See the Romanesque columns with their fluting grooves that lead into arches, see the vast green garden with its flowers of yellow and pink and purple. Herbs and flora border the walking paths, filling the air with the scent of thyme and rosemary, and you can’t help but grin.

“Not bad right?” Joel’s voice comes from behind you.

“Not bad at all,” you turn to smile at him. “Would’ve been cooler if they had some dinosaur bones around here though. A museum should always have a dinosaur.”

“A dinosaur,” he repeats, quietly amused. “Of course, you like dinosaurs.”

“I thought, uh,” Joel clears his throat then. Glances away for a second. “Thought you might like it here; that it might remind you of your time in Greece.”

The words make your chest go all warm and tight. He looks so handsome, so easy in the middle of it all. Dark features and broad shoulders softened by the smell of flowers.

“It does,” you nod. “A little bit.”

“What was it like?” he asks.

“Greece was…” you trail off as you remember it. White sand beaches, turquoise waters, boreks and Doric columns, seemingly endless nights spent translating sheets and sheets and sheets of ancient texts. “It was wonderful, really. I feel so lucky to have had the opportunity, and Professor Samaras was a phenomenal instructor.”

Joel nods, fingers looped and resting across his stomach as he digests your answer.

“Good,” is the response he settles on, finally. “I’m glad. You… you deserve that. You work hard, and your presentation was solid.”

And it’s been less than twenty-four hours, but those words bring you calm now, not frustration like they did last night. So you smile, and thank him, and don’t stop yourself from asking him something in return.

“Have you really never been?” you ask, eyes squinting inquisitively as you watch his face, searching the emotions that flitter across it – near impossible to decipher, as always. “You said you weren’t interested, that first night when we spoke about it… but I would’ve thought… I don’t know, maybe a semester abroad or… or a fellowship?”

“Never,” he looks away. “Always too little time, too little money, too many responsibilities.”

You nod slowly, watch him curiously. You wish you could peel back his skin and see inside of that gorgeous brain, that heart. Understand every trouble, every missed opportunity that weighs on his shoulders.

“There’s still time,” you offer. “You’ve got so much time, Joel.”

Joel looks at you and you can see in his eyes that he’s grateful for the words. See that the earnestness with which you speak brings him some kind of solace, some kind of hope.

His fingers graze the skin of your wrist, curling around it to hold you in place beside him. Your body stills, eyes training carefully on the garden; the green of the grass, the pink of the flowers that bloom amongst it all. One of his fingers searches the skin at the inside of your wrist, swiping and rubbing over the tendons and veins there until he finds where your lifeline pulses. And then he strokes that spot, a calm, meticulous glide of his fingertip, over where blood thrums and rushes inside your body.

The tickling sensation has a painful knot of want curling in your chest, but you don’t stop him. Don’t pull your hand away, don’t take a step back. And with every stroke against skin, you feel it as if it where between your thighs—the soft curling of a finger between your folds, against your clit. It feels feverish, like a steady flame that spreads across your skin, up your chest to lick at the inside of your ribcage.

“Soft,” he says, his voice low and thoughtful. “You’re so soft.” And it sounds painfully like, you’ve got so much time.

And you look at him and he knows. Your face says it all.

Says, let your hands wander wherever they like. Says, if you touched me here—now—I wouldn’t say a word, wouldn’t tell a soul. Says, everything I have to offer is yours if you could only bring yourself to take it. Says, and if your hand won’t wander, won’t stray, I’ll take it in my own and show you where to touch.

So you lead him back inside. Quiet, discreet, slipping past patrons and staff and guards until you find a bathroom. Tuck him inside and smile at the snap of the lock shifting into place behind you.

Joel’s knees meet tile with a soft thud, and dark eyes hold yours as he peels your trousers down, as he drags the slick fabric of your underwear to the side, as he presses the soft cut of his mouth between your legs. He watches you, steadfast, cheeks ablaze and pupils blown as his tongue works you open, calloused fingers holding your left thigh over his shoulder.

And after you’ve come, face pinched and hidden behind your palm, he pulls away. Skirts wet kisses down the inside of your thigh, against the shell of your kneecap, to the bruise that colours your shin.

And he whispers, “Does it hurt?” with his fingers tracing tender splotches of purple and blue.

And you whisper, “No.” with your fingers brushing the curls off his forehead.

Afterwards you walk through the park, pressing through streams of tourists and locals alike; a lively crowd that parts and flurries around the two of you as you push forward. He fields your questions about Emily Wilson, about the years he spent doing his PhD, parrying seamlessly with queries about the West coast, about your undergrad, your roommates.

The bubble doesn’t break until Joel gets the text. Cursing softly, he turns away from you, eyes focused on his screen.

“Everything okay?” you ask.

“Yeah, yes,” Joel says, fingers flying across the touch screen, typing out a response before he tucks his phone away. “I, uh, look I actually forgot that I have somethin’ I need to do tonight.”

“Sounds mysterious,” you smile, eyebrows raised expectantly. But your smile wavers when he doesn’t match your teasing, face relaxing as you wait.

“Rachel and I planned this dinner a few weeks ago,” he explains. “When we both agreed to attend the conference.”

“Oh,” you blink. “That’s nice.”

“It’s this thing we do,” Joel offers, shifting on his feet. “A tradition, I suppose. To celebrate another conference done.” And you remember, I’ve been to twenty of the damn things. His twenty to your one.

“That’s nice,” you repeat, and hold your smile when he checks his phone again.

Hold it when he tells you he should go, that he needs to get ready to meet her. Hold it when he hesitates, staring at you for a moment. Hold it when he presses a chaste kiss to the side of your head, lips meeting your temple, the weakest point of your skull, before turning to walk away from you.

Only when you’re alone do you let the smile fall.

After a lonely dinner, you find yourself back in your hotel room, thinking about Rachel.

Folding your blue dress into a neat square, and then a smaller square. Tucking it into your duffel bag, thinking about the rough sound of her laugh. The soft curve of her jaw, the sparkling greys that curl through her dark hair. You fold your underwear, pack that too, and think of her fluorescent toenails and her dangling earrings. Think of how sure she is; how intelligent, how charismatic. And then you think of yesterday – of her hand on Joel’s arm, soft fingers curling around the sleeve of his blazer, carting him around the conference. Leading him. Standing by his side, making him laugh.

And it burns, this hot feeling in your chest. Something dark green and scalding, fiery enough that you feel the need to sit on the edge of the bed and press your palm against the skin above your breast to tamp it down. Feel your heartbeat there, the rise and fall of your chest with each breath, and tell yourself that this feeling is cruel and unforgiving but that it is wrong. You lay out your clothes for the airport, wrap yourself up in the coarse hotel robe and push away the images your mind creates of them at dinner together. Push away the thought of her foot nudging his beneath the table, the thought of them sitting beside each other, thighs brushing like yours had on the bench last night. Because it’s wrong. Joel isn’t like that. Joel wouldn’t do that.

When Nora calls, you pick up on the second ring.

“How did it go?” she squeals, and you feel your shoulders relax at the sound of her voice.

“It was good,” you respond. “I feel good about it. Glad it’s over though.”

“You never answered my text—" the line crackles a little, muffling the last word of her sentence. “I was worried something bad might’ve happened.”

“Fuck,” you apologise. “Yeah, I’m sorry about that, I—I got caught up with something, I… I wasn’t looking at my phone.”

There’s a beat of silence over the phone. Another fried, crackle over the line.

“Oh you cheeky bitch,” she gasps then. “You could’ve just said you were getting some!”

“Nora—” you try, stomach dropping.

“Who the fuck was it?” she continues eagerly. You can almost picture the way her eyes would widen if she were here with you, hands clenched excitedly at her sides as she pushes for all the gory details. “Was it someone from the conference? Oh my god, was it someone from UNE?”

“No, no,” you rush, feeling an anxious heat rise in your chest. “It was just a random guy, we… I met him at a bar afterwards, it’s no one from Maine. No one from the conference.”

Another pause.

“And?” she asks finally. “How was it?”

You consider her question for a moment. Remember the way he undressed you in the dim light of his hotel room – slow, cautious. Remember the way he looked at you. Those dark brown eyes feasting over every inch of flesh, every mark, every freckle, every scar. The feeling of his hands on your breasts, his bare chest against yours as he pressed inside of you.

Quietly, earnestly, you say, “It was amazing,” and smile when she hollers down the line.

And this feeling is so much kinder, you think. The relief and the warmth that comes with being able to tell someone. To talk about him, even if you’re not really talking about him. Even if she can’t really know the truth.

You put her on speaker, still listening and laughing as she rattles off question after question. Did he go down on you? How big was he? Wait he was older?! You bitch! How old?! That’s hot. Fuck, I need to get laid.

“You really do,” you chuckle, laying down against the pillows and typing out a text to Joel.

Are you enjoying your dinner?

He replies within minutes.

Yeah, the restaurant is nice.

What are you doing?

“Hey Nora?” you interrupt. “I actually need to go.”

“Oh,” she huffs. “Alright, alright, I get it. You’re gonna go get fucked again. Good for you bitch.”

“I love you,” you laugh, already typing out a response to him. “See you tomorrow when I get home.”

Well my bags are packed, and I just tucked myself into bed

You watch the text bubble appear, disappear, and reappear over three times before it vanishes completely. Minutes go by; maybe ten, maybe fifteen, and then—

Show me.

Grinning, you loosen the tie around your robe to reveal a flash of the skin across your chest; the curve of your left breast, the peak of your nipple. Take a picture and make sure he can see your finger snagged between your lips, resting against the softness of your tongue.

For a moment you worry. Feel a spike of fear in your chest that if you send it someone else might catch a glimpse of his screen – that Rachel might see it. But then another text comes through, and you feel that fear melt into a warm pool of liquid.

I know you want to show me, sweetheart.

So you do. You click send and wait, teeth catching against the nail on your thumb.

The response is almost instant.

Jesus.

Are you wet?

You know I am

Are you touching yourself?

Good.

Dinner finished early. Where are you?

You send him the address of your hotel. Call the lobby and tell them to let him up. And when he arrives, you’re waiting for him on the balcony. You hear the heavy pad of his footsteps crossing the room, and then the slide of the glass door. Feel the broad span of his chest press against your back; outstretched fingers that glide around the curve of your waist to settle over your stomach.

Joel doesn’t say a word, nosing at the frizzled kinks of hair at the base of your neck. One of his hands drifts upward, fingers curling beneath the neckline of your robe, just grazing the curve of your breast. You let your eyes fall closed and think this feels like coming home. Think, if this moment could last for hours, for days, for ever, that would be enough, and I’d never ask for another thing. Think, where have I been all of my life, and why was it not here with him?

You say, “Let’s go inside,” as he touches your nipple, and feel him shake his head.

“No,” he says. Presses his hips against your ass, rough denim brushing the backs of your knees. “Want you here.”

You start to say Someone might see, but Joel pushes you forward again and your stomach presses against railing. Your eyes dart down toward the street, the road. To cars and pedestrians and tourists.

“You don’t want that?” his lips brush the side of your neck as he speaks, the softest pressure. He tugs at your robe, guiding it down past your shoulders, elbows, until it pools around your feet. “Don’t want them to see us together?”

“That’s not—” you gasp as his teeth sink into the skin of your shoulder, hot tongue gliding over already bruising flesh. “Fuck, Joel.”

He groans against your skin, lathing wet kisses past your neck to the top of your spine. His hands are on your waist and your stomach and your tits and his jeans chafe against your bare ass, zipper catching every now and then. But your mind is hazy, a blur of thoughts that can only focus on the feeling of teeth and lips, on something long and firm pressing through the material of his pants, rutting slowly against you.

“You’re hard already,” you breathe, surprised—delighted.

Joel grunts, distracted. “Been hard since you sent me that picture.”

A shaky breathes leave your lips as his hand skirts down your stomach, your hipbones, until his fingers slip past the glistening seam of your cunt – tender and swollen and aching.

“But that’s what you wanted, hmm?” he rasps. You whimper as his fingers circle over your entrance, collecting your slick and dragging it upward. A flinch rips through you when he touches your clit, the nerves fraught after being given so much attention throughout the day. “You like knowin’ how much I want you? How badly? You like that I’d leave dinner early just to come here and fuck you?”

Face on fire, you nod; caught out. And then he takes another step forward, bending you further over the railing and pressing himself against you, hard enough that you can feel his cock between your ass cheeks, denim scraping the sensitive skin there.

“That is how much I want you. All the fuckin’ time,” he says. “Get it?”

“Joel,” you stutter urgently, voice almost a squeak. Your thighs shake, knees close to buckling as his finger rubs slow circles against your clit. “S’too—fuck, Joel, it’s too sensitive.” It burns, too much – but his touch only serves to stoke the fire in your belly until it’s a roaring, raging thing, begging for more of too much.

“I know, honey,” he groans, and you think you can hear the sound of his zipper coming undone. “You sore?”

When you don’t answer immediately Joel’s fingers still, body straightening as if he’s about to stop, about to pull away.

“Don’t,” you say quickly. “Just—”

“M’not goin’ anywhere,” Joel hushes. “Does it hurt?”

You hesitate, stomach tightening when his fingers start to move again. “It’s… yeah a little, but it’s…”

“But you like it? Like it when it hurts a little?” he fills the silence, and you can hear the change in his voice. Hear how it deepens, a gravelly effect that has your cunt tightening. You cringe, turn your head to the side in the hopes that he won’t see your reaction. But he doesn’t let it slide. Of course not. “Talk to me.”

“Yeah, yes, I like it,” you admit, exhaling a relieved sigh when you hear his belt hit the ground.

“Good,” he says, and then you can feel him, hot silken skin on your own, the wet glide of his cock against your ass check.

His knuckles brush against you as he adjusts himself, and the weight of his tip at your opening is not unlike the brush of his fingers along your bruised shin. Tender, careful – the touch of someone that would never hurt you. Not unless you asked him to.

When Joel rocks his hips forward, cock splitting you open around his weight, the stretch is long and deep. A sweet, searing burn that has you balancing on the tips of your toes, mouth hanging open as you grip the railing and take it. The night air is cool against your skin, but warm hands land firm on your hips, thumbs circling and rubbing away the goosebumps there

“God,” he grunts into the hinge of your jaw, teeth nipping at the muscle there. “You’re so wet, so needy. Want this cock all the time, don’t you?”

You can only moan in response – a choked, whimper of a noise that scratches its way out of your throat as he bottoms out. His thighs are warm and thick against yours, body practically moulding itself to you as you squirm, cunt pulsing around the thick length of him.

He gives you a moment to adjust, waits to feel you relax against him, and then he’s moving. Slow, powerful thrusts that have you feeling him in your stomach, and wishing you could see his face. Wishing you could watch his nose scrunch up, his lips curl into a snarl as he fucks you. Wishing that everything you’re feeling could be reflected back to you in his face, the way it was last night.

“Thought about you all night,” he says in your ear, a dirty little confession, whispered only for you to hear. “You know how sick that is? At dinner with my colleague, my friend, and I couldn’t get this perfect cunt out of my head. S’drivin’—me—fuckin’—crazy.”

And it’s sick, it’s awful, but you feel your lips peel back, face breaking into a toothy grin at the words. That envy, that jealousy, that dark green sticky feeling - all of it for naught because you were right. Joel Miller is yours.

“Yeah?” you pant, pushing your ass back into him and smiling even wider when he grunts, blunt fingernails digging into your waist. “What were you thinking about?”

“’Bout how tight you always are,” he kisses the side of your neck, tongue flicking incessantly against the skin there. “How perfect you felt around me last night. How you take it so well.” He bites down, sucking until the skin throbs, another mark left in his wake. “How, if I can help it, I’ll never wear a condom when I fuck you again.”

You curse, head lolling back against his shoulder. The confession makes you ache. “Please,” you mutter desperately. “Joel, please.”

“Thought about fillin’ you up,” he continues eagerly. “Fuckin’ you so hard, so deep with my come that you’d feel it for days. And you’d be mine.” His hips snap forward in a particularly harsh thrust and you grunt, cringing as the railing bites into your ribs. Mine mine mine.

“I’m yours,” you moan as he fucks you, a steady smack-smack-smack sound filling the air as his hips collide with the meat of your ass, over, and over, and over again. “You know I am.”

And you want to know what he thinks of that, want to know what comes next, but the sound of laughter echoes up from the street suddenly, and you tense, eyes snapping wide open. Joel doesn’t slow down.

“Look at them,” he hushes, voice quietening some.

His hand raises to point somewhere over the balcony, but you don’t see where; eyes trained on his fingers, his skin, the blue veins that swell and pulse beneath it. Your eyes try to follow it, but you’re looking the wrong way, following the hard line of his wrist, the corded veins in his forearm, his bicep, trying desperately, shamelessly, to catch a glimpse of his face.

“I said look at them,” his voice deepens, an authoritative tone taking over as his long fingers grip your jaw, angling it down until you do as he says.

You can see three of them. Squinting, you try to make out their faces from four storeys up. Stumbling down the street, laughing loudly, bumping shoulders as they walk.

Joel’s hips press forward and you gasp, eyes rolling back as his swollen tip nudges the deepest, softest place inside of you.

“Wait,” you whisper hoarsely, body jerking forward with every practised thrust of his cock. Say again, “Someone might see.”

“I hope they do,” he growls, hand falling to drape over your neck.

His fingers press gently against either side, cradling your pulse point in the palm of his hand. Your brain goes foggy with the pressure, mind buzzing and blurring. The sensation of his broad grip against your throat mixes with the drag of his cock between your thighs and it’s intoxicating; a high that you’ve never experienced before, and never want to end. You don’t realise how loud you’re gasping, moaning, keening his name, until you hear him laugh. A rough, elated sound.

“I knew it,” he chuckles, and you tighten around him, fingers fumbling backward, seeking purchase at the soft flesh of his hips as he continues rocking into you. His hand drops from your neck to your tits, and he squeezes.

“Admit it. Admit you fuckin’ love it,” Joel pants, every word punctuated by a white-hot press of his cock and a heavy exhalation against your neck. “Dirty little thing—you want them to see. Say it.”

“Fuck,” you cry, spine arching as you push backward, meeting the movements of his hips.

“Fuckin’ say it,” he snaps, all hints of laughter gone now, his rough drawl only offset by the fond way his hands play with your tits. Careful, kind; every pinch, every squeeze, every caress a generous and tender display.

“I want it,” you blubber, sight blurring into a mess of streetlights and skyscrapers and strangers on the street. “W-want them to see how you fuck me, how you take care of me.”

“That’s it,” he groans, and you can feel the way he twitches inside of you, cock jerking against your walls in hot fast movements.

“Want them to know,” you continue, and there’s tears streaking messily down your cheeks, your lips moving faster than you can control. “Want them to see us, see how good it is, how perfect.”

And it’s too much now, you think. Finally, too much of too much. The railing is bruising against your stomach. Every stroke of his cock, every graze of your nipples – Joel’s touch akin to the end of a frayed wire, sparking and spitting embers wherever the two of you come into contact. Your cunt is on fire, every inch of sticky wet flesh throbbing and smarting.

“Fuck,” he groans. “Can feel you squeezin’ me, baby, you gonna show them how you come for me? Gonna let them hear it?”

“I can’t,” you choke out, shaking your head numbly. Yours lungs are on fire, mouth dry as you try fruitlessly to suck in breath after breath. “Fuck, I don’t think I can—”

“Hey,” his voice calls. A rough finger wipes across your cheek, smearing the salty tears further across your skin. “You can, you can, I can’t—I fuckin’ need this, need it.”

“It’s too much,” you gasp frantically. But your words aren’t matched by the desperate grind of your hips. Aren’t matched by the way you twitch and shake between him and the glass, abdomen tensing tighter tighter tighter with every thrust. “Fuck, I’m—I’m close but it’s too much, Joel, it’s too much, I can’t, I can’t—”

He pulls out quickly. You gasp wetly at the loss, at how your walls clench and suck around that empty warm space in his absence. Deft hands grip your waist, tilting and turning you until your back is against the railing now, and his mouth is between your legs, wet lips and tongue so soft in comparison, so soothing against that burn.

There’s no shying away now, no stuttering or whining – you simply melt, thigh softening around the curve of his shoulder, allowing him to hold you up as his tongue teases and coaxes you to the edge of your third mind-numbing, toe-curling orgasm that day.

And you don’t notice at first how his bicep shifts and flexes beneath your thigh. Don’t notice how he groans and sighs against your messy cunt, panting and muttering your name as he strokes his cock in tight, wet jerks. And when you come, gushing into his mouth, his eyes snap open, endless spheres of deep brown gazing up at you, desperate to see. Your legs tremble with the force of it, hands grappling for purchase on his shoulders, in his hair. And with your lips parted, tears drying on your cheeks, you watch the way his face crumples—wrecked. How eyebrows furrow and eyelids flutter shut. Joel’s mouth slips away from you, teeth sinking into the flesh of your thigh, something to ground him as he grunts, a low, ragged sound, before you feel him come in warm, thick spurts against your calf.

“Fuck,” you mumble deliriously. Can hardly hear yourself over the roar of your pulse in your ears. “So good, you’re so beautiful.”

Joel’s face is flushed, skin tinged with a deep red that settles across the highest peaks of his cheekbones and disappears into his beard. And when his eyes open again, drowsiness swimming beneath those heavy lids, you can see the way they shine. Glistening with something wet, something earnest. You thumb gently at his waterline, swiping away the tears like he’s done for you.

His lips press a chaste kiss to the pad of your thumb, tongue snaking out to lick his tear from your skin, and you think you must repeat it, So beautiful, because he smiles. Breathing heavily, eyes wet, he grins for you. A flash of white that he quickly smothers against the skin of your leg.

After catching his breath, Joel leads you inside and helps you shower. Stands outside the glass door, hand gripping your elbow to brace your shaking frame as you glide soap over your arms, down your legs. His fingers dig in firmer when you slip a hand between your thighs, whimpering as warm water streams over the sensitive skin there. He doesn’t flinch or shy away when specks of water flick out and dampen his shirt.

“You okay?” he asks as he helps you out, wrapping a towel around your shoulders.

You nod, mind still foggy, and let him rub the coarse fabric over the skin of your arms, your legs, drying you off before he tucks you back into your robe. And when he leads you back into the room, helping you carefully onto the bed, a flash of concern splits across his face. He takes a step back, a step away, until his back is brushing against the wall.

You lay down on the bed, heavy limbs splayed haphazardly across the soft blankets and pillows. Your robe is open, the tie still forgotten somewhere on the balcony, revealing the skin of your stomach, your thighs, still dotted with warm droplets of water.

And Joel's not far, not really; tucked away in the corner of the room, unsure, arms hanging listlessly by his sides as he stares. Takes in every inch of you as if it’s the first time all over again. Perhaps, as if he’s worried it will be the last.

“I should go,” he says, painfully unconvincing.

“Yeah,” you agree quietly, eyelids heavy as you stare back at him.

Your lips part in a soft yawn as you scratch languidly at the skin over your ribs, and dark eyes follow the movement of your fingers. Watch how your skin smarts and pulls beneath your fingernails until you sigh in contentment, the itch disappearing.

“You gotta be up early,” he says.

“I do.”

“And it’s late,” his eyebrows raise.

“Is it?” you smile. Raise your eyebrows in return and laugh when he sighs, hands twitching at his sides.

“Are we really doing this again?” you ask, smile slipping when you notice his frown. The twisted furrow of his brows, the curl of his upper lip. As if all of the features on his face have pinched together in the middle. Something churns in your stomach; a sick feeling that rises to lodge at the base of your throat. Waiting. “Talk to me.”

“M’tryin’,” he admits quietly. “Tryin’… tryin’ to be good. I want to be good.”

Your heart drops. And then, driven by some emotion that you can’t name, don’t want to name, it climbs its way back up, lurching forward in your chest. It claws and scrapes and tears itself out through a crack between two of your ribs, flinging itself across the room at him.

“You are good,” you whisper. Feel your bottom lip wobble, unsteady but sure. Certain of nothing but this as the words slip out. “You’re good, Joel. We are good.”

And when he smiles you think you can see it in his teeth. Little fragments of your heart; the beating core of you, dark red and macerated in the cracks of his canines, the lining of his gums.

Joel closes his eyes and repeats the word. A softly murmured, Good, as if the word itself confounds him, and you think you must be imagining the red smeared across his chin. Your blood seeping out past his lips, dribbling down to stain the skin of his neck.

“I hope you’re right.” He takes a deep, steadying breath. One that shakes the planes of his broad chest, makes it rise to its fullest potential before he sucks another in, shoulders relaxing, and walks across the room towards the bed.

Towards you.

thank you for reading! x

#i hope you wanna know what happened at the dinner with rachel #cause i'm gonna tell you #my writing #fic: a lover's pinch #professor!joel #ALP #joel miller x reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller smut

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lessi-lover · 9 days

Text

teenage drama II k.cooney-cross x russo!reader ~

(did you miss me cause i missed you) maybe a series 😉 ... but you'll never know? #even pests need love!

23 ★ ~ k.cooney-cross x russo!reader

your sister smirked cheekily as she expertly dribbled the ball past your much smaller legs, slotting it effortlessly in the net a laugh falling from her curled lips as she turned back to see you flinging your head back in defeat.

"lessi please can we play something else? football is so boring!" you groaned, tugging on your sister's arm before she went to collect the ball to play again. "i dare hear those words come out your mouth again! or you'll be banned from movie night, you hear me!" she threatened with a wag of her finger.

the blonde knew just how much you loved movie night, lately it had become one of her many threats to her easily gullible enough sister once she realised how she could manipulate so simply. she didn't really have that kind of power but it was fun for your older sister to feel as high and mighty as her older brothers seemed to be.

your older sister who would make you run around the garden until you both collapsed on the ground in tired smiles, your mother calling out from inside that dinner was ready, the older woman chuckling as she watched you finally catch a breath.

your older sister who would pick your tiny frame off the ground and into her arms as she carried you inside to the table, shaking you out of your sleep as you dozed of in her hold. your older sister who would beg you to join the games night after dinner she had planned for weeks only to fall asleep in your bed the second you dragged her off to your room.

it was safe to say being the youngest russo was easily the most dangerous spot at the table, although your older siblings always argued that the love you recieved as the last grandchild was surely enough to make up for the countless unwanted tackles and jabs you copped from them.

being dubbed as "the nice one" you tried your best to stay out of the russo family wrestling matches, seemingly always the first to attempt breaking your older brothers out of quite literally clashing each others heads together, your older sister only spurring them on as she cheered from beside a worried you.

"go gio go! watch out for his arms you git!" she would squeal moving to jump on top of the sofa quickly out of the way as luca grabbed his younger brother in a headlock, the both of them rolling around all over the floor.

sure you and alessia fought not much differently to your brothers and not much differently to those of your friends, when the older girl would force you to play football with her for hours on end, as she sliced the ball past you almost taking your head with it.

and sure the england forward could make you think twice before telling her your weekend plans to see some of your mates when she would then proceed to show up with her own friends blasting the loudest music you'd ever heard. a shout from her car that "your lift had arrived!" embarrassing you to no end as she cheekily waved you over.

it was not long after that incident that you got your finally your own car three years later and suddenly your lifts from the older blonde were not required, so the blonde had decided you now needed to have a coffee date every sunday to catch up with her younger sister.

although a childhood friend of hers always tagged along and that saved you enough to not have to hear her boastful stories in your ear ever five seconds, though you claimed the older girl hyped herself up just to get on your nerves.

and even if the clumsy girl could be the biggest pain in your ass on a good day, you really did love your her and people would say the two of you would do anything for each other, to the ends of the earth they would say.

but she really could be a pain in your ass.

like right now.

"alessia i know how to be an adult! i don't need you on my ass every five seconds!" you seethed. crossing your arms moodily over your chest, ignoring her offer of a piece of gum and focussing on the cars speeding past.

"helicopter parent you are." you mumbled under your breath, smacking away her attempt to give you a hug with a huff. "i heard that!" she whined, giving you an amused smile as she continued driving home.

you sighed looking out the window, your eyes following the curves and edges of each familiar house as you drove past. "okay i'm sorry. can you forgive me!" she grinned with a pout, gripping your wrist over the console as she dragged out her words.

"fine but only because i owe you a coffee and this will cover the cost." you answered begrudgingly, pinching her arm to let go as the blonde let out a cheer and turned the volume of the music up.

you had never enjoyed football growing up, you knew your interests lay elsewhere from a young age. so whilst your siblings played rough house with each other in the garden, you preferred to spend time on your own. tucked away inside with a book often whilst your mother made dinner, the older woman listening to any and every thought of your for hours on end.

and as your siblings weekends began filling with games and tournaments, you now sat in the crowd still buried in your book, head lifting every so often when you would hear your father's loud cheers. different matches every saturday, travelling to the far ends of the country to support your siblings, but no matter how far you were always there for them.

when your sister had made the move over to states, you'd missed her greatly and if it wasn't for your brothers convincing that you needed to focus on your studies you were confident you would have nearly failed your last exams.

it wasn't long before you finished your final exams that you made the decision to move over to london to start your career in the business world. suddenly things began to become clearer, you knew your path lay elsewhere from your siblings.

your passion for business and entrepreneurship had been a driving force throughout your studies, and the opportunity to start your career in london was too good to pass up.

you'd of course settled in easily to the busy life of living in london, smoothly finding your feet as you were quick to immerse yourself in the fast work environment, joining a large company which offered you the chance to learn from experienced entrepreneurs.

now back to present day, you still hadn't taken your older sisters advice to finally take being part of a footballing family in your stride and you were still adamant that your days of kicking footballs with the blonde in the garden were long behind you.

it was through your company that you were able to secure a job at adidas by leveraging your experience from your previous company and network in the business world.

your reputation for innovative thinking and partnerships caught the attention of adidas' acquisition team, who were seeking fresh individuals for their corporate division. it was only after a series of successful collaborations which drove impactful projects, you were offered a high role within the company.

however things looked a lot different now, your sister had now finally moved back from the states and moved through the ranks to what she described as one of the top teams in europe, her training grounds only a mere fifteen minute drive from your apartment.

but given your new company's strong connections with many football teams, you found yourself collaborating with arsenal, or more familiar to you; your sisters club.

failing to realise how much of a pain your sister still was you had offered to help coordinate an event for the team, told by your marketing director to bring your skills to the table.

"right we're here grumpy pants, do you want my jacket in the back? bloody freezing this morning." she grumbled, zipping up her own jacket as she turned the engine off.

"no i'll be fine thanks." you replied, giving your sister a cheeky smile as you stepped out of the car. you pulled your scarf tighter around your neck and looked around at the different fields.

"you look so funny!" you giggled, tugging on your sisters clothing all branded by her club. "oh shush." she hummed, playfully swatting your hands away with a smile. "you're just as annoying as i remember!" she grinned down at you, the blonde easily a few feet taller than you.

"can't say i don't remember younger you at all!" you said sarcastically. pulling up your phone to show her your lock screen, your background a photo of the two of you in the backseat of the car, probably driving off to one of her games out west.

you laughed all the way into the building, unable to contain yourself when the forward pushed on a so clearly labeled pull door and smashed into the glass, causing her to almost topple over.

"less! are you alright?" you questioned, trying to stifle your laughter as as a red mark appeared on her forehead, your sister with a pout on her face. "oh less." you chuckled, watching as your sisters frown deepened.

you reached out to inspect the mark, still trying not to laugh as much as you wanted to. "stop laughing!" she whined, looking a little embarrassed as she made eye contact with her teammates coming through the entrance. "it was an accident okay! my heads sore now."

"okay sorry, i'm sorry!" you apologised, finally able to suppress your giggles. "do you need ice or something?" you asked, pulling the clumsy girl off the floor. "i'll be alright, come on let's go inside."

"well good morning miss russo times two!" you bumped into lotte as you arrived, all of you entering the building at the same time. "lotts!" you squealed, jumping into the older girls arms as she lifted you off the ground.

"tiny! haven't seen you in ages, how's london treating you then?" she asked. the three of you fell into conversation as if no time had passed since you'd seen your sister's best friend.

"but i won't forget the time you made me pick you and gracie up from the dock, the two of you were completely shit faced!" she laughed, reminding you of the time you and a couple of friends maybe not so accidently drank way too much at a party and drunkenly called lotte to uber you home.

"my learning curve was thinking beer and liquor would mix nicely." you winced, thinking back to the hours after the party that lotte spent holding your hair back as you emptied your stomach. "fun night that was." in hindsight it probably wasn't the best start to your last year at school, but it was an easy excuse to not ever get that drunk again.

"yeah pretty fun night until i was woken up in the middle of the night to you and lotte at my window." your sister grumbled, clearly not as amused by the memory as you and lotte. she shrugged her jacket off up in her locker whilst you sat down on the bench.

"oh don't be a grub. can't forget when you and tooney had big night down in london." you chuckled, referring to the time her and the mancunian came home at four in the morning after having taken their first night out in the city.

"mum's got the patience of a saint." the two of you shared a look at that before bursting into a fit of laughter. pulling yourself up from the bench to grab your sister into a tight hug, your bond ran so deep. "i missed this tiny." she spoke into your hair, not missing beth's smile over your shoulders.

"oi russo who's the new lass?" a girl you recognised from your sisters instagram walked over, as you broke away from the hug. "katie meet my sister, she's here on behalf of adidas for a marketing event." the blonde introduced you as a few more girls floated into the locker room.

"nice to meet ya." she smiled, her accent thick as ever. "likewise." you answered, easily falling into a conversation about what you did at college, the irish girl interested in your role at the company.

lotte and alessia shared a look as they too fell into check as katie sat down with you. you watched as katie grinned over your head, clearly smiling at another teammate as you heard them behind you. "look who finally showed!" she chuckled as three girls entered the room, one of them tucking themself into her side.

you couldn't help but let your eyes draw to the youngest of the three as they put their stuff down, there was something captivating about her energy and you couldn't quite place it. that or the fact that she was easily the closest in age to you and downright the most beautiful girl you had ever seen.

caught in your thoughts, you barely even noticed the look that your sister and lotte shared over your head. "awfully chipper this morning, love." she joked as the girl grumpily rested her head onto katie's shoulder, seemingly not have had a great sleep last night. "not my fault dean was away and steph can't handle the pest on her own." she mumbled tiredly, glaring at a younger girl who you gathered was sitting next to steph who looked equally as tired.

"this is cait, arsenal superstar, australian international and most importantly my girlfriend." katie explained, kissing the top of caitlin's head before a hand pushed her face away. "shut up," caitlin giggled as she pulled herself closer.

"hi i'm caitlin nice to meet you, you're alessia's sister aren't you?" she spoke and you nodded back. "yeah that's me." you smiled, shaking her hand as she extended it. "less hasn't stopped talking about you all week, think she's more excited i'm here than i am," you chuckled.

"only good things i hope!" katie said back as your sister sat back down next to you. "mostly good things." you teased as alessia swatted your arm. "tiny best get a move on before those two show you a washing demo!" lotte said, patting your head hearing you laugh.

"not a pest." the younger girl grinned as she came back, arms firmly crossed as she moved across the room, flicking both katie and caitlin. "such a pest" caitlin groaned, as she winked at you.

"you must be kyra." you deduced, recognising the unmistakable australian accent, your sister having described the girls when you met for coffee earlier this week.

"one and only! you're less' sisters aren't you, been looking forward to meeting you." she smirked and caught off guard you couldn't help but blush at her forwardness, but before your cheeks could redden further you caught katie's eyes as she grinned.

but your attention was quickly elsewhere as kyra pulled steph's bun out of it's elastic before grabbing her in a headlock. "quick take it!" kyra shrieked as steph tried to grab her, her hand brushing yours as she tried to give you the elastic.

the australian so easily drew you in like a moth to a flame as her touch lingered on your hands sending a shiver down your spine as you heard her laugh, you couldn't help but wonder if she had done it intentionally.

you felt your breath get caught in your throat as your cheeks once again reddened and you struggled to stay focussed on what your sister was saying. kyra grasped for help with her attractive smile as steph took her down on the floor, the blonde begging for your help as your connected hands brought you both crashing to the ground.

pulling yourself off the blonde you sat up against the wall, herself with a smug grin as you were left alone on the ground. steph having been fed up and walked off the rest of the girls still conversing after a long two weeks apart.

"well, seems we have made friends with the floor." she giggled and you knocked your arm against her with a smile. "seems so." you agreed, the two of you falling into conversation.

perhaps it was the blondes cheeky smile that lured you towards her, or maybe it was the way she seemed so eager to meet you, or even the way her fingers so easily grazed over your own or the warmth that disappeared with them.

#woso #woso x reader #kyra cooney cross x reader #woso fanfics #woso imagine #kyra cooney cross #woso community #woso blurbs

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prettiestlovergirl · 2 months

Text

SWEET

tw: MDNI; fem!reader; slytherin! reader; oral (f. receiving); hickeys; kitchen quickie; slightly sub! mattheo riddle; french! mattheo riddle.

concept: an afternoon of baking ends in you covered in a mess your boyfriend, mattheo riddle, is more than willing to help you clean up.

a/n: one of my lovely lovely anons helped me come up with this idea hehe. inspired by me, accidentally covering myself in edible glitter when baking. some idea credit to bratetteprincess who just recently did a latina! reader baking w/luke castellan fic! enjoy, my lovelies! 𓆩♡𓆪

everybody in your house knew that sunday mornings were for your baking.

after two years of begging and pleading with all of your professors, you were given permission to use the kitchens one day a week in order to bake to your hearts desire.

you always liked to experiment with new things. various dyes that stained your hands different shades, new flavors that made your hair smell for days, edible flowers that made you gag.

today, though, you might have gotten just a teensy tiny bit carried away with your current experiment: edible glitter.

you'd been desperately craving carrot cupcakes but after you'd made and decorated them, they just looked so... boring. after glancing around the blissfully empty kitchen, you spotted it: the silver edible glitter just begging to be used.

you pressed the pump once over the baking tray, watching happily as a cloud of glitter flew out and created a glittery sheen over the cream cheese frosting.

long story short, 15 minutes later your cupcakes were perfect and you were absolutely covered in edible glitter.

you'd been in the middle of sliding your pretty pink apron off when your boyfriend, mattheo, came in to bother check up on you. mattheo was practically fucking addicted to you.

he couldn't stand not being around you for more than an hour, and when he was with you? his hands were all over you, constantly touching, grabbing, rubbing, or squeezing some part of your body. not that you really minded, you were just as obsessed with him.

"wow, ma douce (my sweet), did an arts and crafts shop throw up on you?" he asked, his usual teasing smirk on lips as he wrapped his arm around you. he nuzzled his face into your neck, not caring about the glitter transferring to his clothes. "what are you even doing with glitter? thought you were baking." he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"it's edible glitter. my cupcakes looked so boring n i ran out of those carrot n bunny sprinkles i love so... i tried something new." you shrugged, sticking your lower lip out in a pout as you set your glitter covered apron down on the counter.

"edible, huh?" mattheo asked, eyes now locked on the shimmering skin above your collarbone. "mhm." you nodded, not paying much attention to your boyfriend as you attempted to try and clean up your mess.

you paused your actions as he leaned down and took a nice, long lick up from your collarbone to your jaw. you let out a soft gasp while he groaned instantly at the sugar taste, admiring how your skin shined now with both the glitter and his saliva.

"mattheo..." you breathed, your voice a soft whine as he drew his tongue back down. "mattheo, i have to clean up, it's part of my deal with the professors." you whined, trying to move from his grip that only seemed to tighten as you shifted.

he thrived on the sounds of your pretty little whimpers, already getting drunk on the one little taste he had of you. he'd never been so down bad for anyone before, but with you? he couldn't help but want to touch you, taste you, 24/7.

"we are cleaning up, ma douce (my sweet). 'm helping you clean up all this glitter first, you got a big clump right there." he murmured, pressing his lips to the skin and sucking harshly on it, drawing another whimper from your lips.

he sucked on the skin, drawing moan after moan out of you until he could see the beginnings of a pretty purple bruise. "there we go, all gone." he hummed, his hands finding their way up to your chest and squeezing your boobs gently.

you mewled softly as he squeezed, biting your lower lip as he kissed and sucked purple marks all over your neck. you squeezed your thighs together tightly, feeling the wetness pool in your panties.

normally, you'd be upset with the number of hickeys he left, but the way his lips moved in sync with his hands made you a little distracted.

he moved away from your neck, now kissing and swiping his tongue over the skin down your arms. he left the occasional bite mark as he moved, your fingers now digging into his scalp as your breathing got heavy.

"mm, mattheo, now you've got some glitter on you." you pouted, dipping your own head down to lick up the newly transferred glitter. you traced your name on his neck with your tongue, leaving your own series of hickeys on his neck.

"fuck." he groaned, hands still massaging your boobs over your clothes while you suck his neck and paint it varying shades of purple and green.

"you should use this glitter more often." he murmured, to which you simply nodded instantly. you grazed your teeth over his pulse point, giggling softly as he let out his own soft whine. "y'know, i think you've got some more glitter down further. hop up on the counter, yeah? want to check it out." he grunted.

you pushed the cooling rack holding your sparkly cupcakes to the side before lifting yourself up onto the counter. "really want to make sure we get it all off." mattheo hummed, lifting your ass up a bit and dragging your shorts and panties down your legs.

he knelt down before you, pressing a few soft kisses up both of your legs before being face to face with your drooling cunt. "ma douce, douce ange (my sweet, sweet angel)" he crooned, taking a long lick through your puffy folds and watching as your toes curled in pleasure.

"fuck, it's even sweeter than the glitter." he groaned, dipping his tongue right back into your pussy. your head lolled back, teeth trapping your lower lip roughly while your hand gripped the back of his head.

he pinched your clit between his teeth and his tongue before rubbing his tongue back and forth rapidly. he relished in the way your back arched and your moans got louder and louder.

you thanked god for the soundproofed kitchens as you bucked your hips against his face. "mattheo, fuck, mattheo!" you whimpered, his name sounding like heaven from your lips.

his tongue continued to work your sensitive clit as you moaned for more, begged for him to move faster. "god, fuck yes, fuck!" you whined, gripping at his curls tightly while he continued to flick his tongue against your puffy bundle of nerves.

"shit, fuck, mattheo, 'm gonna- fuck!" you moaned, nearly collapsing back on the counter as you came roughly on his tongue and chin. he licked and lapped at your pussy, going until he got every single drop and your legs were quivering from the overstimulation.

he let you catch your breath before eventually helping you back up. you got redressed and together, you picked up the kitchen and got your cupcakes onto your pretty little platter.

later that afternoon, you and mattheo snuggled up together on the couch in the common room, chatting away about whatever nonsense you felt like chatting about.

when your friends came in, their eyes widened in confusion at the sight of you: you were both still coated in glitter with hickeys all over your necks, and you even had bite marks on your arms.

"jesus, did you get into a fight with a sparkly vampire?"

ᵈⁱᵛⁱᵈᵉʳ ᵐᵃᵈᵉ ᵇʸ @ᵐᵘʳᵘᶠᶠⁱⁿ

#☆lola writes !#mattheo riddle #mattheo riddle smut #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo smut #mattheo riddle imagine #mattheo riddle x you #slytherin boys

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mirohlayo · 6 months

Text

YOUR PRECIOUS ATTENTION | LN4

( lando doesn't like when you give your attention to someone else, when all he wants is to be with you )

warning : fluff, some jealousy

word count : 2.7k

!! english not my first language !!

you greet acquaintances as you walk and try to find your way in the paddock. you walk towards the McLaren garage and then your eyes search for your boyfriend. shortly after, you find him next to oscar and some engineers. they're talking and have serious faces. you want to greet them (lando actually) but you decide to not intrude their conversation because it looks serious and important, probably about the qualifications. so you wait. a little long. maybe a little too long. lando doesn't seem to have noticed you. well actually you arrived 30 minutes earlier than expected and that's why lando have no idea that you are here, waiting for him.

so you keep waiting. and waiting. time passes and now you've been waiting for 20 minutes. you know very well that the conversation was going to last a little longer, races are really important for lando and his team because it's their jobs. so instead of wasting your time and wait for him, you decide to take a walk inside the paddock, because as time passed you got bored.

a lot of people are present of course. engineers, journalists, racing teams, staff and the drivers' friends and family. but now you're used to that crowd. you're dating lando for quite a while now and attending almost all his races enabled you to be comfortable with this environment and atmosphere. and actually you really enjoy it. being able to meet new people, having funny conversations with them, the stressful feeling of races and qualifications, happiness when the racing team does a good job. you know that you're a very lucky person to have access to all of that.

you keep walking slowly, observing here and there around the paddock. then you find hamilton, saying goodbye to some guys and he notices you right after. you smile at him as he walks towards you, smiling back to you. he stops himself in front of you.

- nice to see you here y/n ! he says with a great smile.

- nice to see you too lewis ! you answered.

- why you're taking a walk alone ? he frowns a bit and then raises his brows like he found something. your boyfriend is too occupied right ?

you laugh and nod.

- yeah, looks like he was having a serious conversation with the engineers, i didn't want to intrude. but it's okay, i enjoy walking alone around the paddock.

- would you like to walk with me a bit then ? i've finished checking things with my team and i'm not gonna lie i need some distraction, he adresses to you a big smile.

part of you want to decline your friend's offer but you remember lando is still in the mclaren garage and if you join him now he'd probably be still here talking, not having time for you. and it's been a while since you last spoke with lewis.

- okay, let's go. but just for like 10 minutes, otherwise lando will wonder where i am and search for me all around the paddock, you say in a grin.

- don't worry, i won't take up too much of his girlfriend's time, he joked.

you guys start to walk slowly, enjoying the presence of each other. lewis is actually a good friend of you. well it's thanks to him that you're now lando's girlfriend. you're one of his closest friend, you know him for some years now. one day, he asked you to come to watch him pilot. you said that you didn't have the time, too busy with your job. he had to beg you and made you free up time to come over and watch a grand prix. finally, you gave up and went a sunday to the race. and you don't regret coming that day, because it's when you met for the first time lando. and now he's your boyfriend. lewis really deserves an appreciation for that.

- when i think that at the beginning you were a supporter of Mercedes, he grin and look down at your mclaren hoodie. the number 4 was on the back of it.

- guess tastes change, you answered playfully.

- especially not because of one particular boy, he's now giving you a implicit look.

- oh please shut up, you say in a smile and hit his shoulder.

he laugh at you. sometimes you forget lewis can be very teasing when he wants.

- but it's okay, i like lando. especially because he got me rid of an irritating girl, he jokes and can't hide his vicious smile.

- you lewis !! you give him a blow in the ribs and shoot a black look. you try to bite back a smile but his laugh and teasing can't help it.

- i'm not going to remind you that roscoe loves me more than you, you tease him. and well, it's the truth.

- don't even try to continue on this topic. you know it breaks my heart y/n, he says and place his hand over his heart like he was hurt.

- so dramatic, you laugh and roll your eyes.

you can't deny it but your teasing game with lewis is something that you really like. you missed these interactions with your friend. and so does he.

you both are so into your teasing game that you don't even realizes you're now in front of the mclaren paddock. and what you also didn't noticed was how lando is looking at you two.

he finished his checking conversation with the engineers and oscar not so long ago. he thought that you were already in the garage waiting for him. but how suprised he was when he found out you were not here. first, he thought you were just in the toilets, or in his drivers room. so he calmed down a bit and went to his room. but you were not here too. then he started looking for you, searching everywhere until he finds you here in front of him, laughing and joking with hamilton. you look happy, looking at him with a playful look and smile, slapping his arm and then shoot him back a black look trying not to burst out laughing at the dumb things he says.

lando can't help but felt his heart tightens. the way you are just having a fun time with lewis, laughing like it is the funniest moment of your life, your hand touching his shoulder so that you don't lose your balance because you have this habit of almost falling to the ground when you're laughing to hard. and that usually happens when you are with lando, when he makes you laugh because oh he loves the sound of your laugh and your big smile, especially when he's the reason of it. but seeing you in this exact state with his driver friend instead of him, he just doesn't like that at all. yeah, he hates it. and he also feel guilty about it. he likes hamilton because he's his friend, but above all because it's thanks to him that you're his girlfriend.

he feel like he has no right to feel like that, because originally you are a friend of hamilton and he met you after him, when you were already one of his closest friends. if lewis didn't bring you that sunday, lando wouldn't be bere to be yours. but he also can't stand seeing you being so close to him, like it's just the two of you against the world. he just wants to be the only one for you, to be the only one that make you smile and laugh like that. just him and you. just you giving him all your attention. maybe he was just a bit insecure.

he sigh and take a deep breath. then he walks towards you two. he stop himself behind you and in front of the other driver and you are still laughing like kids until lewis notices him.

- looks like the prince if finally here for his princess, lewis says earning a grin from lando.

- yes, i come to save her, he reply in a grin but with an annoying tone, that he hopes you haven't heard. it comes harsher than he wanted.

- i am a troublemaker or something ? lewis joked and tease his friend.

- of course you are, you're always bothering me when lando is not here ! you say, still teasing him.

- oh stop i already know you loves him so much and would rather be with him than me in any situations, the mercedes driver give a playful look to the mclaren driver while saying this to you.

- of course, he's lando norris. how can i not love him ? you reply softly.

lando feel his heart lights. he can't help but smile at your sweet words. you look so in love with him it just makes lando so so happy. he drop his gaze on you and you give him a big smile, the one he cherishes with all of his heart. he wrap his arms around your waist and pull you close to his body.

- oh please don't do that in front of me, lewis says and act like he was disgusted, just to tease and bother you.

- not my fault if you don't have someone to hug, you reply, defending you and your boyfriend.

- yes it is, he reply back to back.

- no, it is not.

and like that you guys keep arguing about why lewis never hugs people and that he's maybe in need of affection. and lando was just there, trying to follow the debate.

you are just giving almost all of your attention to hamilton instead of him. and lando just hates that. he just want to run away from you and eclipse himself for the whole day, distancing himself from you until you give him your divine attention. maybe he is childish for thinking like that, but he just feels so jealous right now. for him, lewis is just stealing his girl. he should be the one debating with her, not the one who is here on the side and just standing like a bot. he is getting more jealous and angry. and he doesn't like that.

so, instead of just explodes in front of you two, he try to get your attention by squishing your hand, or your waist. reaching his hand to replace a strand of hair on your face, pull the sleeve of your hoodie, randomly kissing quickly your cheeks or the back of your hand. he just keeps touching you gently and softly and each time you look up at him and give him some bit of attention he feels relieve and happiness fills his body. but not a second later you're back talking and laughing with lewis. and then he can't stand it anymore.

he walks away from you and left you here with hamilton, not even daring to look back. he feels like an idiot for his shit behavior towards you and his mate but he gets sick by just seeing you so close with an another man than him. he knows damn well jealousy is not something good in a relationship, but he's so done. he is so annoyed and irritated by what happened that he completely forgot he has the qualifying. he enter the mclaren garage in a virulent way, and some people notice it, oscar being one of them.

- hey mate, you look like you're going to kill someone, oscar joked as he comes closer to the driver.

- maybe because that's what's going to happen, lando reply in a irritating tone.

oscar get silent for a moment and frown. he examines lando's expression.

- what happened ? he asked cautiously, not wanting to make things getting worse.

- nothing, don't worry, lando reply coldly.

- you're sure ?

lando turn to face his teammate and calm down a bit. he sigh and pat his shoulder to reassure him.

- yeah, just some silly things i think about. he pause for a second and then he gives him a determined look. let's do our best for the qualifying mate !

oscar smiles and nod his head, even though he's still worried about his friend statement.

and then, the qualifying takes place.

----

you're now waiting for your boyfriend in his drivers room. you know something bad happened, or maybe you did something wrong but the way your lover just left you in the middle of the paddock like an abandoned child makes you worrying about him. he looked angry, furious and frustrated because his walk wast fast and he didn't even look back. you want to know and understand why he reacts like that.

the race just finish some minutes ago, and lando will come soon into his driver room to dropped some stuff out as usual.

and then the door opens. you meet his eyes, and they're a lot of different emotions in it when he realizes that you're here. you stand up and guide yourself to him.

- lan, you whisper softly.

you try to approach him but he moves and take a step back. you're hurt.

- can we talk about what happened please ? i know something bother you.

he lift up his head to meet your gaze. and he didn't expect to see your hurt expression on your face. now he feels even more guilty than during the race. because yes, he regretted his behavior and how childish he was towards you when he was on the track. he couldn't concentrate fully on the race because of you and his shit actions. and now seeing you in this state makes him want to kiss you and hold you tight. his heart is crying.

- yeah, sure.

- why did you walk away like that ? something happened i know it, you start.

he avoid your gaze and start playing with his fingers. he's nervous. he does not want to reveal that he was so jealous of lewis because you would think he's such a kid and immature. a moment of silence fill the air. you notice that he looks nervous, so you try to help him.

- it is because of me ? you ask gently.

- not really, he answers still not looking at you.

- lando tell me what's wrong. i want to know because i'm confused and i don't want you to keep things to yourself. you can talk to me baby.

- i'm so sorry love, he says. then the second later, you're in his strong arms. he pulls you very close to his body and hide his face in your neck. so so sorry. i didn't intend to hurt you.

you sigh and gently rub his back.

- i'm not. just tell me how you feel lan. i promise i already forgave you, just tell me about your feelings please.

he goes silent for a minute, keeping you close to him.

- it's just... i didn't like the way the two of you interacted later. you were laughing a lot because of lewis and you kept making jokes with him. and i felt like you were ignoring me and enjoyed more his presence than mine. i don't like when you're close to an other man. i want you just for myself. i know this is selfish and childish because originally you're one of his closest friend but you were giving all of your attention to him instead of me. i was huh... jealous.

you move a bit away just to look at his face. you can see how guilty and hurt he is, like he was begging your pardon through his eyes. this picture breaks your heart in two. sometimes you feel like you don't deserve him.

- ohh my sweet boy... i understand how you feel. you have the right to feel like that. i was having fun with lewis because it's been a long time since we last saw each other and i didn't even think that it could have affected you so much. i'm so sorry love... so sorry. you know i also want to keep you all to myself.

- we're quits i guess.

you laugh softly and hug him. his hands rub your back slowly.

- i just want your precious attention y/n, lando says close to your lips.

- now you'll have it lando, you reply in a grin.

he smiles wide and pulls you closer. god he just loves you so so much, it sometimes hurts. he leans in and kisses you, squeezing your waist as you cup his face in your hands.

and you'll never leave his side, giving him all your attention for the rest of the day. and the rest of the week-end.

#lando norris x you #lando norris x reader #lando norris x y/n #lando norris fluff #lando norris #ln4 imagine #ln4 x reader #ln4 fluff #f1 imagine #lando norris imagine

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