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joshfutturman · 2 days

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'you're just like a dream'

series (part 2) - mike insists he isn't sleepy, but you know better. you both find solace in one another as you try to make sense of your growing feelings. (2.7k words) pairing - mike schmidt (five nights at freddy's) & gn!reader tags - sleepy mike, reader plays with his hair, hand holding, you're abby's babysitter, pre-established friendship verging on relationship, lingering feelings, pure fluff

you don't need to read part 1 to read this part, but here it is!

.・。.・゜✭・. .・。.・゜✭・. .・。.・゜✭・.

the summer breeze gently filters through the open window in mike’s bedroom, causing his curtains to sway gently. you can’t help but smile, feeling content, nestled on top of the blanket on his bed. it was perfect napping weather, hot enough to sleep the afternoon away without a care in the world. stretching, you relish in the scent of him on his sheets. the only thing that would truly make this a picture-perfect napping opportunity would be -

mike enters his bedroom, stopping in the doorway when he sees how relaxed you look. something about you looking so content fills him with satisfaction. a smile tugs on his lips, unable to contain it or hide it. he’d give up on attempting to hide his smiles from you someday.

.・。.・゜✭・. .・。.・゜✭・. .・。.・゜✭・.

your mind wanders to a few nights prior, the night he'd told you that you could use his bed 'if you wanted' instead of the sofa. mike shrugged as he expressed the sofa 'probably wasn't comfortable'. in fact, he knew it wasn't comfortable. he could attest to that with the amount of mornings he'd woken up with a stiff neck after accidentally falling asleep face down on the old pillows.

you hadn't planned to nap in his bedroom, not entirely. you had only entered his room earlier to organise some laundry but found yourself examining your surroundings. your eyes wandered as you imagined how he spent his free time, quickly remembering that he hardly had any time to spare.

your eyes had landed on his bench press in the corner of his room, did he use that? you tried not to picture it, you couldn't get flustered right now. shifting your attention, you turned to his bed and sat, running your hands across the duvet. a frown formed on your lips as you wondered how many nights he lay here struggling to sleep.

an hour or so passes with abby napping in her bedroom, your eyelids growing heavy as you lie down on his bed.

it was perfect napping weather, hot enough to sleep the afternoon away without a care in the world. stretching, you relish in the scent of him on his sheets. the only thing that would truly make this a picture-perfect napping opportunity would be -

you smile warmly and turn your head towards him as your eyes search for his, “hey, mike.”

entering fully and averting his gaze from yours, mike shuts the door and rests his backpack down on his desk. “hey,” he eventually says in response.

“it’s such a nice day out, and you’re wearing a hoodie. . .” you say sarcastically with a sleepy grin, taking in his attire - a dark hoodie with baggy jeans, the usual.

mike half turns towards you, smirking, “it’s such a nice day out, and you’re inside,” he continues, “two can play at that game.”

“is it illegal to nap now?” you ask, raising an eyebrow to challenge him.

a soft snicker, one that makes your heart skip a beat, “guess not.”

he stands for a few moments, looking back at his bag as if to look anywhere but at you. your eyes find his and note those familiar dark circles beneath them, his tense shoulders, and that distracted look behind his eyes. you wonder how often, if ever, mike relaxed. had he not been sleeping well again?

you then sit up, tapping the bed beside you for him to come closer. mike shifts nervously on his feet a little before obliging, walking over and perching on the edge of his bed. hunching over, he begins to untie his shoes. you watch with a captivated expression, eyes lingering over the curve of his back through his thick hoodie before landing back on his face.

tilting your head, you continue to observe him with a silent smile. the rays of sun catch on his curls as he carefully undoes his shoelaces. you watch as the sparks of auburn through his hair shine with every gentle kiss from the sun, his brow furrowed as his fingers diligently work.

you want to ask how he’s feeling, how his day was, what the first thing he thought about when he woke up that morning was, does he want a coffee, can you hold his hand while you fall asleep. . . there’s so much you want to ask mike schmidt.

but you stay quiet. and so does he.

placing his shoes at the side of his bed, he lets out a sigh of relief and rubs his knees. sometimes, michael had the aura of someone beyond his years - almost like he’d lived a couple of lifetimes already. it was cute. like a grandpa, the way his brow would wrinkle and he’d get grumpy at the smallest of occurrences.

suddenly, his head is turning and he catches you staring. your eyes stray from his and he smiles, scooting back on the bed to come closer to you. when your eyes find his again, you notice the sleepiness in his gaze, looking at you through half-lids.

“you’re tired,” you murmur softly.

mike shrugs, he's almost always tired. no amount of sleep seems to really ‘fix’ him. “not really. a bit.”

you chuckle and nod, “a bit,” you repeat.

mind wandering, you think back to just last week when you both nestled on the couch, your fingers entwined in his hair as he gently drifted to sleep against you. you’d never seen someone fall asleep so fast before, and truth be told, mike hasn’t stopped thinking about it.

it was the best night's sleep he’d had since he was a kid, maybe because he felt truly safe. your tender touches coaxed him into a sleep so deep that he didn’t even dream. then, when he awoke, seeing you above him? he's not sure he could ever describe the feeling.

and he’d been craving it since, not sure how to ask. ‘could you play with my hair again?’ - even thinking of the sentence made his skin crawl. he felt so. . . silly. mike had never been the type to ask for help, or ask for anything really. the burden always fell on his shoulders and he firmly believed that’s where it should stay.

there was unspoken tension between the two of you, but it wasn't necessarily uncomfortable tension. there was a calmness when in each other's presence, like it wouldn't be so bad if walls crumble. . . like it was simply safe to relax. and with each passing day, mike felt himself wanting to fall into your arms more and more, to be in your embrace. even if just for a little while.

with how soft and distracted his eyes had become, you could tell he was thinking. you were too.

“why don’t you lie down with me?” you eventually mumble, laying back on his bed, keeping your eyes on him. you know mike needs the rest, and if you could offer him any kind of comfort, you'd do it in a heartbeat.

this causes his eyes to widen, blinking. “uh. . .” and this was a habit of his, clamming up. why couldn’t he just get the words out? what if it was a joke? maybe you were just joking. you were joking, right? i mean, it wasn’t too out of the question, you had slept together before.

shit, not like that. his cheeks flush at his own thoughts.

he wants to, he wants to get closer to you. but as he often did, michael struggled to communicate what he wanted. of course he wanted to get closer, he thought about your hands intertwining often. would your hands be soft against his calloused palms?

“sorry, i don’t know why i asked,” you lied with a small forced chuckle, “you don’t have to. it’s just. . . after last week i-“

“i want to,” mike mutters under his breath in a quick response, glancing to the side. and he truly did, mike yearns for your affection, your glances, he’d take anything he could get. he just wasn’t sure how to approach any of it, how did other people find this so easy?

you’re a little shocked at his firm admission, he wants to. so you pet your stomach, offering him to lay back from his sitting position on the edge of the bed. you hope this isn't a step too far. as always, you were careful with mike, respecting his boundaries. you knew it wasn't easy for him to accept affection.

mike looks down at your stomach, and then back to you as if to gauge the situation. swallowing his nerves, he slowly leans back and rests the back of his head against your stomach as one hand rests across his torso.

his weight against you makes you smile, but you can tell he’s still tense from the way his shoulders stay rigid. “you’re not gonna hurt me, you know.” you smile.

mike smiles nervously, “hm? oh, yeah. . . i know.” he lies, swallowing thickly. his eyes settle on the ceiling above you both, enjoying the way his head rises and falls with every soft breath from you.

fingers twitching, you ache to touch his hair just like last time. you want to watch the tension in his face melt as he sinks into the touch. would he let you do it again?

the room felt calm, the moment soft. birds chirp outside as if they were singing for only the two of you. a ghost of a smile flickers on mike’s lips. a sense of nostalgia for childhood summers fill his mind and yours, where nothing was wrong and puffy white clouds would pass through the perfect blue sky without a care in the world.

and maybe for a short while, nothing is wrong, not while the two of you share quiet times like these.

maybe if you just. . .

your fingers slowly find his hair. at first, mike flinches slightly from your touch as he did before, but soon. . . he relaxes and exhales. his whole body loosens up, his head turning to look up at you with such softness that you almost gasp as you begin to gingerly comb through his hair with your digits.

the tension he holds in his shoulders lessens, body relaxing against you more and more. his slow breaths cause his chest to rise and fall in a gentle rhythm, syncing with yours.

mike’s hooded lids desperately fight to stay open, looking at you in appreciation - but also something more. you offer him a smile and he beams back a wide, tired smile. god, you want this every day. having his soft smile directed at you felt like a gift, one you'd cherish.

eyes drifting across his features, you take in every curve of his face. in turn, he does the same to you as if he’s committing it to memory. he studies you with great effort as if he were scared to blink in the fear that you would be gone when he opens his eyes. the only sound that fills the room is your combined gentle breathing mixing with the ambient sounds of summer from outside the window.

you want to tell him he looks beautiful, that he’s the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen, with his scruffy stubble and messy curls. in all his imperfect glory, michael schmidt was perfect to you.

and he wants to tell you that you're beautiful to him too, that you weave your way through his mind every day even when you're not around. when he's waking up to his empty bedroom, he's wondering how you slept. when he's flicking mindlessly through tv channels, he wonders what you'd prefer to watch. you were on his mind more than he could ever admit.

slowly, he drifts his free hand across the bed to rest near yours in a sweet, silent offer. all the while, his eyes stay sleepily locked in your gaze. you swallow hard, feeling the presence of his hand beside yours. his hand twitches slightly in anticipation of finally feeling a hand against his. please, he thinks to himself.

your hand finds his, resting softly against his rough palm, fingers interlinking in a peaceful embrace. your thumb traces along the curve of his hand in a repeating pattern, a soothing motion. it's almost impossible to tell, but mike's smile widens slightly.

the room is enveloped by the delicate orange hue of the summer sun, the sun rays almost fighting to land upon mike. and you couldn't blame them, you'd fight to be in his presence too. the beams land across his face, highlighting his face peppered with freckles and the beautiful mix of hazel in his eyes.

if you could, you'd capture this moment in a freeze frame forever. just you, mike and the summer sun.

your fingers continue to work against his hair, tracing across his scalp in a delicate pattern. nails drifting against his skin, his eyes flutter - evidence that you were doing a good job and you can't help but smile. the way his curls gave in to your touch was also incredibly soothing to you, feeling the softness of them wrap around your fingers and then give way to each movement you make.

and mike loves it, his mind quiet and body thoroughly soothed. goosebumps find their way across his neck at your touch. he wants to thank you, but words fail him. instead, he gives your hand a tender squeeze.

his eyes are closing, his hand loosening on yours as he begins to lose the futile battle against sleep. "thought you weren't tired?" you whisper, finally breaking the silence.

". . .m' not. . ." he mumbles with a loose jaw, eyes blinking open again but gradually closing.

your eyes take in the way he's positioned, it can't be entirely comfortable, "bring your legs up, it's okay if you fall asleep."

mike does exactly that in his sleepy state, bringing his legs up onto the bed and curling up with his head nuzzling against your stomach. ". . . not gonna fall asleep. . ." he mutters, his eyes closing completely now as he relishes your warmth against him.

your fingers in his hair continue as you watch him give in to the tiredness that he's tried so hard to fight. "okay, you're not going to fall asleep. . ." you suppress a chuckle, scared to disturb him as his head rests against your tummy.

god, he looks so peaceful. the way he's curled up beside you is incredibly adorable, his fingers loose against yours as you still hold his hand as he sleeps. his breathing deepens, mouth half open as his head nuzzles against your stomach.

the birds continue to sing outside of his window, but all of the noise seems to slowly filter itself out. you're focused on mike, so much so that you find your own eyes growing heavy in response.

how had you been so lucky as to find yourself in this position twice? you weren't sure, but you know you want it again and again. mike's mind plagued him often, almost always, but with you? things were quiet, peaceful. . . like you were an escape he'd desperately search for every time.

he hadn't realised how badly he craved companionship until he saw you, really saw you for the first time. a few months into babysitting abby, he had been getting ready to leave for his shift when he poked his head into her room. you sat by her desk with her, watching contently as she drew and explained each stroke. your patience and genuine interest were both incredibly endearing to him. and when your head turned in his direction, offering a simple sweet smile, he felt an unfamiliar emotion swelling in his chest.

from then on, he knew it was only a matter of time before he caved. it would be impossible not to. mike's defences were strong, he knew it, but the ache he felt for you was stronger.

there's so much he wants to say, but mike's mind would solve that puzzle another time. for now, his mind falls deeper and deeper into sleep.

and so does yours, your eyes closing and your head slumping against his pillows. your hand loosely rests against his head, the two of you breathing softly into the summer air that fills the room.

maybe someday mike would tell you how he felt, maybe. but you were entirely content with taking things at mike's pace, you'd wait forever if it meant he felt comfortable. what more could you ask for than these soft moments where you could hide from the world together and find solace in one another?

you never want to let him go, and from now on? mike was never letting you go either. you felt like home to him.

mike felt like finally, he was home.

.・。.・゜✭・. .・。.・゜✭・. .・。.・゜✭・. ‧₊˚ dedicated tags: @helen-on-earth @fatinhadesiners06 @boonam @laurrrelise @sun-spider13 @sammygirlism @sleepyhutcherson @mikeandikeschmidt ‧₊˚ ily!! .・。.・゜✭・. .・。.・゜✭・. .・。.・゜✭・.

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cult-of-the-eye · 5 months

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Jonathan Sims loves methodically. He devises plans and writes conversational scripts for detailed questions to ask, he has reminders on his phone for when Martin has to take his medication, he knows exactly where his favourite takeout place is. He loves like he's trying to prove a point to Martin that he is in fact, in love with him.

#He does this because he's terrified of how deeply he feels #and how little control he has over his emotions #so organising them makes him feel better about it #more in control #tma #the magnus archives #jonathan sims #martin k blackwood #jmart #jonmartin #tma headcanons

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tenrose · 1 year

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My therapist give me "homeworks" and it seems so complicated and emotionally draining on a paper but he told me that my own avoiding mechanisms are in fact worse and more complicated I just don't realize...

#i have to go drink coffee in a public space #alone which i can do #but i have to not look at my phone or read and watch people for as long as i can #and also i have to force myself to cook #not because i have to #but becuase 'it makes me feel better'#and organise my cooking schedule and dishes in advance #because he knows that if i miss one single ingredient i won't do it #even tho there is a shop five minutes by walking from where i live #also told me to put the ingredients ready the morning so i see them and do the stuff #anyway i hope it works #i mena i do cook even tho lately it has been a slide to the void #so i hope I manage to get myself back on track #and cook and eat at reasonable hours so i can sleep earlier #so if i sleep earlier id be more fit to find another job #next time I'll talk to him about the filth I am with cleaning... even though im like very ashamed of it and hate myself for it #but i can't solve everything at once

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tteokdoroki · 3 months

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⋆ 𝜗𝜚 ˚⟡. — KATSUKU BAKUGOU. setting powder.

about. whilst getting ready to meet your new boyfriend’s extended family — you learn that he knows a thing or two about doing makeup.

warnings. minors, blank and ageless blogs do not interact! sfw, fluff, characters aged up to 20s, enemies to lovers, meeting the family, new relationships, brief mention of injury and hospitals, reader wears makeup and dresses, pro hero!bakugou, nurse/doctor!reader.

“we’re gonna be late, sweetheart.”

leaning against the door frame, bakugou crosses his arms over his chest — his perfect lips pulled into a suave smirk as he watches you finish your makeup for tonight.

“wha…huh? you said i had twenty minutes?” you’re still half dressed, your boyfriend’s baggy hoodie from an old merch collection draped over your sweet little dress to protect it from your foundation, your hair is tied back and away from your face so it doesn’t get in the way and though you’re still trying to blend your cream blush in with one of those sponge things — katsuki thinks you’re the most adorable thing in the entire world.

pushing himself off the door frame, he sits behind you on the bed — still watching you work at the vanity whilst he fixes the cuffs of his dress shirt. “that was twenty minutes ago,” the blonde rasps affectionately and grasps your at your jewellery laid out on the bed. the rough pad of his thumb traces over the ‘K’ on the silver heart locket he’d gotten you for your birthday before he undoes the clasp and places the chain around your neck — being mindful of your hair in the process. “y’said you’d be done by then.”

you catch your boyfriend’s vermillion stare in the reflection of your mirror — his subtle smile when he sees his initials dangling from your neck. it feels you with warmth to know that no matter what, katsuki will always find you beautiful and will always love you. even with how chaotic your makeup looks when half done. “i think i spent too long in the shower ‘n underestimated how long this look would take,” you sigh, reaching for your lip gloss next. you’ll have to put it in your purse, do your lips in the car. “do you think they’ll mind if we’re any later than this?”

“my parents won’t. neither will inko. deku — i mean — izuku will, but he’ll pretend he ain’t bothered,” bakugou prattles down the list, making a note of tonight’s attendees. it was tradition that the bakugous and the midoriyas had a monthly dinner together, it had been going on since the two pro heroes were children. only now, their partners were invited since they were family too. family included you.

you hadn’t gone to U.A and you certainly didn’t know katsuki until he became an up and coming pro hero. the first time he’d saved you, by the sidewalk of the hospital you worked at, you thought he was brutish and stuck up. you’d hated him and he’d hated you. but over time, and more frequent trips to A&E after saving civilians or sometimes after being wounded in villain attacks — you’d come to appreciate bakugou’s brooding personality and observant nature.

he’d come to like you too. how much you cared for others and wanted to make the world a better place. you reminded him a little bit of izuku, in a strange way.

so one night when you were on call, katsuki brought you flowers instead of a stomach wound that needed stitches and you’d given him a kiss instead of berating him about being careful, over vanilla and chocolate pudding cups from the hospital cafeteria.

signing impatiently, you bring katsuki back to present day. “i wanted to make a good impression on your aunty and on your best friend,” rubbing your arm nervously, you cast your gaze over the mess on your vanity — expensive products splayed across them in organised chaos.

“you will. they’re gonna love you. they already do,” bakugou stands behind you now, rough palms smoothing over your shoulders. “izuku says you’ve made me less bitchy at work. whatever the fuck that means.”

you giggle, eyes sparkling in delight as you look at the blonde in the mirror. “really?”

“really,” he nods sheepishly. the way you look at him makes him feel so loved. it’s new to him. nice to him. “now, whaddya need help with s’we can hurry up ‘n hit the road.”

you begin to ramble on, perking up at the idea of katsuki helping with the rest of your routine.“well… i’ve done my lashes, my eyes, my base and blush… i can do lips in the car. aside from putting on earrings and fixing my hair all i need is to set my face with—“

“settin’ powder,” bakugou grabs the little pot from your vanity as if he knew where it was all along, picking up a little face cushion as well as he prepares to get to work. “got it.” he dips the cushion into the translucent powder, rubbing the excess off on the back of his hand before leaning in real close to dab at the areas he thinks you need it. like your t-zone.

your boyfriend’s touch is like magic on your face, perfectly setting your makeup while making you feel like a pampered princess. “who taught you how to do this?” comes your shy mumble, his proximity to your face causing you to grow flustered and squirm in your seat. “h-how are you so good at it?”

“keep still, i’ll be finished faster if y’stop squirmin’ sweetheart. don’t wanna mess up what you’ve done already,” pausing his actions, katsuki gives you a toothy smirk — revelling in how bashful you’ve become under his touch while he helps you with your makeup. “…grew up behind the scenes of fashion shows ‘n shoots. so i picked up a thing or two i wanted to make sure i could still do it so i watched a couple of videos on it too. ‘n i noticed…you always put so much time ‘n effort into your makeup. wanted to help make the process easier for you.”

you feel as though you could melt at katsuki’s kind words and gesture as he dabs at your face a little more — tongue caught between the toes of his pew rlly white teeth as he sticks it out in concentration. he’s so cute it makes you want to scream. “you’re sweet,” you coo appreciatively, stilling yourself to let him finish before he pulls back — satisfied with his work. “i love you.”

it’s not the first time you’ve said it to one another, but the three words are still new to the both of you. “i uh…i love you more,” a pink, rosey hue rises on the surface of bakugou’s tanned skin and his red, loving eyes dart away from your face bashfully. “‘m gonna get your shoes ‘n jacket ready by the door while that sits. don’t forget your settin’ spray after you brush that shit off — oh ‘n don’t take my hoodie off until you’ve done that. don’t wanna ruin your dress, kay?”

“okay,” you respond fondly, hiding your smile at his very specific instructions. “i’ll be down in a minute.”

katsuki nods hesitantly, standing up as he gathers your belongings and outerwear — ready to load them up in the car, when he suddenly pauses in place. “you look beautiful tonight, sweetness. you always do.” he adds as one last parting message, before disappearing down the hall.

leaving you wondering how you ever lucked out with such a man. one who’s not only kind and gentle and loving, but a pro hero and a makeup artist at that.

#tteokdoroki #bakugou x reader #bakugo x reader #bakugou drabble #bakugou fluff #bakugou x you #bakugo fluff #bakugou imagines #bnha x reader #bnha fluff #bnha imagines #mha x reader #mha fluff #katsuki bakugou x reader #bakugou smut #✧ ₊˚੭ — writing

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maiko-san · 3 months

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Catnap + Dogday x Reader ( Part 5 )

<<< Part 4 , Part 6 >>>

Relationship : Fluff

Warning : ⚠️ Mention of blood / gore, human experiments ⚠️

Plot : You were sleeping until you woke up and realised you weren't in the infirmary anymore

Catnap has made his decision, he decides to pay you a visit. Even if it is just a mere minute.

This is the only time he disobeyed The Prototype, surely his god would understand, right?

He had pleaded The Prototype to spare you out of all humans in the facility.

The Prototype accepted it but he won't assure about your survival during the massacre. Whatever happens to you will be Catnap's responsibility.

How about he convince you to join him? To be in the team and follow The Prototype?

It makes Catnap feel happy at the thought of the person he loves joining the team.

Just you and him, might even Dogday if he ever joined the group.

Wait...What if you refuse? Surely you wouldn't, right? If you refuse then he will force you. Yeah, definitely because he wants you safe.

Even it means dragging you down to the deepest and darkest of the Playtime Co, just to keep you safe.

As soon Catnap reaches the infirmary, he peeks his head in the room only to find it empty.

"...Star?"

You weren't in the room, where could you have gone to? Then, his nose picks up a familiar scent.

No...it cannot be.

His pupils dilate as he quickly crawls through the vents and makes his way towards the laboratory.

You hear voices around you which causes you to wake up.

All you see was the white ceiling instead of the colourful ones, you tried to move your body but you couldn't.

"You're finally awake"

You turn your head to the source and see one of the higher ups, a man in lab coat. You've seen him before but where...?

.....

If you remember correctly, you've seen him in the organisation chart and also on the papers you always work on.

"Dr. Sawyer...?"

"Oh, so you know me... interesting"

In his hand, he held a clipboard. He jotted something on the paper before looking down on you.

You are confused.

What's happening?

Where are you? What is this place? Why are you....here?

"I'm sure you have a lot of questions on your mind. You are in the Bigger Body Initiative programming room"

"Bigger...Body Initiative?"

"We've been monitoring you for quite a long time, now. It's quite hard to find someone that is compatible with our program. We have finally found a suitable host for our newest mascot, you are...perfect"

"Host...m-mascot? W-what are you saying?!"

You have to escape. If you stay you will never know what they will do to you!

Then, the metal doors before you open and came in a doll....

An angel doll with a pair of wings and a golden halo on top of her head, the doll is very beautiful like an angel as it is.

"All the children needed now is an angel to protect them, guide them and help the Playtime Co flourish. Your personality will become handy and guide the children to a better future for the company"

Every word he's saying, you don't like it one bit....

Dr. Sawyer leaves the room, saying you should get accustomed to the doll first.

You begin tugging on the belt on your wrist but they are too tight. You stare up at the ceiling above you.

You cannot escape....

You don't have anything on you to help you escape.

You slowly take in your surroundings, there is a table next to you full of operating equipment, which makes you pale.

Are they going to dissect you and sell your organs?!

Hell no!

"Help! Please!"

You cried out for help, though your voice fell into deaf ears. Tears start pouring out from your eyes, is this how you will die?

Plap, plap, plap.

Your ears pick up a pitter patter on the floor, you look down only to see a plush version of Catnap staring up at you with its beady black eyes.

Did...the plush just....moved?

Then, it tilts its head causing you to flinch in surprise.

The plush begins to climb on the table and hops on to you, you begin to panic and close your eyes, waiting for the pain to come.

Clack!

The straps on your wrists were loose and you open your eyes to see Catnap plush gnawing on the leather strap on your ankle.

Freeing you.

With your hands free, you quickly unstrap the belt on your other leg and hop off the bed. You walk over to the door but it won't open.

"F*ck!"

You begin to look around and notice a vent but it's high up, you can't reach it even if you climb on the table.

What are you going to do?!

You feel a soft tap on your ankle and you look down to see Plushnap, nudging your leg before pointing up at the vent.

You told it you can't reach it.

Then, Plushnap does a throwing motion before holding out its tail and stretches it with its paws.

It doesn't take you long to know what it was thinking.

Now, you hold Plushnap with your strong hand as the toy wraps its tail tightly around your wrist.

"Are you ready, buddy?"

*nods*

You give your best swing and throw Plushnap towards the vent as it tail stretches like a rope, the toy grabs hold on to the vent door as you begin to tug on its tail.

The vent door snaps open as you watch Plushnap crawl into the ventilation system, before you know it. You feel yourself being hoisted up.

How can a plush pull a full grown adult?!

Once you enter the vent, you feel arms dragging you and your face slams into rough fur.

That smells like lavender.

"Catnap?"

"Star....are you alright?"

You pull yourself off from the tight embrace and meet face to face with Catnap.

Before you could question him, he bites the back of your gown, holding you like you are a kitten and begins to crawl fast through the vents. ( you were so close to slip out of the hospital gown since it's just a piece of thin cloth )

"Catnap! W-what's happening and what is this place?!"

"....Not now, must.....get you... somewhere safe...stay quiet or...they'll hear us .."

Even though Catnap crawls through the vents fast, he doesn't make too much noise thanks to his soft paws and being lightweight unlike the other smiling critters. He was built to be silent so he doesn't wake up the sleeping orphans while he does his patrols in the night.

You look through the gap of the vent doors to see people in lab coats.

Who are these people? You know they have a science department but....these people are.....different.

Then, your eyes widen when you pass a vent door. You see a dissected body of a child....

Your hand slaps your mouth, you were horrified at the sight. Next to the dissected body is a bloody toy that has organs in it.

Are they...putting human organs into toys?

What kind of madness is this?

Are they...no, are they using the orphans for sick experiments?!

All the sudden, the alarm went off.

"Did they know?!"

"....No"

"Containment has been breached. Experiment 1006 has breached containment. All personnel please evacuate immediately and go towards the nearest evacuation centre, this is not a drill. I repeat, this is not a drill"

Catnap then tosses you over his shoulder as you wrap your arms around his neck.

"Hold...me...tight...."

The feline slams his paw on the vent door and jumps down on the ground.

You see people running around and being attacked by....the toys.

Your eyes widen in horror at the sight of the toys biting and clawing onto the scientists, tearing and pulling on their skin. You could see flesh and muscles, even bones!

There's so much....blood.

Suddenly, something covers your face and it was a mask. You try to pry it off but something doesn't let you do so.

"Must...wear mask..."

Catnap said into your ears, you see a thick cloud of red smoke coming out from his mouth and it begins to fill the entire hallway.

Some of the scientists begin to drop down after they inhale the red smoke. You watch as the toys begin to bite down on their motionless body like a pack of hungry hyenas.

You were breathing heavily at the horrific sight, the small toys had come to life and kills everyone.

You can hear bloodcurdling screams in the distance, some were calling for help.

Catnap's eyes look at your form, he can see your pale face through the mask and your entire body shaking like a leaf. He has to do something, he didn't expect it happen now.

Maybe ...using the red smoke on you could help you...just a little whiff.

He can manipulate your dream, yeah. He makes sure that everything was a nightmare.

Yes, he will do it.

"Catnap?"

You feel the mask loosen and the smell of the red smoke begins to enter your airway. Then, you start to feel drowsy and the next thing you know.

Everything turns black.

A/n : I'm sorry for not updating for a long time, I had a writer's block for the past days. I apologise for that 😭. I know this is a short chapter and I will do better next time, I hope this stupid a** writer's block goes away soon.

For those who send me asks, I will answer them soon.

#poppy playtime #poppy playtime chapter 3 #smiling critters catnap #poppy playtime catnap #catnap #catnap x reader #dogday x reader #smiling critters x reader #poppy playtime x reader #various x reader #reader insert

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stevebabey · 1 year

Text

Steve hates to ask this of Eddie.

Really, it’s a last resort sort of thing. Robin’s gone for the week, some trip upstate with her family. And it’s fine, they’re close but Steve’s a big boy. He can handle a week without his best friend.

But, well, it’s just unfortunate for it to creep up on Steve when Robin’s gone. It being… shit, how did Robin explain it? She was so much better at keeping track of all those things than he was, all the terms filed away nicely in her head to be recalled as needed. Steve’s much messier— in his head, in his life.

Touch aversion, that’s what she called it. A by-product of the severe lack of touch in his childhood she had said; not enough hugs, hand holding, the works and now Steve’s grown to find it too strange. Something prickles under his skin, pulls in his gut all the wrong way, when someone’s too touchy-feely with him. Robin’s said it’s normal, and he believes her.

It just makes it harder when this comes by. That completely strange backward want that carves into his chest, creating a chasm that just aches. Suddenly, Steve wants to be touched, needs to be touched — like something behind his ribs is just begging for comfort in the form of touch, any way he can have it. Like some young part of him can still remember the hunger he had for it and it comes back in full force, a tender wound between his lungs.

It doesn’t happen that often — though, it’s more frequent than ever recently — but usually, Robin’s here. She can almost always tell before Steve works up the courage to ask. Twitchy fingers give him away. He hovers closer than normal, shoulders brushing more often.

She always gives him a smile, softer than her usual snark and says, “C’mere, dingus.” and stands on her tip-toes to envelope him in a hug. Steve can’t help but sink into it, gripping her close around the waist for as long as he needs until the hole in his chest feels a step closer to patching up.

Robin also tells him he can have as many hugs as he’d like but Steve is firm with himself; he only needs one, then he’ll be back to fine.

It what’s he needs now. One really fucking good hug. Still, he hates to ask, least of all from Eddie, because, well— okay, Steve has no reason to assume Eddie wouldn’t give him a hug.

He’s seen Eddie’s hugs before. Like everything he does, Eddie puts his everything into it- he hugs Robin til she wheezes, loves to lift Nancy off the ground, and the hug he gives Dustin is sweetest of all, a hand on the back of the littler’s head while he does some strange little sway. Dustin always laughs, playfully shoving him away by the end but Steve knows he loves them, that it helps in more than one way.

Steve is glad that Dustin has someone, besides his Mom of course, who can hug him, because Steve can’t give that to him. Maybe one day, but for now, hugs from Steve are a rarity — few and far in between. Maybe, he thinks, he doesn’t want to ask Eddie specifically because of that niggling feeling that comes up around Eddie, all gooey and soft. A feeling the swings too close to a crush that Steve has no fucking clue what to do about.

So, he hates to ask. Really. On the drive over to Eddie’s, a hangout organised before Steve started to feel the lack of touch creep in, he runs through any other options. Wait til Robin gets back? Steve’s not sure he’ll make it another 4 days. When left alone, it seems to consume him and make everything harder, everything heavier to deal with.

He’s still tossing it when he climbs the steps to Eddie’s trailer. Steve decides that he’ll see how it goes, see if there’s an opening to ask…semi-naturally or something. He’s not gonna spring it on the guy.

Eddie is wonderful company as always, devilish grins and god-awful comments about the film he picked. Steve feeds off it, drinking in the infectious energy. He tries to let it be enough; their shoulders pressed together, Eddie’s knee knocking his when he laughs, the way Eddie leans into his space to whisper even though it’s just them here tonight. Steve wants it to be enough. But even then, he can see the way his hands twitch in his lap, desperate for more.

Steve closes his eyes. Curls his hands up so tightly his nails bite into the skin. He tries to use it to wane off the feeling, the ache that sings out for Eddie beside him and it nearly works. Until—

“Steve? Y’okay?” Eddie’s voice pipes up, making Steve open his eyes in an instant.

“Hm?” Steve hums, hoping that his casualness will be enough for Eddie to skip over his peculiar behaviour. He blinks, tilting his head just a bit to show he was confused why Eddie was asking.

Eddie chuckles lightly, gesturing towards Steve’s lap, where his hands sit still clenched, white knuckled with his self-restraint. “You seem a bit stiff, that’s all.” Eddie rechecks. “You good?”

Steve opens his mouth and then closes it, forcing his hands to unclench in his lap. “I-“ he begins, then stops, unsure of what he was going to say. He did say he would look for an opening tonight. The way Eddie’s regarding him, open faced with his concern, is as good as he might get.

“This might sound a bit weird,” Steve starts, defensiveness already tingeing the words, his shoulders curling in just a bit. Eddie could say no. He’s allowed to say no. Steve really doesn’t want him to. “Like, if you think it’s weird, that’s totally fine and we can just, like, forget I said anything and—”

“Steve.” Eddie cuts him off, a linger of an amused smile on his lips. “I don’t think I’m going to find anything you say weird, sweetheart. Shoot. What’s on your mind? What troubles the great mind of Steve Harrington?”

God, it’s like a whole bunch of words designed to set Steve’s head spinning. ‘The great mind of Steve Harrington’ makes him want to scoff. ‘Sweetheart’ makes him want to swoon. He can’t decide which one he wants to do more.

“Can I-” Steve stammers, the words halting automatically. It’s too much of a habit to swallow them down. Coercing them out takes more work. He stares up at the ceiling as he grits his teeth, releases a harsh sigh, pulling himself together. “Can I… have a hug?”

There a moment of silence and Steve holds his breath.

“Oh,” Eddie breathes, and Steve takes his eyes off the ceiling to see just what that Oh means. Eddie’s smiling, a soft one gracing his pretty mouth, and Steve thinks, maybe, one day he’ll have the courage to ask for a kiss as well. Relief moves sluggishly through his veins— Eddie’s smiling, this is good.

“Well, of course,” Eddie grins widely and opens his arms, inviting Steve in. Steve hesitates for only a moment before he leans in gratefully, his arms tucking around Eddie’s midriff tightly. Eddie’s arms curl around Steve’s neck, pulling him in close. It’s the easiest thing in the world, sinking into it, so much that Steve tries his best not to immediately slump against Eddie. It feels a bit too pathetic, so Steve reels himself in. He can’t make his arms relax, trying too hard to take only what he needs and not a moment more.

“C’mon, Stevie.” Eddie’s voice teases beside his ear, his breath warm. “You call that a hug?”

He squeezes Steve a little tighter, pulling him even closer and Steve can’t help the way he melts into it— he slumps, leaning against Eddie properly and burying his quiet whine of relief into the juncture between Eddie's neck and shoulder.

“There we go,” Eddie murmurs comfortingly.

Eddie takes him wholly, gives a damn good Munson hug, all warmth and comfort. He smells like, well, Eddie — a lingering scent of weed, something musky, something Eddie. His arms around Steve’s neck shuffle and Steve worries he’s trying to pull away so soon, only for one of his hands to tangle in the hair at the nape of Steve’s neck. He combs through, light fingernails scratching at Steve’s scalp and shit, Steve really can’t control the noise of contentment that slips out his throat.

“Can’t believe you got so worked up just to ask for a hug,” Eddie tsks, tone coloured in disbelief. Steve makes a noise of protest, trying for a moment to wind it all back in but, like Eddie can sense it, he’s squeezing him tighter again. He begins to rock them, a soft sway side to side that lets Steve lean on him even more. He hums a tune Steve doesn’t know, low and soft.

“M’sorry,” Steve mumbles in reply, though he’s not entirely sure what he’s apologising for. For having to ask, for taking so much, for enjoying Eddie’s arms around him just a little too much.

“What the fuck for?” Eddie laughs lightly, one of his hands beginning to drum against the divots of Steve’s spin. It feels like he’s tapping pure delirium with each fingertip, shivers that make Steve’s chest glow terribly warm. It feels good, so good to be held and honestly, Steve could stay here all night if Eddie let him. Knowing Eddie, he would, because he’s that fucking nice.

That knowledge alone forces Steve to sit himself up, extracting him limbs even though so much of him mourns the warmth, the touch, that goes with it. He wants the touch but he’s had enough. Some scorned part of him burns bitterly to think Eddie would give him more just to be nice. Steve doesn’t want that— Steve wants Eddie to touch him because he wants to.

“Sorry, man, I just, uh, get like that sometimes.” Steve feels the need to explain, bringing a hand up to rub at one of his eyes. He does it half so can hide his embarrassed expression from Eddie— who’s looking at him so gently and still so so close.

“Just, aha—“ Christ, it wasn’t this awkward telling Robin. Steve’s hand moves to rub the back of his neck. “Sometimes I realise it’s been awhile since,” He gnaws on his bottom lip, something alike to humiliation curling in his gut. “Since I’ve had some touch. Usually, Robin’s around but y’know.”

He waves a hand, huffing another awkward laugh. Eddie hasn’t moved much, just listening intently, his brows ever so slightly inching closer together. He looks outright concerned at Steve’s next words.

“It’s okay, I’ve— I’ll be good now.” Steve nods along, like the motion will help him convince himself as well as Eddie. He’ll be okay now. Usually, one hug is all it takes. He ignores the surging tidal-wave want that is still going, still aching to be held by Eddie again. It would be selfish to ask for more. Eddie didn’t invite him around to hug— it’s weird, and Steve shouldn’t- can’t ask for more.

“Sooooo,” Eddie draws out the word, an impish smile beginning to play at the corners of his lips. He opens his arms wide again. “You don’t want another hug?”

In his lap, Steve’s fingers twitch. Eddie’s eyes dart to them for a second, before fixing back on Steve. He does, he really fucking does want another hug. He can’t. He’s had enough, really, it would greedy to have more.

Steve shakes his head, forces himself to huff another laugh that accidentally comes out as a strained sigh. He smiles weakly, “No, no, I’m good, dude. It’s… I’m okay, swear.”

For a moment, Steve thinks he’s convinced him. Eddie studies his face, his mischief slipping away as he deliberates Steve’s words. His eyes narrow, arms dropping just an inch before he smiles brightly and says, “Okay, can I have a hug then?”

Which, okay, right, Steve didn’t think of that. People don’t ask him for hugs. He blinks, a bit dumbly. Eddie is waiting, face eager and for a second there’s an expression of almost smugness on his face — like he’s about to get exactly what he wants. Because he knows Steve would never be rude and say no.

“I mean,” Steve breathes, voice a bit tighter than he’s expecting. He clears his throat. “Yeah, yeah, you can have a hug.”

“Great!” Eddie replies and he wastes no time. He’s all up in Steve’s space, arms around Steve’s waist this time. The motion takes Steve by surprise, enough that because he’s not expecting it Eddie’s weight pushes him back so he’s lying on the couch.

If Eddie cares, he pays no mind, his head curling up into the crook of Steve’s neck as he hugs him closer. His hair gets in Steve’s mouth, making him splutter for a second, but Eddie just grins, wriggling closer until they’re pressed firmly against each other. Steve would go as far as to say this is closer to cuddling than a hug, with Eddie squishing him from above, his arms around Steve’s middle.

“Just so you know,” Eddie’s voice rumbles from where their chests are touching, his breath sweeping across Steve’s neck. Steve shivers without meaning to, feels Eddie’s responding grin even as he continues. “All hugs requested by me are automatically 10 minutes long. Hope you’re okay with that, sweetheart.”

Steve isn’t stupid — he knows Eddie is doing it for him, doing it because he could see right through Steve’s stupid facade, had peered his yawning hunger for touch right in the face and hadn’t blanched. Instead of feeling tricked or fooled, Steve just feels…warm. Comfortable. He works his arms around Eddie’s neck til their more comfortable and find the courage in him scrape his fingers through Eddie’s hair— like he had done to Steve. Eddie’s sighs sweetly and Steve thinks he could listen to that noise forever.

“I’m… I’m okay with that.” Steve murmurs lowly, yet he knows Eddie can hear him. Eddie noses closer, a borderline nuzzle against his neck, and further down, one his hands starts to stroke softly up and down Steve’s ribs.

Steve can’t help the way it makes him freeze, the breath in his lungs holding tight as he tries to relax, tries to ignore the prickly feeling under his skin. It’s a lot. A lot of touch that Steve just isn’t used to just yet, even if he desperately craves it.

“Relax,” Eddie whispers into his skin, a soft instruction paired with the motion, one soothing stroke up and down his ribs. Steve pushes the breath in his lungs out, forces the tension out of his body, trusts that Eddie wouldn’t be offering— wouldn’t tell him to relax if he wasn’t allowed to.

“That’s it.” Eddie praises, feeling the body beneath him settle and sink a little lower into the couch. “Now, watch the movie.” Eddie instructs, jutting at the still playing screen with his chin. Steve laughs a bit, but obeys, turning his head to see what part they’d gotten up to. They’d missed a big chunk in their hug. Steve nearly apologises for it, the words on the tip of his tongue, before he decides Eddie might smack him for it.

So, he doesn’t. He watches the film, let’s the gentle touch of Eddie on his skin relax him til sleepiness starts to fill each of his limbs, heavy like lead. Eddie’s hand stops moving eventually, when his breath gets heavier, lulled by Steve’s scratch in his hair. A snore starts up, loud and quite frankly, annoying, and yet, Steve finds that with Eddie’s arms around him, he has no trouble finding sleep.

It’s the first time in years Steve’s fallen asleep in someone else’s arms. And even if he doesn't know it yet, it’s certainly not the last.

now with a part two!

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gglitch1dd · 2 months

Note

Glitch, I have a few things to say.. I am COMPLETELY OBSESSED WITH YOUR WRITING! *most especially, DILF Izu!

And major question, Is Inko still alive in the Cheating DILF Izuku universe? If so, Would she be able to figure out what the Number 1 couples' situation is?? Maybe she would start noticing the signs? Am seriously such a sucker for how you write angst! Hope you're in good health always ♡

Cheating Dilf Izuku Pt2.5

[Cheating Dilf Izuku Masterlist]

Inko is still alive!!

It's just that after the funeral and everything, Izuku and reader were rather hesitant to accept her help because they didn't want to not be able to do it on their own (they couldn't). And Inko does see it and notices it.

Inko and her son are very close but so is Reader and Inko too. She notices that the couple stops talking about one another, she notices that the boys seem rather on edge and she notices that you both look drained. She notices and she really does want to to do something.

"Okaasan, I have no idea what you're talking about." Izuku stated as he held his phone to his ear as he organised the laundry as he sat on the floor in the laundry room.

"Izuku, I'm smarter than you give me credit for. I know something's wrong." She said gently but still stern. "All I'm saying is, you can bring the boys to me and I can take care of them for a week. You and Y/N can go and spend some time together. Like you used to."

Izuku paused as he held a pair of mismatched socks. His mother wasn't entirely wrong. You and him did use to go on little mini vacations together. Usually not spanning more than a weekend every six or so months where you would just spend time as a couple. It was something you both always looked forward to, despite loving your boys to bits.

Often than not there was a resort in Okinawa that the both of you loved to go to, just the two of you. But it had bene just more than a year since you last went, especially since you were both supposed to go five months ago but Lord knows that didn't happen.

Izuku sighed as he set down the socks he had in his hands. "I don't know. Okaasan." He let out with a sigh. "Y/N and I... we just... I don't think she'd want to go."

"Stuff and nonsense, Izu. Why wouldn't she? I know how much she knows you adore her."

That was painful. Izuku bit back a grimace as he sighed. He leaned back, surrounded by laundry baskets that were labeled for each boy. He looked over to one that stayed filed up at the top away from sight. A label on it that read a single name. Shoyo.

"Okaasan..." He whispered as he looked up at the basket. "I really messed up." He said quietly. "I... I don't think things will ever be the same."

Inko was silent for a moment before a small sigh left her mouth. "Izuku, I won't lie to you and say that you're wrong. You're right. It won't ever be the same. Losing a child is an unbearable sort of pain that hurts more than anything imaginable." Izuku closed his eyes not wanting to think about it. "And I wish I could say that it doesn't change things. It does. However, we can only pick up the pieces and try to make life a little bit better. Talk about this to her and see what she says. I think it would be good for the both of you if you got away for a while."

Izuku was silent for a moment as he thought about it. He let out a sigh as he leaned back for a moment. There was no harm in asking and the worst you could say was no...

Actually he was wrong. The worst you could say would probably make him feel like a damn fool and no would be the best thing you could say.

But if he wanted to win his wife back... He'd have to try everything he had until his last breath.

He sighed. "Fine. Fine, I'll talk to her."

He heard some giggles on the otherside of the line before a happy laugh. "Izu you won't regret it! I can't wait to see my grandbabies again!"

Izuku raised an eyebrow as he put the socks in the washing machine like he was doing previously. "Is this you trying to help my marriage or you having an excuse to see the boys?"

"... both." He could hear her smile and it made him laugh.

After finishing with the laundry, Izuku mustered up the courage to walk into your bedroom. You were laying in bed with your laptop in front of you while Koda took a nap beside you. The little four year old held onto your arm in his sleep as you typed away on your laptop. A bunny sitting at the foot of your bed.

Izuku closed the door behind him as he kept himself a good distance away from you, not wanting to overstep. "Y/N."

"Hm?" You didn't look up at him as you kept busy at whatever you were doing. Before, you used to always pause and listen to whatever he had to say. But then again, that was when he deserved it.

"How about we go to Okinawa?"

The question made you freeze. Your eyes flicked up from your laptop before you slowly turned to look up at him. Your eyes slowly went into a glare. "To do what?" You asked, not hostility in your voice but apprehension.

"You know, just..." He shrugged. "We could spend some time there, you and me. We haven't gone in a while and I think it would be nice." You stayed silent as you just watched him. He felt nervous at your eyes on him like that. He took a step forward. "Just after our holiday with the boys and everyone, we could... if you want."

You stared at him for another minute. You then let out a scoff and turned back to continue whatever it was you were doing on your laptop. You continued to type as you kept your eyes on the screen in front of you.

Izuku let out a quiet sigh, not exactly surprised. His shoulders dropped as he turned to head to the shower.

"I'll think about it."

The sound of your voice made him freeze in place. He turned back to look at you but you continued to type away, ignoring him otherwise.

That was enough to make him smile, knowing that you gave him just a lick of hope was enough to make him happy with your answer.

-Glitch1d

#midoriya x reader angst #izuku midoriya x reader #mha x y/n #bnha #deku x reader #dilf izuku midoriya #dilf midoriya #dilf deku #dilf mha #izuku midoria x reader #midoriya izuku #bnha midoriya #midoriya izuku angst #izuku midoriya

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russellsppttemplates · 3 months

Text

I'm always over the moon (Lando Norris)

A look into your and Lando's little life moments

Note: english is not my first language. It's fluffy, so you know I pratically melted (and am now feeling single in about seventeen different levels)✨️

Thank you so much to everyone who likes and reblogs, your feedback is appreciated 🤍 and I'm taking requests so if you have any ideas or concepts you want to share, feel free to do so as I'll try to get to them the best I can!

my masterlist

Tw: mentions accident drop of a glass and possibility of injury

Tag list: @myloverjk-blog

Today's training session was particularly hard, Jon having Lando run a considerable amount of kilometres more than the usual distance followed by a weights session. By the time he was finished his cryotherapy session, he was more than ready to go home and snuggle up to you in the sofa.

Setting his keys on the little bowl by the door, Lando left his shoes on the coat cabinet by the door before walking to the ensuite bathroom where he heard noise from.

"I'm home, baby", he said, crossing the corner and resting his body on the side of the door, watching you rub product on your face.

"Hey, Lan", you smiled at him through the mirror, putting the lid on the pot you were using and storing it away.

Approaching him, you laced your arms around his neck, fingers playing with the curls ay the nape of his neck, "how was your session?", you wondered before kissing his lips.

"It was a killer, Jon set out to push me to the limit today", he hummed, hands finding your waist and holding your body close to his, "and you?", he checked.

"I worked all day, finally finished the prototypes for the next Quadrant campaign, then I worked out and I was just finishing my shower when you arrived", you added.

"I should've come home earlier, I could have joined you in there", he smirked, lowering his head to your neck and kissing the skin softly, earning your giggles as you squirmed.

"You're tickling me", you smiled, curling yourself closer against him, "but it's alright, baby, we'll do it another time".

When you separated yourself from his slightly, Lando noticed what you were wearing, "ugh, baby, I don't know what would be better, getting home when you were in the shower or this", he complimented.

"What do you mean?", you scrunched your eyebrows, looking down at your outfit. Because you had moisturised your whole body, from head to toe, after your workout, you decided to put on your tiny pyjamas shorts and one of Lando's t-shirts, the bottom piece fitting your thighs loosely while his t-shirt fit snug on your hips and chest, the fabric leaving little to the imagination. Even though he knew everything it kept away, he loved the way your curvilinear body looked in his t-shirt.

"I love it when you wear my clothes, they look so good on you, too god even", he nibbled on your ear lobe, hands tapping your thighs so you knew to jump and wrap your legs around his waist.

"I thought you were too tired, baby", you brushed the curls away from his eyes, "I am, but that doesn't mean I won't spend the evening glued to you", he winked, carrying you to the sofa in the living room, laying you both down and wrapping you both in a blanket.

"Can't have you feeling cold, baby", he mumbled, fixing the blanket before his hand travelled under the t-shirt and settled on your tummy, making you hum in content, "I love you, baby", you cooed.

"Alright, let's get to work!", Lando clapped after setting the last box on the living room floor.

When you moved all of the things you wanted to Monaco, Lando insisted you should bring your favourite books, reasoning that the apartment should also have some of your things instead of just his helmets for decoration. So, three boxes were shipped with your favourite book collections and stand alones and, you and Lando took the afternoon to organise them.

"I get this can be boring for you, Lan, I can do it myself if you want to go stream or just game", you added, kissing his cheek lovingly.

"Absolutely not, baby, I want to help you! So, how do you want this?", he asked as he looked at what was in the boxes, "do you want to do this by colour? Genre? Date? The ones you've read and the ones you haven't read yet", he suggested.

"We can go a bit with the colour schemes you already have with the helmets", you tried, looking over at the colour palette the books made up.

Wiping the shelves one last time, you sat on the floor and handed the books over to your boyfriend, guiding him through the order and way you wanted to display them.

"Oh, I remember this one - I read it to you the first time I spent the night at your place! You didn't want to seem weird and admit you needed to read a little before going to bed and thought you could go without it for one night!", he smiled at the memory, "Little did you know that it was another one of the things that attracted me to you and I was more than happy to read to you", he winked, leaving you flustered as you handed him the next book, "very smooth, Mr. Norris", you blushed.

"I like to keep you on your toes", he chuckled, "next, there's room for that big collection there", he pointed to the eight books that shared the same design, "might be a tight squeeze, but I think it's fine", he muttered as you handed him the books.

By the time you finished, the living room looked like a good mixture of you and Lando. The books added a pop of colour and softer tone along with the new picture frames you scattered.

"It looks great", Lando said, pulling you closer to him as he wrapped his arm around your shoulder, "our home is coming together nicely", he kissed the side of your head.

"They can spend the day, of course I don't mind", you smiled as you out the cutlery away in the drawer.

"It's your home too, baby, just wanted to make sure you're fine with it", Lando reasoned as he wiped the counter.

It was still weird to refer to the apartment as your home, but you wouldn't have it any other way. Closing the door and moving to the cups drying on the counter, you grabbed a tea towell and started drying them before setting them in the cupboard.

"I'll make sure to not make too much noise, or I can go and work at the café down the street, it's - shoot!", you cursed as the glass slipped from your hold, falling on the floor and shattering into little pieces.

"Careful, darling, you might hurt yourself more", Lando urged, stretching his arms and helping you stand where there were no glass shards.

"I'm sorry, I thought the towell wasn't that slippery", you said as Lando scanned your hands for any cuts or injuries, moving to your feet and ankles.

"It's okay, baby, I don't care about the glass, I care about you", he kissed your fingers, "there's a little graze here", he pointed to the small nick on your skin, "go wash it off while gather these", he kissed your cheek and looked for the broom.

Making sure he had sweeped all of it and then passing the vacuum cleaner just to make sure, Lando finished putting the glasses away as you stood by the door, "it's fine,Y/N, we'll go to IKEA and get a new one", he conforted, "now, are we ready for bed?", he wondered as he held your hand as you walked to the bedroom.

"My shoulders are killing me, I think I slept funny", you mumbled, trying to find a good position against the office chair, Lando's look questioning your movements.

"Are you in pain? You should've said something", he tutted, hands coming to rub the muscles along your shoulders and neck as Ria went over the latest filming plans.

"Y/N, are you okay, girl?", Ria asked, concerned at the faces you were pulling, "are you sure he's helping you rather than making it worse?", she teased.

"Hey!", Lando yelled, "I'm trying to be a great boyfriend, making sure she's feeling well and taken care of! I think that's jealousy", he smirked, poking his tongue out at her.

"It's feeling good, handsome, especially right there", you groaned, earning a whistle from Max.

"If you guys need a room, I'm sure they can find something relatively kept away!", he laughed, luckily missing the pillow your boyfriend threw at him, "no need to resort to violence, guys!".

"Bring that pillow over here, please, I actually need it", you asked him, taking it from his hands as he quickly walked away, "what, are you afraid I was going to make you trip?", you giggled.

"I don't know, the two of you are never up to any good!", Max raised his hands in defense as Lando kissed your forehead, "He's just jealous because we're a great team and P isn't here with him".

Weekends with no racing and no plans quickly became your favourite because you were able to spend as much time as you possibly could with Lando, the triple header ahead of you already promising to make spending time just with him on your own a bit difficult.

When Lando woke up like clockwork, he stretched his neck just enough to watch you sleep cuddled up to his side, your hand grabbing a handful of the sheets that were keeping you warm as you peacefully slept, and knowing how much Quadrant had kept you up late that past week, he thought it would be nice to let you sleep for a bit longer.

Carefully getting up to not wake you up, Lando kissed your cheek soflty and made his side of the bed, tucking the sheets around your body as he lightly kissed your head one last time before he went to the ensuite to change into his workout clothes.

Heading to the kitchen, Lando filled his water bottle and grabbed a pre-workout snack to take to the home gym. Looking at the equipment in the room and the cardio indications Jon had sent him, he decided that he was going on the bike, figuring that, even though the sound isolation was pretty good, it would be the least likely to make too much noise to the point of waking you up, following up with some weights and then stretching.

He was all sweaty when he walked back into the bedroom, ready to have a shower when he heard the sheets ruffling, "hey, baby, good morning", he smiled, "you can go back to sleep, I just need to take a shower, I'm sorry I woke you up", he pouted.

"Morning", you yawned, "I'm going to shower with you", you smiled sleepily, getting up and joining him in the ensuite.

Leaving your clothes in a pile on the floor, Lando got the shower started, making sure the water was warm as you both liked before stepping in with you, letting the water wash away before you grabbed your shower gel, lathering it on Lando's hands and then on yours as you both helped the other wash off, stealing kissing and caresses along the way.

When you got back to the bedroom and dressed in lounge wear clothes, you were ready to have breakfast, finding the overnight oats in the kitchen, "I don't mind if you want to eat something else", Lando offered.

"These are good, I don't mind it", you said, "but I am going to make my latte because my brain can't go without the caffeine", you scrunched up your nose, earning his giggles as you turned on the coffee machine.

"Can I have a little sip, please?", Lando asked once you frothed up the milk, "of course, here baby", you encouraged, bringing the mug up to his lips and having your hand form a shell under it just in case it spilled.

Lando was left with a little foam moustache, earning a giggle from you as you kissed him, "my little frothy man", you cupped his cheek before kissing him properly, "I love you, Y/N", he whispered, pulling you into his embrace.

"You pick the movie, I have to go pee", you said to your boyfriend, letting him walk inside the living room as you continued down the hall to the bathroom.

For tonight's plan, you and Lando decided to stay in and cook together, wanting to enjoy the small task without rushing or heating up something from his meal plan, still making something healthy and approved by his team.

When you got back to the living room,

Lando had his Spotify app on the TV, a slow song you recognised from his brother's wedding playlist ready to play, "would you do me the honour of joining me in this dance?", he asked, kissing your knuckles before looking up at you, eyes sparkly as you replied, "yes, I will", you smiled, allowing him to push you flush to his chest, slowdancing in the living room once he started the song, your head in his chest listening to his steady heartbeat.

"Everyday I thank my lucky starts that we met, that I was bold enough to ask you out and that you've stayed with me all of these years", he broke the silence as he unattached his lips from your temple, "and I never want to loose this, little touches, giggles, wins and losses, all of it", he smiled.

"You're the best thing that has happened to me, Lando", you cupped his face in your hands, thumbs brushing his cheeks as he smiled, "I can only hope you feel as happy as I do when I'm with you".

"Darling, with you, I'm always over the moon", he giggled, kissing your lips softly as he stumbled you two into the sofa, roaming hands and tongues battling eachother as a night of love and passion unfolded.

#lando norris imagine #lando norris x reader #lando norris fanfic #lando norris fluff #f1 imagine #f1 fluff #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic

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luveline · 10 months

Note

could i request teacher!reader with hotch? like maybe she’s jacks teacher

thank you for your request! fem!reader, 1.2k

You're a teacher: you're always tired. Overworked, underpaid, everybody knows how it goes. And maybe you've let yourself go because you don't have any real material hopes for the future beyond getting Macy Danish to read at a first grade level, but how were you supposed to know that Jack Hotchner's father would be so overwhelmingly attractive? It's not fair.

He's handsome though older than you'd been expecting, but that isn't the cut and dry of it. When he comes in, it's alone, in a well-fitted suit. He's tall and remarkably dark-eyed, shaking your hand without trying to impose any authority, as some of the fathers tend to do, and when you call him Mr. Hotchner, he says, "Aaron, please," but continues to call you Ms. L/N.

"Aaron," you say, pulling your skirt under your thighs as you sit down. You're dressed in nice clothes for the parent-teacher conferences, but you could've covered your sleeplessness better. "Jack is the nicest boy in class. He's actually my loveliest kid. Um…" You search through your notes for the preliminary assessment of Jack. "Sorry, two seconds."

"Take your time. I know what it's like to dig through a mountain of paperwork every day."

"Jack mentioned you work in the government, he calls you a special agent," you say, smiling. "You get the bad guys."

"I am a special agent. Supervisory." Aaron is conscientious enough to pretend he doesn't notice your surprise. "I'm chief of the behavioural analysis unit."

You can't even begin to guess what that entails. "Oh," you say breathlessly.

"I understand that it sounds fantastical."

"It sounds impressive," you say, floundering to correct yourself. Behavioural analysis? It must be obvious to him how nervous he's making you, then, and when you realise that, you get worse. "I'm so sorry about this. I should be more organised. I usually am."

"That's alright. Take your time."

Does he always speak that way? His voice is like fucking silk? Is he messing with you?

You yank the notes you made for Jack from the pile and flatten them across the desk. "Okay, sorry. Like I was saying, Jack is really the nicest kid, him and his friend Molly. They're both lovely, and teachers shouldn't have favourites, please don't tell the other parents, but they're my favourites." You smile at him quickly and return your eyes to the paper. The words swim in front of your eyes. "Jack can read better than you could ever hope for a first grader, he's immensely intelligent for his age group. He's patient. He'll explain anything to anyone if they ask him too, and he does it well."

"I'm glad to hear that," he says, again so softly.

You pick up one of your skinny biros to have something to fidget with. He's a very good looking man, but you're a good teacher. You can focus on what to say. Some parents need good things only. Some need reassurement that they're doing a good job. Aaron is harder to read, but you know what he needs, too.

"He can be lonely," you say, looking him in the eye. "I don't think that that's down to any fault. I'm sure you know better than I do why he might feel that way." You know about his mom's passing over a year ago. You've seen grief in children too many times. "He… I understand if this isn't okay with you, but he eats lunch with me sometimes. I encourage him to sit with his peers, of course, but I think he runs out of energy pretty quickly."

Aaron nods thoughtfully. His brows quirk into a furrow that you're afraid is directed at you.

"I don't think he necessarily has trouble connecting with his friends."

"What do you think?"

"I think something awful happened to your family, and Jack will feel it for the rest of his life, but that it won't stop him from being great. It already isn't. And… he clearly has a father who loves him and who he admires. You're his second favourite topic."

"What's his first?" he asks.

"He's really into Fruity Fridays," you say with a laugh. "I bring in fruits you don't get often in America. Someone would've had to sign a form."

"No, I remember signing it. He likes that?" His smile is golden. "I can't get him to try new things."

"He had all the leftover gold kiwi last week." You rub your lips together. Time is ticking. You have nearly thirty parents to see tonight, but talking to Mr. Hotchner has been so normal. He's a regular person in a sea of inattentive helicopter narcissists. It's a relief and a half to meet him and know a kid as gentle as Jack is in good hands. "Mr. Hotchner, I have to tell you, I'm really relieved to meet you."

"Aaron," he corrects.

Your tone drops too low. "Aaron."

"I'm more than relieved," he says. "I knew that this year would be harder for him. I didn't know… I'm grateful to you, for being so kind with him."

You look down at your notes, flushed from head to toe despite your airy skirt. Crossing your legs, you shake your head. "It's my job."

"To let him take up the only break you get all day?" he asks.

"It's not like that. Jack doesn't bother me." You fold your notes in half. "I can see his role model measures up."

"I could say the same thing."

The next time you see Jack, bright and early Monday mooring shepherded by his aunt Jessica, he's very happy to see you. You offer him a hug and pat his back when he wraps his arms around your hips. "Hello, Jack. Was your dad pleased with your drawings?"

Jack smiles at you. "I have a note for you."

"You do? Can I see? Where is it, honey?"

Jack takes off his backpack and pulls out the note and a tupperware container. "Oh, wow, did you make treats for the class? Jack, that's so nice!"

"No. Dad said those are for you. He said you should have nice for nice, or something," Jack informs you.

"You'll share with me, though? I can't eat them all by myself," you whisper.

He nods with enthusiasm and runs off to put his backpack in his cubby and his coat on the hook. You look down at the cookies and note, which is actually an envelope.

You open it with your thumbnail. The writing is Aaron's usual tight cursive.

Dear Miss L/N,

I hoped to thank you again in person, but work makes that hard. I appreciate everything you do for Jack. There are teachers who work, and there are teachers who go above and beyond. I can feel confident anywhere in the country knowing Jack is being taught by the latter.

Gratefully yours,

Aaron Hotchner.

P.S. Please don't feed Jack too many cookies. They're not for him.

You keep the letter even if it's lame to do so. When is the next parent teacher conference, anyways?

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x y/n #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner blurb #aaron hotchner drabble #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fic #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotchner fanfiction #criminal minds #hotch x reader #hotch #hotch x you #hotch blurb #hotch drabble

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neteyamslovrr · 1 year

Note

hellooo! i absolutely love your writing, you’re very talented! i was wondering if you could write a aonung x fem!metkayina!reader for me where y/n makes a gift for aonung out of random little trinkets but gets super embarrassed so she quickly lays it on the ground next to him and runs off. idk it just sounds adorable to me! if you can’t do that or can think of a better way to write it than i’m explaining, that’s fine! <333

A Necklace

summary: Y/N is not a well-known member of the Metkayina, yet she yearns for the Olo’eyktan’s son Ao’nung, so she makes him a gift to show her affection towards the boy

1.2k words!

──── ⑅*❀*⑅ ────

You grew up hearing the story about how your mother courted your father. It was a warm day and your mother had worked for weeks assembling a seashell embellished headpiece for him to wear. Your mother gave it to your father as she confessed her feelings, and your father has yet to remove the headpiece from his body.

You couldn’t help but think of a certain boy when your mother repeats the story to you. Ao’nung. The clan leader’s son. His hair was tied perfectly into a bun, letting his curls out on display, his arms were wide and the way he smiled made your heart flutter.

You talked to him occasionally as you were friends with Tsireya. It was short-lived conversations as you could never keep them going due to the feeling of butterflies in your stomach making you so nervous you felt as if you might throw up.

Whenever he looked at you his eyes shimmered in the sunlight and his skin softly glowed. You were convinced he was the most beautiful man in Pandora. You had to tell him your feelings. Whether he accepted them or not, you had to tell him so the butterflies in your stomach could flourish or they could return back to cocoons and be hidden again.

Going on your daily walk you spotted a beautiful seashell that the tide had only just brought in. It was small maybe the size of your fingertip, shaped in a delicate spiral, it was painted a sage green colour with subtle hints of white striped across it. Picking it up carefully you inspected it. It was really quite beautiful.

The idea hit you like a strong wave. You were going to make Ao’nung a necklace, confess your feelings and pray to Eywa he is kind to your heart. A rush of motivation flowing through your veins, you began to pick up little seashells and rocks you found across the beachfront.

Tsireya spotted you down by the beach and ran towards you. “What are you up to?” She inquired at you. Surprised you took the shells and other things you have found and hid them behind your back.

“Nothing!” You smiled mischievously. You were a terrible liar and Tsireya knew that. She rolled her eyes and quickly span you around seeing the shells.

“Why are you hiding shells? Are they magical?” She joked looking into your tightly shut palm.

“You have to keep this secret, okay?.” You said to her in a hush tone. Tsireya looked at you waiting with anticipation for you to say your secret. “I like Ao’nung and want to make him a gift.”

Tsireya’s lips grew into a smile that soon let out a loud giggle. “Y/N everyone knows you like my brother! You are so obvious with your affections towards him. You’re anything but subtle.” You felt as if your heart dropped to your toes letting out a grumble of embarrassment.

“Shut up about my subtly and never ever let Ao’nung know about this gift, I beg you.” Tsireya nodded patting your shoulder.

“I’d never tell him that. I’m your friend not just his sister.” You thanked her before scurrying off back to your home. Laying down all of the shells on your floor you organised it into a repeating pattern. In the middle was a large white shell that had green designs on the inside of it. On each side you put the small spiral shells you first found. Then finally you found some small beads your mother had made out of clay. Using some string you tied it together and prayed that Ao’nung would accept the gift along with your feelings.

Mustering up at least a tiny bit of courage you walked towards were Ao’nung usually spent his afternoons alone. You’d noticed his habit of sitting on the beach just as the sun began to fall a couple of years before and you always saw him sitting peaceful, letting the oceans breeze calm him.

You walked so that you were a couple of meters behind him and watched him in all his glory. Maybe this is why everyone knew you loved him, you really weren’t subtle on where your gaze was fixated. Seeing him so calm and close to dozing to sleep you walked towards him silently laying the necklace beside him praying he wouldn’t notice you. You slowly backed away from him.

You were sure you gift had been delivered successfully until you stepped on a inconveniently loud twig, snapping it in half. “Shit!” you muttered to yourself seeing Ao’nung startled. “Fuck fuck fuck” you grumbled to yourself trying to walk fast back to the village.

Ao’nung turned to his left to see a beautiful necklace laid out beside him. He noticed the way the shells had been specifically placed and the way the necklace was lightly tied at the end so someone could easily undo it. Looking around he noticed your fast moving figure.

“Y/N!” he shouted. You halted in your tracks cursing yourself and that stupid stick. You waved while slowly waking towards him. It suddenly clicked to him, you made him this necklace. Wait, you made him that necklace. The fact you thought of him enough to do this made his heart flutter, along with the fact he longed for you since the moment he first met you. He smiled up at you. “Did you make this?” He said carefully picking up the necklace as he got himself off the ground.

You nodded at him looking down. Must Eywa punish you so much. This was so embarrassing. You were going to burn that stick in a flame full of fury after Ao’nung rejects you. “I made it for you.” You stated to him feeling as if your stomach resided in your pelvis.

“It is beautiful, thankyou Y/N.” He said looking at it. Your eyes perked up looking up to him smiling to himself. “Help me put it on.” He demanded opening the knot and handing the two side of the necklace to you.

Turning so his back faced you, he crouched slightly. Your arms looped around his neck and carefully tied the necklace together, the shells making quiet clicking noises as they hit his skin.

“There you go.” You smiled up at him, was he really accepting your gift, this must be a dream. “I thought of you when looking at the shells, as they’re so beautiful.” Ao’nung felt like his cheeks were on fire. His heartbeat fast, you thought he was beautiful?

“I do agree, these shells are beautiful. But Y/N nothing could amount to your beauty.” He spoke softly. Inside your heart was ready to take off and burst through your ribs. This must all be fake. It had to be a dream

You blushed covering your face in embarrassment as Ao’nung chuckled at your reaction and grabbed your hands gently to reveal your huge smile. Oh, he could never get tired of that face.

Looking up at his smug face your body filled with courage as you hopped onto your tippy toes to leave a soft peck on Ao’nung cheek. Before he could react, you had run off in embarrassment ready to debrief everything to Tsireya.

“What a weirdo.” He chuckled to himself putting his finger on where your kiss had left tingles on his cheek and left his heartbeat fast as he touched the handpicked shells on his necklace

──── ⑅*❀*⑅ ────

authors note: thankq sm for requesting! i hope you liked it

#aonung x reader #ao'nung x reader #aonung #ao'nung #ao'nung oneshot #aonung imagine #aonung fluff #ao'nung fluff #avatar #avatar the way of water #ao'nungxy/n #ao'nung x y/n #ao'nung fic #tsireya #avatar2 #avatar fanfiction #avatar 2 fanfic #avatar imagines #avatar oneshot

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charcoallbaby · 1 month

Text

dirty little secret

smut! choking, cheating and reader gets tied up.

someone asked for a cheating matt so here!!! very rushed but hope you enjoy! happy to be writing again.

every friday at 6:30pm he was outside my door, waiting in his car until i came outside. the second he saw me close my apartment door after myself, he immediately got out of his car, opened the passenger door for me and got back into the drivers seat.

when i got into his car, he would greet me, drive to a enclosed area and fuck me rough in his back seats.

our schedule is friday night until sunday night. he fucks me for them 2 days straight.

no one knows what we do together. not his best friend, not my bestriend not even his own brothers know what we do on the weekends. well i know for a fact that they can hear us, well mostly me. he tells me to be quiet when he’s thrusting into me but i can’t help but scream from his size.

if i ever see him in public which i mostly do, he’s my boyfriends close friend.

my boyfriend tucker. brief summary of him; he treats me like shit, he can’t make me come(matt always makes me come) and he works late on weekends so i never see him, he doesn’t suspect anything.

matt’s brothers don’t know that it’s me he’s fucking. if they knew he would definitely be called out.

as i was saying, if i ever see him in public i can’t be caught looking at him, even when he’s talking. it’s one of his rules. he’s the quietest out of the whole group, so there’s not a lot of talking coming from him.

he rubs my damp panties underneath the table with his veiny hands, with long fingers and thick rings covered on them and no one bats an eye.

it was a friday night. it was my twenty-first. my best friend violet organised a party with all our friends, matt included of course. violet made sure it was at the bar my boyfriend works at, so he could “see me.” it’s only because they don’t ID and she’s still twenty. i made sure to buy a nice fitting dress that showed my curves and of course, my boobs were nearly spilling out of it, it was all for matt. i didn’t care if my boyfriend stared at me, i didn’t care if any random guy stared at me. all i cared about was if matt stared at me. i wanted him to punish me for wearing such a revealing dress around him, i wanted him to not be able to contain himself around me.

matt and his two brothers chris and nick walked in through the door.

my breathing hitched. he looked so good.

rings covering his fingers, a chain around his neck that i loved to pull and that i broke way too many times.

“happy birthday!” nick chimed. i smiled at him, trying to not stare at his brother. “thank you nick, thank you both for coming!” my eyes skimmed past matt’s. i made eye contact with chris and smiled at him. he was sweet. “of course, where’s the restroom though?” “i’m gonna piss myself!” chris squealed. i laughed. “it’s over there to the right,” i pointed towards the back of the building. “thank you!” chris ran off. “is violet here?” nick asked. “yeah, she’s somewhere in the crowd of people.” “come find her with me!” nick dragged me by hand into the group of people.

“nick!” violet exclaimed, taking her arms off her boyfriend and wrapped her arms around nick. “how are you?” he asked pulling away. “i’m good!”

matt stood behind us. i could fill his presence. “i’m getting a drink nick, what do you want?” he mumbled. “dr pepper, you better buy the birthday girl a drink!” nick turned me around to look at matt.

matt stared down at me. i gulped. “what could you like birthday girl?” i could feel the dampness between my legs begin. “malibu and coke please.” he nodded his head before making his way over to the bar. he went straight up to tucker, my boyfriend. i tried to indulge in the conversation that violet and nick were having, i couldn’t. my eyes kept reverting back up to matt talking to tucker and i wanted to die.

matt came back with the drinks. his hand briefly touching off mine. “thanks.” i mumbled. “i’m going to find chris.” matt stated. “okay!” nick looked between me and violet.

i walked out of the restroom, well i was walking until my body clashed into something hard.

“what do you think your doing?” he growled. i looked at his arm, tattoos. matt.

“w-what do you mean,” i stuttered. “in that little slutty dress acting so innocent,” he closed the space between us making me back into the wall behind me. “i’m not innocent you know me well matt,” i batted my eyelashes. “stop!” he wrapped his hands around my neck, gently squeezing. “harder daddy,” i teased him, a smirk planted onto my face. matt’s hooded eyes stared down at me. “listen to me baby,” his grip got harder. “we’re gonna go out there and your going to tell everyone you don’t feel so good,” “your gonna go back to your apartment, strip naked for me and wait until i punish you okay?” his left hand soft caressed my face. i nodded my head. “okay good girl go!” he let go of me. as i walked away matt lightly slapped my ass making me turn back at scowl at him. he had a pretty smile on his face.

“happy birthday sweetie,” tucker wrapped his arms around my waist. i cringed at the pet name, was he my mom?

“thank you,” i gave him a fake smile. “i don’t feel so good sadly, im gonna have to head home, i have work tomorrow anyway,” i pulled away from his grip. “but it’s just my break now?” he furrowed his eyebrows. “im sorry, i’ll make it up to you.” that was a lie.

it wasn’t that late when i got home.

i slipped out of my dress into something more comfortable and layed on my couch until i heard that very familiar buzzer sound.

“i missed fucking you in my car,” matt pecked my lips. “well you get to fuck me in my bed, that’s even better.” i pecked his lips back. “come on, i have a surprise.” matt held his hand out.

i layed down on my bed, my eyes closed as matt told me to wait. my heart was beating fast, i didn’t know what to expect.

i opened my eyes. matt grabbed a tie from his jean pocket. “hands up,” he ordered. i nodded my head and quickly put my hands up for him. he roughly tied my hands against my head board. “this isn’t even the start baby,” he kissed me. i whimpered underneath him.

he left to find something in the kitchen.

i couldn’t see what he had but i could feel it.

a cold ice cube met my stomach. i gasped as matt ran it down my stomach. he guided it with his mouth, slowly meeting my thighs. a cry escaped me as matt moved the ice cube to my soaking sensitive flesh. he rubbed it over my clit. i didn’t know how it wasn’t melted already. i moaned as he made me even wetter. “please baby,” i managed to speak. “no i’m enjoying you like this,” he spoke from below me. i could barely look down at him from my arms being restrained. i put my head back, frustrated.

matt left again for the kitchen.

he came back with another piece of ice in his mouth, hovering over me.

this time he lowered the ice over my nipples making them suddenly get hard and point up. i tried to move for some friction but nothing was working. “matt-matt please, i’ll do anything,” i was now begging. he pulled away from me, dropping the ice cube down on the ground beside my bed.

“what should i start with first?” he scanned my body. “maaaaatttttttt!” i whined. “enough!” matt gritted his teeth. my eyes rolled into the back of my head, i was too overstimulated. my body was in so much pleasure.

matt began sucking on my soft pink nipples, slowly and softly, torturing me, going softly on purpose.

he made his way down to my soaking core, that was practically begging for him.

his middle finger coated in my juices as he pounded it into me. all i wanted was to grab him, which i couldn’t do.

“your so pretty baby,” “looking like this for me,” he positioned himself inbetween my thighs. he gave me a sweet innocent smile as he slowly ran his tongue between my folds making me scream. “i can’t do it.” i cried. the pleasure was too much, making my eyes water. “look at you,” matt pulled away from me. my juices all over his mouth and chin. “your such a mess already and i’m not even inside you.” he pulled my clit into his mouth.

matt kept my hands tied as he thrusted inside me.

he grabbed my legs and put them on his shoulders, so he could get deeper inside me. we were both a moaning mess.

i came. matt came.

“fucking ride me.” matt undid the tie around my hands and flipped me over.

i did as i was told. i rode matt like the good girl i was for him. he grabbed onto my hips and pushed me deeper inside making me lose control of the pace i was in.

less than 24 hours later.

“i know right?” tuckers hand wrapped around my waist.

matt was sending him daggers from across the room, he wasn’t staring at me. he hadn’t looked at me all night.

“thanks for the ride matt!” tucker shook matt’s hand. “of course bro,” matt mumbled.

“you coming?” tucker asked. “i left my lip liner somewhere in here, i’ll meet you inside okay?” i lied straight through my teeth. “okay, don’t be too long.” he winked which made my stomach churn.

tucker was now no longer to be seen. matt pulled me towards him. “your my dirty little secret baby, not him,” “are you gonna fuck him tonight?” he grabbed my face. i shook my head. “even if i did, i would think of you,” i gave him the most innocent look possible. “of course you would,” “enjoy your come-less sex baby, i’ll see you on friday.” he pressed a rough kiss against my lips.

i backed away and he let go of my face. i whimpered. “what’s wrong?” he titled his head.

i looked down at my skirt that was rising at my thighs. “that’s it,” “your mine now tell him to fuck off.” he kissed me hard and grabbed my waist.

sorry about it being short! i love you <333

#matt sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #nick sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #smut #imagine #pov #matt sturniolo smut

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dilemmaontwolegs · 2 years

Text

See No Evil, Hear No Evil {1}

Aemond One-Eye x deaf!fem!reader Summary: Love blossoms when you get to know the sweet man and not the cocky Prince. Warnings: fluff, Aegon being a predator, more fluff. I know lip reading is not easy or infallible but for this the reader is able to read lips almost perfectly. WC: 4.9k

Part One || Part Two || Part Three ||

Couples were dancing around the space that had earlier been occupied by long tables for the feast, their joyous smiles twisting your gut with jealousy. No one would ask you to join them, not when you could not hear the very music that set the pace.

Returning your attention to the table that you were seated at, you watched the men and women intently. Some glared at you when they caught your eyes on them, waving their hand as if it could blow you out of sight and out of mind. Moving on to the next, you found a single blue eye staring back.

Prince Aemond. He was another social outcast, though his personality was as much to blame as the jagged scar that ran through his left eye. There was always a taunting smirk on his lips and a cold gleam in his eye, it sent the courtiers vying for the hand of anyone but him. Not even the power hungry, attention seekers dared to subject themselves to his viperous nature.

His brother captured his attention and whatever spell had kept you enthralled with his stare broke. The two Targaryen princes leaned together and Aemond’s lips pursed as Aegon spoke with nervous mannerisms that warned you they would have been whispering, but you could read his lips.

“There is something desirable about a silent woman,” Aegon said as his eyes flickered your way. “But I would do anything to make her scream.”

Aemond’s lips pulled back with a sneer before he answered, “I can only imagine the depravities that fill your mind.”

“I do not think you have the creativity needed to imagine them, little brother.”

“Thank the gods for that blessing,” Aemond said as he leant back. “She is too intelligent for you anyhow.”

“Intelligent?” Aegon rocked back with a laugh that drew the others’ attention to him. “She cannot hear and does not speak.”

Aemond turned his eye back to you. “Then she must see a great deal, for there is definitely intelligence behind those eyes.”

“Then I would face her down when I bed her.”

You looked away and wrapped your fingers around the silver goblet so they were occupied and the trembling was hopefully unnoticeable. You had expected no better of the eldest son of the King, he was known to stick his fingers in many pies - though sometimes he didn’t stop at his fingers.

You might have been deaf to the tales the maids spoke of as they prepared you but you saw everything from the tears in their eyes to the bruises barely hidden by their uniforms. Just the thought of Aegon even noticing you had a knot twisting in your stomach.

Pushing the velvet-lined chair back, you rose from the table and nodded silently to the sickly Viserys. He gave a weak dismal wave of his hand that rested on the arm of his chair and you pressed your fingertips to your chin in return, thanking him for permitting your leave. After flattening the layers of skirts that had creased beneath the table, you laced your fingers together and ignored the two stares that watched your retreat from the dining room.

The feeling of spiders dancing down your spine didn’t ease, even after you had snaked your way through Red Keep to the atheneum. There would normally be a maester wandering the quiet halls full of books, organising the rows into alphabetical fashion and finding requested pieces for others, but with the late hour it was empty.

The scent of dust and beeswax greeted you as you closed the door behind you. Someone had been waxing a leather bound book cover and the yellow bar had been left beside a half shiny cover as if they might return at any moment. Walking over to the small table, you opened the cover to see what the book was and found it to be a personal journal of Aegon the Conqueror.

Warmth touched your nape and your lips parted with a sharp intake of breath as you spun around, your legs tangling in the skirts and your hip hitting the table with a sharp jolt of pain. Aemond stepped back with a smirk, his hands raised in innocence that was betrayed by the amusement in his eye.

“Apologies,” he said. “I did not mean to startle you.”

You rubbed your palm over the bruise that would no doubt be forming and narrowed your eyes at the blatant lie. “I shall rephrase, I did not mean for you to get hurt.” Aemond’s smirk grew until his lips parted and his shoulders bounced with a laugh. “I know you can understand me.”

He reached for you and you froze at the closeness, and his scent that washed over you as his hair nearly brushed your cheek. He smelt of the woods you had run through as a child, pine and earth, fresh and rich. Then there was the fruity yet tarty hint of wine that followed as he exhaled slowly, as if he had taken an equally long inhale of the floral perfume you wore.

As quick as he had come for you, he was gone, Aegon’s journal with him and you let out a shuddering breath as you realised you were not the object he had been reaching for. He seemed to take pleasure in the confusion on your face as he smirked once again and tucked the novel under his arm with a mocking bow.

His eye lingered on your hip as he straightened. “Take care, milady.”

You could not breathe again until the door sealed shut but you no longer felt the calm that you usually found in the athenium, the books no longer welcoming as the tall shelves towered above you with their dark shadows. Angered by the effect Aemond had in your place of sanctuary, you swiped a book from the closest shelf and made for your chambers and the thick lock bolt that you could hide behind.

The courtyard was busier than usual as you took a seat on a stool against the Keep walls. The airy space had become a favourite place to sit since you were not allowed to leave the high red brick walls without an escort. Since this was not your House territory you had to rely upon King Viserys’ white cloaked guards but you did not wish to make a fuss so you had not utilised the soldiers.

The sky was blue and the clouds that had blanketed the city at dawn were quickly evaporated by the heat and it enticed many others to step into the sunshine. Pulling your small bound notebook from the pocket in your skirt, you unwrapped a stick of coal and looked around for something to catch your eyes. The twin guards, Arryk and Erryk, were huddled close as they entered through the gates and your hand moved across the page.

E: She paid another maid to leave last night in the cover of darkness. That is the fourth this month. A: What did you expect? Bastards don’t belong in the Keep. E: Someone needs to stop him. A: Careful, brother, what you speak could be considered treason.

They disappeared deeper into the Keep and you read over the dialogue trying to understand what they had been talking of when a shadow passed over the page. You slammed the book closed and looked up, momentarily blinded by the bright sun reflecting off the head of long silvery white hair.

The stick of coal had fallen to the dirt in your rush to hide the page and Aemond crouched before you to gather it, holding it out in his palm. Your eyes lingered on the calluses from hours of training and the thin scars that littered the skin that peeked out from under his tunic.

You had not seen him since the incident in the atheneum and you had forgotten the connection that had seemed palpable in the days gone by but now you were once again caught by his eye. You had failed to notice the flecks of violet in the pale blue iris when you last saw them but that was in a dimly lit room, in the sun they were almost iridescent.

It wasn’t until he took your hand and unfurled your fingers that you realised how long you had stared, breaking away with embarrassment as he placed the coal into your palm. The hairs on your nape rose under the intensity of the moment and you curled your fingers around the coal gently so as not to crush your writing tool. You slipped the coal back into your pocket and pressed your fingers to your chin.

“You’re welcome,” he replied with a small smile. He reached for your face and your breath froze in your lungs as he ran his thumb softly across jaw. “Can’t have a smudge of coal hiding your beauty.”

You were certain you read his lips wrong but the flutter in your chest betrayed your common sense and a smile tugged at your lips. His eye followed the curve of your smile and he had to shake his head to clear his thoughts before rising to his feet.

“Care to walk with me, milady?”

You could feel eyes on you as the crowd snooped to see why the One Eyed Prince would be talking to you. You had long ago learned to ignore the stares but for some reason that seemed a harder task today. Tucking your notebook away, you accepted his offer with a nod and let him lead the way to the Royal gardens that were usually off limits.

“I must admit, you intrigue me,” Aemond said after stopping beneath the weirwood tree and facing you. “You and your notebook that you carry everywhere.”

You automatically pressed your hand to the reassuring weight and frowned, wondering where this was leading to.

“May I see it?”

Your fingers tightened around it and you shook your head adamantly. A heat flared across your skin at the thought of him reading your notes and looking at the drawings that you attempted. He appeared within the pages far too often for your own liking.

“As prince, I could demand it of you,” he said as he stepped closer. The wind changed and caught his hair, flicking wayward strands over his shoulder and the scent of lemon verbena shampoo drifted your way along with the purely masculine musk of sweat from training.

You walked away, needing to clear your senses that he overpowered much like his very presence in the garden. The notebook suddenly seemed like an anchor and each step was heavy as you took a seat on the edge of a long bench in the shade. From the corner of your vision you saw Aemond sit at the other end, the entire length separating him from you.

Tap, tap, tap.

Your fingers tingled with the vibrations as they rested atop the bench beside your legs.

Tap, tap, tap.

You turned to face Aemond and found his smirk growing as he used his fingernail to tap and scratch the wood.

“You can feel that, can’t you?”

You nodded your head and his smile grew, transforming his face and erasing the harsh lines that were usually shaped with a scowl. You startled with the realisation that you found him handsome and your palms grew warm as you wiped them on your dress that was suddenly too heavy for the spring weather.

Tap, tap, tap.

You were pulled from your thoughts and looked back at the prince, hoping he could not see the effect he had on you but the intensity to his stare made you feel naked, as if every thought you ever had was laid bare for him to read.

His lips parted with a sharp intake and he leant closer, though he was still far from reach as he mouthed the word, “Beautiful.”

There was something therapeutic in being around the horses and you often found yourself wandering into the stables. The servants and stableboys no longer sent you odd looks as they grew used to your presence most days and you were grateful to be left in solitude as you combed the black and grey haired stallion that had caught your eye.

You had just placed the comb back on the hook that hung beside the gate when you felt vibrations in the wood beneath your hand.

Tap, tap, tap.

Stunned, you turned to find Aemond resting against the gate with a lazy smile on his face.

“I hope you aren’t planning on stealing my horse, gorgeous.”

You rolled your eyes and didn't dignify him with an answer as you reached into your skirt pockets and found the carrot you had stolen from dinner the night before. Aemond’s shadow followed you as he opened the gate and stepped inside the stall, his hand landing gently on your shoulder so you were aware of where he was, as if you hadn’t been keeping track.

“No wonder Storm was slow to gallop,” Aemond said as he faced you from the other side of his horse, his hand petting down the long mane. “You have been spoiling him.”

You kept your palm flat as you Storm’s lips pulled back and he greedily took the carrot. The name suited the horse with his colourings of the turbulent stormy skies and you scratched his ear while he finished his snack.

“As much as I enjoy hearing my own voice, there must be another way for us to communicate.” Aemond stepped around the front of Storm and you frowned as you no longer felt the urge to back away from him as you had in the past. “Teach me the signs I have seen you do.”

You were shocked by his request even though you knew him to be an intellect and a scholar, the fact that he spent so many mornings training to be a warrior seemed to fill you with the idea that he was more brute than student. Your nursemaid had been the one to help you create the secret language but it had never really expanded past what a child might need to convey. You had relied upon written communication but that was only useful with the highborns who were educated, unfortunately most of the servants were illiterate.

Reaching into your pocket, you pulled out the notebook you were never without and tore out a blank page before he could see what secrets the book held. He watched as your handwriting sprawled across the page and you could see his chest bouncing with a laugh before he took it from you.

He slipped the note into the folds of his cloak with an amused smile, not at all offended by the message you had given him. You smell. Bathe first, then I will teach you.

“I shall meet you in the library, milady, after bathing of course.” He bowed at the waist though his eye never left you and you didn’t see the mocking smile he had given you the last time he had made the gesture. The pale blue orb seemed to zero in on the pulse at your neck, as if he could see how rapidly it raced in his intense presence. “I shall see you soon.”

Three Months Later

You had seen neither hide nor hair of Aemond as you strolled the halls of the Keep, the tourney for his brother’s name day was about to begin and you did not wish to enter the highborn box alone. Giving up hope on finding him, you followed the few other ladies who were late and slipped into the back row in the hopes your presence would go unnoticed.

The bench seat kept shifting as ladies rose with their garlands, tossing the favours to the lords who asked in hopes they might win their challenge with the luck. Each time they moved you cursed inwardly and settled your heart that pounded erratically, wishing the entire event be over with.

You were tracing the embroidered floral design on your skirts when a hand waved in front of your face and you nearly fell back in fright. The only person you knew it wasn’t was Aemond, he knew to touch your shoulder to get your attention so as not to give you a heart attack. Peering up as you clutched your chest, you found Lady Reyne looking apologetic as she pointed to the front where the jousting course was set.

Aemond sat atop his horse, patiently waiting with a smile as he caught your eyes. A thousand questions ran through your head as you rose from the bench and clutched the favour of woven asters and budding chrysanthemums to your breast. You could feel the eyes of the entire crowd following your steps down to the front of the highborn box and past King Viserys, but there was only one that held you captive.

“May I ask for your favour, milady?”

You nodded with a smile, grateful that you had taken his advice to make the flower crown. When he said that someone may ask one of you, your head had fallen back with a silent laugh before you shook your head, but he had insisted and you could not deny him.

Casting the favour out, it twirled down the length of his jousting pole until it reached his hand. His smile was brighter than the sun as he pulled at the reins of his stallion and made his way to the lists. His mother caught your hand with a gentle smile as you passed by and she patted the space beside her in invitation.

You ringed your fingers nervously as you watched Aemond’s armour shimmer in the sunlight while his horse paced, awaiting the drop of the flag to begin the match. Alicent placed her hand over yours, unclenching them and lacing them with hers as she fretted over her son. You could tell she liked the idea of seeing her son facing a jousting opponent as much as you did. You had seen the heinous injuries one could get in the sport.

Alicent patted your hand and you tore your eyes away from Aemond to look at her as she said, “He will be fine, dear. Aemond is one of the best.”

You nodded and hoped it looked reassuring before you noticed the flag drop. Aemond kicked his boots in the stirrups and his horse took off, kicking a spray of sand up behind him. You barely breathed as he raced along the fence and levelled out his pole, his opponent doing the same. Time seemed to slow as the poles crossed each other and crashed wood against armour, shattering into splinters.

The air in your lungs exploded from you as you jumped to your feet and rushed to the rail to see Aemond still atop his horse. His opponent was sprawled across the sand but Aemond paid him no mind as he circled back to the rail where you waited and pulled his helmet from his head before shaking out his long hair that was mussed up.

“Is your heart still in your chest?” Aemond asked as he looked up at you, amusement teasing a smirk on his lips.

You pointed to yourself and curled your fingers over your face before pointing to him, his lips parting with a laugh that shook his shoulders.

“Why are you mad at me? I won.”

Waving him off, you noticed the next opponents were arriving to request their favours and he shot them a dirty look as they interrupted you.

“Meet me in the library.”

You nodded and moved away as two ladies reached the railing, missing the smile Alicent had after watching the interaction.

The tourney would continue all day so it was no surprise to find the athenium empty when you arrived and took a seat on the plush settee. The stained glass windows cast a colourful shadow across the stone floor and you reached into your pocket for your notebook and coal to capture the image.

You were just finishing with the shading and smudging the shadows onto the parchment with your fingertip when you felt the air shift around your face. A smile was already pulling on your lips when you looked up to find Aemond dressed once more in his finery and his hair still damp from bathing. The citrus tart of his soap teased your nose and you reached for him as you closed your book.

He let you pull him onto the cushioned seat beside you and chuckled to himself as you ran your hands over his fitted shirt before he caught your hands. “I am unharmed.”

You narrowed your eyes at him until he released your hands to continue to make their own assessment. When you were satisfied that he was not just trying to placate you, you shuffled closer and slipped under his arm that he opened for you in invitation.

While waiting for his arrival you had been wondering how you could return the gesture he had made for you in front of the entire city and he could sense your unrest as you shifted in your seat. Unable to look him in the eye, you grabbed your notebook and placed it on his lap.

His fingers traced your jaw and turned you to face him so you could see what he had to say. “Are you sure?”

You nodded before you lost your courage and he carefully opened the bound covering as if it were an invaluable, fragile piece of history. He treated it knowing how you cherished it.

You did not look to see what pages he perused, some drawings and some snippets of passing conversations, but instead watched his reactions. With each turn of the page you knew what he would find and your nervousness grew. The drawings of Red Keep and the Royal Gardens would soon change and he would see himself through your eyes.

It had not taken long for him to become your muse, in fact in the last few months it had become an addiction. There was not a day that passed where you didn’t want to capture his likeness, sometimes it was when the sunlight caught his hair or the smile that he reserved just for you.

His lips parted with surprise and you knew he had reached the moment you had first given in to your desire and drawn him content in the gardens. Your palms turned clammy and your heart threatened to beat right out of your chest as he turned each page until he reached the last and closed it.

You swallowed the lump in your throat as he turned to you and you saw his eye shimmering with unshed tears. Of all the reactions, that was not one that you could have expected. Aemond was always so collected and cool until you had peeled back the layers of his self-protection but this was the last mask to fall away.

You reached for his cheek, cupping the warm skin as you wiped away the single tear that escaped before he closed his eye and leaned into the touch.

“Thank you,” he said as he opened his eye again, blinking away the rest of the tears before they could fall. “No one draws my eyes.”

You frowned at the statement and he sighed from the heavy breath of air that brushed over your skin. “The artists who take our portraits do so from my right, this,” he tapped his leather eye patch, “makes them uncomfortable.”

Tears welled in your own eyes as you saw the pain he still felt though the wound had long healed. Though it was compromising, you rose to your knees and straddled his legs, shock flitting across his face before fear seeped in as you reached for the leather patch.

“It is not pretty, milady.”

You circled your palm over your chest and you thought he would deny your plea for permission as he pursed his lips but then he bowed his head with a nod.

His eye stared intently at you as you traced your finger over the leather that had been warmed by his body heat. The smooth material was softer than you thought it would be as you eased it from his head and bared his scar for the first time. Your breath rushed through your parted lips as you saw the crude line that had carved through his eyebrow, down his eye and across his cheek.

He turned away and your heart clenched as he hid himself from you but he had to know, it wasn’t the scar that caused your reaction, you were horrified at how he had been hurt so badly. Cradling his cheeks in your hands, you gently guided him back to you but still he refused eye contact.

There was only one way you could show him how you felt and your stomach fluttered at the thought as you pulled him closer and pressed your lips to his cheek, just below the scar. His breath warmed your shoulder as he shuddered beneath your touch and you kissed him a little higher, grazing the skin that changed from smooth to raised. The tension in his shoulders relaxed with each soft kiss and when you pulled back you were able to admire the sapphire that replaced his missing eye without him turning away.

“Are you not repulsed?”

Your brows knitted together in confusion as you shook your head and stood up, instantly missing the warmth of his hands where they had rested on your hips. He watched curiously as you grabbed your notebook from where he had placed it and fished your pockets for the coal. Though you wanted to sit close to him it was not the right place for what you wanted to do and so you took a seat on the settee opposite.

Not liking how far you were away either, he tried to stand and join you but the stern finger you pointed at him had him sinking back into the cushions while you found a blank page. He remained still as you captured his likeness on the page and the colourful shadows of the stained glass window reached his hair.

You knew of merchants that could recreate colours with ochre and malachite collected from Essos but even with your family’s wealth the rare minerals remained out of reach. You were left with the common sticks of coal and on your name day you often received the finer illustrator of graphite.

Satisfied by the portrayal, from the long strands of hair that were now dry to the strong jawline that had felt better than imagined in your hands, you rose from the chair. Aemond welcomed you back into his arms and eagerly looked at the page that was still open. His throat bounced with the swallow he took and you chewed on your bottom lip as you waited with bated breath.

He turned slowly so you could see his lips before he spoke, “This is how you see me?”

You looked at the picture and smiled at the face of a confident, handsome young man as he faced the world without having to hide. Looking back at Aemond, you placed your hand over his heart and nodded.

His arms pulled you closer as he dipped his head and your body trembled in anticipation. Every nerve ending flared to life when his lips caressed yours ever so softly and your hands tangled in his hair as you returned the kiss with more force. You could feel his smile against you before he gave you what you needed and deepened the kiss, stealing your breath until you broke away feeling lightheaded.

His thumb traced your tingling lips as you slipped back into the seat, tucked under his arm, and you saw his kiss-swollen lips. You imagined yours looked the same and heat flooded you with the thought of being caught in the compromising state. A sliver of panic grew in your chest, if rumours spread then you would be shamed from your family so you scampered from the chair and brushed your hands over your skirts.

Alarm erupted from Aemond at the sudden change and he watched you right yourself, hurt haunting his blue eye before he too rose. “Please do not regret what we shared.”

You froze, your jaw dropping at what he had mistaken your fear as and against your better judgement, you launched yourself at him, wrapping your arms around his narrow waist as you shook your head. He curled himself around you until you felt entirely enveloped by his arms and his scent as he buried his face in your neck.

Pulling away reluctantly, he took your hand and placed it on his chest so you could feel the thunderous beat of his heart as it raced. “This belongs to you and I am yours if you will have me.”

His face blurred as tears welled in your eyes, the fierce nod of your head sending them cascading down your cheeks until he wiped them away with a proud smile.

“I thought of another sign,” he said as he lifted his right hand up so his palm faced you before tucking his middle and ring finger back down. “When you see this, know that I love you.”

You raised your own hand and watched his tremble as you admitted what had been growing with each passing day since that first walk in the gardens. I love you.

Click here for part two.

#aemond targaryen x y/n #aemond targaryen x you #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond x y/n #aemond x you #aemond x reader #aemond imagine #aemond fluff #deaf!reader #aemond fic #house of the dragon fanfic #hotd fanfic

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mediumgayitalian · 17 days

Text

The satellite dish at Camp Half-Blood would be better suited as a cereal bowl.

It hardly works. It catches a grand total of nineteen channels, twelve of which are news stations, and the final seven almost never have anything playing that’s actually worth watching. But the DVD player only ever works every third month, and the strawberry plants have to be watered, so on rainy days, the sixteen of them cram into the rec room of the Big House, organised, fight-reduction seating for as long as Nyssa can tiredly maintain it, and squabble over the remote.

“It’s my turn! Give it to me!”

“Quit whining you little twerp —”

“Will! Make her give me the remote!”

“Snitch! Snitch! Sherman, beat him up —”

Nico narrowly dodges Kayla’s dirty sneaker, sniggering to himself as Will and Sherman share, for perhaps the first time in either of their lives, an identical sigh of endless suffering, each grabbing one sibling and yanking backwards. They’ve really dug their claws in, so it takes a couple tries.

“Kayla,” Will warns, both hands clamped around her ankles, “if you don’t let go in three damn seconds —”

“Ellis sucks at picking channels!”

“Everybody sucks at picking channels! We got maybe four to choose from!”

“Seven,” correct several people at once.

Will rolls his eyes. “Forgive me. I forgot about the three toddler channels the rest of y’all babies are so enthralled by.”

“As if you don’t watch Sesame Street with as much childlike glee as the rest of us, Solace.”

“Can it, Diaz. Kayla, remove your nails from his face!”

A hand tugs on his sleeve. Nico glances over to find Austin’s big, pleading eyes, and since he is a massively weak loser, apparently, he sighs, mouth twitching when Austin wiggles happily, and plunges his hand into the nearest shadow.

He digs around for a second, trying to orient himself, and smirks when he sees his hand reappear across the couch, right in between Kayla and Ellis’ heads. He waits, watching for a break. Austin watches carefully next to him, hands still around his other wrist, and when the timing is right — a twitch in Kayla’s knee indicating an oncoming kick that even Will won’t be able to stop — he squeezes. Nico darts between them, snatching the remote for himself. He passes it to Austin with a wink. Austin points it to the TV immediately, clicking it to what everyone has aptly named the ‘Grandma Channel’ — twenty-four-seven footage of gardening set to quit jazz.

Thirteen groans — one cheer by Miranda, their lone ally — sound at once.

“You’re weak as all hell, di Angelo,” Billie informs him, obviously a fake gardener. Shame.

He makes a face at her.

Despite their troubles, the peace of the Grandma Channel does not last. In what can only be a coordinated attack, Nico and Austin are lulled into a false sense of security, entranced by a particularly satisfying timelapse of a grape vine, and when their guards are down, they are ambushed. With a deafening war cry, Harley is flung bodily on top of the two of them, landing with two gleeful elbows to Nico’s shoulder and Austin’s ribs, rendering them breathless and perhaps even close to death.

“No maiming,” Austin protests, wheezing.

“I’m telling Chiron,” Nico agrees, similarly struggling to reinflate his lungs. He glances at his medic boyfriend, also known as Judas, who only shrugs, smirking. His thumb is notably smeared with grease, a consequence of touching Harley no matter how many times Nyssa forces him to shower. Traitor. “No maiming is, like, the only rule here.”

Harley climbs off of them, elbows once again violating the rule on the way off. Nico actually feels his spleen compress into the size of an atom.

“Tough!”

The little twerp hands his prize to his big sister, who points it at the screen gracefully, as if she did not just use said brother as a weapon against two innocent people. Constantly innovative, those Hephaestus children.

Nyssa, on account of having hands like steel wires and a right hook that could make Muhammad Ali fall crying to his knees, is left peacefully alone with the remote. Nico glares at her, as he often does, with equal amount of hatred and awe. His emotions are widely replicated across the overstuffed couches.

She clicks rapidly through the channels, as she always does, fast enough that the sound echoes like static along with the rain.

breaking — jump! — traffic — learn — George — crayon — soil — sale —

She hardly rests in a channel for more than a second, cutting in the middle of sentences and even words, images flashing rapidly across the screen, swirling colour and skipping melodies, steadied by the roll of thunder, the patter of raindrops, the roar of wind and away of bending trees.

kids! — buy — gun — bridge — add — spade — colour — nine — east —

Austin sighs from beside him, sinking into the couch. Nico breaks away from the hypnosis for a moment to glance at the rest of the room and finds everyone else similarly entranced; eyes half-lidded and unfocused against the still-swirling TV, heads tilted back, curled into each other, limbs slow, fingers tapping quietly.

run — neat — rose — pasta — schools — closure — Sola — bumper —

“Wait,” Will murmurs.

gym — roll — climb — bush — accident — bud —

The old couches creak as Will shifts, Kayla pushed gently to the side as he moves forward.

“Nyssa, wait. Go back.”

The rain seems to mute itself. Nico is aware, quite suddenly, of the stiff set to Will’s spine, the odd quality of his voice. Nyssa, too, must recognize it, because she glances over at him, then slowly back to the TV, pressing the channel button once and setting the remote carefully on the coffee table in front of her.

No one grabs it.

“— terrible tragedy,” says a news anchor. “Unbelievably, really, Barbara, and something so sudden —”

“No,” Will says.

“Yes, Dave, always something you read about in old newspapers but never remember happens in real life —”

“No. No.”

He reaches for the remote but misses the first time, patting blindly on the table, and the second time, too, eyes glued to the bright screen. His hand scrabbles, nails digging on the old wood, increasingly desperately, but his eyes won’t move, face won’t pivot. Nico swallows, pushing back the sting of bile crawling slowly up his throat, the dullness in his ear, muffled like his ear is turned to a soundproofed wall. The hands he tells to reach over and hand the remote to Will don’t work.

“— almost makes me think of James Dean. That’s Naomi Solace, for those just tuning in, currently in critical condition from a head-on collision with a semi in Savannah, Georgia —”

Nico’s ears white out completely.

Will’s knees hit the floor.

———

#MORE IS COMING DO NOT LET ME FLAKE #pjo #percy jackson and the olympians #hoo #heroes of olympus #pjo hoo toa #nico di angelo #will solace #camp half blood #solangelo #will solace angst #angst #emotional angst #my writing #fic #longpost

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idkwhatimdoinghere1655 · 8 months

Text

Birthday Plans - Charles Leclerc

warnings - smut near the end, nothing too hardcore

The bright sunlight streaming through the curtains of yours and Charles' bedroom window disturbed Charles, and gently ushered him awake. He turned onto his side, expecting to see you lying beside him. Much to his disappointment, you weren't there.

"Baby?" he called out, but his voice was drowned out by the silence of your apartment. That was odd, he thought, since he hadn't noticed your departure. Normally, he would feel the temperature drop beside him and the bed would shift slightly, but he hadn't even realised.

Wanting to find you, he reluctantly pulled himself out of the warm and cozy confines of your bed, and padded through your apartment to find you. As he walked through the hall, he spotted random pieces of confetti sprinkled about the floor.

That was when it dawned on him. Checking his phone, he saw what day it was. 16/10/23. He couldn't believe that he'd actually forgotten that today was his birthday, and he realised exactly where you were. He also couldn't believe that you had let him forget.

For the past three years since you had been together, you had made his birthday the biggest deal of the year, without fail. Whether it be organising the biggest party he had ever been to, fully comprised of all of the people he loved and cared about on his yacht, to a quiet day in with his family.

This year, he had asked for nothing too over the top, since he just wanted to spend the day with his favourite person in the world. "My love?" he called out again, but he didn't expect a response. The double doors through to the kitchen were closed, which was odd, since you usually left them open.

Opening them, he was greeted with the loud pop of a confetti cannon, and a shower of red confetti. "Happy birthday baby!" You shouted as he walked through the door. Charles gazed around at the balloons stuck to the walls and lying on the floor, and plenty of birthday banners plastered about the room.

"Thank you, my love," he smiled, pulling you into a hug.

Turning out of the hug, you stepped over to the kitchen table, before skipping over to Charles and placing the party hat atop his ruffled locks. "Seriously?" he asked with a cocked brow. "Obviously, the birthday boy has to wear a party hat!" you playfully scoffed, putting one on too.

"Well thank you for all of the effort, sweetheart, I appreciate it," he told you, pulling you in for a kiss. Even if he was certain you enjoyed the thoughts of his birthday more then he did, it was always made a better celebration when you were planning it.

He wasn't looking forward to the fact that he was turning a year older, he was looking forward to the bright smile on your face when you got to show him whatever you had planned. Despite him telling you over and over that you didn't have to put so much effort into it, you always ignored his protests and did it anyway.

He always put effort into making things special for you, so you thought it was only fair that you did the same for him at any given opportunity - even if he didn't allow much room for someone other than you to be spoilt.

You just enjoyed the day that you got to celebrate him, since he was always celebrating you and you were able to make him priority for this one special day.

"Would you like to know what I have planned for today?" You asked, leaving your arms linked around his neck as his stayed on your waist. "Yes I would, I want to hear what you're going to do to try and outdo yourself," he told you.

"Well then you might be a bit disappointed, it's not very flashy" you winced, knowing this year's plan wouldn't be as extravagant as those of previous years. "I don't need it to be flashy, baby. You know we could do nothing and it'd be a great use of time spent," he said.

"So, I have invited Carlos, Arthur, Pierre and Kika over for some drinks and maybe some games, y'know, fun stuff," you explained, hoping he would like the sound of it. "Now that is my kind of night," he smiled, gently kissing your forehead.

"I'm glad you think so,"

—

"Does anyone want another drink?" You asked, hopping out of your seat and looking around at the group of people sat around you. "Y/N, I can get them, you sit," Carlos offered, but you shook your head.

"I'm already up, but thanks," you dismissed, collecting empty glasses that wanted to be filled. Charles watched intently as you were running around, playing hostess. You were making sure everyone was well taken care of, and he could see you pacing around the kitchen, making sure everyone got the drink they wanted.

He was mesmerised by the way your dress clung to you in all of the perfect places and he was infatuated by the way you moved. You brought through the numerous different drinks that everyone wanted, and Charles noticed that you didn't have one when you sat down.

"Are you not having one, my love?" Charles leant in to ask while the others talked about something that you weren't quite listening to. "No, I've had two, so I'll stop there," you smiled, not wanting to get too drunk.

"Come on, have a bit of fun. It is my birthday, after all," he said, giving you those puppy eyes that were too damn irresistible. "Fine, I'll have one," you caved instantly as a triumphant grin spread on Charles' face. That was the grin that came out when he'd gotten his own way.

You went to stand, but a firm hand on your shoulder pushed you back down into your seat. "Sit, I've got it," he said, standing and disappearing into the kitchen. He was back shortly after, handing you a glass with some sort of clear, bubbling liquid inside of it.

"What is it?" You asked, sniffing it to try and discern what it could be, to no avail.

"Drink it and I'll tell you," he smirked. You took a sip, and you still couldn't quite tell what it was. It was slightly bitter, but the edge was taken off by a hint of sweetness, and it tasted faintly of some sort of berries. "That is very nice, whatever it is," you told him, drinking some more.

Suddenly, that triumphant grin appeared on his face again. "I knew I'd get you to like gin and tonic at some point," he chuckled, winking at you.

"This isn't like the stuff you've been giving me," you scoffed, rolling your eyes at him.

"It's the one Arthur brought, it's in the kitchen if you want more," he smiled, taking your free hand in his and intertwining your fingers together. "Y/N, have you still got Twister?" Kika tipsily giggled. Her, Carlos and Arthur had been drinking slightly more than you, Charles and Pierre, so they were all rosy cheeked and giggling a lot.

"I sure do," you smiled, going over to the cabinet and producing the colourful box of the beloved game. Kika clapped, and Charles looked downright mortified. He was never a massive fan of the game, but he liked to see you have fun, so he allowed it.

"Ok, so we'll do the Leclercs' vs the rest of us,'' she said, and you were slightly confused.

"Four on two? How is that fair?" You asked with your eyebrows furrowed.

"You're technically a Leclerc, so you play with Charles and Arthur," she smiled, and Carlos and Pierre smirked at Charles. "You might as well be at this point," Charles muttered, smiling at you. Without anymore deliberation, Kika leapt up and set the plastic mat out on the floor.

"Charles, pick your challenger," she said, gesturing towards Pierre and Carlos, who were both reluctant to play - but it was all in good fun. "Carlos, you're one of the least flexible people I know, come on," Charles said, pushing himself off of his chair.

As the round went on, you span the spinner to see what Carlos would be doing next. "Carlos, left foot red," you laughed, looking at the tangled mess that he was in. His arms were crossed, and he somehow had to get his left foot under the entirety of his body to reach the red dot.

"It's not possible!" He complained as he tried to stretch his leg underneath him. As he groaned in discomfort, everyone was just laughing at him. Charles, who was also in a pretty compromising position was laughing too as Carlos' limbs collapsed beneath him and he clattered down to the floor with a thud.

"That was impossible," he huffed as he led on the mat on the floor as Charles stood and stretched his arms and legs out. "Good game, mate," Charles cockily grinned, offering a hand out to Carlos to help him up.

"Yeah, whatever," Carlos chuckled, hoisting himself up with Charles' help.

"So that is 1-0 to team Leclerc, Arthur and Pierre, you're up next," Kika smiled, straightening the mat out for the next round. Pierre and Arthur both groaned, reluctantly standing out of their chairs and standing beside the Twister mat.

Unfortunately for Team Leclerc, Pierre bested Arthur, leaving the game on your's and Kika's shoulders. "Y/N, you and me, let's go," she challenged, kicking her heels off to the side.

"Oh it's getting serious now," Pierre teased as he had to miss the flying heels that were coming in his direction. "I don't like to lose," she smirked, pointing at her boyfriend.

"Neither do I," you countered, leaving your heels beside Charles' chair as you stood to challenge Kika. "It's 1-1, let's see who can come out on top," Arthur said like he was presenting a football match or something. "Wait, so you're telling me we could have just let these two do it and our rounds didn't matter for anything?" Carlos asked.

"Yes," you nodded, and you watched the poor guy's face just drop.

"So I didn't even have to go through the pain and suffering that I went through?" he asked again, and everyone started giggling at him. "Sorry Carlos, the game is the game," Charles laughed, and Carlos looked dejected. "I am never hanging out with you guys again," he scoffed with feigned seriousness.

"Sure you aren't, Carlos," Arthur said, receiving a playful punch on the arm due to his comment. "OK, you two, OK, Y/N, right hand blue," Pierre instructed, flicking the spinner with his finger for Kika's turn.

You had your back to Charles, so you bent over to place your right hand on the blue circle. Your dress only barely covered your ass, and it took every ounce of self-control that he held in his being to not find an excuse to get you into any room in the house and have his way with you.

But, he had to remain a gentleman while your friends were there - even if he was going to find that incredibly hard. Especially when you looked as good as you did. He had to avert his eyes and look anywhere in the room but at you, but he was struggling immensely.

Thankfully for him, or not so much, his sinful thoughts were interrupted by Pierre giving you the instruction to put your left foot also on blue. He had dodged a bullet there, but Twister was most certainly going to send another huge one flying at him.

"Are you kidding me?" you exclaimed a few rounds later, as your left hand was supposed to go on the nearest yellow, which was underneath Kika's back. The problem with this was you were doing a crab over Kika, so you wouldn't be able to balance. "Just give it a go, you'll be fine," Carlos collared, loving seeing you two in a compromising position too.

By some miracle, you managed to balance yourself whilst still hovering over Kika. "So the next one is..." Pierre dragged out as he slowly spun the spinner.

"Pierre, hurry up!" Kika squawked, and you wanted him to hurry up too. Your muscles were aching as you held yourself in place. "OK, so, Kika, left foot green," he said, and all she had to do was stretch her leg out by one circle. "Y/N, right foot blue,"

"If I do this, I will flash you all, so look away," you tipsily laughed. Normally you wouldn't have done it, but there was alcohol running through your veins, so the logical and self-preserving part of your brain wasn't in full working order.

Arthur and Pierre averted their eyes, but Carlos looked for that second too long. "Carlos." Charles scolded as the Spaniard defensively held his hands up. He wasn't being disrespectful, he simply reacted too late.

Charles couldn't take his eyes off you, spread out all pretty for him as he uncomfortably shifted in his seat. His resolve was crumbling, and he was counting down the seconds until everyone left you alone. As soon as that door was closed, his hands were going to be all over you.

"Kika, left hand-" Pierre started, but her limbs too gave in under her. You breathed a sigh of relief as you were able to stand up, and your muscles were aching. "And team Leclerc win!" Arthur exclaimed, raising his arms in celebration.

"That was a tough one," you sighed, high-fiving Kika as she took a seat next to Pierre. There weren't any seats left, since Carlos had sat on the floor before Twister started. "Y/N, sit here, I can move," Arthur offered, noticing how there weren't any seats left.

"No, no, you sit down. I can sit on the floor," you dismissed, walking to Charles' side and attempting to sit down. "Absolutely not," Charles said, grabbing your wrist and tugging you onto his lap. You draped your legs over the side of the chair as your arms comfortably wrapped around his neck.

His hands found their perfect position on your waist as you leant your weight onto him. "My girl doesn't sit on the floor, especially not on my birthday," he whispered into your ear, his breath hot on your skin.

His words sent tingled up your spine, and you had to repress a shiver as you sat with him. "Can we do a round of this?" Kika piped up, snatching the Five Second Rule from the shelf beside her, and everyone audibly groaned.

"Just one round, please?" she asked, and you all caved in and thought it could be fun.

"Charles." You stated, tilting away from him as you looked at the car in your hand.

"Baby." he responded, intently looking at you as he waited for you to read him the prompt. "Name three vegetables!" you told him, turning the 5 second timer upside down as it made that strange noise. "Carrot, pea..." he fumbled, his brain short-circuiting as he couldn't think.

"Carrot!" he exclaimed as the timer ran out. For a second, everyone fell silent, and Charles looked utterly confused. "Carrot pea carrot? Name three vegetables and you say carrot pea carrot?"

"That's three vegetables, isn't it- Oh shit," he said as he realised what he had done. Everyone started chuckling, and you were just flabbergasted. "Carrot and carrot are the same vegetable, Charles. I know you don't cook very often, but I'm sure you have the ability to know that carrot and carrot are the same thing!" you ranted, and everyone was crying of laughter.

"Baby, there's no need to make it personal," Charles chuckled, trying to keep a straight face. "There are so many different vegetables in this world, and you name two of the most basic ones, and one of them twice. You adore pasta, and you have forgotten about the humble tomato. Maybe a pepper?" you carried on, and Carlos was practically rolling on the floor with laughter.

"I'm sorry, my love, I'm sorry," he laughed, kissing you on the cheek. You simply rolled your eyes at him as everyone calm down. "Carrot pea carrot my god," you muttered, and Charles chuckled at you.

As the six of you talked and sipped at the remnants of your drinks, you slowly shifted on Charles' lap to get more comfortable. "That is a dangerous game, baby," he said lowly in your ear. You couldn't help but shift a little more, as his hands braced on your waist to keep you still.

One of Charles' hands steadily moved along the inside of your thigh, his fingertips tracing the skin. He was getting dangerously close to you, as his fingers brushed over the thin lace that was the final barrier between him and you.

"Hey, later," you winked at him and you pushed his hand away. There was no chance you'd be able to keep yourself from being calm and inconspicuous if you let him do what he wanted to do. You wanted it, but you would never be able to live down the embarrassment if anyone caught you.

You all talked for another hour or so, and they all stood up to leave. You hugged everyone and waved them out of the door, and you were glad the night was such a success. You had enjoyed yourself, everyone else had enjoyed themselves, and -most importantly- Charles had enjoyed himself.

Once you had closed the door, you picked some glasses up off the tables and took them over to the sink to wash them. You couldn't be bothered to wash them now, so you just left them in the sink. You were putting away some of the bottles into the cupboards, and Charles appeared in the doorway.

For a moment, he just let himself watch you. He had behaved for the whole night, but now his resolve had fully crumbled and he rushed up to you. "Hey, you-" you started, but were abruptly cut off by him pressing his lips to yours as he lifted you onto the kitchen counter.

The marble was cold on the backs of your thighs, and it sent shivers through your body. "You have been driving me crazy all night, you know that?" he told you between kisses. You could taste the alcohol on his lips as his kisses became more aggressive, more desperate.

"I probably could have guessed that," you smirked against his lips, running your hands across his chest and over his shoulders. His hands slid up your thighs, pushing the skirt of your dress over your thighs and hips.

As your fingers fiddled with the buttons of his shirt, you saw the hunger in his eyes. The pure lust. "Just because it's your birthday, you can do whatever. You. Want," you whispered, and you knew you could have just gotten yourself into something dangerous.

"Well then that makes this easier," he smirked, his lips ghosting across your neck and down your chest. "I have been wanting to do this for hours, but you just had to go and make things difficult for me, didn't you?" he playfully scolded, gently nipping at the skin on your shoulders.

The white fabric of his shirt was sent fluttering to the floor as you slid it off and over his shoulders. Your hands moved to his belt next, but he effortlessly tugged your wrist away. "Not yet, I want to see you squirm for me first," he said, slithering his hands up the sides of your thighs and to your hips, his fingers hooking into the flimsy slithers of lace that sat there.

He slipped the garment over your thighs and down your legs, discarding them to the floor just like his shirt. Charles looked at you with those big green eyes, keeping them locked on yours as he sunk to his knees in front of you. His eyes still trained on yours, he placed a hand on either knee and spread your legs as he slotted himself in between them.

"God have you been this wet for me all night? I would have sent everyone home earlier if I had known," he smirked, placing soft kisses up the insides of your thighs, nibbling on them every now and then. You shuffled closer to the edge of the counter, hoping he would take the subtle hint.

"So desperate for me, but I'm feeling nice. How could I make my gorgeous girl wait?" He teased, kissing dangerously close to you. You were desperate for it, he had gotten that completely right. You were positively throbbing for it. Without another word, he licked a thick stripe up your dripping folds.

You leant back against the kitchen cabinets, tangling your hands in his hair as he kept your legs split open with his hands. Every now and then, he would attach his lips around your sensitive bundle of nerve endings, just to keep you on edge. His tongue teased your entrance as you tugged on his hair even harder.

You pressed your hips into his face as he smirked against you. "If you wanted more, all you had to do was ask," he told you, sucking and nibbling on your clit as you moaned out in pleasure. It was like sparks of electricity pulsed through you every time he made the slightest movement on you, and it was becoming almost unbearable.

"Fuck, just like that," you mewled, running your hands through his hair again. He kept on licking and lapping at all of the right places, and you felt like a volcano was going to explode inside you. "Shit, baby, I'm-" you started, but you were cut off by him slowing his movements.

"You close, my love?" He mumbled, running his tongue over your clit again. You were so sensitive, moaning with every movement he made. "Mhm," you hummed, not able to form full words without moaning out. Charles knew you were close as he carried on teasing you with his tongue.

Just as you were about to come undone, he pulled his mouth away from you and kissed you on the lips. "You really thought I'd give it to you just like that? You made me wait, now you've gotta wait too, it's only fair," he mocked with a wicked grin plastered on his face.

"Baby," you whined, looking at him with those eyes that told him everything he needed to know. You needed it, and you needed it badly. But, he wanted to hear you say it. "Beg for it, baby. Tell me how much you want me. How much you need me," he instructed, sinking back down to his knees again.

He planted excruciating kisses on the insides of your thighs as he waited. "Please," you whispered, jolting your hips forward, desperate for the extra contact. "I can't hear you," he dismissed, nipping the soft skin of your inner thigh.

"Please, Charles," you groaned, louder this time.

"What are you saying 'please' for? What do you want?" He grinned, adoring the control he had over you right now. "Please, baby, I need to cum," you practically shouted, hoping it was enough for him.

"Oh you need it do you? Do you need me then, my darling?" He teased.

"I need you so bad right now, I'm aching for it baby," you grovelled, and that was like music to Charles' ears as he came closer and closer to you. "That was exactly what I needed to hear,'' he told you, diving straight back into you. His tongue circled your clit perfectly, and the extra pressure you had been so desperate for was being granted.

"Is this good, my love? Is this what you wanted?" He mocked, tasting the neediness on his tongue.

"Fuck, yes," you moaned, tipping your head back. Your breaths were short and shallow as you felt yourself crumbling. "I'm going to-" you began, but Charles pressed your clit that tad bit harder, and you felt a tingling wave of pleasure wash over you as you cried out for him.

He stood back up, aggressively kissing you as you could taste a mix of yourself and alcohol on his tongue. But, the taste of him was far more intoxicating than any alcoholic beverage could ever be. It ran through your veins and made you drunk on pure lust, and it felt better in every conceivable way.

As he kissed you, Charles thought over where he could take you. He didn't want to keep you on the counter, but your bedroom was far too far away for how much he needed you now. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted the empty dining room table, and it was the perfect option.

He held his hand on your bare ass as he carried you over to the table and sat you down on it. He slipped the remnants on your dress over your head, leaving you completely exposed to him as your nipples pricked up in the cold. "Fucking hell, you're so goddamn beautiful, baby,"

He stole yours lips with his before you could say a response, and he wasn't in the mood for waiting any longer. You could sense his neediness, slinking your hands down to his belt and unbuckled it. He didn't have any protests as he kept his hands on the sides of your face, holding him there as he kissed you.

You pushed his pants down to his knees, and he couldn't be bothered to kick them off - he didn't need to, anyway. Charles pushed your legs further apart with his knee and stepped impossibly closer to you. "You ready?" he asked, despite the fact that he already knew the answer.

"Yes," you breathed as he gently eased into you, and the feeling of him filling you up was like pure ecstacy. He gave you a second to get acclimatized to the stretch before slowly starting to rock his hips into yours.

The feeling of you wrapped around his cock was unlike anything, and it sent straight euphoria surging through his veins. He touch every inch of your insides as he moved, the tip of his dick hitting that one spot that nobody else seemed to be able to find with every thrust.

You didn't know where to put your hands, so caught up in what he was doing to you. You linked them around the back of his neck, nails digging into his flesh as you came closer and closer to release.

"How the fuck did I get so lucky?" he groaned, hands gripping onto your hips so hard you were certain they'd leave bruises there in the morning. But you didn't care. "My girl is the sweetest in the whole world, and her body is perfect in every single way. It's like you're made for me, baby," he rambled as he picked up his pace.

His head was spinning as he leant in and peppered random kisses all down your neck. He was addicted to the way you made him feel and the way he made you feel.

He could feel your legs start to shake, but your walls were already clenching around him. "You close again, baby?" he spat through gritted teeth, rutting his hips into you harder and harder. "Mhm," you hummed, not able to formulate full words.

The feeling of you combined with the sweet sounds of you moaning for him sent him over the edge, and you dug your nails into the flesh of his shoulders as you came with him. As you both rode out your highs, letting the tingles slowly fade away, you clung onto him.

The room fell silent, before Charles broke the quiet with a, "Thank you, my love. You're amazing, and not just at that, of course," he softly chuckled, holding you in his arms for a moment.

"Happy birthday, baby," you smiled, leaning into his embrace as he tucked a lock of your hair behind your ear. "And this has been the happiest of birthdays for me. Yes, I love the yacht parties, but a quiet night in with my favourite people is all I need," he told you.

You sleepily smiled at him, holding your eyes open as you looked at him. "Are you tired, my love?" he cooed, looking at your half open eyes. Your cheeks were flushed and your hair was all puffy, your lips red and puffy from how much he had kissed you.

There were small red marks over your neck and shoulders from where he had gently nibbled at the skin as he gently ran his fingers over them. They were just small reminders of who you belonged to, even though there was no doubt in anyone's mind of who that was.

"Yeah, but we can stay up. Whatever you want," you said, suppressing a yawn.

"We can go to bed, I need birthday cuddles," he said, hoisting you up into his arms like a bride on her wedding day. "You get cuddles every night, what makes them different because it's your birthday?" you giggled, clinging onto him for dear life. But, you knew he would rather die than drop you.

"I don't know, they just feel more special when it's on my birthday," he explained, dropping you down onto your bed. He threw a hoodie from his drawer at you, before slipping some sweatpants up his legs.

Just as Charles hopped into bed beside you, you remembered something. "Shit, how could I forget?" you scolded yourself, scrambling out of bed and into the kitchen.

"Baby? You alright?" Charles asked, wondering why you had disappeared so quickly.

"Close your eyes!" you told him as you stood outside the door. Charles did as he was told as you walked into the room, trying not to drop what you were carrying. "Happy birthday to you," you started to sing as Charles opened his eyes. "Happy birthday to you," you continued as you perched on the bed beside him.

"Happy birthday dear Lord Perceval, happy birthday to you," you finished, completely off key. Charles saw the very poorly done Ferrari logo on the top of the cake, the prancing horse appearing to have three legs and his eye was very wonky. In the top corner, you had hand-piped a list of all the races he had won, as well as your favourite podiums of his.

"Blow out the candles," you told him, moving the cake closer to him. The orange flames on the 2 and the 6 were extinguished as he blew them out, unable to wipe the goofy smile off his face. "When did you make this?" he smiled, taking the cake out of your hands.

"Yesterday when you were out with Arthur," you told him, glad he had noticed that you had made it. "I know it's a bit shit, but I tried,"

"I prefer this to the actual one any day of the week," he said, grabbing his phone and taking a picture of the cake. "It's perfect, thank you baby," he thanked, looking at the cake again.

"Happy birthday, Charles," you said again, and you both hoped there would be many more to come.

A/N - Tanti Auguri to the love of my life, and the guy who makes everyday that slight bit easier. Forza Ferrari, and Forza Charles Leclerc 💖

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