#privately held company

[indilegalonline]

Private Limited Company

What is a Private Limited Company? In accordance with section 2(68) of the Companies Act, 2013 private company means a company having a minimum paid-up share capital as may be prescribed, and which by its articles:- (a) put restriction to the right to transfer its shares; (b) except in the case of OPC, which limits the number of its members to 200. However, where 2 or more persons hold one or…

[wisteriagoesvroom]

*sends two emails* ahhhhhh the shareholders. my work here is done

[lilgynt]

i hate the other departments at my company so bad we’re a security company ur answer to has this merchant been verified CANNOT be probably at some point 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

[consultingskeletondetective]

Colonel's Girl

You’re the young army nurse on base and König decides to keep a protective eye on you. You don’t mind at all, the Colonel is sweet and safe - until he isn’t.

masterlist 🩷 ao3

tags: military inaccuracies, blood and injury, angst, smut, oral sex, vaginal sex

This was your first time on a real military base. You’d done field medic training of course, but this was the first time in your career as an army nurse that you’d been shipped out to base, far from home, calling a tiny bunk room your own in a building full of rowdy young recruits. 

Their daily training brought them to you constantly with scrapes and bruises and concussions. They were feisty, adrenaline-fuelled young men, and you were one of the few women on base. The catcalling and the leering didn’t surprise you, even if it was unwelcome. 

“What time do you get off, darlin’?” Private Turner drawled in a cockney accent as you applied butterfly stitches to a bleeding split across his eyebrow. “Maybe I can come to your room and we can keep each other company-”

“Turner!” It was barked, a stern command from an accented voice. The private paled as Colonel König stomped into your clinic, and you blushed. König was a very imposing man. He was at least 6”9 by your reckoning, and just as broad, in his late 30s or early 40s with a thick Austrian accent. His years of military training had given him a thick, muscular frame, with his broad thighs barely contained in cargo trousers and steel-capped boots on his feet, a black tee stretched over his chest and biceps the size of your torso. You knew what he looked like under that hood, square jawed and piercing blue eyes, but today he’d kept it on, his eyes framed and dark. It was no surprise you blushed whenever you saw him.

“Colonel?” He stood and turned. His voice held none of its previous bravado. Next to König, he looked like a mere boy.

“Two weeks of toilet cleaning duty.” König said gruffly, “and if I catch you using that kind of language again, it will be a month. Understood?”

Turner slumped. “Yes, sir.”

“Get out of my sight.”

Turner, chastised, scampered out of your clinic without looking at you.

König turned his hulking form towards you and actually had to look down to greet you. 

“Pardon, ma’am. He won’t step out of line again.”

Ma’am . Your blush deepened. You gave him a small, nervous smile. 

“Thank you, Colonel, that’s very kind of you.”

“These boys don’t know yet how to respect a lady, but they will.”

“Once you’re done with them?” You smiled playfully.

“If I have done my job correctly.” He said kindly, before turning on his heel and leaving swiftly. You giggled. 

You didn’t see much of König at the start of training, his rank and his experience meant that he didn’t end up in your clinic as much as his recruits did, but when you did pass each other in the hall or by exchanging paperwork, he was nothing less than a courteous and charming gentleman. It seemed bizarre, considering you’d heard tell that he was a brawling killing machine out on the field, but he could switch from barking stiff orders to giving you a gentle smile that made you blush in the blink of an eye. You had to routinely remind yourself that this didn’t make you special, he was just being respectful, and you weren’t used to that. It didn’t matter that he was a soldier, or nearly twice your age, it didn’t take you long to develop a crush on the handsome and mysterious Austrian. 

A few days later and you were stood in line to the mess hall. It was breakfast, and you’d seen the black pudding in the warming trays as soon as you’d stepped in. You were practically salivating as you waited, it wasn’t often you got a creature comfort like this - something that reminded you of home - on base.

“Not often we get this kind of luxury, eh, miss?” You recognised the coarse accent before you turned. Lieutenant Riley had joined you in the line, a balaclava covering his face. You knew him a little, the infamous Ghost. You’d crossed paths with the 141 on occasion, and you knew Riley, sometimes even Captain Price, dropped into the base to provide training or engage your services. It wasn’t out of the ordinary for him to make polite conversation with you. In fact, it seemed the norm here. The high rankers felt a bit sorry for you, while the recruits made you feel like a piece of meat or an object of ridicule. 

You didn’t mind much, you were here to do a job, and you kept to yourself mostly anyway, but the offer of friendship was much appreciated. 

You smiled a little shyly in return. “I know, right? I hope the black pudding doesn’t go too quickly. I’ve been thinking about it all morning.”

“A girl after my own heart.” The lieutenant chuckled. In front of you, two privates who had been turning around to eavesdrop on the conversation - more to get a look at Ghost, than you, you understood - burst into laughing at your admission. Your ears turned red and you wished you’d never opened your mouth.

Riley didn’t seem to notice, he was holding his gloved hand out to König, who had somehow appeared next to him in the line since you’d looked away. You actually had to do a double take. For a near seven foot slab of muscle, he was stealthy when he wanted to be. 

The two of them talked among themselves in low voices and you left them to it, knowing you didn’t particularly want to hear the contents of whatever they needed to discuss.

You reached the front of the line and the private in front of you - the one who had laughed - piled his tray high with black pudding until the warming tray was empty. He turned and smirked mockingly at you.

“You can have my sausage, darlin’, if you ask nicely.” At least three recruits laughed. You wanted to shrink down so small you stopped existing altogether.

König’s brick hand clamped around the private’s tray and wrenched it easily from his grip.

“Sir-my breakfast…”

“Get out of the line, or I will feed you my fist.” König didn’t even raise his voice, the cold delivery had the private skulking off empty handed. König placed the tray back onto the counter and then he turned to you. 

“Help yourself, ma’am.” 

“Oh.” Your cheeks were crimson. He cocked his head, his eyes, the only part of his face visible through his black hood, looked amused. It wasn’t unkind. “T-thank you.” 

König tipped his hood towards you before turning his attention back to Riley, and the pair of them moved off to a separate table. You sat by yourself, chewing your black pudding, and smiling like an idiot. 

You glanced over to König a few times more than you would like to admit. He put you at ease, that’s what it came down to, it gave you a confidence you didn’t usually have around military men. 

It was that very ease that left you wholly unprepared for the following week.

It was ballistics training out on the grounds, and you caught wind of an accident halfway through your sandwich.

“Come quick!’ An officer skidded into your office, “there’s been an accident - potential fatality.”

You cursed, and gathered your supplies, before following him out of your clinic and out onto the training ground. Recruits stood nervously holding rifles, their half-shot targets abandoned. A young recruit was wailing on the ground, another kneeling beside him and pressing against his belly with a jacket, there was blood on the sand. 

König was towering over a young private - the same young man who had laughed at you in the mess hall, you briefly noted - and barking bloody murder in his terrified face. It took you more than a moment to realise that König wasn’t actually speaking German, you could just barely make a word out in his fury. 

It was easy to tune out, you’d been out in the field before, and turn your attention to your patient. You knelt beside the terrified looking private stemming the bleeding, and carefully lifted his jacket to look at his wound while the young man screamed.

“You’re going to be okay.” You said confidently, calmly. “It’s nothing we can’t stitch up. Private, keep putting pressure on the wound, just like this, you’re doing a good job.” Just this once, you were obeyed without question. 

“I will have you court-martialed, dummkopf, you could have killed him. You come onto my base, you do not listen to a word I say, and now you attack my men? You sorry piece of -”

“König,” you cut through the accented remonstration, pulling bandages from your bag, “I need your men to carry him to my clinic immediately, then you have to-”

König turned swiftly to you, those bright blue eyes visibly narrowed in the slits of his hood. “Do not fucking give me orders, nurse.” He seethed, voice ice cold with rage, fists clenched and towering over you. “You address me as Colonel, you little girl.” The white hot fury in his eyes matched the venom in his voice. You baulked, in fear, in surprise, horrified to realise tears were gathering in your eyes. You looked back down on the man in your arms and forced yourself to regain your composure.

“I need to get him to my clinic, I can’t lift him myself.” Your voice was steady, if muted, throwing your gaze over your shoulder at König and the recruits staring at you. “Please, colonel .”

König turned from you and began barking your orders at his men and within moments, your patient was being carried between three recruits back to your clinic. You turned and rushed after them. You extracted the bullet from his ribs and sewed up the damage as numbly as you treated any one of your patients. You left your makeshift surgery room with bloody hands and sweat on your forehead, surprised to find König leaning against the wall in your waiting room. He’d stripped out of his uniform to a simple pair of combat trousers and a black shirt that looked like it was losing a fight with his bicep muscles. His hood was held lax in his hand, giving you a rare glimpse at his face. It was no surprise to you that he looked exhausted. He pushed himself from the wall when you entered. Like a gentleman , you thought bitterly.

“Will he live?” He asked you, his voice soft. It was just like every other interaction you’d had on base. 

“It was a flesh wound. He’ll be fine, Colonel.” Your words were stiff, and you walked straight past him without even a glance, feeling like a complete idiot that you’d ever thought he might treat you with the slightest bit of respect. You were angry until the adrenaline wore off, then you cried in your bed.

The recruit, Jenkins, pulled through the night, and the next day he was airlifted to the nearest hospital. The accidental shooter was gone, and you didn’t care to ask what had happened. Training was halted for a few days as a result and you had a quiet week, but you weren’t complaining, as you now had a mountainous amount of paperwork to complete. You were grateful when you were able to file the heft of paper into your pigeon hole to be sent off, and rewarded yourself with a sit down in the breakroom to the main office.

You looked up on instinct more than anything when the door opened. König walked in, in combat boots and a military vest, his hood over his eyes and helmet strapped to his head, like he’d just come straight from deployment. He glanced at you with tired blue eyes, but all you could see was the fury in them when he’d scared you the week before. You felt stupid for thinking someone like König would ever be nice to you. You were just the idiot girl on base.

“Morning, ma’am.” He said pleasantly when he saw you, slipping one hand into his trouser pocket as he poured himself coffee from the pot on the table.

“Hey.” You replied, voice flat, suddenly finding your nails remarkably interesting.

“Is everything okay?”

“Fine.” Another one word answer. You still weren’t looking at him. 

König shifted uneasily. The atmosphere in the room changed. Of course it did, he was used to you being a blushy, smiling, pathetic mess for him. 

Concerned, König crossed the small space to you. He didn’t sit. From what you could see from your lowered head, his hand was no longer in his pocket.

“If this is about what happened…you did well, Jenkins will recover.”

“I know I did fine.” You genuinely didn’t mean to snap. “I don’t need you to tell me that.”

The conversation went dead, the atmosphere was palpable. You didn’t know whether it was his culture, or his military status, but König went right to the point.

“Have I offended you?”

Was he being willfully obstinate? You felt your humiliated aggravation grow. Well, you were in it now.

“Just leave me alone.”

There was a pause. And then another. Neither of you moved.

“As you wish.”

He left swiftly after that, and you finally looked up at the empty room. You felt relieved, but also hollow. It was almost like you’d done something wrong. But you hadn’t, had you? König’s coffee was abandoned on the table.

König left you alone, and that pissed you off even more. He walked past you in the mess hall, he didn’t glance down to smile at you anymore, he didn’t come into the clinic, even though you secretly hoped he would. Your self-esteem was pretty much on the floor after that, and the base got just that little bit lonelier.

Two recruits barrelled into your office a few days later, one had a busted lip and they both had black eyes. They'd clearly been in a fight, but whether that was with each other, or someone else, you didn’t care to ask. You stayed quiet as you applied butterfly stitches to their cuts, and they were happy enough to complain between themselves.

“You’re a dickhead, Williams, the Colonel’s gonna fucking kill us.” 

“Relax, he’s not going to know.”

“He’s been such a dick lately. He put Taylor on shit detail for a fortnight for having his shoelace untied.”

“Probably because he has to look at your fucking ugly mug every day.”

“You’re done.” You cut across. “You can go.”

They thanked you and left, and you were grateful to get the foul mouthed privates out of your office. 

It was getting dark outside and you were tired. You left your clinic and crossed the training ground to the mess hall. There were still soldiers out here, practising hand to hand combat under the floodlights. You gave them a wide berth.  

You didn’t see the abandoned dummy grenade wedged in the sand until your foot hooked around it and you vaulted over with an unladylike grunt. 

A large hand curled around your wrist and stilled you before you ate dirt. You cursed under your breath and turned inward. König was towering above you, your wrist positively dwarfed by his gloved hand. His hood obscured his face, shrouding him in the darkness behind him, all except those bright eyes looking down on you.

“You should be more careful.” He grunted, releasing your wrist.

Your eyes hit the ground and you mumbled a hasty ‘sorry’ before you scampered away to the mess hall. König watched your retreating back as you left.

The next few days passed uneventfully. You worked, you ate, you slept, you called home. The clinic was surprisingly empty. You wondered if the recruits were finally becoming competent enough that they didn’t need you every five seconds. You signed off your discharge sheets for the day and headed to the main office to dump them in the output box. You were surprised to find König in there, sans hood, rifling through a box of papers on the desk. He glanced up when he saw you and his expression wilted. He looked back into the box. 

“I’ll be out of your hair in a second.” He said. “I just need to find the instruction manual for the - s cheiße .” The papers in his hand fluttered to the ground. He bent down to retrieve them and winced, arm circling his broad torso. 

You frowned and took a step closer to him.

“What’s wrong?” You asked. 

“Nothing.” He replied instantly as he straightened. His movements were slower than usual. 

“It doesn’t look like nothing, König, it looks like cracked ribs.”

“It’s fine, really.”

You put your discharge forms on the desk and walked up to him. “Lift your shirt.”

König sighed but complied after a moment. He lifted his dark tee to his pectorals. His deep abdominal muscles rose and fell under his breathing and you found your cheeks reddening under the sight. A makeshift bandage was wrapped around his torso, and you reached out and lifted it. His skin was like lava against your fingers. He didn’t say a word as you lifted the bandage but he may have winced when your eyes widened. The right hand side of his ribcage was purple with deep bruising and lacerated with deep and shallow cuts alike, some were healing, and some were leaving blood stains on the inside of the bandage. 

“Oh my god, what happened?”

“Nothing.” König grunted. “Machine gun training. One of the recruits lost control of the barrel and clocked me in the ribs. It is just a scratch.”

“This cut needs stitches.” You said automatically, tracing the underside of the welt with your fingertip. König jolted and you took your hand away. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you-”

“You didn’t.” He replied.

“I have cream that’ll reduce this bruising too-” König huffed and you looked up at him. You couldn’t quite decipher the expression on his face. He might as well have been wearing his hood.

“It is fine.” He said. “The bruising has disappeared a lot in the last few days…”

“ Days ?” You blinked. “Days, König? You can’t have been walking around like this for days. Why didn’t you come to me?”

There was a pause. He was trying to avoid your gaze.

“You told me to leave you alone.”

“König,” it was reprimanding, reproachful, your eyes slackened. “You always need to come to me when you’re hurt, even when I’m mad. I’m sorry.”

König’s eyes snapping to you made you regret the words as soon as they were out of your mouth. Your gaze dropped to the grazes on his ribs but your cheeks were already on fire. 

“Are you ever going to tell me why you are mad at me?”

You didn’t meet his gaze. It seemed pathetic now. “You yelled at me.”

König didn’t respond straight away. When he did - “I yelled at you?”

You fought off the sudden urge to say sorry.

“When Jenkins was shot.” You explained. “I’m not one of your soldiers. I don’t like being screamed at, especially when I’m doing my job.” Your voice dropped a little. “And I’m not a little girl, I’m a nurse. You should respect that, just like the way you tell your troops to.”

You glanced up at König, he looked crestfallen. “I…” He frowned a little, as if giving up on any explanation he planned to give. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

You shook your head, embarrassed, and lowered his shirt.

“It’s not important now-”

“It is important. I don’t think you are a little girl. Sometimes in battle, things like this become heated. I do not even remember saying this to you, but I am sorry. I do not think that, I truly do not, I was…one of my men was dying, I was not myself. Please forgive me.”

Your eyes met. It felt like the first time you’d looked at each other in a long time. König’s blue eyes were soft and sad.

“Um, come to the clinic, this afternoon,” you rose, flustered, “I, uh, that cut needs looking at.”

You turned swiftly and left but not before you heard König utter a single ‘yes ma’am’ before you did. 

You thought about what he said as you sterilised your clinic for his arrival. Maybe it was just the heat of the moment, but you managed to keep your cool? Why didn’t he? Because he’s a soldier, you reminded yourself. He kills easily and without thought, he’s not the sweet gentleman you want him to be. You shook your head to yourself, that wasn’t the issue and you knew it. You didn’t care that he was a killer, or that sometimes he scared you. You knew what his easy dismissal of you meant - and it hurt.

König reported promptly to your clinic at 1pm that afternoon. He stripped out of his shirt and sat patiently down on the end of your bed and you had to pretend like having a 7ft goliath of a man stripped down in front of you wasn’t making your heart race. He truly was extraordinary. 

You stitched the large cut on his ribs that was worrying you the most and he didn’t make a sound. it didn’t much surprise you, you assumed he was accustomed to pain. It made your stomach flutter with something . 

He was even more impressive undressed, his body heavy with swollen, toned muscle, faded scars criss-crossing over his flesh. You had to remind yourself that you were a trained nurse just to stop yourself from drooling. 

König watched you work rather intently. “You have very small hands.” He remarked suddenly. You didn’t respond, unsure if it was a compliment or not. You both lapsed into silence for another long while. It was like a form of torture. You’d never been more embarrassed in your life. You felt like a foolish little girl, trying to play with a grizzly bear. It must have shown on your face. 

You didn’t expect König to talk again. He must have thought that you were insane - pathetic, at the very least. 

“May I ask you a question?”

Oh. “Of course.”

“Why did you join the military if you hate being yelled at?”

You sighed and finished off your final stitch. “You don’t have to mock me, you know, I already got the message.”

“I am not mocking you. I’m curious.”

Forthright . You forgot.

You took a moment to respond, busying yourself with packing away your equipment. “I didn’t join as a recruit, I joined as a nurse.” You didn’t tell him the real reason, that it was because it was him.

“Right.” 

“It’s not your problem.” 

König stood, and pulled his shirt back on. “It won't happen again.” He said. “You have my word.” 

Your gaze flicked to his handsome face involuntarily. “Um, here’s the cream. Make sure to apply it twice a day, and try to take it easy for a few days.”

König grunted, a ghost of a smile on his face. You could tell he hadn’t taken it easy a day in his life. 

“What message?” König asked suddenly. 

“Sorry?” You froze, trying to backtrack to that particular exchange.

“You said you ‘got the message’.” He repeated. “What message?”

Oh. 

“Um, did I say that?” Your voice was uncharacteristically high. König tilted his head.

“Schatz, my English isn’t that bad. We both heard what you said.”

You blushed and your head dipped. You didn’t know much German, but you knew what ‘schatz’ meant. 

“Well, you know-” fuck, shit, fuck . “P-put in your place by the guy you have a crush on. I get it. I got it. I won’t go there again.”

“Crush?” König responded like a lightning strike, before he fell silent. His brain was calculating, before his expression turned to…well, there was no other way to put it, absolutely fucking floored. “You like me?”

Oh, this was very fucking bad.

“Well…yeah? I thought it was obvious-”

“Obvious? Schatz, I thought you hated me.”

You blinked. 

“Wha- why would you think that?”

“You told me to leave you alone.”

“You called me a little girl! In front of everyone.”

When exactly had you both gotten so close to each other? It was close enough that König could look down on you, and your heart was skipping a beat.

“You can’t like me.” He said quietly.

You frowned. “Why not? Have you looked at yourself? Plus you’re…you know, nice, and the only person in this dump that doesn’t leer at me or treat me like a stupid little girl. When people aren’t dying, I mean.”

“I…” Was König hesitating? The man who had nothing to fear?

“It’s okay,” you murmured, embarrassed. “Like I said, I get the message. Why would you want a pathetic sap like me who can’t even hear a raised voice without crying?”

“Do not say that.” König looked uncertain, his eyebrows knitting together. “You are like a...a flower. Not meant for men like me.”

“A…” Your brain couldn’t quite compute what you’d just heard. “Men like you? What does that even mean?”

“You need someone younger, for a start.” He sighed. “Someone who has seen less death, verdammt, someone who has caused less death.”

“Men like your idiot recruits, then?”

König didn’t respond. 

“I have to go.” He said instead. “Thank you for the…cream.”

“Anytime, Colonel.” It was softly spoken, you watched him freeze, then you watched him go. You smuggled a bottle of wine back to your room and drank until you fell asleep. This really was a new low.

…

The days passed slowly and without incident. On the face of it, there was no difference in you, except for a notably lacklustre delivery of your care. 

You were making notes at your desk when Private Jackson and his buddy, Williams, appeared at your desk, complaining of a groin injury. 

You rolled your eyes and returned to your paperwork. “I’m sure it’ll feel better tomorrow, private.”

“I’m sure it’ll feel better right now if you kiss it-”

“Shut up,” Williams chuckled, shoving him, “you wanna get a disciplinary? You know she’s the colonel’s girl.”

Your gaze snapped up. “What did you just say?”

Neither of them answered you, they just sniggered and slunk off. You watched the empty doorway with wide eyes. You tried not to ponder on it. You pondered on it for the rest of the day.

…

You signed the bottom of Williams’ sick leave and ticked off the various appropriate boxes, flipping the page and hoping that was all that was required until you froze. It needed the signature of the patient's C.O. König. Shit. 

You hadn’t even seen König since he’d rejected you and every time you thought about that particular exchange, your ears went hot and you wanted the ground to swallow you whole.

You were too much of a pussy to talk to him, so instead you went to his office when you knew he was scheduled to be out at training, and scribbled ‘ sign me please :) ’ on a post it note, stuck it on the front page and left the form on his desk. 

You turned for the door with a relieved sigh and accidently walked into König’s solid chest. He was standing in the open doorway, he was the size of the open doorway, wearing his combat gear although he was unarmed, his hood draped covering his face, even so, you could see he was looking down on you. It wasn’t until you glanced up that you realised he was ducking to fit in the doorway. That sent heat right to your cunt.

“Oh, hello.” You said stupidly, eyes hitting the carpeted floor.

“Hello.” He greeted you, accent gentle. “Can I help you?”

“Oh, right, I’m in your office.” You stumbled over your words. “Um, W-Williams needs sick leave approved, he needs gallbladder surgery off base, I need you to sign the form. I - I left it on your desk.”

König walked past you, he smelt of sweat and sand and some sort of hastily applied deodorant. He seemed unfazed that you were in his office, he certainly didn’t seem to be trying to avoid you as ardently as you were avoiding him. You cursed yourself for being so childish.

He removed his hood and draped it over the back of his chair as he picked up the form. His eyes were darkened with war paint, fresh stubble on his jaw. 

“A smiling face.” He remarked as he read your post it note, voice muted. “The way yours used to be.”

You blinked. “Is that meant to be some kind of joke?” You asked hotly.

“Not at all.” He replied, not looking up from the form. “It used to brighten my days.” He signed the form and held it out to you before you could really process what he’d said. “Let us hope Williams makes a swift recovery, he is one of my best.”

You tentatively took the form, mind drawn back to the last encounter you’d had with the young private. 

“He called me…” You bit back your sentence before you had a chance to finish it. But the damage was done.

König’s back straightened, his fists clenched. “Something inappropriate?”

“No.” Your shoulders hunched. Why did you even bring it up? “He said I was…they’re calling me…you know…the colonel’s girl.”

You glanced up at König shyly, to see if there was any truth in it. His back had relaxed, but his stance was still guarded. 

“What?” You asked.

“I told the recruits to leave you alone.” He admitted. “Or there would be consequences.” 

“Oh.” You blushed. “But, that’s not a bad thing, is it?”

“No, it’s not…some of the men have interpreted the order to mean I am keeping you for myself.”

You took a bold step forward.

“And are you?”

König looked at the floor. You sighed and turned for the door.

König’s large hand curled around the front of your throat before you could turn and drew you back, right to his mouth. You whimpered into the kiss. You were forced onto your tiptoes to meet him, feeling his fingers against your oesophagus with every exhale. His lips eased wetly and insistently against yours until you were dizzy, gripping his arms and pressing yourself closer. 

As soon as it started, it was over. König released your throat and took a step back. You had to blink a few times to regain just a few of your senses. You were still on your tiptoes, and you could still taste him on your mouth. Gunpower, and mint.

“I’m sorry.” He said. “I shouldn’t have done that.” His voice was ragged, his accent even thicker than usual. Fuck, it was hot.

He turned and left before you could even articulate a response, but you were sure you saw his back muscles twitching as he went.

…

The deployment for the first active mission came about quicker than anyone had been expecting. It was practically a dummy mission, you’d been told, leading a team of recruits on a sweep near cartel lands for stray activity or potential landmines. Still, the atmosphere was palpable in the base, the recruits were scared, you could tell.

You watched from the doorway of your clinic as the men stood by the jeeps, ready to roll out. Riley had returned, and he stood next to König as the latter zipped up his kevlar and clipped on his helmet over his hood. You wanted to wish him luck, even though you knew everything was going to be fine. It was a routine sweep, and he was König, he wasn’t in any danger. Still, your stomach pulled. Fate was cruel. What if this was the last time you ever saw him?

You scrunched your eyes shut, called yourself an idiot, and jogged across the sand of the training field.

Riley saw you first, he knocked König on the chest to alert him - you tried not to read into that - König turned, face obscured, body heavy with kevlar and weaponry. He had to lower his head to look at you.

“Schatz?” 

Your insides ached at the familiar term of endearment that you didn’t deserve. Your mouth was as dry as the sand you were stood on, and you suddenly didn’t know what to say. Don’t go? Come back? How could you say any of those things to the man who didn’t want you.

König solved your problem for you. His fingers closed around your tricep, and his thumb stroked just once.

“Look after yourself.” You said quietly.

He nodded before he dropped your arm. Then you watched as they got into the jeeps and drove away.

…

The recruits were returned to you on a daily basis. Apparently, the drop point of the sweep was particularly hot for cartel soldiers, ready and willing to engage in battle. The wounds you were treating now were not the cuts and scrapes of training, it was cracked skulls and broken bones and lacerated flesh. And the men, Turner, Williams, Jackson, they weren’t the scrappy, joking lads they’d once been, they were crying and they were scared. 

You slept when you could but you were always exhausted. You were waiting for the first time one of them died on you. 

You were awoken that night by a loud, insistent banging on your door. You jumped out of bed and tied your robe around yourself, already gathering your hair up to tie it back.

“What’s happened?” You called, opening the door, “who is it…oh.”

It took a moment for you to realise that you weren’t staring at the pitch black of night, but rather directly at König’s chest. He stood in a dark shirt, helmet removed, hood covering his face, head disappearing behind your doorway, but his blue eyes were bright and wild and looking down at you.

“König! You scared me half to death. Get in here.”

You stood aside and König ducked his head and walked, actually stomped, his way into your room. You prayed you didn’t have any stray underwear on the floor. His shirt sleeves were short and you could actually see his arm muscles thrumming. 

“What’s happened?” You frowned. “What’s wrong, König? Talk to me, please.”

“There was an I.E.D.” He replied, accent thick. You couldn’t imagine what his expression looked like. “Ghost saw it before I did. He pulled me out of the pathway. The fucking thing exploded five feet in front of my face. I could have died. I am a fucking idiot.”

“Oh, König, you…you didn’t die, and you’re not an idiot, okay? Every soldier misses…”

“No, schatz.” He walked forward, backing you against the wall. You swallowed when his large hand came up, pressing your collarbone back against the wall. “I’m a fucking idiot because I could have died without doing this.”

One hand curled around your hip and lifted you effortlessly, and you gasped as you had no choice but to wrap your legs around his waist - it was a stretch, he was so broad. König wasted no time slamming you into the wall next to your bed with enough force to rattle your bones. You squeaked, but that was all you managed to do. He pushed his hood up to his nose and captured your lips with his.

Your eyes crossed and closed as you groaned, wrapping your arms around his neck as your lips slid against his. This was nothing like the first kiss - that was chaste, hurried, this was luxurious, long, wet and slow, the whole world went quiet as König pressed his tongue between your lips and lapped at yours with sure strokes that had you whimpering. Your fingers tangled in his hood as he kissed you like that, and you forgot everything else. 

He hitched your legs around his waist and you whined, muffled, as you felt a solid lump pressing up against your clothed crotch. You didn’t care – you ground down on him as you met his tongue with yours. He growled into your mouth and it reverberated through you, before he was pulling back, kissing along your jaw and grinding his cock against your heat harder than before. 

Then his eyes were on you, piercing and bright through the dark hood, the fabric sat askew on his top lip, his lips pink and swollen with your spit.

“I want you, schatz.” He said bluntly. 

“I - I want you, too.”

Your consent was all he needed. Suddenly you were airborne again, and you clung onto him as he lowered you onto the belt and knelt between your legs. The bed actually dipped under his weight and you blushed.

“K-König,” you murmured quietly.

“No,” it was short, and stiff, as he yanked your night shirt down by your collar hard enough to rip. You yelped as the sound of fabric tearing filled the room and suddenly your tits were exposed. You whimpered in embarrassment but he’d already grabbed them in his rough, gloved hands, squeezing and rubbing, flicking and pinching your nipples between his fingers.

“Hhhh, fuck.” You blushed, biting your lip as your underwear moistened at the rough treatment.

“Fuck, do not tell me they are sensitive.” König’s voice sounded wrecked.

“Please,” it was a whisper, “please be gentle.”

“Wanted to get my hands on you for too long.” Was all his reply was as he squeezed your breast again and leant down, using his hand to guide your nipple into his exposed mouth. He sucked so hard that you thought he was trying to drink your soul out from you. Your head fell back and you gasped, grinding your wet, needy cunt as best you could on the side of his thigh. König took pity on you, lapping at your nipples until they were shining nubs screaming in oversensitivity, while his brick hand - when had he taken his glove off? - cupped your pussy through your underwear. His thumb was jammed right up against your clit. You didn’t know if he’d meant to do that, or if it was coincidental, but either way you ground up onto the solid digit until your eyes were unfocused.

“So wet for me, liebling,” he murmured breathlessly, between your nipples, “you are fucking soaked for me.” He stroked you with his thumb once and your eyes slackened and you came with a shudder, stiffening beneath him as stars danced above your head.

He let your nipple slide wetly from his mouth and suddenly those bright eyes were on you.

“Did you just have an orgasm?”

“Mmm.” You buried your head into his neck shyly, thighs shuddering as the waves of pleasure rolled through you. Your clit twitched against his hand. 

“Oh, sweet liebling.” He murmured, rubbing wet circles over the sodden fabric of your underwear. You shuddered as your thighs tried to close away from the intense pleasure, until one strong hand was on your thigh and pushing it wide.

“König!” You gasped. He was watching you intently as he pushed your underwear to the side with his fingers and pressed the thick digits through your sopping folds. 

“Such a pretty little cunt.” He murmured, stroking his fingertips over your slit. It opened with every heavy breath you took, dribbles of desire wetting his fingers.

“König, please,” you whined, “need you in me. Please -”

“Oh yes? Is that so?” The side of his mouth twitched up, then his finger was sinking inside you.

“Shit, fuck! K-König, you’re so big…” You felt your cunt stretching around his finger, clenching involuntarily down around it as your thighs tried to close but couldn’t, pinned open by his solid hand.

“I know, schatz.” He replied calmly. “You can take it.” He slid a second finger in without warning and grunted at how tight and wet you were, just imagining how your cunt would feel around his cock. You whined and threw your head back, the stretch aching after months of nothing, thighs shaking. You were so fucking wet that his fingers practically glided in, his knuckles against your soft pink entrance. “I want you to come for me, to loosen you up for my cock.”

“König, fuck, I…” Your cheeks were rosy. “My god, please...please move, I need-”

“Shhh, little one, I know.” He wasted no time shoving his fingers deeper in your aching cunt, and you yelped and lifted off of the bed entirely. König growled in disapproval and used the hand on your thigh to pin you down to the bed, keeping you still as he ploughed his fingers in and out of you. You moaned deliriously at the sudden intense, rough pressure to your sweet spot, watching the way König’s large hand was like a blur between your legs.

“I’m-” You couldn’t even say it before you were coming with a wet moan, your release splashing against his wrist and dripping all over the bed.

“Scheiße, liebling, making such a mess for me.” His fingers were still hard and circling your engorged sweet spot. Your body seized in panic as you gripped his wrist with all your might to try and still him. All you achieved was watching your own arms shake as he fingered you mercilessly. The noise was obscene, soaking wet come and slick filthy between your legs and soaking his hand as you squirted again, streaming down his arm with a mix of clear and white desire. You moaned and gasped and sobbed, the pleasure intense and spiralling, your pussy already felt worn out from the rough treatment.

“König, please,” you begged, “it’s too much-”

“Again.” He commanded, hand leaving your thigh and curling around your throat. “Want all of that squirt out of you.” he pinned you to the bed by your neck, using the change in position to drive his fingers roughly home deep in your aching, spent cunt. He didn’t stop when you came, and he didn’t stop when you came again - your eyes in the back of your head, body on fire with ceaseless pleasure, the bed beneath you soaked with your own humiliation. All you could do was take it, and shudder violently. 

Finally, König pulled his fingers from your gaping hole and slapped your cheek lightly, it was a wet noise and you blinked.

“Come on, little girl, do not give up on me.”

“König,” you slurred, heaving. “I…fuck, so good, never…I can’t…”

“Oh sweet one,” he cooed, crowding between your legs, pulling your thighs over his hips. “Fucked you stupid and I haven’t even put my cock in you yet.”

You managed a tired smile as you traced your fingers down the front of his stab vest. You watched him drag the zip of his trousers down, rubbing just the once over the lump there before dipping in and pulling his cock free. It took him three tries - to extract the full, erect length of himself from the tight compression of his protective cup, before he was letting it hang heavy between his legs. 

“Fuck, König- you’re so big.”

“I know, baby,” he stroked the length of his long, engorged cock from length to tip and your eyes widened, cunt throbbing between your legs in your desperation to feel it deep in you. 

“König, please,” you begged, digging your heels into the small of his back, your wet cunt pressed up against his balls, inviting, begging him in, “my pussy - please -”

He chuckled before pressing the head of his foreboding cock against your clit and you trembled and cursed. He lent over you, hand squeezing your breast, the ends of his dark hood tickling your neck as you felt the hot, solid crown of his cock pressing against your entrance. Your eyes were wide, nervous, feeling the pressure, the give, then the hot length sliding home inside of you.

You gasped and arched, clenching around him and his biceps shook where he held you.

“Fuck, schatz, fuck, not so hard, you will make me come.”

“C-can’t help it.” It was a whine, rolling your hips and digging your heels in harder, trying to pull him deeper. “Feels so good.”

“Yeah?” He panted, regaining some of his composure and locking his hand around your neck once more. His hips began to piston and you weren’t prepared for it, the shift of his massive cock in your tight walls making you moan and clench and writhe. Your cunt was obscenely wet, and every noise was a squelch that made you blush, until he was pounding into your sweet spot and you forgot everything.

“Fuck, König, fuck-” it was breathless, eyelids fluttering as you clenched and groaned and sprayed his cock, his balls, with your release. “I can’t - can’t stop, fuck,”

“Guh, fuck.” He grunted, lips ghosting over yours. His cock not slowing, pounding you like he was trying to nail the mattress beneath you. “So tight, liebling, your pussy is drawing me in. I’ve waited so long for this.”

You couldn’t ask him to explain, you were too busy coming, your world zeroed down to the tip of König’s dick abusing your swollen sweet spot. He curled his fingers under your knee and held your thigh up by your collarbone, exposing more of your vulnerable cunt to him as he thrust hard into your aching walls. 

Your moans were broken and never ending, blushing and squirming in delirious agony as you gushed and creamed on his cock, feeling your hot release on the backs of your thighs.

“Look at you,” König didn’t even have the decency to sound exerted as he took you apart. “You can’t stop coming, can you, schatz?”

“No.” There were tears in your eyes, your fingernails digging into his arms, holding on for dear life. “You need, please -” Your mouth fell open as you came again, the splash of your squirt explosive and filthy, “you need to come, please, I can’t, can’t come again, please, König, please.”

König framed your jaw with his hand, stroking along the bone as he slammed his hips into yours, forcing more of your come straight from you with a grunt.

“Nearly there, schatz.” He said into your mouth. “Just a little bit longer.”

“Fuck, please,” your walls clenched and contracted again, vaulted over the edge and nearly losing consciousness, clenching your fucked out cunt tight if only to help him get there. “Please, come, come in me, fuck.”

“Scheiße,” he groaned, cock jamming in your tight cunt as you came so hard you nearly pushed him out. He shoved his way back in and you wailed. “You want me to come inside? I’m not wearing…”

“König, please,” it was pathetic, and he couldn’t deny you, watching your sobbing eyes with his piercing blues as he slammed into your weeping cunt for a few more torturous minutes, then his forehead was pressed to yours and he groaned as he spilled inside you. He was so deep you couldn’t feel it, but you could feel his cock twitching, and you could feel yourself clenching and coming so hard you forced dribbles of his white come straight back out of your slit and dribbling down between your cheeks. 

König was breathing heavily against you as he held himself, forehead against yours, body framing yours, and you watched him as you shuddered and tried in vain to relax. He was…there were no words for it.

You let your hands trail down his clothed back, feeling the solid and bunching muscles there, feeling his cock heavy in your squirting pussy and wondering how the hell this had happened.

“König,” you had a warm, dizzying smile on your face. “You came back.”

He nodded mutedly, face partially obscured by his hood, as he stroked along your jaw, then your lips, and let his hulking body fall and rest beside yours. “Thought you might not want me.”

You shook your head, curling into his chest the best you could. He was still inside you.

“Want you, always. Don’t-'' He'd already curled his bear arms around you, drawing you into his warm chest and cutting you off. You were suddenly so overhot you couldn’t remember what you were going to say.

“I’m sorry I upset you, liebling,” he stroked along your back, his blue eyes slack. “I have always wanted you to be mine. From the moment I saw you.”

This felt like a fever dream. It couldn’t possibly be real. You couldn’t possibly be this happy.

“I’ve always been yours, König, I still am. If you still want me.”

He tilted his head as he watched you, lips pulling up, and you blushed.

“What?” You asked.

“You,” he said simply, voice warm like honey, “are smiling again.”

[peachpitfics]

Guilty as Sin

Fandom: Bridgerton

Summary: Benedict Bridgerton asks you to accompany him to his private studio, to show you some of the art he's been working on. You find a little more than you were expecting.

Length: 3k

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader

Content Warnings: Oral sex (female receiving), Penetrative sex, Unprotected sex.

a/n: find pt 2 here!

Bridgerton master list

"Good evening, y/n," A proud voice echoed behind you, discovering your hiding spot in the darkest corner, admiring Lady Danbury's art to appear busy. You didn't bother to turn and greet him, he always seemed to find you at these social events, even if you weren't outwardly interested in him, he persisted. Benedict Bridgerton slid into the space next to you as if it were designed for him, cheekily scanning you face for a reaction.

You met at Lady Danbury's ball 3 seasons previous. Your brother was holding out hope for a match this season, ignoring your contentedness for your own company. Benedict had never shown any interest in any young lady - he did, however, find amusement in torturing you this way.

"Bridgerton," You barely mumbled a response, hoping he would find another to bother this evening. Yet there he remained, exchanging his attention for the painting you were looking at.

"There are far better paintings in this ballroom" He remarked, a little scoff sounding off.

"Yes, I am sure there are. However, this one is positioned perfectly" Still, you avoided eye contact and angled your body away from him. He was definitely not the same as the other Bridgerton men. Benedict was frivolous and artistic, lost in his own hedonistic world of luxury and pleasure. Perhaps it was jealousy that ruled your opinion of Benedict.

"Ah, yes. I truly have never seen a damp, dark corner without you in it, you know?" He chuckled, "Why do you pretend to be interested in art, when you could be watching whatever is unfolding behind you? I'm sure the numerous scandals and embarrassing events you would witness would be far more interesting" He asked, there was even a hint of genuine curiosity in his words.

You paused for a moment, contemplating even continuing this conversation or leaving to find your brother or mother.

"Actually, I rather enjoy art. I am more interested in sculpture or ceramics, but I will endure whatever I have to to get through this evening and every other evening like it this season" You spilled. Benedict was stunned, his eyebrows raised and his blinks steady in shock.

"I didn't know you had a like for such things" Benedict said serenely.

"Of course not, I am certain you thought my only interests were embroidery or pianoforte, like every other simpering mess in this ballroom" You thought your snarky remark was under your breath, but Benedict did manage to hear. He breathed a heady laugh through his nose and took a sip of his lemonade.

"Would you be interested in viewing some of my works?" Benedict pondered aloud, finally dragging your eyes to meet his. It seemed sincere - which was not something you often saw from him. Whilst he was a shameless flirt, you never indulged him like some of the other young ladies. It was obvious that he viewed you as some sort of challenge, but you would never give in.

"Is that a serious invitation?" You asked, taken aback.

"Yes, absolutely. Art is potentially the only thing I do take seriously. I would love to show you, if you would like to see it" He almost bowed, as if the pursuit of his art was the most noble thing about him. This shift in his personality made him less repulsive, it intrigued you. Turning to face him, for the first time in so many months, throwing off his balance slightly, you held your hand out for him to take.

"You would like to see it now?" His brow furrowed, eyes asking permission to take your hand and lead you out to the carriages.

"Why not? We've been to this ball numerous times before, it will not be getting any more interesting" With the softest of smiles decorating your normally sour face, Benedict took your hand and began walking outside with you, watching nervously as people ignored your presence.

"Will this not be damning to your marriage prospects?" Benedict leaned over to whisper in your ear, an element of concern riding along his words.

You gave him a pitiful smile, "What prospects?". Not a single soul noticed the two of you leaving the ball. Benedict held the carriage door open for you and held your hand as you stepped up into it.

"I've never slipped out of an event quite like that" He remarked, closing the door, sitting opposite you.

"Well, in truth, I thought perhaps someone might have stopped us, just because of you… But, I suppose, my power of invisibility is shared with the person I am escaping with" Your eyebrows flicked up. Benedict could not discern whether you were happy or not to fly out of the view of the ton. While it was a blessing most days, you were afforded your privacy and peace. Perfect silence. There were many other days filled with loneliness, the madness of having to hear your own voice in your head just to fill the quiet.

The carriage ride was slightly uncomfortable, the two of you had never had to be alone like this. You were delivered to Benedict's college where he had been studying art and he led you towards his private studio. Benedict's hand reached out for the door handle, stopping short, and spinning to look at you, back pressed against the door.

"I presume you understand I don't bring people here," He paused, his demeanour was soft and vulnerable, "Be gentle with me". He waited for acknowledgment on what he was saying, and with a nod of promise from you, he opened the door. You both walked inside in sweet silence as you took in the most beautiful sight. The room was littered with parchment, sketches, canvases. Drabs of colour, charcoal and lead lit only by low candlelight as Benedict struck the match. This was the most personal gesture of friendship you had ever experienced, it was like peering through window into Benedict Bridgerton's mind - a place he only has the keys to. Several desks were patterned around the room, a small platform in the centre of the room, drying racks on the far left. You were surprised by this unapologetically intimate space, and even more impressed by the immense talent you were witnessing.

"What are you working on currently?" You did not mean for the excitement of the room to fill you up so keenly. Benedict had such a hard time trying to read your reaction, your manner and tone were thrilling to him.

"Oh, please" He gestured towards a far table, where an easel stood facing the window, "I am learning about portraiture this semester. This is something I am doing for my youngest brother, Gregory, for his birthday" His hand sailed past your lower back, shuffling you both around. A deliciously electric pulse passed over your body, goose bumps erupting in a rolling wave quickly trailing behind.

"Benedict, this is incredible" You gasped, your hands covering your mouth with astonishment.

Oddly, he stepped back from you and placed his hand on his heart.

"What did I say?" You smiled uncomfortably.

His face softened, his eyes fluttering peacefully, "My name. That is the first time, you have ever said my name" A flash of teeth in his grin made your heart jump its next beat. There was a flush of embarrassment in your cheeks, your eyes flicked between Benedict's and the floor.

"I apologise" Admittedly, you had never given him a chance to show how utterly human he was. When he had asked you to come to the studio, you wondered whether the room would be filled to the brim of paintings of naked women. How wrong you were - finding yourself surrounded by paintings and scrawling's of every member of his family. You dug around, flicking through sketchbooks, diaries.

"Have you found a favourite?" He meandered around the room after you, hands tucked behind his back like a gentleman, observing.

"This one, is my favourite" You held up a side profile of Violet Bridgerton, done entirely in variants and shades of their family colours.

"I am yet to show her that one, do you think I should?" He asked, and you sensed he truly valued your opinion here.

"Yes! If I had half your talent, I would have filled my family's home with my work" You chuckled, laying the canvas down on the current desk you were visiting.

You moved around the other side of the room, noticing a section of the room more damp, and darkly lit, compared to the rest of the studio. There stood an easel with a large drape thrown over it, and several canvases stacked betwixt it and the wall. This struck a chord of curiosity in you that could not be contained, you almost dashed forward to pull the drape down.

"No! Wait, not those!" Benedict rasped, darting forward to try and stop you. It was too late, the cream-coloured drape had coiled to the floor and revealed what Benedict did not want you to see.

Brow furrowing, you stood back, taking in what you were seeing for the first time. Here, on the easel, an unfinished portrait, of you.

"That's -- That's private" Benedict cleared his throat uncomfortably.

"Is this… me?" You didn't know whether to be flattered, impressed, or worried. Had he done this from memory? That was when it occurred to you to look down. Picking up, and flicking through the canvases, they were all you. There were maybe six or seven of them, all in different poses, of differing angles. Had he taken such notice of you to be able to do this from memory? The detail in your face, your hair and even dresses you had worn in past seasons.

"This is…" You shook your head, placing the canvases back. Benedict stood behind you, leaving a distance so as not to make this more uncomfortable than it already was. His hands were pressed together at his lips as if he were praying, wearily hanging on for your next words.

"No one has ever seen me like this, or rather, at all" You sighed.

"I see you as you are" Benedict replied too quickly.

"And how is that?"

There was a long pause, an internal struggle between what he wanted to say and what he should.

"I see… the raw soulfulness of your gaze. The divine sway in your walk. The sensual ruthlessness of your words. The confidence of your acceptance. I have watched, and waited, and wallowed in avaricious longing" Benedict heaved in a deep breath, "Every line, every curve, every shade I fear is a figment of my imagination until I see you again, just so that I might commit a little more to memory".

Benedict's eye cast low, his discomposure becoming more and more apparent. You were not to know that the one person you had been avoiding for the past several seasons had been perceiving you exactly as you had always dreamed. Perhaps it was not Benedict's personality that made you keep him at arm’s length, but rather your own.

You bound forward, slightly tripping on your gown, throwing yourself in the second Bridgerton brother's arms. In the instant he caught you, you planted the shyest of kisses on his unsuspecting lips. Benedict chuckled sweetly, lifting you to stand on your own two feet again, wrapping his arms around your waist, pulling you into to a longer, more fervent kiss. His lips were much softer than you were anticipating, gentle and cool against your own. Benedict's tongue dipped into yours, his kiss still passionately intoxicating. You parted for a moment, both of you breathing a little heavier now. Benedict took a step back, straightening his dress clothes and composing himself.

"I apologise, miss y/n"

"Why do you apologise? I am the one who owes you" You stammered.

"I am just glad that no one saw us, I will not have you ruined. I will not be the one that ruins you" Benedict stumbled over his words, words filled with such consideration and respect for you and your standing in society.

Panting still, bosom heaving over the corset, you thought about what he was saying. You thought about your "prospects".

Taking one large step forward, pressing your body against his, you leaned up as if to kiss Mr Bridgerton's cheek goodbye.

"Ruin me" You breathed, begged, into his ear, hands wrapping around his neck, your breath hitching in your throat as Benedict swooped you into his arms, carrying you to the nearest desk. He placed your behind on the edge of the desk, moving to sweep every piece of art clattering to the floor before turning his attention back to you. Your legs wrapped around his thighs, his lips crashing into you, his tongue fiercely caressing yours. Much to Benedict's surprise, you slipped your arms out of your dress, pushing the fabric down around your hips.

Stunned and dramatic shock shot across his face as he looked upon your upper body in your corset. Benedict blinked furiously, as if trying to regain control of his sense.

"May I?" He took hold of the fabric around your waist, pulling it out from under you as you lifted yourself slightly, signalling a loud yes. Sitting in your undergarments, Benedict wrapped his arms around your body, expertly fiddling with the laces as you nodded fervently into his delectable kisses. You grinned into his mouth, feeling the corset loosen quickly – he had done this before. Your fingers fumbled along the seam of his pants, unfurling the tucked fabric of his dress shirt, fiddling with the buttons of his overcoat.

Benedict stopped, throwing his coat across the room and removing his dress shirt as frantically as possible. It took only seconds for his eyes to widen at your naked body, sitting on the desk before him.

"Holy God" He exhaled, lunging forward, thrusting his hand into your hair, pulling you into a devilish kiss. His hands curved under your behind, lifting you forward to the very edge of the table before falling to his knees before you as if you were divine, and he, a devout worshipper at the altar. Littering kisses down your inner thigh, his nose nestling into the soft nest of hair at your mound, he breathed heavily, groaning with pleasure. Benedict's tongue slipped between your folds, circling the most sensitive spot on your body, your hands sliding into his hair, pulling gently as his pace quickened and steadied in a repetitive manner. Never had you felt so safe and yet so powerful, holding Benedict's head in place between your thighs. Letting out soft, melodic moans, tangling your fingers amongst his hair, finding your hips having a mind of their own as they ground against him. The sheer coarseness of Benedict's dawning facial hair and the soft, warmth of his darting tongue were plenty enough to push your mind to the edge of the human experience. Your head turned dreamy, light, whilst your body convulsed and squeezed Benedict's head between your thighs.

Panting softly, Benedict remained, placing delicate kisses where his tongue had just performed. As your body relaxed into him again, Benedict appeared from the floor, kissing you again, to lay you backward on the table, your own sweetness on your tongue now. He stood before you, bare torso, undoing his dress pants. Excitement pulsed through you, propping yourself onto your elbows to watch. You had heard other ladies discuss this in the depths of their personal conversations but had never really learned anything from them. It was a topic of great interest.

Freeing himself before you, your enlarging eyes took in his length as he held himself in his hand. "Allow me?" Benedict looked down at you, sordid passion aflame in his eyes. You gave a clear, concise nod. Benedict moved closer between your thighs, adjusting your legs, and placing himself at your entrance. With both hands sprawled over the space between your belly and your hips, Benedict slowly pushed forward, eliciting guttural moans from your lips. But he never looked away from you, he never closed his eyes for more than a half-second. His desire burned out of him, his eyes searing down on you and in helplessness, you exuded wanton need in return.

You wished this act were eternal, completely unending. Every thrust an indiscreet attempt at conveying his affections for you. His hand found its way to caressing your cheek, his teeth nipping at your neck as you moaned his name.

“Benedict” You sighed without inhibition. The sound of your voice sent Benedict into a frenzy, his thrusts harder now and full-fledged. His sinful grunts, echoing across the studio, came to a hot, explicit apex as he buried himself as deeply as possible inside of you.

He looked down at you dreamily, his eyes heavy with pleasure, running his thumb over your bottom lip. Benedict stepped away, reaching for his dress pants, and sitting on to the ground in front of you – you moved to sit next to him, surrounded by the tables previous contents.

“You are wonderful. I could never capture such an essence, in any art form. You are transcendent” Benedict’s words were slow, the ruse of his silly exterior worn away.

“I much prefer this version of you” You gave a smug smile, both of you avoiding eye contact.

“As I do you” He retorted, chortling alongside you. The long, comfortable tired silence between you was broken only when Benedict cleared his throat.

“Y/n,” Benedict spoke up, “I think—No, I am quite certain, I love you” He admitted, holding his hand out, bridging the space between your mostly naked bodies, waiting for you to take it.

“I do believe I too am guilty of loving you” You responded, laying your hand gently in his. Leaning to meet in the middle, sharing a sentimental, sweet kiss and smiling into each other. Benedict jumped up, pants still undone around his waist, he pulled you to your feet.

“Come, I should like to draw you” He posed you naturally on the platform in the centre of the room. You watched him scramble about the room, looking for his implements.

“Like this!?” You gestured to yourself, completely nude on the dais.

“Yes, precisely like this” Benedict growled ardently, putting his pencil to his parchment.

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

If you would like to be tagged in any upcoming Bridgerton fanfictions written by me, please let me know and I will add you to a taglist!

[starkwlkr]

american royalty | max verstappen

kennedy!reader

US GRAND PRIX (TIME SKIP)

Max was in panic mode. Little baby Luke did not want to leave his father’s side. Yeah, it was cute, but Max had to be in the car in five minutes.

“I don’t want to leave you either, baby, but papa has to go race.” Max whispered to the seven month old. It amazed y/n and Max how quickly Luke had grown.

Y/n wanted to burst into tears right then and there in Max’s driver’s room, but she held it in. She loved her boys so much.

“You should go, I don’t want you to be late.” Y/n told Max, which made him frown. “You’ll see us after.” She chuckled and grabbed Luke from Max’s arms. Instantly, the boy started to whine.

“It’s okay, Luke, papa is just going to win the race and then he’ll be back for more cuddles.” Max pressed a light kiss to his son’s head.

Y/n and Max kept your relationship very private so no one apart from their families knew about their relationship or baby Luke. When she did attend a race, she watched from Max’s driver’s room. Usually she was alone, but now she had Luke to keep her company. Before y/n could say something, Max turned to her.

“How much longer do you think you and Luke will be watching from here? Don’t get me wrong, I love you both for coming. I think it would be better if my family watches from the garage.” Max waited for you answer. He was sure y/n was going to be mad at him for even suggesting that idea, but she smiled at him.

“You read my mind.” She kissed his lips.

So without hesitation, Max grabbed her hand and together as a family, they walked in the direction of the Red Bull Garage.

When Max saw photographers start to notice y/n, he grabbed Luke from her and took off his Red Bull hat, using it to shield Luke from the cameras. They both agreed to keep their son away from the media. They quickly arrived to the garage just in time.

“Check’s wife, Carola, is here. You can sit with her so you don’t have to be alone.” Max said as he led her through the garage. “And she has kids so that’s something you both have in common!” He tried to lighten up the mood.

“We’ll be okay, won’t we?” She tickled Luke’s side, which made the boy giggle.

“Max!” His race engineer, Gianpiero, called out. “Who’s this smiley boy?” He waved to Luke.

“My son, Luke, and this is my wife, Y/n.” Max introduced her to the British man. She didn’t correct Max on the term he used for her, it felt right coming from his mouth.

“Welcome to the Red Bull family!” He smiled at y/n.

After talking for a short time, Max had to leave so he gave y/n and Luke a kiss and a hug then left. She was introduced to Carola. It didn’t take long for the two women to get along.

Halfway through the race, the camera was focused on y/n for a few seconds. She was looking at a different monitor so she didn’t even realize she was on tv.

“And we have American royalty in the paddock today. There she is, Miss Y/n Kennedy, daughter to the late JFK Jr. and his wife Carolyn. Didn’t know she was a Red Bull fan.” Crofty said.

Immediately, Twitter was having a field day.

Y/n’s phone was flooded with notifications, but she ignored them. Baby Luke and Y/n were about to witness Max win.

As predicted, Max came in first with Checo taking second place. While Carola took her kids to watch their dad on the podium, Y/n stayed behind with Luke. As much as she wanted to watch Max, she didn’t want to expose Luke to everyone.

While the Red Bull team celebrated another win, y/n looked down at her son. “I think dad would’ve loved to be here, don’t you think?” Y/n asked. “Mom on the other hand . . . She would’ve loved Max that’s for sure.”

The topic of her parents made her emotional so she stopped talking. But it was definitely clear that y/n’s parents would’ve loved Max. Even if the media painted him out to be some kind of villain, Max Verstappen was far from it.

Max quickly made his way back to his family after the podium celebrations. He was eager to show his son his trophy, but before he could do that, he was stopped by Charles.

“You’re dating THE y/n kennedy?!”

“How do you even know?” Max wondered.

“Mate, you’re trending all over twitter. The cameras showed her, but what I want to know is why didn’t you tell me? I thought we agreed to tell each other everything!”

“You agreed, I didn’t.” Max corrected him.

“Still! You’re basically important in the eyes of america now. So if you get married, does that mean you’re automatically a US citizen and you can be president?” The Ferrari driver asked.

“I’m pretty sure in order to be president you have to be born in the US— why am I still talking to you? I have to go see my family.” Max said as he ran to the Red Bull garage.

“Congratulations, mr. president!”

Of course calling Max ‘mr. president’ became an inside joke in the paddock.

When Max made it back to the garage, he saw y/n talking with several drivers, one being the only American driver, Logan. At least they were keeping his family company.

“When Max is on break, he sleeps through the night, but he wakes up several times when his dad is gone. He’s such a daddy’s boy.” Y/n explained to Logan, Lando and Oscar.

“Of course he is, I’m the best dad in the world.” Max interrupted.

“Look at you, daddy Max.” Lando joked.

“Oh god, mate. Don’t ever say that again.” Oscar said.

“Anyways . . . How’d you like the race, y/n?” Logan asked the kennedy woman. He felt so at home at the moment. He was so honored to even be talking to someone related to the president of his country.

“It was amazing. Luke and I enjoyed every minute of it. Maybe we’ll just have to come back for another race.” Y/n looked at Max with hopeful eyes. Baby Luke cooed at his father.

“We are going to Mexico next and you love Mexico . . .”

“Great, we’ll be seeing the first family back in the paddock. It was great to meet you, y/n and you too baby Luke.” Lando smiled cheekily at the mom and son.

“You know Charles just called me Mr. President and now this? What else is going to happen?” Max laughed.

“Who knows, maybe you might end up being the president?”

[luveline]

I’d love to see hotch finding out that Spencer and his sister have told Each other they love each other, like he realizes holy shit this is serious, yk?

”No, I’m okay.” 

Aaron wonders who’s to blame for the way you talk, your shared father or himself. You aren’t quite as expressionless as Aaron’s told he is, and you’re nothing like your father, a tense, angry man, but it's possible you learned to be as calm as possible. Nothing unnecessary can be read from your tone. No snark, no attitude. 

So you sound like you’re just making polite conversation on the phone at first, and when your voice softens, Aaron’s too nosy to walk away. 

“Yeah? That’s an interesting one. You’ve been learning fun facts for me. No, all your facts are fun. I wasn’t lying,” —you laugh, giggly and caught— “I like when you tell me stuff. You know everything there is to know about everything.” 

You’re sitting on the porch swing with your legs crossed, posture terribly bent, phone held to your ear. Aaron and Jack had been tending to the flower beds around the side of the house, but Jack spotted a paper kite butterfly and wandered off to find it while Aaron finished watering. 

He knows you’re telling the truth. Aaron’s watched you and Spencer together many times now, and he knows you truly enjoy one another’s company. It’s why you’ve made a good couple. It’s why Spencer comes to work each day with a sense of settlement, and why you’ve calmed down some. There’s security in things. Still, Aaron knows how fickle younger relationships can be— 

“I love you.” He stands straight. He frowns. You make a humming sound. “I love you,” you say again, like Spencer’s heard you wrong. “Yeah. Yeah, I love you more… I miss you today. I’m fine, just–” You stand up, the porch swing creaking. “Maybe I can come over? After dinner, it’ll be late, I just want to see you. Is that– Okay, good.” 

You walk to the end of the wrap around porch, just a foot from Aaron where he’s hiding in the shadow of the side of the house. He can hear Spencer’s voice now, too. 

“I don’t know why you’re asking me like I won’t say yes! Please come over, I begged you to come over yesterday!” 

“Don’t make me feel guilty,” you say, a loving murmur. 

“I’m not trying to do that! Just, you tell me you love me and then we don’t see each other for two days, which is fine, it’s not that you can’t be busy, but try and see it from my point of view.” 

“What’s gotten into you?” you ask. 

“Y/N, I love you. And you love me, and I was hoping you’d let me earn it by taking you out or something. You just ran away.” 

Aaron breathes out, alerting you to his presence accidentally. You turn on the porch with an incredible embarrassment in your screwed lips, glaring at him, and almost dropping the phone in your hurry to see the screen.

“Spencer, I gotta go. Aaron’s being a creep.” 

“What?” 

“I’ll call you back.” 

“Uh, okay? Is everything–”

You click the phone off and squeeze it in your hand. “Eavesdrop much?” 

“I’m very sorry. But in my defence, I’m watering the flowers.” 

“You’re so embarrassing.” 

“I’m embarrassing? What did I do?” 

“That was a private conversation.” 

“I didn’t hear anything.” 

You know he’s lying in the same way he knows you’re not as angry as you wish you were. You are embarrassed, though. 

“I had no idea you and Spencer were that serious,” he says mildly. 

You drape your arms over the porch railings. “Well, it is, I think. It’s serious for me. Does he– d’you think he’s serious?” 

“As a heart attack.” 

You bite your cheek. He can see you doing it, see the concern in your eyes. “I didn’t mean to say it out loud. I wasn’t sure I wanted him to know, but he’s been so nice about it.” 

“Nice isn’t the right word.” You talk about love like you’ve confessed to something awful. It’s love. “You should let him take you to dinner. Then you should tell me where you went and I’ll work out if he deserves you or not.” 

“That’s not funny.” 

Aaron smiles as you turn away, seemingly to call Spencer again and make arrangements. It was funny, and you’ll think so too once you forget he was being a busybody.  

[slyandthefamilybook]

okay because I'm seeing some misinfo, here's the story on the Key Bridge collapse

What was the Key Bridge?

The Francis Scott Key Bridge (also called the Key Bridge, the Beltway Bridge, and the Outer Harbor Crossing) was steel-arch continuous-through-truss bridge spanning the Patapsco River south of the Baltimore Harbor. The bridge took 5 years to build and cost an estimated $145 million ($735 million in today's dollars). The full bridge project (including approaches) was 10.9 miles long, but the stretch over the Patapsco was 1.6 miles long and 4 lanes wide, and comprised a length of I-695, the Baltimore Beltway. It traveled between Hawkins Point and Dundalk, and in addition to the I-895 Harbor Tunnel was the primary way for Marylanders to cross from the Eastern Shore to the West. The bridge carried an estimated 11.5 million vehicles per year. There is a lane for ships to pass under the Key Bridge with enough clearance.

Was it structurally sound?

The bridge received its latest inspection in 2022 and received a 6/9 score, which is considered "fair" by federal standards. There was a concern with one of its columns, which was downgraded from a health index of 77.8 to 65.9, but it is not clear yet if this was one of the columns struck by the ship. In 1980 the bridge was struck by a different cargo ship which destroyed a concrete support structure, but the bridge itself was unharmed. There is as of yet no evidence that the bridge collapsed because of poor condition. Experts say the lesson to be learned is about the size and weight of modern cargo ships, and that the bridge was not to blame. Engineers have noted, however, that the bridge's piers lacked protective devices such as fenders.

What was the ship?

The MV Dali is a container ship flying the Singapore flag. It is owned by Grace Ocean Private Ltd. and operated by Synergy Marine Group Ltd. The ship is currently being chartered by Maersk, a Dutch shipping company. It was built in 2015 by Hyundai. The ship is 980 feet long and 157 feet wide. The ship's gross tonnage (its internal volume) is 95,128 tons (190,256,000 pounds). Its deadweight (the weight of cargo it can carry) is 116,851 tons (233,702,000 pounds). The ship was carrying 3,000 containers. The engine is a MAN-B&W 9S90ME putting out 41,480 kilowatts (55,626 horsepower).

Over its lifetime the Dali has been inspected 27 times, and only 2 faults were ever found. On June 27, 2023 the Dali was held in port in Chile due to an issue with the propulsion system. According to an inspector the pressure gauges on the heating system were "unreadable". The fault was fixed before the ship left port.

The Dali is crewed by 22 Indian nationals including 2 maritime pilots.

What happened?

The Dali arrived at the Port of Baltimore on March 23, 2024. At 12:44 AM on March 26, 2024 the Dali left port, beginning its journey to Colombo, Sri Lanka. At 01:26 AM the ship suffered a "complete blackout" and began to drift out of the shipping lane. It is not yet known what caused the electrical failure. The backup generator did not power the propulsion system. At around 01:26 AM the crew of the Dali sent a mayday distress call to the Maryland Department of Transportation (MDOT) informing them of the loss of power and that a collision with the Key Bridge was possible. The anchors were dropped as an emergency measure to attempt to slow or stop the vessel. At the request of one of the pilots traffic flow over the bridge was immediately halted. Black smoke was seen coming from the Dali, which experts believe was the result of the crew managing to restart the power system to regain some maneuvering capability.

At 01:28 AM the Dali, traveling at 8 knots (considered to be a fast speed) collided with a support strut beneath the Key Bridge's metal truss at the southwest end of the bridge. A Baltimore resident said he heard the collision and that it "felt like an earthquake". Emergency teams began receiving 911 calls at 01:30 AM, and the Baltimore Police Department were alerted at 01:35 AM. One of the officers present radioed that he was going to go onto the bridge to alert the construction crew as soon as a second officer arrived, but the bridge collapsed seconds later.

What was the damage?

The Key Bridge has completely collapsed. The metal truss relies on structural tension from the bridge itself to maintain its rigidity. As soon as one of the support columns was destroyed, the rest of the bridge quickly followed.

The damage to the Dali is reported as minimal. The ship was impaled by the bridge's structure above the waterline, but has maintained watertight integrity. The crew has not reported any water contamination from its 1.8 million gallons of marine fuel. 13 containers carrying potentially hazardous material were damaged, and are being inspected by a team of Coast Guard divers. At least 5 vehicles including 3 passenger cars and a cement mixer were detected underwater, but authorities do not believe they were occupied

Who was hurt?

The crew of the Dali reports no casualties, except one crewmember who was hospitalized for minor injuries. There was a crew of 8 construction workers on the Key Bridge filling in potholes. 2 were immediately pulled from the water by rescue crews, with 1 being rushed to emergency care and the other reporting minor injuries and refusing treatment. The hospitalized worker has since been discharged. 1 of those rescued was Mexican. The remaining 6 remain missing. Of those 6, 2 have been identified:

Miguel Luna from El Salvador

Maynor Yassir Suazo Sandoval from Honduras

Of the remaining 4, 2 are Guatemalan nationals. Neither have been identified, but the Guatemalan Foreign Affairs Ministry has stated that they were a 26-year-old from San Luis, Petén, and a 35-year-old from Camotán, Chiquimula. The other 2 are presumed to be Mexican.

Rescue Efforts

The Coast Guard was immediately deployed for search-and-rescue operations. Military Blackhawk helicopters were seen over the river. Rescue efforts were ended at 07:30 PM on March 26, 2024 due to darkness, fog, and cold temperatures. Rear Admiral Shannon Gilreath said "Based on the length of time that we've gone in the search, the extensive search efforts that we put into it, the water temperature -- at this point, we do not believe that we're going to find any of these individuals still alive". Recovery operations resumed at 07:30 AM on March 27, 2024 with all 6 workers presumed dead.

No divers have yet entered the water underneath the bridge. Supervisory Special Agent Brian Hudson of the FBI's Underwater Search and Evidence Response Team said "the debris field is pretty sizable and I know that’s why they’re hesitant to send divers down because some of the debris is still shifting, the heavy weight of the rocks". The FBI has deployed Remotely Operated Vehicles (ROVs) equipped with cameras and SONAR.

Aftermath

At 05:08 AM on March 26, 2024 Transportation Secretary Pete Buttegiege posted on X (formerly Twitter):

"I’ve spoken with Gov. Moore and Mayor Scott to offer USDOT’s support following the vessel strike and collapse of the Francis Scott Key bridge. Rescue efforts remain underway and drivers in the Baltimore area should follow local responder guidance on detours and response."

At 07:30 AM on March 27, 2024 President of the Maryland State Senate Bill Ferguson posted on X (formerly Twitter):

"Over 15,000 in the Balt region rely on daily operations at Port of Baltimore to put food on the table. Today, with Del. @LukeClippinger and colleagues representing Port, we are drafting an emergency bill to provide for income replacement for workers impacted by this travesty."

At around 09:40 AM on March 26, 2024 Maryland Governor Wes Moore and Baltimore Mayor Brandon Scott declared a State of Emergency to take effect at 10:30 AM March 26, 2024, and to last 30 days. Baltimore's Emergency Operations Plan was put into effect.

More than 1,000 personnel from the US Army Corps of Engineers (USACE) have been deployed to assist with clearing the debris and rebuilding efforts. President Joe Biden has pledged that the federal government will pay for the entire reconstruction of the bridge.

Jennifer Homendy, the chair of the National Transportation Safety Board (NTSB) has recovered the Dali's data recorder, and will be inspecting both the Key Bridge and the Dali to determine the cause of the crash and the collapse. She says the investigation could take up to 2 years to complete.

Was it intentional?

According to William DelBagno, head of the FBI's Baltimore field office: "There is no specific or credible information to suggest there are ties to terrorism in this incident".

Secretary of Homeland Security Alejandro Mayorkas said: "There are no indications this was an intentional act".

At least 3 people have been killed in accidents related to ships operated by Synergy in the past 6 years. In 2018 a person on board a Synergy ship in Australia was killed in an accident relating to the vessel's personnel elevator. In 2019 an officer aboard a Synergy vessel in Singapore fell overboard while performing maintenance. In 2023 at least one sailor was killed when a Synergy ship collided with a dredging ship in the Philippines. In the first two cases safety inspectors noted that proper safety procedures had not been adhered to.

Sources

1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7

[perfectlyoongi]

HUSBAND!YOONGI who asked you to marry him without a ring or planning, just the desire to be yours forever motivating Yoongi. you were about to go to bed, tired from another long day of work, but when he looked at you, focused on your night routine, arranging things for the next day, Yoongi realized that was a vision he wanted to have for the rest of his life; Yoongi's words came without hesitation, spontaneous, carrying with them all the hope and desire for a full life by your side. “let’s get married. i can't bear to spend another day with the fear of losing you. i want this life we have forever.”

HUSBAND!YOONGI who at your wedding, at the end of the day under the sunset, pulled you away from all the guests and said private vows just for you. at the ceremony Yoongi was nervous, too eager to hurry up the ceremony and finally have you forever and ever, and, as such, his vows were beautiful, yes, but brief; however, when the day was ending, when dancing and laughter occupied all the space, Yoongi gently held your hand, taking you to the garden, pouring out his soul in the form of simple words. “i promise to love you. not as i love you now, or as i loved you yesterday, but as i will love you tomorrow and the day after, for i continue to fall in love with you constantly and my love will never diminish, only grow.”

HUSBAND!YOONGI who sits in the kitchen with a guitar and serenades you. whenever you were cooking, cleaning the kitchen, or simply working, Yoongi would take his guitar to the kitchen and embellish your tasks with a gentle melody echoing through the room, the music that your husband played for you comforting your heart and making you smile every time Yoongi decided to accompany his guitar with his sweet voice. “i wrote a new ballad with you in mind. wanna hear it?”

HUSBAND!YOONGI who likes to be the little spoon when you take a nap on a sunday afternoon. Yoongi liked to have you in his arms, to have the feeling that, in a way, he was protecting you from the world and that he contained within you all the essence of your soul that made you so unique, so beautiful; however, Yoongi wasn't going to deny that he also liked to feel held, to have your hands around his body in a warm blanket of pure love and tranquility. “do you want to take a nap with me? i wouldn't mind being held now... because… i need you, to... you know. please?”

HUSBAND!YOONGI who adopted a dog on your first anniversary. Yoongi would be lying if he said he hadn't been thinking about a family with you since the day he told you he loved you — it was stronger than him. you made Yoongi dream, dream about things he never thought he wanted, things he never thought he was worthy of wanting; you were magic for Yoongi, an eternal source of dreams and hope and he just wanted to repay you — a dog, an animal that would keep you company when he was away, an animal that was capable of loving you almost as much as Yoongi, almost. “i don’t know what magic you have in you, but i just want to continue to grow with you and make our relationship grow. this dog is the beginning of our family.”

HUSBAND!YOONGI who reads you books out loud when you are tired or sad. Yoongi asked you to lay your head on his lap and choose the book he would read: poetry, fantasy, even plays he was capable of reading and interpreting for you if it meant you resting and laughing for moments; there were entire hours of nothing more than your husband's melodious words filling the room, various tales and stories coming to life through his voice while you closed your eyes and let yourself be carried away by the narrative recited by Yoongi. “if i read you shakespeare and look at you while i read the love dialogues, does that count as a confession from me to you?”

HUSBAND!YOONGI who loves you unconditionally for years and years on end, the feeling that was planted in Yoongi's heart only growing with each moment shared with you without ever withering or losing a single fragment. as if linked by the oldest constellations, your love was constant, long ago idealized by the universe itself with traces of stars and magic making your relationship lasting in each lifetime. “i don’t want to stop dreaming about you. i don't want to stop loving you. you are the only reality for me and i only exist with you by my side.”

[deadghosy]

HAZBIN HOTEL GANG WITH CHIBI! READER

PLATONIC HAZBIN HOTEL X READER

You are like thumb size-

Like you are an absolute cutie pootie! Even Alastor agrees, in private of course. You are like a mysterious creature that appeared in the hotel one day and said.

“This ma home now losers!”

Charlie was hypnotized by your cuteness, even vaggie oddly as she tickles you under your chin as you giggle with a squeak.

Husk lets you sit by the bar as you eat these small pieces of chips he got for you so you can have something to eat while he watches over you and cleans glasses.

Angel lets you in his chest fluff like a pocket as you snicker with a gremlin ass smile. You always bite him for the fun of it which makes him put you in air jail.

When Lucifer met you, you better believed he came and kidnapped you out the hotel every second he got.

LUCFIER

He fell in love with you the minute he had his eyes on you from charlie’s shoulder. He held you so carefully like a baby as he didn’t want you to be scared of him as you are so small and he is bigger than you.

Like I said, he definitely “kidnaps” you from the hotel so he can make you a small house. Like a doll house with small duck toys your size but he probably just makes a normal size duck car so you can drive around his palace or the hotel.

“Look at their tiny car sweetie!” He says showing Charlie a video of you driving your car with small black shades.

He definitely cries at your cuteness as he curls up in a ball as you eat peacefully in front of him as he made you your favorite meal.

He would have you in his pocket but he definitely makes small outfits for you so you can be a mini him. He would also definitely have a picture of you in his wallet.

“Oh this picture? It’s my sweet baby!” He says with a pride smile as he shows it off

CHARLIE

Just like her father she cries at your cuteness as you are just the sweetest thing ever she ever had around the hotel as you just chill in her room with razzle and dazzle.

You ride razzle and dazzle on their back as you wanted to see Charlie who is doing trust exercises. You join kinda as Charlie makes you sit on her shoulder as you wiggle your cute little bobble around.

Charlie makes sure you are groomed, feed, and socialize around the peers of the hotel. She’s glad VAGGIE likes you also which makes her even happier

Charlie kinda brings you around a lot as she doesn’t trust you alone much in the hotel as there’s a lot things that can kill you in the hotel.

“Sweetie, it’s time for bath time!” Charlie says she gets a toy bathtub with bubbles and water for you as you squeak happily.

And when you sleep with Charlie and vaggie, Charlie literally wakes up at night with red eyes concerned if you are alive or not because she is scared she might have rolled over on you.

VAGGIE

“Okay remember the rules, no leaving this room no matter what. Don’t go into the big scary man’s room. And last rule, don’t ever eat sweets. You are banned from last time.” Vaggie says before scratching you under your chin as she leaves the room. You pout with a soft squeak.

Vaggie is very overprotective of you because of your sweet and small creature frame as it’s unbelievably cute. She literally asked Lucifer once and carmilla to make you a small weapon so you can protect yourself if she can’t

You left the room one time because you were bored and missed vaggie with her girlfriend as you wanted company. You wanted to socialize as you didn’t think it was bad to talk to the other residents in the hotel. VAGGIE found out and grounded you as if you were a child!

She doesn’t want a heart attack late at night so she would consider to have you a tiny bed on the night stand beside Charlie and her bed. She doesn’t have time to worry about you getting squashed but she doesn’t want you to die as you brought happiness to the hotel.

“Good night cutie….”

ALASTOR

You use to shake at the grin Alastor had. Vaggie told you stories about Alastor as you squeak with tears in your eyes. And oddly Alastor turned away gripping his cold heart as he couldn’t stand you crying.

He turned around and picked you up softly in his hand as you sniffle. You noticed he wasn’t hurting you so you squeak rubbing your chubby cheek on your thumb.

“Please smile little one, you aren’t dressed without one!”

And at the point, Alastor know to protect you. He would bring you around with him when Charlie didn’t have time to watch you. Which he gladly did for her as he would bring you around pentagram city and even bring you to meet Rosie who absolutely adores you too.

He even has his demon minions play with you as you squeak chasing them with your stubby legs. The shadows love you too! Even Alastor shadows who would pick play with you as you squeak happily feeling the shadow by you.

“Play nice..don’t wanna get scolded by the mean one again.” He says smiling at you chasing his shadows in the living room. He is definitely talking about VAGGIE who is surely scared for you to be around Alastor.

ANGEL DUST

“OW DONT BITE MY FLUFF HON!” Angel yells digging in his chest fluff to take you out as you mistook it for cotton candy as you nom on his fluff with a derpy face. You got banned from his chest fluff for a month before you would behave yourself and not eat his chest fluff thinking it’s cotton candy.

Angel loves for you to wear pink like him as he thinks it would be cute. He would definitely act like a rich “auntie” to you as he would make you wear pink shades with him and he would ask Lucifer to make you a pink hot car.

But he definitely has those toy car remote controllers to make it seem you are actually driving but aren’t as you squeak feeling like a hot girl/boy/person

“VROOM VROOOM!” Angel says making car noises as you squeak happily at this moment as Charlie records this happily.

You sleep on Angel’s chest fluff or ride fat nuggets like a steady horses as you squeak while fat nuggets oink. Angel likes to record you acting like a cow boy as it’s just adorable moment

“You’re the best thing a spider could have cutie pie.”

HUSK

This grumpy cat actually is less grumpy with you. He views as you as a little kid. He might not know what you are it he ain’t serving you beer at all. Your body might not handle it at all.

“Sorry kid, but that’s for adults.” He says pushing your squishy and chubby body away from the beer bottle he held. You opted with a mean squeak and a “hey!” As he smirk at your mad face which is terrible cute with puffed out cheeks. But you just drink water what he gives you as he cleans glasses watching you softly as his eyes dilate before he grumbles looking away.

You and husk are seen chilling at the bar every night even if it’s after your suppose “bed time” which was annoying to you but Charlie sen how cranky you were before you even had a such called “bed time”

“Aren’t you suppose to be in bed brat?” “……no….” “I’m telling Charlie.” “NOOO!” *mad squeaks*

Husk has a habit of poking your chubby cheeks as you eat as it annoys you. Husk just smirks as you try to bite his finger which obviously fails as you are quite slow since you are eating. But if you aren’t eating, then husk better pray for his fingers as husk accidentally let his guard down and you bit the shit out of his pointer finger which make him scream with a groan holding his pointer finger as you huff.

“Fine kid…I’m sorry for annoying you. But you must admit you are annoying to me sometimes even if you don’t see it.” He says softly as he pokes your sleeping figure by his bar.

SIR PENTIOUS

“Ah I see! You like to spend time with me!” He says happily having you in his hands as the egg boiz watch you with star in their eyes at your small frame. You are adorable and such a weird little thing as the egg boiz made a rule to protect from a lot of things.

You nap with the egg boiz and the snake demon as Pentious would have you warm if you say you are cold. He also makes small cookies, well if he can even as he loves to bake for you.

Vaggie tells him how you are banned from sweeties but he secretly sneaks you some if you pout at him with your soft cute little squeak and “please.” HE CANT REIST IT!

He definitely brags about how he could’ve been an overlord but saw the light to redeem himself as he sees potential in you and himself. Well he does t even know if you are a sinner or not. But he want to know how to redeem with you beside him.

He would love watching movies with you as you are in the popcorn bucket but he always look to make sure you aren’t the next popcorn he grabs or he would throw up in disgust from himself and for you health

“You are so adorable it hurts me to see you cry…” he says patting your head as you pout with teary eyes after you accidentally hit it against a wall

[venuslut]

FANTASIZING ABOUT being a barracks bunny and having the biggest crush on SIMON “GHOST” RILEY. Completely revamping your image so you’ll be more appealing to him. Even going as far as sleeping with your captain, John Price, so he’ll put you and Simon together more often for missions or training. You may be a bimbo, but you weren’t dumb and knew how to get what you wanted. Slowly but surely, you wormed your way into his heart. And the grande finale to get him into your bed was to invite him to your room, the perks of sleeping around providing you the luxury of your own private room without any bunkmates. Promising to let him leave after one glass of whiskey, but one glass turned into two and soon enough y’all were already about to finish the second bottle.

It wasn’t long before your fleeting touches on his arm turned into harsh grips on his biceps that left red scratches from your short manicured nails. Caused by the way he pushed your legs back high to your chest, his calloused hands gripping your meaty thighs while he held them down, pushing your flexibility to the max. Your knees were to your chest and ankles rest on his broad shoulders as he fucked into your needy cunt with all his weight. He fucks like a machine: hard and strong thrusts with no pause or hesitation, determined to fuck you both into oblivion in a drunken haze. And fuck… he’s big.

He continued to pound into you with a relentless rhythm, your legs twitching in the air involuntarily while he held you in place. " ‘m in so fucking deep, baby… is that why yo’ can’t talk?" he groaned, his voice low. "Don't you dare close those pretty little eyes. Look at me while I fuck you, Y/n. Look at me and know that no other soldier can satisfy you like I can." Now Simon knew what kind of woman you were, everyone did. He never planned to get involved with you until you suddenly appeared in his life and coaxed him into your company. Simon didn't need to fuck one of his comrades to deal with the normal frustration brought by being a Lieutenant. But this time, he just... Fuck, he needs this. How could he resist with the way you batted your eyelashes up at him, or pouted those plump glossed lips, and don’t even get him started on those skimpy clothes you wore when you invited him to your room for a drink.

Besides, it would a lie if he said he hasn’t dreamed of smothering you with his much larger frame and force you to take his cock in your tight cunt. Watching you writhing underneath him while you cried out his name. And now it was all coming true, with a few liquid courage in his system of course. He jumped at the chance to have you all to himself when you caressed his thigh and promised to remove all his frustrations. Little does he know, you orchestrated this from day one, and all those tension filled encounters would lead you to this moment.

“Sim— Lieutenant! Oh my God! ngh… slow down, please!” You beg, throwing your head back as the pleasure was becoming too much. You move your hands from his arms to weakly try and slow down his movements, but Simon quickly snatched both of your wrists and held them over your head. Using his free hand he smacked your thigh hard enough for a red print to show, “don’t be so sensitive, bunny. Keep your hands to yourself and just take my cock like the good slut I know you are.”

[nnight-dances]

BEAUTIFUL MONSTER

PAIRING: yoon jeonghan x afab!reader

GENRE: angst, smut, fluff in that order of significance

TROPES: workplace romance, boss!jeonghan x associate!you, casual fwb situation but they're not friends they're coworkers, intense banter, nakamoto yuta makes a cameo, toxic relationship at some point but it gets better trust me.

"beautiful monster" because in private, jeonghan is nothing short of an angel to you – charming and devious, teasing but all in good faith, in faith that he was interested in you. but in public, he's monstrous with his cold shoulder, his indifference to you like you weren't in his bed every night, humming him to sleep.

PS: what are you doing with your life if you haven't listened to beautiful monster yet???? go listen to the gift from god called this man from jeonghan x wonwoo okay bye ily

"what makes you think you can prance into my office all prettied up and not even say a hi to me?" 

you look up from the stack of paper you're holding, and innocently tilt your head. "sorry, boss," you accentuate the last syllable with a smile, "just trying to be as resourceful as i can be." 

"oh, come on," jeonghan swivels dangerously in his hefty desk chair, all just to show you the little ridiculous hint of a smirk on his lips. "you're not really mad about that?"

"about what, sir? i'm just doing justice to my position in my short time here, after all."

"you know, quoting things i said back at me isn't as effective of an attack as you think it is, y/n," he tells you, but you can tell he's a little worked up because he shifts a little in his seat. "cut the fucking attitude, princess, what's wrong?" 

you narrow your eyes at him, more so at his audacity to pull out the private nickname in your shared place of work in broad daylight. and on a wednesday no less. "nothing's wrong, mr. yoon. i'm just reflecting on your incredibly insightful speech at the meeting earlier. seems like i don't know you all that well."

"well, you do know me all that well, which is why deep down, you know that whatever i said it wasn't addressed to you." jeonghan stands up and you have to swallow the smug look that threatens to spill out. 

yoon jeonghan, the star employee at his company, didn't get out of his chair, not even to greet the most valuable client. yet here he was, walking to you, hand on your elbow, dangerously unprofessional. 

"must be really deep down because i don't think the man i know would be that cruel to our newest hire," you bite back, shaking his hold over you, "and perhaps it would've helped me interpret you better if you didn't address your grand speech to every low-level associate in the room."

"low-level–? y/n, you know that–"

you don't let him finish, sure he'd find a way to spin his words and get out of being held accountable for the shit he spewed two hours ago. well, you weren't gonna let him get his way, not this time. you bow politely, "good day, mr. yoon. let me know if i can assist you with any work-related matters." 

god, you could be vexing when you wanted to, jeonghan thought to himself watching you stride off in your unbelievably well-fitting pants. he does wonder how you manage to never show up to work covered in creases, what with all the running around you do, from his place to yours every morning. okay maybe every other morning, but it was impressive, the way your white shirts were always crisper than the morning coffee you handed him on your way to your desk, and the way he'd never managed to see your lipstick a smudge out of place in all the time he'd worked with you.

"where'd jenna go again?" you question out loud when you return to find the new hire out of her desk yet again. she'd been the reason jeonghan had burst into his impormptu but condescending talk and though he had some fair reason to speak the way he did, you didn't appreciate the hierarchical intimidation it encouraged. 

"um, i think she just took her fifth bathroom break of the day," muttered seulgi with a grimace. "every time she does that the number of files on my desk goes up."

"send 'em over, seulgi."

"what? no, you have more than enough on your plate–"

"my research and writing skills are what got me hired, so i might as well revisit my roots once in a while. plus, it's gonna take a while to replace jenna, if we're trying to find someone this late."

"all right then, i guess i'll bring these over to you then," seulgi says in an apologegtic tone as she plops a fresh set of files on your desk, which has managed to stay clear of any such physical copies of documents since last year when you convinced joshua to make the firm go paper-free.

well, mostly. except for monkey jobs like this one which usually went to inexperienced hires. but given the unfortunate situation you find yourself in, you have no choice but to ignore your strcitly digital policy to pull out your wooden pencil for the first time in a while.

it takes you long enough to get through half of the stack that jeonghan's done for the day and you haven't moved an inch. he pauses in front of your desk, taken aback at the sight of you reading through a physical file. and then he notices the empty desk down the line, one that should've held the redhead called jenna. 

"and since when did you start doing unpaid labor?"

you look up with a start and sigh when it's jeonghan. "good night, mr. yoon." 

"wow, that's cold. can't a superior worry about his precious protege's wellbeing? y/n, you're overqualified for this work so why don't you put it down and go home?"

your mouth twitches with a bitter comment you barely hold in. "i'm the best person for this job till we find someone else to do it. i'm also the only one with the balls to sit down and finish it on top of my own workload. so i'm sorry but i won't be putting this down just yet. did you want me to call driver choi for you?"

jeonghan blinks silently at you, realizing you weren't gonna listen to a word he said, not even if he was the only voice of reason in your vicinity right now. he shrugs, "i can see myself out. just be here on time tomorrow, we have an important case to discuss."

"as you wish," you nod cordially and return to your work. 

– 

jeonghan's up till four that night, which is when he hears you shuffle into his condo. he silently thanks his past self who decided to drop a spare key to his place when your visits had become a regular thing. 

you're pulling your hair out of the tight ponytail you'd kept it in all day and throw the tie on the nightstand, almost screaming out of your skin when you see jeonghan looking at you, propped up on his shoulder. 

"what the fuck– why are you still awake?"

"why are you mad at me?"

you ignore his question and start untuck your shirt from your pants, unbuttoning them. 

"oh my god, is this the day you finally have mad sex with me–?"

you give jeonghan an unimpressed smile as you let the pants drop and throw yourself into the empty space beside him, closing your eyes with a weary sigh. "wake me up at 6."

jeonghan being the devious idiot he is, only worsens with every second you don't address his words directly. he rolls closer to you, hand finding his place under your shirt, on your hot stomach. "babydoll, i'm sorry you had to work so late," he whispers as he presses a kiss to your skin. "but if you don't talk to me, i can't make things right."

"you can't make things right, period, jeonghan," you tell him, eyes still closed. the man wouldn't get any more of your energy than you could help. "i'll be back to normal if you just let me sleep."

"you're being mean, baby, just let me make it up to you, okay?"

"jeonghan, unless you can change who you are as a very human being, i don't think there's anything you can do," you strain, shoving him away, "i'm not about to throw a tantrum so don't worry. let me sleep if you want to have your best associate working for you tomorrow."

that seems to get the message across because he doesn't say another word. or maybe he does but you're too busy slipping into the sleep you desperately need after a crazy work day. jeonghan wakes you up with a solemn look on his face and you sit up in a panic, thinking something's gone wrong at work.

but then he says, "sorry, i overslept. it's 7. you'll have to wear the spare pair of clothes you keep here to work."

"i hate you," you shriek as you jump out of bed, rushing to freshen up in his bathroom as he nods and starts getting ready himself. he does seem like he's keeping to himself because usually, jeonghan would've made a few too many comments about how cozy and domestic it is for the two of you to be using the same mirror to get ready as if his place didn't have any other mirrors to use. he even lets you fix his tie without a snarky comment, just a little kiss on your cheek that you barely tolerate without a shake of your head. 

he watches you put on the makeup you keep in your purse for emergencies like this, but can't help muse over how much he must hate to the idea of losing you at work to be acting this obedient. you smile a little to yourself, pleased at least at his respect for you, if not his love. 

truth be told, you often regretted being in this strange more than coworkers but less than lovers situation you had with yoon jeonghan, your direct superior at work. but you were too deep in it to back out, too down bad for the man's charms to turn your back to him. 

it had started almost as soon as jeonghan had laid eyes on you, his private conversations with you always consisted of one too many suggestive comments and he somehow always managed to flirt with you without you truly registering it. by the time you recognized the unprofessional nature of your relationship with him, you were five kisses too late. late nights at the office turned into late nights at his place, because it was conveniently much closer to the office than yours. 

somewhere along the way, though, you had to face the harsh reality that no matter how sweet jeonghan could be when he was flirting with you, he was always going to be something of a beautiful monster. because in private, jeonghan is nothing short of an angel to you – charming and devious, teasing but all in good faith, in faith that he was helplessly into you. but in public, he's monstrous with his cold shoulder, his indifference to you like you weren't in his bed every night, humming him to sleep.  

the harsh reality you face that very morning when he calls you into his office. 

"morning how can i–," you start and then make eye-contact with the man seated on the sofa across from jeonghan. "oh, morning, mr. nakamoto! i didn't realize you were in town!"

nakamoto yuta laughs loudly at your hurried greeting, crossing his legs as he shamelessly checks you out. "oh, come now, call me yuta like the good old days, y/n! and where were you this morning when i was all over the place trying to find the famous yoon jeonghan's office."

"ah, i'm sorry i was a little late this morning–" you spare a glance at jeonghan smiling in his chair, "my cheap excuse of an alarm didn't go off on time. i really should get a new one."

"if you'd come to work for me like i asked, you wouldn't have to work at the ass crack of dawn y'know?" yuta raises a brow at you with a small grin and you tuck some hair behind your ear bashfully, not forgetting to observe how jeonghan is stiff in his seat. as stiff as a slick bastard like him could get anyway because you could've missed the glare he shot you when he stands up and crosses the room to yuta. 

he pauses next to you, cold hand coming to rest on your arm, a possessive gesture explicit enough for yuta to muse over. "i didn't realize you came in here to declare war over my best associate, yuta, or i would've prepared harder."

the japanese businessman laughs wholeheartedly, "sorry, han, you know i can't help myself these days. it's getting harder to find familar faces in the industry these days, what with all the incompetence that's cropping up." he sighs then with a glance in your direction, "still mad you came to work for this asshole over me."

you chuckle, letting down your guard a little at the man's sincere comment. "what would've been the point of working at your company when you'd always be across the globe, vacationing in some fancy hotel every other week?" you question with a smile, "anyway, don't lose hope, maybe i'll change career paths mid-life, so don't delete my resume from your system just yet."

"all right, i'll take that as a promise," yuta winks at you as you take your leave from the office. 

an hour or so later, you're summoned to jeonghan's office again, with a brief, "y/n, please." you suppress the urge to roll your eyes, knowing there wasn't any real need for you to be in the room with them except for yoon jeonghan's egoistic need to fuck with your head. 

"how can i help you?" you ask with your sweetest business smile and jeonghan stands up from the sofa next to yuta. he gestures to the other man with a glint in his eye, "y/n, mr. nakamoto says he has the rest of the day to himself before he heads out. i thought it'd be a waste to just let him roam on his own, why don't you accompany him?"

you blink blankly at jeonghan, taken aback at his thoughtless request. treating you like just another associate who worked under him was one thing, but treating you like his personal assistant who'd entertain his friends' whims was entirely another. 

and you know he realizes this because of how closely he's watching you, lips set in a lilt because he loves seeing his stupid little scenarios play out. yuta stands up when he senses the tension, "ah, don't bother y/n, han. i'm sure she has a lot of work to do. i'll just–"

"no, no, i insist," jeonghan pushes, only glancing at the man he was so earnestly trying to please. "you don't mind, do you, y/n?"

you inhale, sensing the challenge behind his words. the way he said it, it was almost inappropriate for work, the smirk and the way his eyes were all over you. but honestly, you hated his guts for trying to get you down like this. so if a challenge was what he wanted, then that'd be exactly what he was going to get. 

"not at all!" you start, a cheerful beam on your face that catches both men off their guards and you continue, "please, i was hoping for some time to catch up with mr. nakamoto– sorry, with yuta, anyway, so honestly, thank you, mr. yoon. i'll just go grab my stuff and meet you in the lobby?"

"oh– okay, sure thing," yuta mutters, glancing between you and jeonghan uneasily. you don't spare your boss another look as you leave his office and furiously pack your things into your purse, slinging it over your arm. "i won't be back today, seulgi, so don't text me unless everyone starts dropping dead while i'm gone."

–

"so you don't show up at work all day and then you ignore all my calls? i am your boss, y/n, you can't just blow me off whenever you please," jeonghan's voice is muffled on the other side, and you're guessing he's in his car, on the way back to his place. 

you, on the other hand, had been home for nearly three hours now after your little date with yuta, the man who'd walked around the city with your for a few hours before taking you out to a late lunch slash early dinner at the nicest place you'd been to in a while. so yes, you were in a good mood and honestly, hearing how mad jeonghan is on the line only makes you smile more. 

"oh, sorry, i didn't realize you were bipolar like that," you say in a pleased voice, "because last i remember you basically begged me to babysit your client for you."

"client?" jeonghan scoffs,  "you make it sound like you weren't sleeping with that guy for almost five years before i came along."

"well, i'm sleeping with you now and you don't hear me calling you anything but my boss to anyone."

"you're a real piece of work sometimes, aren't you?" the man snaps and then after a solemn pause, "what did you do with him all day, anyway?"

you chuckle softly, "can't disclose private matters like that i'm afraid. besides, i'm having real trouble understanding why you sound pissed at me when all i was doing was following your instructions."

"huh, that's funny, you want to get rewarded for running around with another man while i was banging my head at the wall all day today? don't ever try to pull shit like this again or–"

"or what, jeonghan? you're gonna fire me?" you ask, "how about you stop treating me like i'm the dirt on your shoe as soon as you're done using me for sex? i'm not your personal assistant that you can just order around to wet your friends' cocks whenever you fucking want, okay? or i'll be the one considering yuta's offer seriously." 

before jeonghan can have a chance to respond, you hang up on him, breathing deeply to calm yourself down. you take in your apartment, somewhat of an abandoned mess with all the nights you'd spend at jeonghan's. you felt guilty for own behavior, ignoring your own needs for so long that you'd forgotten what being respected really felt like. maybe what you needed was a real relationship.

–

"that's always been your problem, y/n," rina groans, "you always forget that there's men other than the ones you work with."

"ouch! you make it sound like i've only ever fucked my coworkers–"

"worse, your bosses–"

"okay, so it happened like twice! you're forgetting all the wholesome moments i had in high school," you warn her across the table with a fork. 

"you mean how you rejected any decent guy with genuine feelings for you in favor of chasing older men who didn't know your name?"

"i'll have you know i chased those old men because they were the ones who could get me the job i have today, so i won't apologize for doing what i had to do to have the career i wanted."

rina sighs, "that's not the problem. you could've networked with the people working in the industry and had a healthy relationship with someone your age. but you always got so emotionally attached to anyone who offered you advice that you didn't have time for anything else."

you stare at your coffee dejectedly, swallowing the hard truths your oldest friend was hurling at you. cruel as she was, you knew she wasn't going to sugarcoat things for you, not when you dragged her all the way across town on a saturday to have lunch with you when she had a million other things lined up with her upcoming wedding.

"i don't know how you do it, rina," you mumble, "you've a stable job, a beautiful home, and a doting fiance. god, that's like three worlds apart from the dump of a reality i live in."

"okay, now that's just untrue, y/n," rina scolds you softly, shaking her head, "plus, you have the first two things on that list."

"i have a job, but my place is far from home. i don't even sleep in it most days, plus, i think the last factor on the list kinda trumps everything else by a lot."

"well, who is that on anyway? it's not like you're undesirable or fucked up, you know?"

you groan, "what should i do, rina?"

"find someone who doesn't work the same 100 hour work week as you might be a start? maybe then you can stop treating your boss like a god."

"rina, you don't understand," you complain, "i know i make it sound too good to believe, but he's the smoothest talker you'll ever see and god, don't even get me started on how good he is in bed–"

"y/n, it's not the man's dick that matters, it's his heart," rina interrupts and when she doesn't burst out laughing like you do, you stop with a questioning look. "i'm serious, dude, you're not gonna be in it for the sex like 10 years down the line when everything hurts, inside and out. trust me, the minute you meet even a remotely normal man with reasonable expectations from life, you'll know what i mean–"

"that's the problem–" you start to explain your own beliefs when a head in your periphery catches your eye. "fuck me," you groan immediately when you realize who's sitting about two tables away from you.

"come on, y/n, i just talked to you about this, you can't be thinking about–"

"no, no, listen, don't look right now, but…" you trail off in disbelief and then force yourself to finish, "but my fucking boss is sitting to our left."

"you mean the fucking boss… you're… fucking?"

"yeah, that one…"

a few beats pass as rina slowly takes a look at the man across from you, hair down from the low ponytail it usually found itself in. at the perfect timing, jeonghan laughs at something the lady across from him says, hair bouncing to reveal his flawless features. 

"wow, he looks like nothing like you've described him as–"

"what, i've been going on for hours about–"

"about his charm, not how drop-dead gorgeous he is! i've been imagining some greasy old douche, not this tall glass of water…"

"first of all, your lack of trust in my taste in men is truly offensive… and–"

rina interrupts you, for the nth time in every conversation that you've ever had with her. "–it's worth mentioning that your taste in men is walking toward us as we speak–" 

"what…" you look up all too suddenly to find the man a few steps away, sly smirk in place as he approached you. 

"hello there, ladies," he starts in a low amused smile and god, if you could strangle him or yourself into silence just there you would've but instead you match his smile. 

"oh– hi, mr. yoon, i didn't expect to run into you here," you laugh it off with a pointed look at him, hoping he'd have the common decency to fuck off when you were clearly with a friend on one of your only days off. 

but you should know better because jeonghan will never give up a chance to open his mouth, especially in front of a stranger he hasn't had the chance to charm yet. 

"and neither did i! but here i am, with my lovely coworker and her…" his eyes dance over to rina who flushes under his gaze by the slightest, "gorgeous friend?"

you roll your eyes at the question and don't think it worth mentioning, especially when you're too busy choking yourself over his description of you as a 'coworker'. yeah, right. 

"right, we were just–"

"talking about the guy who's interested in y/n!" rina chimes in, her grin saying she thinks she's helping you but you kick her under the table, warning her to cut it off. 

"what–"

"huh, what's that again?" jeonghan asks, smile momentarily faltering at rina's comment. 

"ah, you know, y/n's just been so popular with guys since i've known her but she's never had time to settle down. but this guy's just been dying to meet her and when she called me to lunch today, i thought she'd finally be ready to meet the man of her dreams."

"the man of my dreams?" you choke yet again over a strangled laugh, "rina, you're really funny. you know i have nothing of that sort–"

"oh, come on," rina brushes you off with a scrunch of her nose and turning to jeonghan who seemed immersed in the bullshit your best friend was spewing. "she's just too shy to talk about it but– she told me, too drunk off her ass to remember, she'd only want to marry a man who was desperately head over heels for her, gives up everything to be with her, just to see her smile–"

"rina, i think–"

"and oh, what was it that you said? he needs to be able to think what i think before i've thought it? i'm not even looking at him if he doesn't worship the ground i walk on?? wow, y/n, you were full of it back then, weren't you?"

you redden, out of words at this point, half-mad she was yapping and half-mad at yourself for actually having said all the shit she was yapping. yes, god knows you did say everything she was saying, and there was a blurry video on your phone proving it somewhere. rina'd known you wouldn't believe a word without proof, so she'd recorded it without you realizing.

jeonghan's looking at you when you look up from your lap and rina cuts in again, "but you can't be to blame, now, can you? your parents always treated you like a princess, and your brother basically acted like your bodyguard until you moved out… i'd be full of myself too if i grew up like that."

you inhale deeply as you glare at rina, slowly standing up, "um, i think we should go soon or we'll miss the movie. right, rina?" you force your words out so rina can recognize you're not kidding. 

"y/n, can i talk–"

"sorry," you cut jeonghan off, too, head reeling too hard to respond to anything that man's got to say to you, "i really have to rush but if it's something urgent, why don't you just leave a voicemail? i'll get to it on monday."

"ooooh, that was hot," rina whispers into your shoulder as the two of you pay the bill and head out. "god, did i love torturing the two of you in there. and honestly, serves him good–"

"what the fuck was that?"

"what the fuck was what? i was just showing that bastard what you actually deserve," rina snaps, eyes wide, "you might not remember what you're made of, y/n, but i do and i'm not gonna watch as you let that asshole use you. he can realize what your standards are or he can find someone else to fuck with. not my best friend."

"...rina," you stop in your tracks, rina's words finally starting to make sense in retrospect, "you're—"

"okay, please don't get emotional on me, i have a movie to catch and you know i can't focus if i'm tired."

– 

that very night, you come out of the shower to your phone blowing up, stifling a smile when you see jeonghan's name plastered over your notifications. after a thought to it, you pick up.

"what?" you take on your most indifferent tone.

"wow, that's cold," jeonghan's voice is clear this time. he's at home. "you can really be a stranger sometimes, baby."

"it's not hard, i just pretend i'm you at work," you tell him with a petty smile he can't see but most definitely hears because he immediately scoffs.

"listen, i didn't call to fight you, okay? i just want to talk. i–" he stops abruptly as if out of breath and then, softly, "i'm sorry."

that's a first. 

"i didn't quite catch that, mind repeating what exactly you're sorry for?"

you hear his sigh loud and clear, "y/n, let me make it up to you. i'm sorry i've been an asshole to you, especially at work. won't you come over?"

"no, i won't. i have some beauty sleep to catch up on."

"then, i'll come over. but please, let me in. and i don't mean into your place, i mean into your mind. i know you want a grandiose dream man but i can't read your mind just yet, so just let me… let me understand you better." after a beat of silence, he punctuates his words with a "please?"

"...you know where i live?"

"wasn't born yesterday, princess. give me 10 and i'll be there. make sure you're wearing clothes."

he hangs up on you and you barely have a moment to yourself to calm your intense hearbeat and equally chaotic thoughts after what jeonghan just said. i can't read your mind just yet. just yet? did he intend to??? intend to what, become to man of your dreams???? 

as much as you internally cringe at the thought, your cheeks are flushed when you let jeonghan that night, watching carefully as he took his shoes off, wearing a strangely casual grey hoodie and sweatpants. somehow you'd only ever seen him in his suit. or without it. 

he looks at you for a moment too long, and then his hand comes to carress your hair gently, "hmm, never seen you with your wet hair down."

"what do you want, jeonghan?" you cross your arms.

"you know sometimes i think i prefer you call me mr. yoon over jeonghan. you sound like you're going to kill me in my sleep when you say jeonghan."

"or i could just kick you out of my apartment. my landlord takes break-ins very seriously."

"alright, alright," jeonghan backs off, keeping his hands to himself, "can i at least have some water first? nervous to be all alone in your place with you."

you narrow your eyes at him and when he just shrugs, you gestures to the kitchen. "you can figure out how to pour yourself, can't you?"

"y/n, i–" he takes a gulp of the water, and then sighs, "i want to take you out. like a proper boyfriend."

"that's crazy because unfortunately, i don't have any time to be going out with anyone right now."

"if you're going to lie about your work committments, maybe don't do it to my face? our schedules are basically married so i know exactly when you're free."

"oh, i see what's happening," you throw yourself on your couch with a mirthless laugh, "you're blackmailing me into dating you, aren't you? don't worry i won't go around spilling the tea about your kinks in bed if you just leave me alone, mr. yoon."

"okay i lied, it's infinitely worse when you call me that. how about just calling your sweet angel, han, huh? no, okay? listen, y/n, i'm serious. i want to be more than your toxic boss who you have mindblowing sex with."

"you are–"

"i'm not saying this for any of the ulterior motives you're trying so hard to think of. believe it or not, i'm into you, y/n, and when you left me hanging for like three days straight, i couldn't stop thinking of you. and well, i did miss the sex, but what i missed more than anything was hanging out with you. spending time with you." 

"...what if i'm not into you like that?" you ask with a quirked brow, not quite satisfied with the case he was presenting. he stood still across from you at your kitchen counter, breathing shallow though you weren't certain why.

"that would be fair but i'm asking you to give us a chance because i know i've never had a connection with someone like i do with you. our stupid banter, your witty ways to save my life at work and outside before i can anticipate them, and of course, our amazing chemistry in bed– y/n, i never will find something like this again. and you can say i'm full of myself, but neither will you."

if you were slowly starting to doubt that it really was yoon jeonghan in front of you confessing his love to you, you don't anymore when he adds that last arrogant part in. "you're awfully confident for someone who was blowing my phone up an hour ago," you tell him, looking away, "but honestly, jeonghan, i'm getting old, okay? i don't think i have time to play your games anymore. i'm gonna find myself a decent man and settle—"

"you hearing yourself? you're gonna settle?" jeonghan's crosses over to you, sitting on your coffee table and before you can tell him off, he takes both of your hands in his with the tenderness of a man that you've never seen him capable of being. "i know i'm not the most promising prospect of a boyfriend, let alone a husband, but i'm willing to change. not even change, i'm just going to stop pretending to be a little bitch to you at work because honestly it was killing but i was doing it to protect myself from getting too attached to you. but it's too late. i'm down bad for you, y/n."

"and i may not be the decent man you're looking for, but i can assure i love you more than anyone on the market. because i know you like nobody else can, and i'm going to stick by you no matter what."

you take a breath and hold it just to test if you're dreaming but then jeonghan drops his head into your hand, letting your fingers into his soft hair. "just give me a chance, y/n. i'm… nothing without you." his voice is small now, his charming self who showed up to rooms full of busy people to give them a pitch of their life long gone. he was just a man right now, pleading you to let him in so you could both have a real shot at loving each other. 

you pull your hands out of jeonghan's clutch, watching his expression turn into one of panic but you silence him by bringing them to his face, gingerly guiding his eyes to yours. he blinks back, pure and solemn. "where was this guy when i was begging to be held for the past week?" you wonder, half to yourself, "and before you apologize, it's okay. i… haven't been a saint myself. it was unfair to not give you the short end of the stick when i'd given you the impression it was all good and fine until now."

"but you have to know how little i feel when you treat me without respect at work– not just because you're my boss, but because i care about what you think of me… as a person. i want to be with you, to love you. so if you can be real with me like this, i think we can make it work."

jeonghan kisses your hand softly, "i'm sorry. i– i will do better. and just to be sure, that was a yes?"

"yes."

"yes, you'll be my girlfriend, my one and only lover, the apple of my eye, the prettiest sight since the moon was revealed?"

"...yes. and flattery is not one the list of real qualties," you tell him despite the blush that colors you. 

"really? it's a good thing that i meant every single thing i just said then, isn't it?" he leans closer, breath hot against your already hot face. "can i kiss you then, love?"

the new nickname only makes you more dazed and you nod with a mewl, meeting jeonghan's lips halfway. he kisses you like he's never before — without a hint of urgency, like he could kiss you for the rest of his life and not regret a moment. he's slow and intentful, eyes fluttering and breath heavy, almost like his heart was wreaking as much of a havoc as yours was in your chest. 

you press a hand to his chest, reassured by the heat of beat that meets you, and he pulls away in surprise at your motion. jeonghan's flushed and speechless like he's never been, just watching you through his lashes, out of breath. 

you look down at his body, taking in his tall figure cramped in the little space between the two of you. his legs cage yours on either side, knees meeting your thighs, and his arms resting gently on your waist. it's like his body's swallowing you whole, and thought heats you up in a way that has you tearing up. 

when you hide your face in your hands out of the blue, jeonghan's large hands find yours, cooing them away. "what's wrong?"

"overwhelmed…" you tell him in a tiny voice, "i've– you never… you've never been so gentle with me. i feel like i'm going to break."

"that's ironic, isn't it," he asks softly but not mockingly. "you're so precious, i can't believe i haven't done this sooner. i guess i was always in such a hurry to feel your skin before time ran out… before it was too late… or something? either way, i'm here to stay now so let's take it slow."

"so you'll kiss me like that again?" you ask, looking at your intertwined hands. he squeezes back. 

"you liked that? let me see your lips again, i'm never not doing that again."

you giggle at his enthusiastic reaction, his lips already a breath away from yours, feeling your sounds in his whole being like he'd been starved. he kisses you again, not letting go till you pull away with a gasp. "god, i need air, han, you'll kill me at this rate."

jeonghan's too busy peppering your skin with more kisses, "good, you're back to calling me han. and as for needing air, we'll just have to do that a lot so you can build up a stamina."

—

"love it when you do that, god–" jeonghan's all over his own words, trying to get them out as soon fast as possible, "can you say it again? i'm gonna record it–" 

"han," you warn him in a stiff voice, "tell me you didn't just walk out of a meeting to come ask me to say– i'm not saying it, okay? so let go of my hand before seulgi comes back and you'll still have a reputation around here."

"no, you can't do this to me, babe," he's whining now and it'd be great for your ego if you couldn't see the room full of people waiting for him to get back so he could continue the meeting. "just tell me what you told rina about the dates i take you on and then i'll be out of your hair."

"first of all, you were never supposed to hear any of that," you push jeonghan away when he protests dangerously close to your face, "and second, if you want to have a girlfriend at the end of the day, you're gonna walk away from my desk and go back to your doing your job. okay, han? i can't do this now, let's talk at night."

"...fine. if you agree to sleep over at mine."

"done. now go."

"and you'll hold hands when we walk–"

"go."

he turns around obediently not before throwing a flying kiss in your direction and you truly have to wonder how he ever managed to act so uptight with you at work when he can be hopeless like this. 

"i'll have you know," he whines that night when you're coddling him in his bed, "that i'm that hopeless only because i'm head over heels for you. i love you, love, and i can't stop loving you, even if a bunch of suited assholes want to find ways to keep me apart from you."

"a bunch of suited assholes is your job description, angel," you laugh into his chest, "and god, you need to stop doing that at work. at least find a room if you want to be all up in my personal space, okay?"

"reserve a room just so we can make out? hmm, not a bad idea—"

"that is the exact opposite of what i was suggesting–"

"and yet here i am, with the great idea in my brain. noted, princess likes risky sex at work. thrill of getting caught? or is–"

"when did making out turn into risky sex?"

"you know i can never stop at just that once i've started," he says, kissing your forehead and you hit his face softly. "liar. big words from someone who refused to do anything but kiss me all night last night, and the night before that, and what about the time we went to dinner that time? oh, right, you didn't even kiss me."

"are you mad i'm being mindful of my pace?" jeonghan asks with a half smile, seriously concerned when you bring it up.

"no, i'm just shocked at the change up from when all you could think about was where and how we were gonna fuck."

"well, be assured that i still think about fucking you anywhere and everywhere at all times, but i'm more than that man now. i've got boyfriend worries now, 'kay? i want to savor every single thing we do, every date i take you on, and every small adorable thing you do. i'm not doing it the casual way. it's either all or nothing."

"you're scary when you're in love," you marvel with a sweet smile, "but full disclosure on my part, han, but i kind of need you to fuck my mind out because i'm literally dying here."

jeonghan goes still, pulling away to look at your face, amazed at the filth you could spawn with the purest smile on your lips. when he catches the glint of desperation in your eye though, he's switching control immediately, over to the jeonghan he'd managed to suppress so expertly to focus on treating you right. 

"damn it, you're gonna be the death of me, looking at me like that–" he's on top of you in a split second, his hair brushing the nape of your neck where he dives into your skin. "wasn't gonna ruin you again till i really had to, but fucking hell, woman, you know how to work a guy up."

"i can tell," you murmur, hands roaming all over his body, finding the hard bulge in his boxers all to familiar. "had to provoke you, y'know my fingers aren't enough."

jeonghan lets out an ungodly sound at your words, and you revel in the way he's coming undone, the way you've managed to push all the wrong buttons. to be fair, was it really wrong if it drove jeonghan to give you the best head he'd ever given you? 

when he rises from between your legs, you kiss him hard, tasting yourself on his tongue, and stealing his breath when you push him over so you could straddle him. "let me return the favor?" you lick your lips to really seal the deal.

"you–" he groans when you don't wait to pull his boner out of its restraints, smiling ever so demurely like he'd presented you with new clothes or a ticket to your favorite show. when you take a lick at his tip, he twitches, hands in your hair forcing you away from his dick. 

"--can't–" he's hardly comprehensible but he manages to get his request out, "can't take it for much longer. need to be inside you."

"thought you'd never ask, hannie," you gasp innocently and jeonghan swears he's already seeing stars from the nickname you only pull out on the verge of your orgasms. he's spewing all sorts of obscenities when you sheath him in your warm pussy, and you make sure you take in the sight before you. 

jeonghan's glittering with sweat, lips wonderfully swollen and eyes rolled back in his head with the height of pleasure he was feeling. he looked like an angel, even when he was so fucked out, chest deliciously hard against your touch and his voice contrastingly in its sweet chorus of your name. he was doing much of the work even though you were riding him, long fingers trailing from your boobs to clasp your waist so he could have perfect control of your body.

when he's close, he swallows a whine and you clench around him just to rip the sound out of his throat, the moan halfway between a scream and a song to your ears. that alone brings you close with jeonghan's thumb at your clit really bringing you to the edge. 

"come for me, hannie," you elicit another heavenly sound from him, "please, let me feel you inside me." 

"i'm coming, y/n, fuck!" he bites his own tongue and then gives up when you keep going, "fuck, fuck, fuck, i'm going to– fuckk–"

you both fall over with the wave of pleasure that hits your bodies, elevated ever more when each of you feels the others heat. it takes a minute of panting for you to feel your heartbeat in your chest and see jeonghan's limp body under yours. you roll over so your back can hit the cold sheets. 

you genuinely black out a little from the exhaustion because when you come to, jeonghan's between your legs with a warm towel cleaning you up. he looks up when you sit up with an unspeakable look in his eyes. he crawls over, voice hoarse as his lips meets yours. "i think you just changed my life, y/n, that was amazing."

"it was, i think i was on another planet for a hot minute there…" you say, oddly nervous with jeonghan's body touching yours as if you hadn't been all over each other a second ago. 

"you were… unbelievable. i've never been that gone before, y'know? you might've broken me… all that after i promised to be nothing but a gentleman to you." jeonghan sighs a little with a shake of his head.

"sorry, angel," you run a hand through his hair, feeling him relax under your touch, "i was pent up, what from fighting with you and then suddenly becoming all lovey dovey. for what it's worth, i think we just upped fucking game. and it's probably because we aren't lying to each other anymore."

"probably because you're all mine now," he says victoriosly, kissing your hand like he did the night he'd come to your place to beg you to take a shot at a life with him. you're so glad you did because you couldn't imagine another place where you'd feel this way, completely like yourself and nothing like yourself. 

"always have been," you assure him as you press a kiss to the back of his neck, throwing your hands around his shoulders. you liked to hug him to sleep, like you'd always yearned to every time you unwittingly fell asleep next to him. he shifts closer so your legs touch and you feel his lips graze your wrist lovingly, pressing kisses to the warm skin till you'd drifted into a deep sleep.

NOTE:

still not sane about that instagram update from jeonghan because those images of him have me feeling like this: 🤭🧍‍♀️😧🌀🥵😇🖐️🫦🙁 if you know what i mean. i will be crying about it for the next few days till i can think straight so that's that!

honest to god, somebody restrain me from writing and thinking about this man because i’m genuinely unwell about him. genuinely this is a cry for help. i told myself i wasn't going to write another jeonghan fic (see: the 50 wips i have waiting that involve not jeonghan) but here i am. speedwrote this in less than 2 days and took 2 hours to select the header icons and they still suck. self-indulgent content as always but anyway, i think i will die thinking about yoon jeonghan so here's my small contribution to anyone else who feels anything similar to me. i hope you enjoy and please i love hearing your thoughts so any reblogs and comments are appreciated <3

[itsprashimusic]

Monaco and Monza

Summary - Charles, his favourite person (and their puppy) before, during and after the most important race wins of his life.

Pairings - Charles Leclerc x fem!Reader

Warnings - no use of y/n, google translate French and Italian, r can make decent conversation in French and Italian, possible inaccurate timelines, it is hinted that R is not from France or Monaco, honorable louis tomlinson appearance bc I am a former louie girlie, R has blue light glasses, cuss words. Happy reading🩵

W/C - 3.9k

A/N - i write all my female Rs with a desi in mind. Written in 2nd pov. I wrote R with a mindset and likes similar to mine, you are free to skip this fic if you don't like it.

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Before Monaco

An hour had passed on the three hour flight from Imola to Nice. Charles was asleep and Leo was curled up in your lap. Sitting in an oversized top and sweatpants, you were quite comfortable while doing some work. You work for a company that allows you to work remotely, which is a huge blessing considering your longtime boyfriend travels the world every other week.

The tiny pup yawned big as he woke up from his nap. You scratched him under the chin. Leo moved around in your lap, found another comfortable spot and went right back to sleep just as Charles also moved to find another comfortable position to nap in. You smiled to yourself and continued working.

Soon the plane landed in a private airport in the French city of Nice. Your bags were handled by the hired help, and Charles insisted on carrying your laptop bag for you. This left you walking along his side with Leo in your arms, still sound asleep. The boat ride to Monaco didn't take long and the drive to your shared apartment went by in a blur.

It felt nice being home during race week. You left Leo in his bed and joined Charles in the living room. Coming up from behind you hugged him while softly asking, "Qu'est-ce que tu penses?" (what is on your mind?). Even after all these years you still cringed at your accent.

"The race" he replied.

You sighed as you remembered the dnfs, mechanical failures and team errors that Charles had to endure. Year after year, the pain just kept getting worse as you watched from the grandstands and eventually the garage.

"You should focus on the positives. The team has been performing well and this season has been different than the last 3, there is hope." you weren't sure if what you said was the right thing. You kissed him on the cheek and moved around the couch to come and sit next to him.

"It is not easy when every other time I have had hope, it has been ripped away and torn into tiny pieces," Charles said while looking defeated. You felt sad seeing him like this. You just held your arms out and let him fall into your embrace. With the couch being big enough for two people to sleep on it, soon you and Charles fell asleep, still in the hug.

During Monaco

Photographers snapped photos of you and Rebecca, Leo's leash entwined with your hand. The two of you were spotted outside the Ferrari hospitality an hour before qualifying. Charles was busy with his engineer and strategist and asked you to give him some alone time. So, you thought a small walk around the paddock with your puppy and good friend would be beneficial.

Eventually the crowd of fans surrounding you and Rebecca who wanted to see Leo was getting quite large, so you politely said goodbye to the fans, picked up the pup and made your way back to the Ferrari motorhome. You got a text from your boyfriend.

Can you come to my drivers room?

You entered the room and put Leo down, allowing him to calm down and drink some water from his very own water bottle and attached bowl. "Darling, do you need something?" you asked Charles as he looked tense.

You moved closer to him. Charles caught you by surprise when he pulled you even closer and hugged you extremely tight. "Je ne me sens pas bien," (i don't feel good) he whispered. "C'est bon. Tout ira bien. It's ok, you'll be ok." you quietly kept repeating to him until Leo began demanding attention with his big brown eyes and soft whines.

Charles wiped the few tears that escaped and picked him up with a new smile adorning his face. For a moment, it was just the three of you, your perfect little family. There was a knock at the door, followed by a Ferrari team member informing Charles that he was required in 5 minutes. Charles placed a wet kiss on your forehead.

"Thank you for supporting me the way you do. I love you so much, mon cœur," (my heart) he said, his lips still on your forehead. The pair walked out of the room and split ways. You had the hired help watch Leo for the duration of qualifying in a private room.

You sat with Charles' family just as the Sky Sports camera panned on you. You smiled when you saw yourself on the monitor and gave a small wave while sitting next to Charlotte.

Even though you knew that Charles would easily clear Q1, you could not help the anxiety that made its way throughout your body. He crossed the line and made it to Q2. With the next session, your anxiety worsened. But within 15 minutes your nerves eased.

Q3. This was it. As the minutes slowly turned from 12 to 2, you were feeling sick. Charles' sleek Ferrari flew over the finish line and your hands flew to your mouth. Pole Position. At his home race. At your home race. The cameras focused on you to get your and his family's reaction.

At parc ferme, Charles ran over to his team who hyped him up even more. He signed the wheel and posed for the photos, the smile never leaving his face. Even after finishing up his media duties and making his way back to his family and you in the motorhome, his smile remained ever present. You swore he never hugged you tighter than that.

Race day. The day that actually mattered.

You entered the paddock a few steps behind Charles, Leo once again in your hold. You didn't get a lot of time with Charles, considering he was the man of the hour after securing pole. The two of you shared a moment together before he had to head out for the national anthem.

"Comment te sens-tu, chérie?" (how are you feeling, darling?) you asked him while he changed into his race suit. He looked up and the look on his face gave you your answer. You smiled and he continued wearing his suit. There were butterflies in his stomach. That meant he felt nervous, hopeful, anxious and confident all at once.

Charles was out on the track, and you once again joined his family in the motorhome. At that point though, it would be more appropriate to call them your family. You and Charles have been together for a long time. The pair of you had seen each other at their lowest and highest. When Charles lost his father and when for nearly a year you could not get a job. When news of Anthoine's death reached Charles, he was on holiday with you and your family in another country. Your family gave him the comfort he needed. When you got news that your parents contracted covid, there was nothing you could do sitting in your apartment in Monaco. Pascale was like a second mother to you.

The race began. You found a place to sit and watch the race. Charles was in the lead. A huge crash. A totaled redbull and a red flag. You felt the butterflies creeping up from your stomach to your throat. The race resumed and continued. Piastri was close to Charles, but not enough to threaten his position. It felt like time slowed down during the final lap. You had an earbud plugged in one ear and could hear Crofty's iconic last lap commentary.

The number 16 Ferrari flew past the checkered flag and fireworks flew out from the sides of the track. Charles' family members were already hugging each other and some of the team members who were there. But you didn't move. Tears were flowing down your face and a smile was etched on your face. The first person you moved to hug was Charlotte, the older woman was like an elder sister to you.

The camera's stream kept cutting from Charles out on the track to you and his family in the motorhome. Everyone quickly left the garage and made their way to parc ferme. You saw Charles pull up and stop in front of the 1st place stand. You watched from the back as he ran to his team, Arthur and Lorenzo pushed their way to the front. After getting weighed, the team moved to allow you to come to the front where Charles walked towards you.

Normally, you and Charles would keep the pda on the lesser side when cameras were around, but not this time. The forever smiling face, messy-haired and slightly teary-eyed boyfriend of yours pulled you directly into a powerful kiss. His left arm was around your back while his right hand was half on your face and half on your neck. You could hear and feel all the cameras going off around you.

Charles broke the kiss but kept your foreheads connected. You held both of his hands. "Tu l'as fait," (you did it) you repeated in all the languages you knew while nodding your head. You could see the tears welling up in his eyes again. He quickly blinked them away, "L'ho fatto," (i did it) he said in Italian quickly kissed you once again before hugging you.

You stood below the podium and watched as he received the trophy he had been waiting his entire life for. You were still crying. The tears would not stop, and they only got worse when Charles made eye contact with you after he was presented with the medal. He mouthed the words I love you. So much. Thank you. You could only hold your hand to your heart in response.

After Monaco

Even after a full day, you could still smell the fragrance of champagne wafting off of Charles.

You and Charles had celebrated his win on Sunday night in a club. He was practically glued to your side the entire night. No matter who he was talking to, either he did it while having an arm around you or holding your hand. By the end of the night, you were left with a very clingy and very drunk boyfriend. With Joris's help, you got Charles into the car. He drove the both of you home.

Back at the apartment, Charles seemed to have sobered up a bit after you made him eat some food.

"Did I ever tell you how much I love you?" Charles was lying down on the bed and was lovingly staring at you.

"All the time," you answered while changing for the night.

You finished changing and joined Charles in bed. Leo who was previously perched near Charles' feet climbed onto you and snuggled up on your chest.

Charles got your attention by saying your name, "I want you to understand what I mean when I say this. I love you. I appreciate you so much, even I cannot comprehend it. You have supported me throughout my years in Formula 1 and Formula 2. You have stood by me all these years, even when you had to sacrifice your job and sleep schedule for me. Je veux que vous compreniez la profondeur de ce que je dis." (i want you to understand the depth of what i am saying).

His eyes kept moving around but eventually rested on your face. He looked into your eyes when he finally spat out what he truly wanted to say.

"Mon cœur, mon âme, ma vie, je veux passer le reste de ma vie avec toi. Veux-tu m'épouser?" (My heart, my soul, my life, i want to spend the rest of my life with you. Will you marry me?)

I took you a second to process what Charles said. You looked down and saw him holding a simple gold band with three small diamonds set in it. His free arm was laid across your stomach under Leo, who woke up when he sensed his mom feeling strong emotions.

Tears filled your eyes, your heart began beating faster and you were sweating a bit. Leo moved to the bed and was now licking the tears that fell from your eyes. You felt like you couldn't speak, but you very much knew what your answer was.

Before Monza

The summer break was perfect. You used your paid leave and were fully able to enjoy your time with the entire family. The photos of Leo that Charles posted to his instagram were adored by the fans. Your insta account remained private, but you still posted the dog nonetheless.

Neither of you announced the engagement just yet, wanting to keep it to yourselves for a while. Fans got curious when they saw a new ring around that special finger after Charles' win in Monaco, but since it was quite simple and small, they thought nothing much of it. You were known for wearing many different rings on the same finger, so people thought it was just another ring you fancied.

Unfortunately, after your long break, you were required to come back to the office for a few days for important meetings with the higher-ups of your company. That meant you missed the race in Zandvoort and Charles podium. But you made it up to him by joining him in Monza, his adopted home race.

Walking in the streets of Monza with a loved Ferrari driver was always quite the experience. Leo loved the attention from all the fans, he was a born extrovert. You and Charles had lunch at one of your favourite restaurants. The both of you sat in a relatively private section of the restaurant.

"I missed you at Zandvoort," Charles said before eating a morsel of his favourite pasta. "I'm sorry I couldn't be there. I tried to leave as early as I could, but by the time the meeting finished it made no sense to come," you said wishing you could have been there for him. Ever since Monaco, the team had been struggling. It brought back painful flashbacks of 2022 and 2023.

Things were not the best between you and Charles during the week you were out for work. The timings never seemed to match, when he had the energy to talk you were too burnt out, and doing all of this while also planning a wedding was not easy. It put a small strain on your relationship which seemed like it was reaching its breaking point during this weekend.

During Monza

You spent the rest of the week working. In between the free practice sessions, you were spotted with a pair of blue-light glasses on and bent over your laptop and a notebook. Leo was either sleeping in his carrier by your feet or was with Arthur or Lorenzo.

You barely saw Charles the entire weekend. He was either busy with his engineer and strategist or was filming content. It only made the strain in your relationship even worse and left Rebecca having to hear your side of it for most of the weekend considering both the boys were quite busy.

It was only before qualifying that you managed to get a moment with Charles at all.

"Charles, I know this is an important race for you, but we need to talk," you sternly said leaving no room for arguments. Charles was about to protest but you simply pulled him by the arm to his drivers room.

"Pourquoi tu ne me parles pas?" (why are you not talking to me?) you folded your arms while facing him. "You have been avoiding me ever since Thursday!"

"Oh, I'm sorry. I thought you were too tired and 'fagged out' to want to talk," he replied sarcastically and with air quotes. "Je ne comprends pas pourquoi tu dois te comporter comme ça!" (I don't get why you have to behave like that!) Charles started walking around angrily and went off rattling away in French at such a fast pace you could not understand what he was saying.

"Just stop!" you yelled. "Just tell me why you are angry at me," you said, softer this time, almost in defeat.

"I don't like it when you are so busy with your work that you do not have time for us," Charles whispered after a long pause.

"And how do you think I feel when you are so busy with your work? I am required to go to the office at least every six months. You travel around the world every other week. You have less free time than I do, but have you heard me complain? So, instead of getting angry that I had to leave for one week to discuss plans for the company's future with the CEO, you should be happy that it was only one week out of the 52 in a year."

By the time you finished speaking, Charles had his hands over his face and was standing quite far from you. He whispered something inaudibly. With a confused look on your face, you moved closer to your fiancé. Upon feeling your body heat in the cold room, he removed his hands from his face and repeated his words.

I'm sorry.

The both of you wrapped yourselves in an embrace and for 5 minutes were only apologising and promising to do better in the future. You left the room after giving him a kiss. You headed down to the garage wanting to watch quali with Arthur who was watching Leo while you worked.

The timer began the countdown into Q1. Normally you would've been feeling quite nervous, but you were distracted by the charming british singer sitting next to you. Being a young girl during the height of One Direction was something else entirely. Your childhood dreams of meeting your favourite singer from the famous boyband had now come true.

Soon it was time for Q3 and you got a photo with Louis who by the time Q3 began, just like the rest of the world, fell in love with Leo and his photos. Charles put in great laps, but ended up only p4 alongside Russel.

Charles finished with his media duties and met up with you inside the motorhome. You were on a work call when he walked into the room. Leo was in the corner of the room scarfing down his food as if he hadn't eaten in years, his ears flopping all over the place.

You cut the call frustrated, removing your glasses from your face and placing them on your head. "Est-ce que tu vas bien?" (are you good?) he asked while holding you from the side and kissing your temple. You nodded and just packed up your things while Charles gathered his things as well.

The grandstands were filled with a sea of red and occasional yellow. Your outfit consisted of only red, yellow and black. Charles had left for the paddock earlier, so you made plans to have breakfast with Rebecca and leave for the paddock together.

You walked around before the race with Leo on the leash in front of you, Rebecca by your side. "So, how is wedding planning going?" she asked, her beautiful scottish accent making you smile. "We are still looking at venues. All we know is that it's going to be sometime in August of next year."

The drivers would soon be called for the national anthem. So, you went back to the Ferrari garage looking for your soon-to-be husband. You found him sitting next to Arthur, water bottle in hand. Leo instantly ran towards him and began climbing up his dad.

"Just do your best. Give it your all. Je t'aime tellement." (i love you so much) you sent Charles off with a hug. Leo was fast asleep in his carrier, so you joined Arthur down in the garage. You put on the large red headphones and waved at the camera when you saw yourself on the broadcast.

Halfway through the race, it hit you that Charles could possibly win. It was a stretch considering he was attempting a one-stopper. But as lap after lap went by the possibility of that dream coming true seemed more and more likely. His tires were probably gonna look like chewed-up bubblegum by the end of the race, but if he managed them just right...

He did it. He fucking did it. The roar of the Tifosi was stronger than ever. Unlike his last win, this time you were not seated. You were jumping up and down, cheering as loud as you could, matching the energy of the Ferrari team members around you. Some of them hugged you.

While Charles was finishing his cool-down lap, the mechanics and other team members rushed out to greet Charles in parc ferme. You stayed close to Arthur, knowing that you could possibly get pushed in the wrong direction. With a hand around your back, he guided you to the front where you could see the beautiful red car pull up.

Charles came running toward the team, moving quickly to try and hug everyone possible. As he moved from Arthur to hug you, from the corner of your eyes you could see more cameras making their way towards you. FLASH! And that was how one of the iconic photos of Monza 2024 was born. Charles' arms wrapped around you and he had his visor up, his eyes filled with so much emotion. You were smiling widely in the photo and had your hands on either side of his helmet. But the part that made the photo iconic was that your left hand was facing the camera, and in that, you had tucked away all of your fingers except the one with your engagement ring.

Winning the Italian Grand Prix as a Ferrari driver is always special, so you watched the podium celebration from inside the motorhome, wanting him to enjoy the moment with the team and the Tifosi to the fullest.

After Monza

For the next two days, the streets of Monza were filled with Ferrari flags being either hung from somewhere or people waving them around. It seemed like every other Italian was asking for an autograph from Charles or a photo with him. But it wasn't just Charles and Ferrari who were the talk of town. So were you.

That photo of you and Charles just after the race had gone viral. At first, people were freaking out, wondering if the two of you were really engaged or if it was a joke. Only when Charles reposted the photo to his story did fans really start freaking out.

Congratulations were pouring out of everyone's mouth who had seen the photo or heard of the news. You didn't mean for the news to overshadow Charles' incredible win on 38-lap old tires. But it didn't. As a matter of fact, the win and engagement news gelled well together, neither taking away from the other.

The night before the team would be heading to Maranello you and Charles laid in the hotel bed, Leo fast asleep on his own bed. "I'm sorry for not asking if you'd be fine with me announcing our engagement," you said in a soft voice while drawing shapes on his torso. Charles, who had you wrapped around his side, kissed your forehead and said, "Je suis content que tu l'aies fait," (I am glad you did it).

The next morning Charles posted a photo of a formal dinner the two of you had with not just his but also your family where the engagement was announced. Of course, Leo was in the center of the photo.

A/n - honestly idk what i even wrote. i am tired af and just needed to get this out of my system. Hope you enjoyed reading🩵

[charliemwrites]

Woof woof grrrrrr

Content: Dub-Con, Dirty Talk, Oral Sex (reader giving)

The bar is exactly as busy as you’re hoping for when you get there. Quiet and intimate, low lights, a hum of conversation but not overwhelmingly loud. The bar is mostly full but not crowded. As luck would have it, you instantly spot a couple empty stools towards the back.

You glide across the establishment, head held high and shoulders back. Pick a seat and smooth your skirt under you to perch. The bartender comes to you instantly; you pick something sweet and fruity (delighted that it’ll match your outfit.)

It takes up until they slide it across to you — a tab opened with your card — that the insecurity starts to set in. What if no one is interested? What if Soap doesn’t show up?

You sip at your drink and pull out your phone, reading your latest book. If nothing else… at least you’re getting out? God.

“This isn’t your usual scene.”

Oh. Oh this is worse than being ignored all night and going home alone. So much worse. Just barely manage not to curse aloud as you turn to your ex.

“Justin…” you start, realize you don’t know where to go from there. “Hi.”

“It’s been a minute, huh?”

You look him up and down. Designer everything, of course, brands printed all over him. No taste, though, none of it is cohesive. You wouldn’t be caught dead at his side ever again.

“How’s your arm?”

His expression flickers, hand unconsciously going to the spot where Johnny tried to tear it off.

“Fine. Thanks.” He gives you a long look. Unfriendly. “You know people have had dogs put down for less.”

You run your tongue over your teeth, fear and anger twisting up in your stomach like hot lava. How dare he threaten your boy like that?! Wish Johnny was here now to take another chunk out of him.

“Not when people trespass on private property,” you reply coldly, eyes narrowing.

He puts his hands up, laughing awkwardly. “Well, now. I wouldn’t call it — let’s just say we’re even, yeah?”

“For that at least.”

You take another big sip of your drink. Find it empty. Make hopeful eye contact with the bartender and nod for another when they gesture questioningly. There’s a reason you love this bar.

“Right… listen, about that, luv…”

“There you are, bonnie!”

You perk up despite yourself. Says something that the creep who sexually harasses you in public is better company than your ex-fiancé. Something zings through you when you realize Soap is bigger than your Justin (hopefully in every aspect). Taller, wider, more muscular. Better jawline and prettier eyes, too.

“Tucked up back here like this,” Soap mock scolds, shouldering past Justin. You let out a little squeak as he scoops you off your barstool, hand just under your ass for a hold. “Almost didn’t see you, hen.”

“H-Hi,” you say, arms going around his neck automatically. He presses his nose to your collarbone and audibly inhales. You shiver.

“Sorry to keep you waiting,” he continues, voice dropping lower.

He sets you down on your stool again with a wink, then takes the stool next to yours.

“Oi, do you mind?” Justin snaps, bumped out of the way by Soap’s bulk.

“I do, actually.” The look Soap levels him is sharp, cold. Bloody killer. Instantly reminds you of all the alarm bells that normally play in your head when he’s around. “Don’t like puffed up knobs like you around my girl.”

You bite your tongue on a protest that you’re not his girl. Wouldn’t be particularly helpful right about now. You’ll correct him later.

“Your girl,” Justin scoffs. “She was mine before she was ever — hey!”

Soap’s got his fist in the front of Justin’s shirt, jerking him nearly off his feet. A few heads turn. You feel hot with embarrassment, skin prickling at so many eyes on your little trio of stupidity.

“Woah!” You yelp. “Soap!”

You grab his forearm (remind yourself not to get distracted by the muscles cording it) and lean into his line of sight. The near-murderous glint in his blue eyes softens, though there’s still an unnatural sheen to them. Something that makes the hair on the back of your head stand on end.

“Soap, let him go,” you say, quiet. “I like this bar, don’t get us kicked out… please?”

He hums, instantly drops Justin to cup his hand around the back of your neck, fingers edging into your hair. His palm feels so big and harm, a little rough with callouses. You try not to think about how easy it would be for him to manipulate your head however he wants…

“Like when you say ‘please,’ hen,” Soap purrs.

You swallow, feel your cheeks flushing as you say, “Then… you should sit down and have a drink with me. Please?”

He grins, crooked and a little mean. “Anythin’ fer you.”

He drops into his stool again like a king on his throne. You perch gingerly on your own, waving Justin away like an annoying fly. Don’t even look as he slinks off, too busy staring at Soap. Who’s… busy staring at you. As always.

“You never called,” he drawls after ordering. Whiskey, neat. The bartender sets your new drink in front of you; you start sipping to gather your thoughts and nerve. “Lucky I happened to stop in here, eh? Imagine if I’d walked past…”

You grimace a bit. A fantastic bit of luck, that. Thought you’re still not sure what type of luck.

Definitely not going to admit to him that you didn’t call on purpose, wanting plausible deniability if you did see him. As if trying to get him under your skirt by happenstance is better than calling him to do it.

“Why did you stop in here?” You ask, looking to change the subject.

“Could smell you,” he answers, eyes twinkling.

You wrinkle your nose, kick at his shin. Want to blame it on the alcohol, but you drink red wine most nights of the week. This is just… placebo and desperation.

“You’re so nasty, you know that?” You huff.

He arches his eyebrows, grins wolfishly. “Could show you how nasty I can be,” he offers.

You wrinkle your nose even as your cheeks burn. That’s exactly what you’re hoping for.

“You can’t keep talking to me like that,” you complain.

He snorts in amusement, hooking his fingers beneath your stool and tugging you closer. Until your knees are between both of his, jeans brushing against your thighs.

“Here’s the thing, darlin’,” he murmurs, low and private. “I think you like when I talk to you like that.”

You swallow audibly, hands dropping down to twist nervously in your lap.

“I think it makes your pretty pussy all wet and swollen when I get all mean like this,” he continues. You shake your head; his palm clamps down on your thigh beneath your skirt, thumb sweeping back and forth over the sensitive skin. “Think she’s fuckin’ aching fer me to make good on all my promises. And you can get all shy and sweet here, but I bet all your cunt wants is to be mounted and bred like a bitch in heat.”

And he’s right. Of course he’s fucking right. That goddamn bad guy fantasy and your shallow, needy pussy, and Soap’s stupid fucking everything.

You feel like you’re about to explode when the bartender sets his whiskey down, snapping the tension like a rubber band. Feel dizzy as you lean away, sipping desperately at your own drink in an attempt to cool off. He gives you all over maybe fifteen second before opening that sinful mouth again.

“So how about it, bonnie? Did I hit the mark?”

You feel frustrated tears pricking at your eyes. Blink and look away at your nervous hands.

“I-I don’t even know you,” you mutter. “You could be dangerous.”

“I am dangerous, baby,” he replies, “just not to you.”

You shake your head. “You’re awful.”

“Mm and you want me to do awful things to you.”

You sigh through your nose, that little logical voice blaring again. He’s going to hurt you. He’s going to use you.

(Would that be so bad, if you go in knowing it?)

A tug at your necklace startles you out of your thoughts, his finger hooked beneath the pendant. You lean in with a noise of protest, afraid he’s going to break it. Gasp as your lips brush his.

“Whatever’s goin’ on in that pretty head, let me fuck it out of you.”

You shudder, hand balanced on his thick, muscular thigh. Can feel a twitch near your thumb. Holy shit.

“I’ll be so good to you, princess,” he promises. “Let me be good to you.”

You suck in a breath. Now or never.

Well, if nothing else, maybe you’ll let Johnny eat him if he’s turns out to be a bastard.

“Prove it,” you breathe.

He guides your chin up, eyes blazing with hunger.

“Yeah?” He asks.

You blink, muster up your courage. “You heard me. Or are you back out?”

His expression goes deliciously dark. “Oh, I’ll prove it, lass. You just sit right here and I’ll get us sorted.”

His fingers slip just that last little bit up and start teasing at the lace of your panties. You bite the inside of your cheek, trying to sip at your cocktail while he flags down the bartender. His nails scrape lightly across the fabric over your clit as gets your card and throws down enough cash to cover all three drinks.

When he pulls his hand away, you have to bite back a whimper.

“If you don’t get up right now, I’m haulin’ you out of here over my shoulder,” he growls in your ear.

You’re up in an instant, smoothing down your skirt. His hand stays glued to your lower back as he ushers you out to the lot. Sits you down in the passenger seat of a black pickup, barely waits for you to buckle yourself in before peeling out of the lot.

You’re about to tell him your address when you hear the clink of a belt, a zipper. Eyes wide as they drop to his pants, to him fishing a huge, hard cock out of jeans.

“C’mere,” he near snarls.

“Soap, that’s not— mph!”

The head of his cock catches on your teeth, but that only seems to spur him on, hips twitching.

“Gonna ruin that pretty makeup, your pretty hair. Gettin’ all dolled up like that for any fucking wanker to see.”

He twists his fingers in your hair and presses you down, your cheek rubbing against the shaft. He feels huge and unnaturally hot. You press your thighs together as you imagine how it’s going to feel inside of you.

“This isn’t safe,” you complain, mouth open as you gasp against the flushed skin.

He curses, tugs you up so that your lips press against the head, already dripping. Your eyes widen in the darkness, shocked and flattered that you’ve already worked him up this much.

“Not gonnae let anything happen,” he promises, “but you need to convince me not to spank this pretty ass black and blue.”

You squeal as he releases you hair just to deliver a harsh smack to one ass cheek, the sting making you clench up.

“H-hey!”

“You want me to slap that pretty pussy too? Bet I could make you cum just tapping that little clit over and over again. That what you want, slag?”

“N-no!”

“Then show me.”

You seal your mouth around the head, sucking and licking at the precum beading at the tip. Try to brace yourself, nearly gag as he hits a pothole and shoves into your throat. It’s noisy and messy, eyes watering from how thick and deep he is already, not letting you up for more than brief gasps of air.

“Fuck, that’s it baby. Work your tongue just like that…” he groans.

You lose track of everything but trying not to gag, his threat lingering with each obscene slurp and twist of your tongue. He tastes better than you expected, and the scent of him surrounds you. Musk and pine, something familiar that niggles at your cock-drunk brain. Can’t be bothered to work it out though, not when he’s tugging your hair. Not when he comes to an abrupt stop and you deepthroat him.

He yanks you off with a near-animal growl. You whine, scrambling to brace yourself and panting. Your head feels foggy. Know your panties are soaked through; shocked you’re not dripping down your leg. If you were sitting properly, you’d probably leave a wet mark on the seat.

You moan as his mouth crashes into yours, tongue sweeping inside like he owns it. He licks the taste of himself off your tongue, hands fumbling your seatbelt off, dragging you over the center console to straddle his lap.

You gasp at the sight of his rock hard, angry cock next to your pretty dress, pressed up against your stomach. Show just how deep he’ll be inside your guts.

“Fuck, look’it that,” he groans rutting against your stomach. “Oh you were made to be mine.”

You scream as he scoops you up, stepping out of the truck with you over his shoulder.

“Soap!” You shout. “Soap, put me down, my dog—”

“I’m your fuckin’ dog,” he replies.

“No, seriously, he’s protective—”

He grabs the spare out of its hiding place and shoves the door open. You brace for angry barking and growls, but hear nothing. Soap doesn’t even pause. He just kicks the door shut and storms down the hall to your room, like he knows exactly where he’s going.

He drops you onto the bed, watches your breasts bounce as you settle on the mattress. He strips off int he blink of any eyes while you’re still catching your breath.

“W-wait, wait, my—”

He flips you onto your stomach, hikes your ass up high in the air. You squirm, try to crawl away, but he slaps your ass so hard you see stars. He places his palm flat between your shoulder blades to bin you still.

“S-Soap,” you whine as he shoves your skirt up over your ass, palms a cheek. Spreads you open just to let the flesh jiggle back into place.

“Fuck,” he growls. It sounds off. Sounds deeper, rougher now.

“Just-just slow down…!”

He yanks your panties aside, plunges two thick fingers into you. You squeal, legs kicking uselessly against the mattress.

“Oh, you’re plenty ready,” he says, dark, almost to himself. “All ready to be mated and bred. All mine.”

That finally starts to break the lust-drunk haze. Open your mouth to tell him absolutely not, it’s been way to long and your need to be stretched—

He forces his entire cock into you with one brutal thrust. You scream, cry, try to flatten yourself against the bed but he won’t even let you do that, muttering about “presenting” properly. It hurts but it feels good, know that’s it’s just too much.

“Soap,” you sob, “y-you can’t— you have to… I’m-I’m gonna break.”

“Shhhh, no you’re not,” he soothes, grinding a bit deeper. Your eyes roll back, keening through your teeth. “You were made for me. You’re all for me.”

You shake your head, but he just chuckles.

“Yes, baby, yes. You let me in, you kept me. Now we belong to each other.”

“Soap, w-what are you talking about…?” you manage, fists tight in the sheets. He draws back once and slams into you, hard, mean.

Leans down so he’s rumbling directly in your ear.“‘S Johnny, hen.”

You blink, confused and overwhelmed. “W-what… n-no. No, Johnny is my….”

“Woof.”

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Masterlist

[gasolinerainbowpuddles]

A Glimpse of Eternity ║ ⓞⓝⓔ๏ⓞⓕⓕⓢ

A Glimpse of Eternity | main masterlist | PAIRING(s): General Marcus Acacius x fem!palace sex worker

| RATING: explicit material | 18+ | WORD COUNT:  2.5k | CONTENT: legitimately saw the new Gladiator pics and immediately thought about being fisted by General Marcus idk what else to tell you lmao, some breeding kink ig?, slight subspace moments?, dirty talk but with that Ancient Roman flair, this is prob not very historically accurate but idgaf

| SYNOPSIS: You are one of Emperor Geta's comfort women, tasked with entertaining and pleasuring the palace guests, and you are assigned to General Acacius the night of a feast held in his honor.

"𝙱𝚎𝚊𝚞𝚝𝚢 𝚒𝚜 𝚞𝚗𝚋𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚊𝚋𝚕𝚎, 𝚍𝚛𝚒𝚟𝚎𝚜 𝚞𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚍𝚎𝚜𝚙𝚊𝚒𝚛, 𝚘𝚏𝚏𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚞𝚜 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚊 𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚞𝚝𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚐𝚕𝚒𝚖𝚙𝚜𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚊𝚗 𝚎𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚝𝚢 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚠𝚎 𝚜𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚜𝚝𝚛𝚎𝚝𝚌𝚑 𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚑𝚘𝚕𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎." — 𝘈𝘭𝘣𝘦𝘳𝘵 𝘊𝘢𝘮𝘶𝘴

As one of the few high ranking women of comfort in Emperor Geta’s palace, you were no stranger to the decadence and debauchery that a large celebration often brings. The battleworn and extolled military men, fresh off their wave of conquest and destruction, were most frequently the guests of honor, and they were always enthusiastic to delight in the revelry of victory, wine, and women.

Your position afforded you an agreeable life for the most part. It was certainly better than striking out on your own, fending for yourself in the notoriously unforgiving streets of Rome. An orphaned and unskilled female such as yourself would not fare well in such conditions, and you’d become quite accustomed to the social ranking that came with being owned by the Emperor himself. 

You have all the luxuries afforded to you that one could dream of in these times, and the men you host, though overeager and handsy, knew better than to mistreat the class of entertainment that Emperor Geta was kind enough to provide them. You were his property, and as such were not to be mistreated. Just as a guest would not break a priceless vase or seek entry to private areas in the palace without consent, the men knew better than to abuse the privilege of your company unless they wished to endure the wrath of the Emperor.

You had a few repeat guests that would specifically request your coupling whenever they were staying at the palace, and it was often enjoyable getting caught up on the happenings of the world outside the marble walls. Sometimes you were assigned to a specific guest, and other times you were simply asked to be present and make yourself available to any suitor who showed interest.

It wasn’t uncommon for the men to get so carried away in their merriment that they were too drunk to perform. In those cases you made sure to tend to them should they need assistance getting to bed or finding themselves sick in the middle of the night when the fatty meats and wine caught up with them. On rare occasions there were men skilled and sober enough to bring you to completion, but the standard lack of personal pleasure didn’t bother you too much. After all, it was your duty to ensure your male guests were satisfied with their stay at the palace overnight, and you had a sense of pride that you’d never garnered a single complaint.

Tonight the Emperor was hosting a celebration in honor of a top ranking General whose ruthless and unwavering prowess secured a highly sought after peninsula in the Emperor’s name. It meant more resources and labor for the Empire, and General Marcus Acacius was heralded as a hero for his efforts. You and the other women had been instructed to make your appearance after the other entertainers had performed. It wasn’t until the last minute you were informed that you had been assigned to the General and were to “see to his every need and wish” during his stay.

You’d been doing this long enough that you were only mildly flustered with the news, but you were level headed by the time you made it to the grand hall. You were aware of his reputation, and his strong features fit rather well with what you knew of him. A proud nose, broad shoulders, downturned mouth with pensive forehead wrinkles. His hands easily grasped the entirety of his goblet. He was handsome and possessed an authoritative presence that you suspected would carry over to the bedchambers. 

“General Acacius, might I join you this evening?” you greet warmly.

His eyes slide over to you, giving your form an assessing gaze, before nodding and gesturing to the empty seat beside him. You thank him for the invitation and hold yourself as tall as you can next to him. His size is even more impressive side by side. You introduce yourself and comment on how well he looks considering he’d just arrived from his travels early this morning. No doubt the handmaidens had bathed and clothed him upon his arrival. He’s not much for conversation, so you follow his lead and quietly watch the partygoers together.

You offer to refill his drink, but he declines. He isn’t gluttonous or vain or rude, and as the festivities begin to wind down, you begin to wonder what this man’s vice was. It was imperative to understand these sorts of things because it dictated how you performed to ensure satisfaction. With little to go on, you were almost worried he didn’t want your company at all for the remainder of the evening. It was a relief when he informed you he was retiring for the night and extended an invitation to join him. You demurely accepted and walked quietly through the stone passageways that lead to the more opulent chambers where only the most highly regarded guests were permitted to stay.

“Have you had your fill of nourishment this evening?” he inquires.

“Yes, General. Thank you for asking.”

“I’m pleased to hear that. After you help me disrobe, I request that you do the same and return to me once you are ready.”

You help him out of his garments and try not to stare at the constellation of scarring that adorns his body. His form is muscular with some usual signs of age, but he is undoubtedly the most divine looking man you have ever entertained. His cock swings softly between his thick thighs, and he has no reaction when he catches you ogling him. You excuse yourself to the corner of the chambers to disrobe and freshen up before presenting your nude form for his examination. His eyes are half-lidded, but otherwise you can’t much tell a difference in his mood.

“What sort of pleasure do you offer to your companions, Little Dove?”

You smile brightly at the moniker, appreciating its reference to your attire decorated with small white birds. It wasn’t often a man would take note of such detail, let alone bestow you a personal endearment based on it.

“I offer whatever sort of pleasures you wish, General.”

“And what sort of pleasures do you wish, Little Dove?”

The question catches you off guard, but you maintain the easy back and forth as best you can. “I am sure whatever you have in mind will be immensely pleasurable, General,” you assure him as you slowly saunter towards him.

“That is not what I asked. Answer a question when I ask it of you.” His face is not unkind, but his words are firm.

“I– It is not something that often crosses my mind,” you admit. “My pleasure is gained from your satisfaction.”

“And what if I demand your pleasure above all else? What then would you have to say?”

You rack your brain for an answer and end up blurting out the first thing that comes to mind.

“It is… rather enjoyable to lay in each other’s company, is it not? Perhaps we could start there?” you suggest.

“Is that what you desire?” he presses. He stands, and your eyes zip to all the sinewy, strong flexing across his body.

“It is.”

“Then that is where we will begin.”

This is unlike any encounter you’ve had, and you are nearly at a loss for how to conduct yourself. After exploring the planes of his warm body for a few minutes and gladly receiving the same, your mind goes on autopilot. You attempt to initiate intimacy, but he rebuffs the mindless advance.

“I am well aware I can have you, but that is not what I seek,” he states plainly.

You shake your head, not fully understanding his meaning.

“It is not enough that I take your body. True capture means the mind must also be won. I ask for your entire being, Little Dove,” he explains matter of factly.

You’ve never had a partner speak to you this way, and you can feel the effect of it between your legs where wetness gathers. “Of course, General. Anything you wish you shall have.”

“We will see. Your surrender cannot be fabricated. The blood of the men I’ve killed that stains my hands and the sieged settlements I leave in my wake have left me with the ability to recognize genuine submission, and that is what I ask of you: full, true surrender.”

“I will do my best,” you promise.

“It is not a matter of effort. It is a matter of truly desiring to yield.”

“I feel the strings of that desire, General,” you say in a soft hush. As though to prove your point, you guide his hand between your legs and sigh at the rough, calloused fingertips that graze your most sensitive parts.

He finally seems content with your frame of mind and corresponding bodily reaction, and it is how you find yourself happily succumbing to every exploratory lick and caress and bite. Your thoughts are a nebulous oasis, gently washing back and forth as your bliss heightens. The candlelight is waning just as he presents you with what you think might have been his desire from the start.

“Do you give yourself to me, Little Dove? I wish to feel you from the inside. Your body craves my fingers. It pulls them inside hungrily no matter how many I give. You have taken four already with such greed.”

While it was true that your body steadily adjusted to his fingers, his hands were large and not the easiest to take. He was well-endowed, and that would’ve been plenty to handle on its own. You were certain that he would want to fuck you after this was done. The growing circumference of his fingers inside you had you worrying whether or not you could tolerate it. But you wanted to try. It felt good despite the initial pinching and tightness. His groans of approval every time you successfully took more only spurred you on. You felt yourself wanting to give everything over to him.

“Give me what I need. Only you know what I need,” you whimper.

He sucks in a sharp breath at your deference and repositions himself with additional vigor than just a few moments prior. Your back feels like it’s melted into the bedding as he props your legs open and situates himself in front of your entrance. You watch with bated breath as he cinches all of his fingers together and begins to steadily plunge them inside your messy opening, drenched in your arousal from the General’s relentless onslaught. 

“It is my intention to learn every want of your body so that I might break you apart piece by piece. Do you understand that, Little Dove?” he asks. 

He pushes his fingers further until you feel the sharp rounding of his knuckles against your pelvic bone. You gasp at the resistance and frantically scramble for something to ground yourself, finding his other hand already waiting for your use. You grasp it with both of yours and let him feed his middle and pointer fingers into your mouth. You instinctively suckle on them and close your eyes.

“There you are,” he breathes. “Feeding from nearly every hole, Little Dove. Your body already knows what your mind has decided. Your body responds to me and only me. It craves me as its master.”

You dumbly nod and suck harder on his fingers, getting lost in the sensation of them pressing onto your tongue and gathering a pool of saliva in the middle of your mouth.

“You will only know the desire and pleasure that is my hand piecing you back together,” he coos.

His knuckles begin to slide past your opening and sink into you. The burning lasts for several minutes, but you give in to the new and intoxicating feeling coursing in your body. Eventually the rest of his hand slides in without protest. It’s an odd shape to have housed inside you, but you focus on sucking his fingers. Blood rushes to your stretched walls and engorges the tissue, making everything feel warm and hypersensitive. You feel his hand make a fist inside you, and you cry out when he begins slowly pumping it in and out.

“Ssshhh sshhhh, let your body do what your mind has decreed,” he soothes.

You whimper and suckle as he fucks you with his fist. He groans as he watches your gaped hole suck him back in over and over. You feel a tight coil in your belly build, and he must sense it, too, because he props himself up straighter again and hums contentedly.

“You are an exceptional creature, Little Dove. Reaching the greatest pleasures by letting yourself be my little fuck hole, isn’t that right?”

“Yes,” you cry. “I’m your fuck hole. Only yours.”

His pace picks up like he’s become a bit crazed at your rambling submission.

“That’s right, Little Dove,” he grits. “You will see my face, imagine my touch, and dream of my domination in every man you lay with from this day onward.”

Your jaw and body are slack as the power of his drives rocks you back and forth. You don’t have the lucidity to warn him that your climax is quickly approaching.

“I will not be content until you are ruined for any other man,” he snarls.

You swear you can feel every crevice and curve and bend of his fist as you clench down on it. Your vision is a flat white that matches the deafening silence that overcomes you as your orgasm tears through you. It’s a mixture of the most painful and the most pleasurable orgasm you’ve ever experienced, and well after it ebbs your legs continue to shake with the force of it.

You barely register your limbs being moved and adjusted. You regain a bit of clarity when you feel his wide cockhead notch at your wrecked hole and plunge inside in one smooth motion. He lets out a ragged moan, and it sends you right back into that foggy euphoria. He thrusts fast and deep, murmuring platitudes and filthiness into the shell of your ear as he chases his high.

His hands grip the meat of your sides so tight you’re sure there’ll be marks by morning. A firm grip on your jaw shakes you from your blissful floating.

“Look into the eye of the man who conquered you,” he hisses. “Look into my eyes while I fill you.”

With great effort you keep your lids parted and take in the glorious sight of his face twisting and contorting as he begins pulsing inside the pitches of your cunt. Every thrust pushes some of his spend out, and for a fleeting moment you wish you could keep every drop inside you. With one final snap of his hips, he finishes and sags into your body below him. His breath is hot and humid on your neck, heartbeat hammering against your chest, and you wrap your legs and arms around him as though you fear his departure.

“I must stay inside, Little Dove. Plug you with my seed. Fuck you ‘til it takes,” he rambles a little breathlessly.

You smile against his neck and welcome the surrender.

[bunnys-kisses]

holy- THE MAX WEED FIC MIGHT BE THE HOTTEST F1 PIECE IVE READ SO FAR OML PLEASE MORE DRUNK FILTHY SEX WITH MAX I BEG YOU!! or hear me out his rival (who already is into max but refuses to admit it) accidentally takes an aphrodisiac and she’s forced to beg and grind on max for his help!! size kink please with those huge thighs and hands of his ❤️❤️

oh my god thank you!!! i wasn't too sure how people would like intoxicated fics! i know that most write it with liquor, but if you've had sex while stoned, it's a nicer feeling. anyway, i'm really fucking with this idea so! i hope you enjoy!

and for those out there on the internet, send me your ideas! i love ideas to be shared and written!!!! send me your smutty ideas! i want em!!!

max verstappen

cw: smut/pwp, rivals au, aphrodisiacs, begging/whining, size kink, praise kink, non-penetrative sex, driver!reader, recreational drug use (weed), enthusiastic consent, thigh riding, clothed sex, max being a good rival/lover

"i think i should cutting these up for you, schat." he said as he cut the bag open for you. nothing too spectacular on, just four pieces of chocolate, "so this was their response to not having weed." he picked up a piece and eyed it in the light of the kitchen.

most drivers had their vices, many indulged in the bitter nectar of alcohol. others enjoyed the private company of certain individuals, which left heavy stacks of money on nightstands and tucked into bank accounts. a small portion got their kicks from substances that went harder.

you remembered having to sit in a meeting with max when you first started in formula one about the dangers of illicit drugs. as if most of the retired drivers didn't have their brains re-altered by the likes of cocaine.

but this wasn't canada, or certain parts of the united states or even amsterdam. you couldn't just freely by your fix, weed, so you had to get creative. but someone with as much money as you, with that much influence in a city like monte carlo allowed you to get what you needed.

it may not be marijuana on paper, but it would do the trick on a saturday night during summer break.

"you don't think i can handle it?' you asked as you rested your chin against your hand with your elbow on the counter. you sighed, "you think so poorly of me, verstappen?"

he sighed, "no, i just don't want you passed out on my couch. the point is to have fun, not get wasted." he said but before he could grab a knife to cut it half for you, you had taken a piece of it and ate it down. max looked at you and put the knife back in the drawer, "you know, fine. fine, fine, fine. let's see how this goes, schat."

it was almost a dare and made you sit up a little more, you made a face at him, "what? i'm a big girl, i can handle a little drugs."

he drummed his fingers against the counter top and stuck out his bottom lip as he made a face back at you. his other hand was on his hip as he said, "like you could handle all that vodka in austria in twenty-nineteen. or when you out smoked me that weekend in amsterdam and i had to stay in your hotel room because you were going to cry if i left."

"ya know, verstappen. i don't like how i'm being spoken to."

he sighed, he went around the counter and kissed you on the cheek, "grab your bottle of water, you're going to need it." max knew, underneath it all, you carried a soft spot for him. he did for you as well, but he was a little more open about it. you had protected your soft underbelly when it came to him, while he held his arms open for you.

the feelings didn't start until an hour after you took it.

there was some movie on, but you weren't paying much attention. you were cuddled up against him. his arm was around your shoulders and kept you closed to him. you could feel the tingle in your feet and up your legs.

you made a small moaning noise with your nose in the side of his neck, right up against his hair. your hand was spread across the broadness of his chest.

your clenched onto his shirt and shakily exhaled as it start to really hit. everything felt gooey in your brain as you rubbed up against him. usually when you took part in illicit fun, you just got hungry or sleepy. but not this, something swirled in your gut.

"max." you said out of breath.

he pulled you closer to him and looked at you, "yes, schat? aw, was it all too much for you?" he cupped the back of your head and pulled you in for a sweet kiss.

you whined against the kiss as you felt the heat run through your body. you felt hot all over, your knew your face must feel so hot. when you pulled away, you swallowed, "i'm.. i'm really turned on."

he chuckled, oh this was perfect. he rubbed the back of your head, those blue eyes enchanted you. this guy really was going tire-to-tire with you almost every weekend. that excited you.

you've thought about the sight of him in that driving suit, the stupid kits red bull puts him in. even now in a white t-shirt, and sweatpants after a nice dinner, you thought about what was under there.

"shit."

he chuckled then reached over to grab your metal water bottle. he opened it for you and gave you some. you drank it down heavily before he laughed once more. he put the bottle down and asked, "how are you feeling?"

"hot all over." you said, "i need you to fuck me."

he said, "i don't think i can. you're too high." he tucked hair behind your ear, but his eyes went wide as you got on either side of his thick thigh. he looked up at you and said, "schat, i need your word. are you okay to do this?"

you nodded as you gripped onto his shoulders, "yeah, yeah. i'll do all the work. nothing serious." even through the layers of clothes, you felt the stimulation across your clit. you could feel the blood rush in your ears.

your dug your nails into the meat of his shoulders, through the t-shirt he wore. you shakily exhaled, "i can see why everyone obsesses over your thighs." you then grabbed his hand and pressed your palm against his, "i didn't realize how big your hands were either." you giggled, "they're like bear paws." then pressed his hand against your heated cheek.

"they're not that big."

you nodded as you moved against him, your clothed cunt felt stimulated by the movements you made. plus his hands on you made you more turned on. your eyes fluttered shut for a moment, "they so are, they're like big paws. big bear paws." you giggled as you squirmed against him.

max looked away from you for a moment and sighed deeply to compose himself. in all fairness he wanted to sink his teeth into you. he wanted to fold you in half and fuck you until no words could leave your mouth. but he couldn't not while you were like this, even when he said yes. he wanted to make sure that you were sober when he did that.

"why can't you fuck me, max? i've been such a good girl! i almost beat you in belgium, that should make you fuck me." you whined, you stuck out your bottom lip with your hips still grinding against his thigh.

he cupped your behind and kept his nose against your, he sighed, "i'd love to, beautiful." he said, "but, you're not in the right mindset. i know we're rivals. but, i could never hurt you." it was the god's honest truth.

"no fair!" you whined.

"if you need to get off again after this, you can feel free to... pleasure yourself." he said, the words got caught in his throat. he could feel the blush up to his ears at the sight of you grinding against his thigh.

you nodded and held onto him as you continued to rub against him. you panted wildly and you were louder than usual. nromally you were rather quiet, but while high you were pitifully loud. you kissed him on the jaw and said, "next time i wanna feel that nose of yours against my pussy."

he exhaled deeply, his heartbeat staggered, holy shit. your dirty talk was making the hairs stand up on the back of his neck. he held onto you and let you continue to rut against him like a little puppy.

"aw, ya like that, max?" you asked softly.

he chuckled, "i have to say, usually you're more subtle. i didn't know that you liked my body so much."

you looked at him and said, "max, are you fucking kidding me? have you seen yourself. the first time i ever saw you without your shirt on, i almost came!" this was something you'd never admit sober, "big ol' hands, big ol' thighs, big ol' nose. all leads to one thing." you jabbed your finger in his chest, "and i know the answer to that!"

if this was a dream that max was going to wake up from, he was going to wish he was dead. but as he clenched onto your hips and let you set your own pace, he thought he had died and gone to heaven.

usually giving him a compliment was like having your teeth pulled. but right at that moment, your tongue was loose as you chased that orgasmic high you needed.

"just keep going." he panted, trying to keep himself together. and that you did, rubbing yourself raw against him.

you eventually hissed through your teeth as you climaxed in your panties. you wanted to cover your face from the rush through your system. you felt the sweat on your neck as you slowed down. you let out a few stray moans before you slowed down enough to a stop.

"holy shit." you panted as you rested your face against his shoulder. your fingers held onto the front of his shirt as you felt the aftershocks in your body.

he rubbed your back, "how are you feeling?" his cock was painfully erect in his sweatpants, but he wasn't going to try it push it further. not while you were in this state. he'd rather a painful erection then you getting hurt.

you pulled away and looked him in the eyes, your eyes were rimmed red as you nodded, "perfect, excellent, amazing. do..do you have any snacks in the fridge?"

he chuckled. you were painfully cute like this, all snuggled up with him. he knew come the next race you'd be getting in his face and challenging him at every turn. but at that moment, with you high as a kite both of the chocolate and sexual bliss. he ran his fingers through your hair and looked at your cute face. he said to you, "why don't you just lie down and i'll see what i have."

you giggled and wrapped your arms around him. you kissed him on the cheek, "you're a life saver, max!"

-

you woke up the next morning with a headache. it was a deep throb like a hangover but it still made you wince if you focused on it too much. you rolled over, away from the streaming sunlight and into max's arms.

"why did you let me take a whole piece?"

he moved his face closer to you and exhaled deeply, "because you're the most stubborn woman i've ever met." he pulled you closer to him, "give me five more minutes and i'll get you something for your head."

you pressed a kiss on his jaw. maybe he wasn't a total nightmare to be around. underneath the mask (or helmet) he wore, he was a caring man who wanted what was best for you. he even made you breakfast afterwards, but don't mistake it all for pure kindness.

come the dutch grand prix after the break, you two were going to go back to wanting to maul one another (and not sexually) <3