#i should warn for something but i don't know what
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Cherry Red, Crimson Blood
Chapter 18: Don't Let Me Go
Summary: Things have gone wrong in your pack's absence. Can they make it back in time before irreparable damage is done? Can they fix the damage that's already been dealt?
Pairing: Poly 141 x reader
Word Count: 10,232...oops
Warnings: ANGST, Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics, Alternate Universe, a/b/o typical classism and sexism, ANGST, anxiety, fear, panic attacks, very descriptive scenes of panic and anxiety, very heavy emotionally in the beginning, major invasions of privacy, hurt/sort of comfort, very brief mention of violence and death, and most importantly: fluff
A/N: Yeah, so this one kind of got away from me. It's definitely one of my favorite chapters now, and it's definitely the longest so far. It's pretty heavy, so plan something fun afterwards because it will hurt. I tried to catch all the possible triggers, but of course, if I miss one let me know. I promise things will begin to take a turn for the happier after this, at least for a bit. Picks up pretty much right where chapter 17 left off.
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You’re shaking. Your breaths are coming in gasps as you stare at your open door. There’s no scent in the air, nothing that would give you a hint of who invaded your space, or if they’re still in there. You should leave, barricade yourself somewhere and call Dr. Keller, or even Kate.
What could they do, though? Your pack won’t be home until tomorrow at the earliest.
No one can help you.
You slowly push your door open, ready to run in case someone is hiding inside. You stand in the doorway, scanning the small space, but there’s no sign of anyone. There’s still no scent either, just your own mingled with the slight chemical burn of scent blockers. Your eyes scan the room, looking for anything that might be new, anything that might be missing, anything that might be slightly out of place.
The clothes on the floor are slightly rumpled, but you’re not sure if you did that in your haste to pull on shoes before you left, or if they’ve been that way since the knock sounded on your door. You lift your gaze to the ceiling, scanning it and that’s when you notice it. The cover over the vent is slightly out of place. You likely wouldn’t have noticed if you hadn’t been paying attention, if you hadn’t looked.
The thought sends a chill running down your spine.
You keep your eyes on the vent as you grab your desk chair, kicking clothes out of the way as you move it under the vent. You stand on the chair, reaching for the vent, but it’s not quite enough. You shove the chair to the side, taking everything off your desk before you pull it under the vent. You climb up on shaky legs, your heart thudding in your chest as you remove the vent cover.
Nausea twists at your stomach as your breath leaves you in a sharp gasp. There, strategically placed between two of the gaps in the vent cover, is a camera. It’s small, and would have been invisible just staring at the vent from below. You feel like you might be sick as you pull it free from the vent cover, staring down into the tiny lens.
How long has it been up there?
You drop the camera onto your desk, your fingers shaking and trembling as you feel along the edges of the vent, checking for anything else that might be hiding up there. You replace the cover after you find nothing, a sense of dread filling you.
Had the guys put it up so they could watch you, make sure that you’re safe? Had they put it up there before you arrived? You think about all the times you’ve changed in your room, your heat.
You climb down from the desk, tugging it further towards the center of the room before you climb back up, unscrewing the cover off the light. You check the bulb, looking for any cameras or recording devices. You screw the cover of the light back on after finding none, a quiet sob leaving your lips as you look around your room.
You close the door and lock it before you begin your search, checking every corner and piece of furniture for cameras or recording devices. You empty the dresser and closet, checking every drawer and corner for anything suspicious.
You pull recording devices from under your desk and the back of your nightstand, the adhesive still fresh enough they pop right off. A cold sweat has overtaken you as you find another recording device and another camera, adding them to the growing pile on your desk.
A quiet sob of fear leaves your lips as you check the bathroom, tearing your room apart to check every inch. You search up a tutorial on YouTube, using your phone to check for more possible cameras that you might have missed.
You stare down at the pile of cameras and recording devices on your desk. Someone entered your room and planted them while you were with General Shepherd. It had all been deliberate. Get you away from your room and distracted so they could enter and set up the devices. You wonder if it’s all part of some sick plan, some way to ensure things are going well with your pack. General Shepherd had been very interested in your mark, invading your space without a moment of hesitation to see it firsthand. You would have shown him, had he asked to see it. Instead he’d just done it himself, as if it was nothing.
Your hands are shaking as you find a ziploc bag in the mess you’ve made of your room, putting the cameras and recording devices into it. You drop it onto the floor before stepping on it, listening to the crack of metal and plastic and glass under your shoe. Tears slip down your cheeks as you pick up the bag of broken pieces, taking it to the bathroom. You hide it far in the back of the cupboard beneath the sink, piling things around it and on top of it to keep it hidden.
You stand in the doorway of the bathroom, your skin crawling as you stare at the mess. You don’t feel safe anymore, not even in your own space. The thought of someone breaching the sacred space, entering your room without a second thought to put up cameras makes your stomach churn.
Where will you go? You can’t just leave, find somewhere else to feel safe. What if they did the same to the guys’ rooms? There could have been an entire team of people that came in and put cameras up all over the barracks. A sob leaves your lips as you rush to the door, double checking it’s locked before you shove the dresser against it. You flip your desk up to cover the window as much as it can, just in case anyone tries to climb in.
You sink to the floor in the middle of the disaster that has become your room, sobbing quietly. You want your pack home, you want to feel safe again. You glance at your phone where it’s sitting on a pile of shirts, afraid to even touch it. That woman could have done anything to it while you were with General Shepherd. What if they’re trying to call you and they can’t reach you?
You should try to reach Dr. Keller, tell her what happened, get her to check if there’s anyone lurking around the barracks that shouldn’t be. What if they try to attack her, though? Can she defend herself? You don’t know if she can fight or not. What if she gets hurt because of you? She could ask someone else on base to look, but what if they were involved in it? What if it was someone already on base that had done it? The thought nearly makes you sick.
You’re scared to leave again. What if they’ve noticed you found the cameras and come back while you’re gone? What if they come back while you’re here?
The tears flow freely as you sob, too afraid to even move. You can feel it, the panic starting to bubble up again, the fear welling inside you. Your muscles begin to tense, shoulders pulling up near your ears as you try to defend yourself from this invisible threat. It’s an easy slope from fear to distress, and there’s no one to help you if you start distressing. You press your palms into your eyes, holding your breath to try and shock your body into something other than panic.
You bite back a startled scream as a knock sounds at the door, your heart rate spiking again.
“It’s just me,” Dr. Keller’s voice sounds through the door. “Ready for dinner?”
You take a deep breath, staring at the dresser blocking your door. You’ll have to move it to get out, which she’ll likely notice. You could lie, you could lie easily, but you’re not sure you could keep it up right now. She’ll notice the tears, the obvious signs of panic and distress. She’ll want to know, and you can’t trust yourself not to spill everything.
You should tell her about what had happened, but you know she’ll be disappointed. She’ll think you were stupid for leaving, for not even sending her a text. She’ll tell John when he returns, too. He should know about it, but there’s no way a high ranking General could arrive on base without them knowing, especially one that’s their commander. Maybe it had all been a test. Maybe they do know about General Shepherd and just forgot to tell you this was going to happen.
Maybe Dr. Keller even knew about it, and didn’t say anything because she thought you knew too.
“I-I’m not hungry.” You say, trying to keep your voice from shaking.
There’s a pause outside the door for a moment, a beat of silence that’s too loud.
“Is everything alright?” She finally asks.
“Y-Yeah.” You say, clearing your throat. “Just...not really hungry right now.”
It’s silent again for a beat, making you hold your breath anxiously.
“Are you sure? I can come back later, or bring you dinner.” She says.
“I’m sure.” You swallow the tears welling in your eyes again. “I’ll grab a snack if I get hungry later.”
“Okay...” She says, and you can almost see the frown on her face. “Text or call if you need anything, alright?”
“Yeah.” You say, your voice cracking a bit.
You regret it almost instantly, the urge to shove the dresser out of the way and fling the door open strong as you hear her receding steps down the hallway. You don’t want to be alone, but Dr. Keller can’t give you what you need. The tears start falling again, sliding down your cheeks as you flop onto your back, ignoring the way the edge of a book digs into your spine.
You just want your pack back. You want John to scoop you up into his arms and wrap you in his warmth and soothing scent. You want Kyle and Johnny to squish you between them, sandwich you so tightly you’re scared you might burst. You want Ghost to wrap himself around you and offer you a blanket of protection against anyone who would even dare cast a glance in your direction.
You just want to feel at home again.
You want to be safe again.
***
The emotional and physical exhaustion pushes you into the state between consciousness and sleep. You’ve moved to your bed, tucked under the covers and stuck between the wall and your giant bear, as if it could offer you some form of protection as you float between awareness and somewhere in the realm of sleep for a few hours.
You’re not sure what time it is, when the disruption comes. It takes you a moment to register why you’re awake. Some deep part of your brain is prickling, sending out warning signals to your body. Something’s happening, something’s wrong, something’s posing a threat.
You hold your breath in the silence of the barracks, listening to the slow, quiet footsteps making their way down the hall. For a moment you think you might be imagining them, that you’re still asleep and dreaming. Your fingers pinch at your skin, nails digging in to confirm that you are, in fact, awake. This is really happening.
Your heartbeat picks up, the bitter stench of fear that’s coated your room intensifying as the footsteps pause outside your door. You let out a quiet, shaky breath as you lay there, thinking up every time you checked the door in the last few hours to ensure it was locked and the dresser was still pushed in front of it.
You cover your mouth as the door handle wiggles, catching on the lock. The whimper of fear threatening to rise catches in your throat as you hold your breath, your body trembling under your blankets. You should reach for your phone, send a text to Kate, call Dr. Keller, do something. Yet, you’re frozen in fear as the handle continues to wiggle before stopping.
You don’t release a breath until the footsteps fade, a quiet whimper slipping from your lips. Someone just tried to get into your room.
You’re panicking, breaths coming in short, sharp gasps as you burrow under your covers, barricading yourself between the wall and your bear, hoping you’ll be invisible in case they come back, in case they force their way in. You can’t fight, not after the day you’ve had. The best you can hope for is that your scent is rank enough in the room it’ll deter whoever is trying to get in.
You need tomorrow to come, and fast.
***
Daylight doesn't bring any sense of comfort.
All it does is shed more light on the disaster your room has become, the physical representation of your internal thoughts and feelings. Your face feels puffy from crying, and there’s a bad taste in your mouth. You haven’t brushed your teeth since yesterday, nor have you showered, too scared to put yourself in such a vulnerable position.
You glance at your phone, checking for missed calls, but there’s none. Dr. Keller will be by soon to get you for breakfast, but you’re not sure you can stand going to the mess. The idea of leaving your room, leaving it empty so anyone could just walk in and bug it or touch your things or hide out so they can take revenge on you for finding and destroying their cameras and recording devices has you paralyzed.
That must have been what whoever entered the barracks last night had come to do. Maybe they thought you’d spend the night in one of the other rooms and they’d come to replace them. Or, maybe they wanted you to be in your room. Maybe that was the plan all along.
The thought sends a chill running down your spine.
You burrow back under your blankets, curling up against your giant teddy bear. You wish it was Price, that his arm would wrap around you and hold you close, keep you safe and protected in his arms. You’d take any of them right now, even Ghost. At least you know he’d protect you, especially if someone tried to enter the barracks without permission.
You’re still lying there when Dr. Keller arrives. You stare at the dresser still pushed against the door, keeping you from opening it. Not that you really want to. You can’t stop the anxiety from taking over, bringing forward the image of Dr. Keller held at gunpoint on the other side of the door, trying to trick you into opening it so whoever tried to get in last night can finally do what they came to do.
You know it’s a ridiculous thought. No one would be that stupid in broad daylight, and you doubt Dr. Keller would let something like that happen to her. She’d put up a fight, or at least you hope so.
You can’t move the dresser without her knowing you’d pushed it against the door, which will only prompt questions. Questions you don’t want to answer.
She calls your name through the door, concern lacing her voice. “Everything alright?”
No. You want to scream it, tears gathering in your eyes again. You want to push the dresser out of the way, throw open the door and confess everything that’s happened in the last few hours to her. You want to bring her into your space, keep her there until your pack returns so you can feel even just an ounce of safety.
But what if she gets mad?
Leaving yesterday was stupid. Going off with some unknown beta without telling anyone was the dumbest thing you’ve done since your arrival on base. She’ll be disappointed and she’ll tell your pack and they’ll be disappointed that you didn’t say anything to her about it. Even if they knew it happened, they’d still be disappointed that you didn’t think to even question it, that you didn’t think to let Dr. Keller know what was going on.
You made a stupid decision, and you won’t be able to take their disappointment and anger. Not after everything.
“Yeah.” You call out, your voice shaking. “I-I’m alright.”
You can tell she doesn’t believe you, even though you can’t see her. She probably has that look on her face she gets when she knows you’re not telling the whole truth. You take a deep breath, trying to calm the racing of your heart. You’re afraid it might give out after the stress of the last few days.
“Are you ready for breakfast?” She finally asks, likely giving up on trying to get any more details from you.
You’re not hungry, and you know going to the mess will not end well. The risk of distressing is high, and the thought that any one in the mess might have been the intruder last night nearly sends you over the edge. One wrong glance in your direction might cause you to do something reckless. “I’m not hungry.” You finally say, pulling the blankets tighter around you.
“Are you sure?” She asks. “Did you eat something last night?”
“Yeah.” You lie, trying to keep your voice from breaking. “I had some snacks.”
Her feet shuffle outside the door for a moment, and you can almost hear her sigh. “If you’re sure?”
“I-I’m sure.” You reply.
There’s a moment of silence before you get a response, your breath catching in your throat from the nerves. “Alright.” She finally says. “I got word that your pack will be landing in a couple of hours and we have permission to go out to the airfield and greet them. I’ll come back to get you when it’s time. If you need anything, call me.”
You listen to her footsteps recede down the hallway, tears burning your eyes. You hate lying. You feel bad for keeping the truth from her, but the shame of revealing what you did is too strong.
You hastily wipe your eyes, staring at the mess on your floor. You need to get your room back to at least its somewhat normal state, and you need to put yourself back to your normal state as well. If anyone gets any hint that something is wrong, you might crack, and you’re not sure you could handle the repercussions.
You start with the desk, flipping it back the way it’s supposed to be and positioning it as close to where it was as you can get. You collect the books and other little things that go on it, trying to arrange it as close to how it normally is. You know they’ll notice if any little thing is out of place, if anything looks suspicious. You can blame some of it on cleaning, if they ask. You did some deep cleaning while they were away. That’s one way of putting it.
You push the dresser back into place next, putting the drawers back in before starting on the clothes, putting everything back where it belongs. You make your bed last, the urge to nest gone completely. You’re shaking with exhaustion by the time you finish, tempted to crawl back into bed, but you know you can’t. Your pack is coming back, and you need everything to look like it’s fine still.
They’ll notice. They’ll see it, and they’ll ask, and you’ll have to spill everything and face the shame and anger from being so stupid.
Tears burn your eyes as you slip your desk chair under the door handle, making sure it’s secure before heading to the shower to get ready for your pack’s imminent return. You shower with the door open, getting done quickly to avoid being vulnerable for long. You try to make yourself look as decent as possible, ignoring the fact that there’s broken cameras and recording devices hidden under the sink. Eventually you’ll forget. Eventually it’ll fade from your mind and become nothing more than a forgotten nightmare.
One of many.
You toss your pajamas on the floor haphazardly, just to make things look more normal. You know if it’s too clean, that might raise some suspicions as well. You don’t want to give away that something happened, you don’t want to raise any suspicions. You just want things to go back to normal. You want your pack back, and you want to feel safe again.
At least, until they have to leave again.
You sink to the floor, leaning up against your bed as you wait for Dr. Keller to take you to greet your pack when they return.
***
Every minute seems to drag on infinitely as you stare across the tarmac. They’ll be landing any minute. Any minute now the nightmare will be over and you’ll get to see your pack again after days of being apart. Finally, maybe, you can begin to feel safe again.
You watch the plane as it comes in to land, your hands already trembling in anticipation. There’s a twisting in your stomach, you’re not sure if it’s worry or fear or excitement. They’re so close, so close you can almost smell them. Your omega is scratching at the back of your brain, your muscles twitching as the ramp begins to lower on the plane. You need to see them, you need to smell them, you need to ensure they’re alright.
You can’t stop yourself. As soon as their boots hit the tarmac, you’re running. You don’t care if you’re breaking rules, you don’t care if the other soldiers get worried, or see you as a possible threat, you need to be in your alpha’s arms again.
John grunts from the force of you hitting him, but you can’t bring yourself to care. You throw your arms around him, clinging to him as tight as you can. You’re whimpering, the quiet sounds dragging from your lips but you don’t care. You press your face into his chest, breathing him in. He smells like sweat and musk, the sharp metallic tang of gunpowder burning your nose. Yet, underneath it all, you can make out the earthy scent, the petrichor going straight to your brain.
His arms wrap tight around you, squishing you up against his chest. His vest digs into your skin, but you don’t care. You can’t feel much of anything but relief. His breath fans your forehead as he leans down, his hand cupping the back of your head. He shushes you gently, pressing a kiss to your forehead. Tears fill your eyes as you cling to him, fingers gripping his shirt tightly like you’re afraid he might disappear again. If it wasn’t for the pain in your chest, you might have thought this was all a dream, that they might disappear suddenly and you’ll wake up alone again.
“Easy.” John rumbles, gently stroking the back of your head.
You cling to him tighter as his hand gets close to your neck, the thought of General Shepherd’s hand being so close to your neck where he could scruff you so easily making your insides squirm.
He’s gone. He’s gone and your pack is here.
“You’re alright.” John tries to reassure you, squeezing his arms around your trembling form. “I’ve got you.”
You keep your face pressed against his chest, breathing him in, trying to get his scent to calm the raging storm within you. Your omega is still scratching at the back of your mind, a deep need to claw your way under John’s skin and into his body pushing at the front of your mind. You won’t be safe until you’ve been utterly consumed by him, until you’re safely tucked where no one can hurt you without going through him first.
“Alpha,” You whine quietly, nuzzling your face against his chest. His clothes are in the way, a barrier against what you need. To feel him, to smell him fully again.
“Easy.” He says, grabbing your hands as they shift towards the velcro straps of his tactical vest. “Let’s get back to the barracks first before we start that, sweetheart.”
You don’t want to go back to the barracks. It’s not safe anymore. What if there’s someone waiting there for you to return? What if they get hurt because you don’t tell them what happened? What if you get hurt and cause them pain?
“You’re alright.” John says, stroking the back of your head as he begins to ease your grip on him. “There’s a couple of muppets here who I think would like to greet you too.”
Right. You’re so caught up in your alpha, you forgot the rest of your pack. You slowly allow yourself to be peeled away from John, Kyle right there to let you cling to him.
And so you do.
Your grip around him is just as tight, ignoring the uncomfortable ridges of his own vest. He holds you just as tightly, projecting his scent just a bit to try and calm you. Someone presses against your back, arms wrapping around both you and Kyle. The scent of citrus lined with beta invades your nose, Johnny squishing you into a sandwich between them. Your eyes squeeze shut as citrus and salty sea air blend together, the beta’s scents reaching deep into your brain to try and ease some of the tension in your body.
They’re back. They’re safe. You’re safe.
Now you just have to convince yourself of that fact.
***
“How was she?” John asks as he approaches Dr. Keller.
“Held it together longer than I thought she would.” She says. “Things took a turn yesterday afternoon. Shut herself in her room and wouldn’t come out. I don’t think she’s eaten anything since lunch yesterday either.”
“We’ll get some food in her.” John says. “Thank you, for looking after her for us.”
“Well, it is partly my job.” Dr. Keller shrugs. “Always happy to do it.”
“Things will get easier, won’t they?” He asks.
“Eventually. She’ll learn what coping mechanisms help and she’ll adapt.”
“Hopefully at least one of us will be able to stay moving forward. I don’t like leaving her here alone.” He grimaces.
“Separation is hard no matter what, especially with limited contact, on all parties involved.” She gives him a look. “I think the best thing you can do right now is just be together as a pack. Let those bonds heal and let her do what she needs.”
“Thank you, doctor.” John says, shaking her hand.
“Call me, if you need anything, as usual.” Dr. Keller says, watching his retreating back before getting into her car to make the short drive back to the medical center.
John gets into the car waiting to take them back to the barracks, sitting next to Kyle who’s holding you straddling his lap, your face pressed into his neck. “That looks safe.” He remarks, even though they wouldn’t be going very fast, or very far.
“Couldn’t get her to let go.” Kyle says, tightening his hold around you as the car begins moving.
“You’re alright, sweetheart.” John says, rubbing your back gently.
You turn your face to look at him, your eyes red from the numerous tears you’ve already shed, and the ones still trailing down your face. The guilt nearly makes him sick as he stares at you, feeling the slight tremble still from where his hand rests against your back.
He’d never say it out loud, but he hates the fact they had to leave you, all four of them at once too. He’d fought, argued. He and Simon could have handled it on their own, even him and the two Sergeants would have been sufficient. Anything not to leave you by yourself during their first deployment.
Despite his attempts, General Shepherd had been insistent that all four of them were necessary for this particular task.
So, he had been forced to leave you behind on your own. It’s gone about as well as he expected, from the looks of it. He knew the separation would get to you eventually. The stress would grow to be too much. Every day he anticipated the news to come from Kate that you had distressed and your omega had taken over because he wasn’t there to help you.
Every day he waited for the news that they’d lost you because the brass that put this initiative into place couldn’t understand why taking them all at once was a bad idea.
Or maybe that was their plan all along.
He couldn’t stop the conspiratorial thoughts running through his head as their mission dragged on. What if they were doing this on purpose? It wouldn’t be that strange to push the boundaries of what could be tolerated for the purpose of testing just how effective the initiative really could be. But pushing it like that so soon? Sure, he could rationalize it was possible. War could break out at any moment, which would require most military members to leave, to be separated from their packs for months or even years. His own team could be called out at any time for months working to eliminate a target and stop war from breaking out.
Yet, he can’t help but feel there was something more, something deeper going on. What if they had called away for more nefarious reasons? What if getting you alone had been the reason behind General Shepherd’s insistence that all four of them were necessary for this particular task? He had refused to entertain those dark thoughts for too long, the fear of leaving you alone already itching in the back of his mind from the moment they boarded the plane to leave.
He hadn’t been able to hide his relief at hearing your voice on the phone. Though you had sounded upset, and rightfully so, his worries had been lessened in knowing you were alright. You would tell them if something had happened. He knows you wouldn’t keep something that serious a secret. If someone had hurt you, or had tried to hurt you, you would tell one of them.
Even though he trusts you, he does plan to speak to Dr. Keller more in depth later to ensure everything went as fine as she seemed to imply it did. Obviously their absence has been hard on you, but he needs to make sure you really will be alright, that you will be able to come back from the obvious distress this has caused you.
***
You finally release your constricting hold on Kyle as the car pulls up outside the barracks. Even with them back, it still doesn't feel like home anymore, not after such sacred space was invaded so easily, so nonchalantly. Kyle climbs out of the car, setting you on your feet on the ground. You look between him and John, realizing Ghost and Johnny are still in the car. Your stomach falls as you realize what they're about to say, tears gathering in your eyes again.
“We still have some things we need to do.” John says, reaching towards you.
You have the momentary urge to flinch from his touch, but you let his hand cup your cheek. “You're leaving me again.” You say, your voice breaking.
John almost looks guilty. He almost looks upset by your visible turmoil. His hand drops from your cheek to your back, turning you towards the barracks. Your stomach twists as he guides you inside, the fear of someone being inside spiking. You know you're safe with John, that he wouldn’t let anything happen to you, but you'd have to play dumb if they did catch someone inside. You’d have to act like you didn’t know someone had entered before, like you had been unaware of anything going on. That might almost be worse than telling them the truth.
You inhale as he stops in front of your door, still closed from when you'd left with Dr. Keller. There's no chemical burn of scent blockers, just your scent in the air, and John's scent coming off him as he stands next to you.
“We won't be long. Maybe an hour at most, and we'll only be across base. We'll come back and we can get lunch before our afternoon meeting. Then we'll just have reports to do, and you can sit in my office while I work on those, okay?” He says.
Your brows pinch as you try to hold in your tears. You want to tell him, you want to reveal what happened, beg him not to leave you alone here again, but you can't. You can't face that shame, the disappointment you know he'll show on his face at the knowledge that you let that happen. You willingly left with a stranger without telling anyone. You let someone invade your pack's space so easily. They were gone for a week and you screwed everything up.
“Tomorrow we'll spend the day together. All of us. I promise.” He says wiping the tear that slides down your cheek.
Even though they're back, you still don't have them.
You inhale shakily before nodding. “Yeah. Fine.”
John's thumb brushes your cheek for a moment before he leans down, pressing a kiss to your forehead.
You watch his back retreat as he leaves the barracks, leaving you alone again. You think back to when they’d left you, watching his back as he boarded the plane to be taken from you. You stare at the door as the cars drive off, a cold chill running down your spine. What if General Shepherd is still here? What if they're going to meet with him? What if he tells them he met with you while they were gone and they had no idea?
Maybe you should have been honest with them from the start.
You stare at your closed door, your hands shaking. What if there's someone inside? What if someone is waiting to take their revenge for you destroying the cameras. What if they put new ones up?
You should have opened the door while Price was here so you could have at least screamed when someone would hear you. You back away from your door slowly, deciding to wait in the rec room. At least there you might have a chance. You could break a window and run, or at least have a higher chance of making it to a door.
Would anyone help you? Would anyone come if you screamed? What if they’re all in on it?
You're shaking as you sink onto the couch, sitting so you can see into the hallway. You want to see them coming so you can prepare yourself, or at least give yourself a chance to make an escape before it’s too late.
You run through all the things Ghost has taught you in your head as you sit and wait, the minutes dragging by painfully slow. You can feel every second, though that may just be the anxiety and fear pulsing within you. You wish you could sleep, you wish you could relax, you wish you could do anything to make the time go by faster, but yet you remain hypervigilant, staring so hard you flinch at every little shadow your brain convinces you is moving.
You’re not sure how long you sit there, tense and coiled, ready to spring at a moment’s notice. It can’t be more than an hour as John promised, yet it feels like a lifetime before you hear movement.
You hold your breath as the barracks door opens, boots thudding with every footstep coming down the hall. You nearly whimper when a figure rounds the corner, before you let out a sigh of relief.
“Ready for lunch, kitten?” Johnny asks, standing in the doorway of the rec room.
You swallow the lump in your throat, your hands still clenched into fists. You're breathing hard, your entire body tense. You know you're reaching dangerous territory. Any more panic, you may start distressing. What a welcome home for them, coming back to a distressed omega. They're probably exhausted, and here you are making a scene.
Hands close around yours. Warm, calloused hands apply gentle pressure, slowly uncurling your fingers. Your hands are shaking, trembling just slightly.
“Ye alright, kitten?” Johnny asks, kneeling in front of you. When he moved, you're not sure.
“I-I'm not...” You start, your voice shaking.
“Ye need tae eat.” He counters, as if he had read your mind, expected the answer.
He's right. You're beginning to feel it gnawing in your stomach, something deeper than the anxiety. With all the stressing you've been doing, you know you need to eat something. Being hungry is not helping that any, either.
“I don't want to go to the mess.” You say quickly, the words almost mushing together incoherently. “Too much.”
Johnny sits back, staring at you for a moment before nodding in understanding. “Alright. That's fair. I'll let the lads know.”
He stands up, leaving you alone in the rec room again. You listen to his footsteps fade, the door opening and closing for a moment. You hold your breath, practically on the edge of your seat. There's no reason they would make you go to the mess. You've eaten in the barracks many times before.
You blame your worry on your hunger. You know omegas don't do well when hungry. Omegas don't do well being uncomfortable in general.
Saying these last few days have been uncomfortable for you is a bit of an oversimplification.
Footsteps echo down the hallway, a familiar hulking figure approaching the rec room. You never thought there would come a time when you would feel relief upon seeing Ghost. Yet here you are, the tension easing from your shoulders as he steps into the rec room.
“They're grabbing us food.” He says, moving to sit in his usual spot in the chair facing the door. He sighs as he sinks into the cushions, and you can only imagine how tired he must be.
And here you are making things worse.
“You're stressed.” He says, staring at you. His eyes are still painted black beneath his mask, adding to the eerie vibe coming off of him. You're beginning to understand why they call him Ghost. “Stinking up the barracks.” He says, pulling out his phone.
“Oh.” You say quietly, sinking in on yourself as you sit there. “Sorry.”
You pick nervously at your sweatshirt as you wait for the others to return, letting out a quiet sigh of relief as they enter the rec room, food in hand.
Johnny sits you on his lap as you eat, making sure you get your fill, likely aware that you haven't eaten yet today thanks to Dr. Keller telling on you. It's quiet in the room as everyone eats, even the TV off. They all look tired and tense, and you can only imagine what happened during their time away. The things they did, the things they saw. You wonder how much blood is on their hands now, hands that have touched you, hands that are holding you.
They can just go off and kill people and come back and act like nothing has happened.
You could almost laugh at how psychotic it all sounds.
This is your life now. This is your new normal.
“We have a quick meeting. Shouldn't take too long.” John says as they stand, Johnny placing you gently on your feet.
You tug at your sweatshirt, avoiding his gaze. They're leaving you again. They won't be far this time, but still. You just want to curl up in bed with them and lay there until you feel safe again.
Tomorrow, John had said. Tomorrow they will be yours.
It might have been easier if you hadn't been told they were coming home until tomorrow.
***
You tense under the blanket as the door closes, quiet footsteps approaching your position on the couch. There's a quiet sigh as a figure drops to a knee in front of you, their figure visible as a shadow beneath the blanket.
“Can you breathe under there?”
You slowly lower the blanket just enough to peek over the top of it. John is kneeling next to the couch, his brows furrowed in a frown. You're in his office, having shut yourself in there while they went into the meeting. John had made you swear not to go snooping as he’d let you inside. You had promised, as you still feel no desire to dig through the likely classified files that were locked in the cabinets and on his computer. Instead you had parked yourself on his couch, burrowing under a blanket that smelled faintly of petrichor and tobacco smoke.
“There she is.” He says as you peek above the blanket, gently running a hand over the top of your head. “How are you holding up, sweetheart?”
“You left me.” You say quietly, trying not to burst into tears and confess everything.
“I know.” He says, wiping the tear that slides down your cheek. “But we came back, just like we promised.”
He is right in that regard, yet you can’t help the tears as they slide down your cheeks. The ache in your chest that had started to build over the last few days is still present despite their return. Everything is wrong. They feel too far away, too distant. Nothing is safe anymore, nothing is sacred, and they’re just acting like everything is back to normal.
“Would you like to kneel for me?” He asks, his thumb stroking your cheek.
You’re tempted to say no. For the first time you feel wary of your alpha. What kinds of things would you admit in your dazed state? If he questioned you, would you give him enough to put together that something had happened and you’ve been trying to hide it from him? Maybe it would help, though. It would at least ease some of the tension that’s built up. Maybe it could pull you back from the edge of distress you’ve been dangling over for almost two days. Maybe he’ll accidentally scruff you and you can forget the whole thing happened.
The dark thought sends a chill down your spine.
“Okay.” You say, pushing yourself up to sit.
John offers you a hand, helping you up off the couch. You don't want to let go of his hand, you don't want to be parted from him. The omega in the back of your mind is screaming at you to get close to him and stay there for the rest of time. If he leaves you again...you're not sure you can handle it.
He settles in his desk chair, getting everything he needs ready. He'll work on his reports while you kneel, a familiar position, a familiar situation. You've done this before several times. You're not sure why you're suddenly nervous.
You set the pillow down, dropping to your knees beside him. The chair creaks as he shifts slightly, his hand coming to rest on the back of your head. You fight the urge to flinch, to move away as he gently strokes his hand over your hair. You've done this before, he's done this before. You're not sure why your heart is thudding in your chest.
His hand slowly moves lower, slipping closer and closer to your neck. You can't help it as your shoulders come up, preventing him from gripping the back of your neck. He moves his hand away as you get defensive, his chair turning slightly as he leans down.
“It's alright, sweetheart. It's just me.” He soothes you, his hand returning to the top of your head. “I know it's been a while, but I promise I remember what to do.”
“Sorry, sorry.” You gasp out, trying to relax. “I don't...I don't know...”
You do know. Your brain keeps flashing back to General Shepherd, his hand tugging down your collar, so close to your neck. How easily he could have scruffed you, if he'd wanted to. You would have known if he had, but he could have done anything to you during the time he had control.
“You're stressed, all worked up.” John says, still stroking the top of your head, trying to soothe you. “It's been a long week for all of us. It was a risk, sending all four of us at once. A stupid risk that shouldn't have been taken.”
You're pulled from your emotional state at the slight hint of anger in his voice. It hadn't taken you long to figure out they likely were all sent in order to get you alone. It would have been impossible to get you out of the barracks and put cameras up with even one of them here. Did he know about Shepherd's visit? Had he put two and two together and figured out they sent all four of them on purpose? You figured he'd be angrier if he knew about what you did, about what they did to you. He would be blazing a path straight to General Shepherd if your alpha knew he got so close to you, put you in that kind of situation.
At least, you hope he would. There’s still that fear in the back of your mind, that worry that it was all a test and you’ve failed. Would they send you back to the institute? Would they break the bonds and send you to a different pack? Would they send you out on your own, leaving you to fend for yourself until some other alpha crossed your path and decided you were worth it? Does he know you’re lying to him, hiding the truth of what happened while he was away? Is he waiting for you to confess, biding his time to see how long you try to hide it?
You want to tell him. You really do, but you can't bring yourself to get the words out. You can't bring yourself to confess here on your knees before your alpha. You feel guilty, like a sinner, yet the shame keeps the words trapped inside.
He continues to soothe you, sliding his hand further down until he reaches your neck. You force yourself to relax, knowing you need this. You need your alpha to take control. You need him to ease the heavy weight on your shoulders, even if he doesn't know what he's lifting.
You close your eyes as his fingers press into your neck, your brain quieting to a hum as you begin to slip into the back of your mind. You feel the rush of endorphins as your brain begins to calm itself, quieting the storm that's been raging for almost a week. You begin to go numb, relaxing into John's hold as he eases you into a quiet, meditative state. He begins to work on his reports as he holds you, your mind floating off somewhere else, somewhere safer where no one can break in and hurt you, somewhere where the barracks are still secure and safe and your pack never left.
Somewhere where there's no initiative, and your pack picked you because they wanted you, because you were a good omega who did as she was told and didn't make stupid mistakes that put everyone in danger.
The last of the tension leaves your body, your mind distant from the present moment. You're safe with your alpha. He'd never let anything happen to you. None of your pack would let anything happen to you.
The thought continues to repeat in your head like a mantra as you relax, held up by the strong pillar that is your alpha.
***
“Report's done, Captain.” Kyle says, placing the stack of papers on John's desk.
“Thanks.” John sighs, grabbing them.
Kyle turns to look at you, fast asleep on the couch. “You want me to take her?” He asks, the formality easing between them as they settle into being a pack and not a task force on duty anymore.
John stares at you, curled up on his lumpy old couch. It’s getting late, or at least it feels that way. You’ve been out, sleeping peacefully on his couch since he eased you out of your kneeling position. You’d clung to him tightly, and for a moment he’d considered holding you, letting you sit with him as you dozed, but he knows he can’t risk you seeing something you shouldn’t. So he’d eased you onto the couch, having to peel your hands away from his shirt. He’d nearly given up and let you keep hold of his shirt before you finally relaxed and released him.
“Would probably be more comfortable.” He rubs his eyes, feeling the call of sleep himself. He wonders how much you managed to sleep while they were gone. You look tired, though you’ve been looking tired since your heat ended. He needs to rest himself, but he wants to get these reports done so he can keep his promise for tomorrow. “I'll be in there soon.”
“Don't work too hard.” Kyle says, moving to lift you off the couch.
“No promises.”
Kyle shakes his head before scooping you up off the couch, blanket and all. You’re still sound asleep as he carries you, pausing in the hallway for a moment. He had just been instinctually going to his room, but would you be more comfortable in your own room? You probably have spent the last week shut inside your space. It might be nice to spend some time somewhere else.
He takes you into his room, laying you on the bed, making sure you’re comfortable. He needs to shower and throw his clothes in the wash, but he doesn’t want to leave you and risk you waking up without someone there. You’re sleeping deeply, though, not even stirring as he tucks the blanket up higher around you. He doesn't want to crawl into bed smelling like gunpowder and sweat. That might throw you off too.
He takes the risk, knowing he can do both tasks quickly. No more than twenty minutes to get himself clean and his dirty clothes in the wash, as he prays you stay asleep and won't start panicking if you wake in a strange place. He had sensed how close you had been to distress, how tense you had been when he held you in the car. It’s been a hard week for you, even harder than it had been for them.
He breathes out a quiet sigh of relief as he finds you still asleep when he returns to his room. You haven't moved at all, still tucked under the blanket from John's office. He gets himself changed and moisturized, rubbing some cream on the bruises that dot his skin. He's going to be sore tomorrow, they all will be, but he knows they won't be doing much. John had already told them tomorrow will be dedicated to spending time with you and helping you recover from the stress of them being gone. He’s silently glad for the break, knowing it could only be a few days before they get called out again.
John had also told him he’d be pushing harder for one of them to stay whenever he can. He’s not taking this risk again, not if it can be avoided.
Kyle’s pulling on his sweatpants when you inhale sharply. You're sitting up straight on his bed, eyes wide as you look around in fear. They’re hazy, confusion settling into your mind after going from John’s office to Kyle’s room after kneeling.
“Hey, hey. It's alright.” Kyle says, moving over to the bed, taking a seat on the edge so he’s in your line of sight. “You're just in my room.”
“Kyle?” You whisper, clarity returning to your gaze as you stare at him.
“I'm here.” He says. “Just went to take a shower and clean up.”
“Where's John?” You ask, tears gathering in your eyes.
“Still working on things.” He says, cupping your face. “He'll be in eventually.”
The tears fall from your eyes, sliding down your cheeks. They wet his thumbs as he strokes your skin, your body trembling slightly as you sniffle.
Something’s wrong. He's known it since you latched onto him on the tarmac. The way you'd held onto him like he might disappear, how you looked almost angry when John told you they still had things to do, the way your scent had filled the barracks, bitter with fear and stress.
Something’s up, something you're not letting them in on. But, to be fair, they had just left you for a week, up and abandoned you to go play heroes. He wouldn't blame you for not telling them anything. The bonds have weakened. He can feel it, beyond just his natural beta senses.
“What can I do?” He asks quietly, trying to project his scent a bit to help calm you. He doesn't want you distressing, not after holding it together for so long.
“I...I need...” You inhale shakily, still trembling in his hold. “I don't know.” You whine, the tears falling faster now.
He pulls you against his chest, holding you as you cry. He feels the tugging in his chest, sympathy for you and what you must be feeling, along with the guilt of knowing they caused this. They did this just with their absence.
An idea begins to form in his mind as he holds you, something his family used to do when he was younger.
He pulls away from you, standing up. “Come on. I have an idea.”
He strips the blankets from his bed before pulling the mattress off the frame. He drags it to the door and out into the hallway before heading down to John's room. You follow behind him, watching him as he opens the door to John’s room, dragging the mattress in and dropping it on the floor.
“Stay here.” He tells you, heading back out into the hallway.
“What're ye doin’?” Johnny asks, sticking his head out of his door.
“Grab your mattress and Simon and meet me in Price's room.” Kyle says as he heads down the hallway, ignoring Johnny's further questioning as he makes for John’s office.
He doesn't bother knocking, walking right in. John blinks at him from behind the desk, and for a moment Kyle wonders if he'd fallen asleep sitting up. It wouldn't be the first time.
“Come on.” Kyle says, moving to stand in front of his desk. “Finish those tomorrow.”
“They're important, I have to get them done asap.” John counters.
“Yeah, well I have something more important.” He leans forward at John's questioning stare. “Your omega needs you.”
John stares at his beta for a moment, and Kyle can see the gears turning in his head, the debate happening, the conflict in his mind. He so rarely sees his alpha, his captain so indecisive for so long. He's usually so quick to act, analyzing a situation and making a decision in mere seconds.
If only you knew the things you've done by simply existing in their lives.
John closes the file on his desk, slipping it into the drawer before locking it. Kyle fights the triumphant grin threatening to form on his face as John stands from his chair after shutting his computer off. Kyle makes his way back down the hallway, John following behind after locking his office door. Kyle stops at his room, grabbing his comforter before heading for John’s room.
Johnny had obviously gotten the idea of what Kyle had in mind, his mattress and John's laid out side by side so the three make one giant bed for them on the floor. He’s already laid out his own comforter and Simon’s, as well as John’s on the mattresses. They probably wouldn’t need blankets for long with their body heat, but the blend of scents will hopefully begin to ease the tempest raging in your mind.
You’ve parked yourself in the corner, watching it all happen. You seem so small, so lost, so out of place. It's not all that different from when you'd arrived in their lives. Has being gone for a week really reverted things so drastically for you? Has your stress broken the bonds so much that you feel like a stranger amongst them again?
Kyle steps over the mattresses, approaching you slowly. You look up from where you had been staring off into space, blinking up at him. Your eyes are still red and watery from crying, your arms clutching one of your stuffed bears against your chest. It’s the one John had scented for you, back when they were trying to get you to nest. He wonders if you’ve nested since they left, if that urge is still there, or if that too has faded.
Kyle doesn’t often feel angry at his job. Not anymore. He doesn’t often question it. It’s what he signed up for, and he does it because someone has to. He chose this life, so he does his best to be a good soldier, to follow orders. Yet, as he stares down at you, he can’t help but feel anger bristling in the back of his mind. He tries to blame it on his instincts, on the fact that a member of his pack is so upset, so distressed at something that’s happened, and he doesn't know what to do to help.
Yet he knows they were the cause of it, even if it wasn’t their choice directly. Something happened because of them. He tries to rationalize it. This is an experiment, a test to see how well packs will do with omegas, if it has any effect on how well they can do their jobs, if it makes them stronger, or if it weakens them. Those in charge had obviously put little regard in for how it would affect the omegas. They couldn’t have known how you would react, how badly all of them leaving would affect you. Or maybe they did know, and they simply didn’t care.. Perhaps you weren’t the focus of their study, but you were still a variable, you were still an important piece of this puzzle.
How can they be more effective if their omega is struggling because of their absence? How can they be expected to function like a team now knowing leaving behind their omega will only cause distress for all of them?
Kyle takes a deep breath, pushing back the anger and the emotions whirling in his own mind. He needs to focus on you right now, focus on helping you relax, helping you get back to where you were before they left you. He’s doing the best he can do right now for you, giving you what you need, even if you don’t realize it’s what you need yet.
He holds out his hand to you, staying still as you stare at it. It takes you a moment before you slowly begin to move, slipping one of your hands into his. He guides you to the mattress in the middle, Johnny’s mattress, easing you down to sit on it. You glance around as Johnny and John toss pillows onto the mattresses haphazardly, making sure everything is perfect. It’s not a pretty nest, he’d hardly call it a nest at all, but he knows nesting is not necessarily all about looks. It’s about feeling, and right now, he knows you need to feel safe and secure.
John quickly changes into more comfortable clothes as Kyle stretches out on the mattress, opening his arms to you. You curl up against his side, resting your cheek against his chest. You press your face into his skin, inhaling for a moment before you settle, slowly beginning to relax in his hold.
Simon enters the room as John settles on Kyle’s other side, closing the door behind him and locking it, securing the five of you inside. Johnny settles on the other side of you, pressing up close against your back. He pulls one of the comforters up around the three of you before he tosses an arm around you, resting his hand on Kyle’s stomach, sandwiching you between the two betas again.
Simon stands over the makeshift nest, staring down at the four of you. He’s obviously the most uncomfortable with the situation, and still a bit miffed from your lack of greeting on the tarmac. It was his own fault for being so closed off with you for so long. You had instinctively sought out the members of the pack you felt the most connected to, the most comfortable with in your time of such great stress.
“Aw come on, ye big bastard, get in the bed.” Soap says, snapping Simon out of his reverie.
Simon shuts the light off, bathing them in near darkness. You tense for a moment as the lights go off before you slowly relax again. Kyle listens to your breaths even out as Simon gets comfortable on the mattress behind Johnny, the four of them settling in around you.
It's already warm in the room but none of them would even think of complaining. They’re too focused on surrounding you with their scent and their protection, the very thing you need the most.
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The Bed Issue - Wanda Maximoff Oneshots
Summary: Another retake of Wandavision, this time, the scene with the two single beds.
Warnings: (+18) pure smut, enchanted strap, fingering, creampie, wanda is in charge but r tops, dirty talking, some typical Westview angst (brief reality alteration) but purely sinful | Words: 3.284k
A/N-> At this point, I feel I should start a new collection with all the scenes I rewrote. I miss writing series people, where are my ideas. Also, sorry if there are too many spelling errors, I wrote this on my phone (it's hard to be poor and busy). But good reading!
General Masterlist | AO3
-&-
The sign of two single beds in the room made you giggle right away.
Wanda, who walked in first, looked back at you with curiosity. Her gaze scanned your face as she asked: “What's funny, darling?”
Your eyes found her and a deep sigh escaped your lips, the ghost of that giggle still present in your expression.
“The beds, Wanda.” You replied quickly, almost offended she couldn't see the absurdity of that. Maybe she was playing innocent. Or at least, that's what her confused gaze looked like. Another sign escaped you. “Why would a married couple sleep on different beds, side by side?”
“Well, I…” but she cut herself mid-sentence, her gaze shifted as if she realized that really didn't make any sense. “I guess you're right.”
The bed moved as quickly as her fingers - the wood jumping to the side to connect and transform into one bed. You smile, moving forward to kiss your wife's cheek.
“Lovely tricks as always, darling.” You praise, catching the soft color rising up her skin before you step to the bathroom. But you comment again, giggling: “How odd that was, two beds.”
Distracted by your own joke, you didn't catch Wanda's shoulder tension. And she could only force a smile, giving a quick gaze at your figure brushing your teeth while mentality praying that for the sake of her poor heart, you wouldn't notice any other weirdness tonight.
-&-
A stupid tree.
A stupid tree branch against the window and things got out of hand completely. At least this time, in a good sense of things.
That is because Wanda found herself pressed into the bed, giggling at our bold hands under her clothes.
She remembers this teasing all too well. Beyond the sexual tension, and the teenage hormones, there was intimacy. You could always make her laugh, no matter the situation. Often, you would do that in inappropriate ones that's for sure. Just for the satisfaction of making her blush deeply when apologizing to whoever was around to testify you making a mess out of her. And then when in a situation like tonight, where it was too hard to breathe and too warm for a coherent thought - teasing fingers where she had tickles was the perfect way to ease her anxiety. To anchor her back and remember it's just you. Her best friend. Warming your way around her skin.
But things were a little - a lot - different in Westview. Neither of you knows why or how, or better saying, Wanda knew to a different extent than you.
When she brought the covers up your bodies, taking the lead for the night and expecting to meet your eagerness to kiss her again, she was met with more giggles.
She stared down at your shiny eyes, leaning into the hand you brought to her cheek.
“It's too warm here.” You let her know softy, and yes, Wanda was quite aware. Kissing you was more than enough to heat her entirely, but doing this under the covers was a challenge. She could feel the sweat starting to drip. She was ready to say she didn't mind, maybe even kiss you to change the subject when you added: “Why would you cover us anyway, darling? There's no one watching.”
It was meant to be a joke, obviously. You don't know. You couldn't know. And your eyes were innocent and your smile was sincere and Wanda hesitated.
Your hand remains on her cheek, the caress never stopping.
“Did I say something wrong? Where did you go just now?”
She went outside. Outside the hex, all the way to monitors transmitting her sitcom of a fake life. But not really. Because she didn't consciously know about any of this. Yet, some part of her mind did know, and all the TVs that once exhibited her little show, now hold a Stand By sign.
Wanda was the one who threw the covers aside. The fresh air was well welcome but you're now distracted with the gorgeous woman moving to straddle your hips.
“You're right, there's no one watching.” She says with the same urgency she burst open your pajama shirt. You don't understand the rush, but she looks too pretty for you to disagree. And Wanda purrs at the sight of your naked skin, biting her lips like a naughty child. “I missed you.”
You chuckle breathlessly, some confusion in your eyes. “I was with you all day.”
She shook her head, deciding now to control her tongue. If she doesn't want you questioning, she needs to stop saying things like this. So she forces a smile, shifting against your hips in a way that makes your breath catch in your throat. “I always miss my wife, I mean. Whenever she's not touching me.”
Even though you offer her a grin, there's a blush in your cheeks that goes down your chest and Wanda suddenly doesn't feel like talking anymore.
A feeling you two seem to share as you bring a hand to her face only to pull her down at you again. It's a heated kiss. With tongue and breathy whispers that turn her into needy sounds.
Even without the covers, it's soon too hot to keep clothes on.
You're the one who takes her nightgown off. Pulling down as your tongues dance together, until the item no longer hides the tits you started to play it.
Wanda's eyes are tightly closed as your mouth sucks her nipple. Your hand plays with the other while she struggles to breathe.
Her top needs to go, but so does all the other clothing. The nightgown barely reached the floor and you're already pulling at her soaked panties, eager to feel her inside.
“Need this off you now, witchy.” The nickname makes her gasp. You haven't used it until now and it has been way too long since she heard. Since you-
No. No thinking about this, not now.
She forces herself back to the present, an easy task when she feels every inch of her skin burning with your touch. She needs to move away to take the item off but your hands hold her tight by the waist at the mere attempt of breaking apart.
She giggles breathlessly, aware of the new wave of wetness that dripped down with the feeling of your strong hands manhandling her back at her position, keeping her restless hips still. “But you said you wanted it off.” She tries to ration, receiving only a growl in return. The next second, when your hands shift, the item is torn off her without ceremony.
“Hey! It was my favorite.” She pouts in protest but you merely give her a husky chuckle.
“I'm sure you can fix it.” Comes as a teasing answer that Wanda couldn't contradict even if she wanted to - all previous thoughts are gone when your fingers reach her front and penetrate between her warm folds without a warning. You groan at the delirious feeling of her pussy against your fingertips while Wanda whimpers at the ceiling, trying to get used to the sudden invasion.
“Fuck, you're so tight.” Your remark with a sultry voice against her ear. Wanda's arm circles your shoulder for some support while she feels the stretch of your fingers inside her. It's been a while since last time but dear God how she missed this. Her hips move on instinct and you have to chuckle at her impatience with herself. Your free hand moves to her lower back, caressing her skin while your fingers start to press your way inside her.
“Easy darling, I got you.” You guide, too deeply for her to give you any replies other than pleas and whimpers. The position might not be the most comfortable for you but it's amazing to her. Wanda can grind down and ride your fingers as she pleases and you can feel how close she's coming to her climax so you don't dare to stop. Your thumb moves to her clit, circling the nerve and she nearly loses it. The bedroom lights start to flash with the build of this orgasm and you stare at her in amazement only to be rewarded with her gorgeous flushed face while she grinds into your hand in nearly despair.
“Fuck you're so beautiful.” You gasp, increasing the speed. The depth. Wanda breaks in a sob, her back arching. The first one is a charm. Your name is being screamed at the ceiling while you feel her wetness dripping down your hand. Unfortunately - or fortunately - it only makes you crave her more. She's still recovering from the intensity of this climax, all sweaty and flushed when you shift your hand. You're still inside her tight walls and your fingers start to pick up a pace again. She squeaks at the overstimulation, but her protest dies in your tongue sucking hers when you kiss her again.
Wanda's almost too distracted by the filthy of this kiss to notice how quickly her second climax is building - almost. There's a bite against your bottom lip that makes you groan when she breaks the kiss, unable to keep it up. Her hands grab at you for some grounding when she feels how close she is to come, stronger than the last time. You feel her nails piercing your skin when her orgasm washes over her and it's your time to moan at her ear.
Her body goes limp for a moment after this. It was two intense orgasms in a row after all. She just needs to take a breath.
You move your fingers out, sucking them clean and murmuring satisfied at her taste while Wanda struggles to recognize her surroundings.
When you can hold her with both hands again, you nuzzle at her cheek.
“Enjoying yourself, witchy?” You dare to tease her when she can feel how she's still leaking in your lap. Honestly, the nerve. Wanda let out a deep breath, pushing her momentarily tiredness away.
There's an easy smile on her lips when she finds your eyes again. “I am but I've been so selfish.” She starts with a particular accentuation of her ascent that she knows you drive you insane. She also watches as your breath catches and your eyes drift to her lips, mesmerized by every word. “You must be needing me as well.”
But you tense at her nails screeching your belly, a worried frown coming at your expression.
“Wanda… my powers.” The fear in your eyes is like a cold buck of water. Oh, yes, she forgot.
For the whole day, she forgot you had no idea of the life you two shared. Nothing outside Westview and this lovely fantasy. None of the creative ways you two once used to bypass the super strength issue. Your fear and hesitation at hurting her made perfect sense but the fact that she was the only one who could remember the whole history you two shared was still painful. Her expression probably gave her away and confused you even more. “I promise you this is more than enough for me. Bringing you pleasure is enough.” You add gently, but Wanda shakes her head, leaning in to kiss you. She leaves you breathlessly before breaking apart, taking some pride in the way you're blushing.
“Don't be silly, darling, there's plenty of things for us to do together. To please one another.” You gulp at her words and tone of voice, eyes following all of her movements. From the shift of her hips to the teasing of her fingers on the way down your pants. “I wanna try something I think you'll love it. Do you trust me?”
You nod immediately, watching as Wanda's fingers play with the hem of your pants. She giggles naughty at your anticipation and brings one finger up to your chin, to make you look at her eyes again.
“Can you use your words?”
“Y-yeah.” You swallow, trying to win some composure back. It's not easy when Wanda Maximoff is naked and sitting on your tight. But you smile anyway. “Of course I trust you, witchy.”
She smiles at you, her eyes flashing a glimmer of naughtiness that makes your heart leap. You can't worry too much about that anyway - Wanda leans in to kiss you again. And it's the dirtiest one of the night. She takes the lead, pulling back now and then just to tease your tongue with the tip of hers, reveling at the way you pant and struggle to keep your hips still.
But suddenly, you feel the new pressure inside your pants. The odd sensation shifts your attention entirely but Wanda brings her hands to your neck and kisses you hard. You moan into her tongue, hands holding her tight by the waist until her spell is complete. She presses down into you and the kiss is broken with your needy awareness.
“F-fuck, is that…?” You open surprised and aroused eyes at her, looking down where your middles connect only to watch Wanda's equal affected state. Her trembling hands reach down at your pants, trying to pull the garment off.
“Yeah, and I really need you inside now, alright baby? Think you're ready for me?” Her words are rushed as her fingers. Your pants and underwear are stuck in an awkward position on your thighs because Wanda is too impatient to wait another second. She grabs the hardness - barely giving you time to get used to the image or more important the feeling - of that scarlet strap magically placed there - before she sinks down.
It's a form of revenge, maybe. For the way you didn't give her time to prepare before, but what a sweet revenge that was.
The nearly animalistic grunt that escaped you when Wanda's cunt squeezed around you was a sound you didn't know you could make. She, on the other hand, rewards your ears with a pleasant deep moan while she adjusts to the fullness. There's also a new stretch. The toy is obviously larger than your fingers and goes deliciously deeper so Wanda needs to take a deep breath while she welcomes you in.
To her delight, not that you can remember this, but just like the first time you two tried, it's too much of a new overwhelming pleasure for you to handle. You came almost the same second you're bottom up. Tensing and shaking at the new feeling. You gasp, hands falling at the sides to grab the sheets that are torn apart while you hide your face into her neck and your climax washes over you.
Wanda giggles in amusement. The hot shot inside her feels as good as she remembers and you haven't changed. But the toy softening causes you to panic.
“S-sorry, god, I'm so sorry. I don't-”
“Shh, it's okay.” She cuts your anxious babbling immediately, firming her legs around you and bringing her hands to hold your cheeks. “I know it feels like a real one, but it's not a real one.” She says and without any warning, grinds down at you, stealing all the air of your lungs. Wanda bites her lip before adding “See? You're hard again already.”
You can't give her words. The only thing that leaves your mouth is a whine that makes her clench around you.
Suddenly, she's moving. Rough grinding before she's undeniably riding your strap and it's dirty and maddeningly sexy so your hands hold her hips and help her when her body starts to betray her wishes to keep going.
“Oh, Wanda, you feel so nice.” You moan with your eyes closed, outside the shared grunts and your words, the only sounds of the room are the bed creaking and the soaked toy coming in and out of her. Your lovely wife decides to give you a reason to be louder. Her hands push you back at the bed and now you can see her in all of her glory. Her pretty tits bounce with the hard pace she takes on top of you. “W-wait. Easy, I can't hold it if you-”
Her hands move yours - trying to slow her by the waist - away, locking your fingers together at each side of your head. Her hair makes a curtain for your faces but Wanda kisses you again. Your tongues are still moving together when you come first.
Because you're strong - stronger than her that is - scarlet magic holds you still, wrists and ankles when Wanda can't. She holds her climax just a little longer, enough to put on a show for your breathless figure under her when you are able to look up at it.
It's divine when it occurs - The silent scream, her frown before the blissed worn-out expression. The flags of the light, the room vibrating and her eyes bright red before the dark green meets your gaze again.
She smiles down at you, still shaking but somehow ready for another.
“Enjoying yourself aren't you, Avenger?” she repeats your words from before, but the nickname so often used for teasing makes you frown in confusion.
“What is…? But she changed that before you could finish the question.
As quickly as it happened, the scene shifted as if the words never left her lips. You were staring at her, with uneven breathing and adoring eyes.
“Is this really necessary?” For a second, her heart leaped in fear. The possibility that you could tell she altered things. But your gaze shifted to the magic holding you still, and you offered her a pleading stare. “Won’t you let me touch you?”
Wanda sighs, adjusting your hips and seeing the way your jaw tenses at the slight movement. You're still inside her, always magically stimulated to be hard no matter how many times you come. It made sense that you might be sensitive.
She bit her bottom lip, hands resting on your chest.
“But you look so pretty like this…” She starts, leaning in as if going for a kiss. You sigh as her lips meet your cheeks instead, closing your eyes when you feel her smiling before moving down. “I like having you at my mercy.”
You hum, somewhat distracted by her soft grind against you. If you're hard again, that's not only the magic to blame but Wanda's warm pussy squeezing you still.
“But I'm like this all the time.” you joke earning a husky giggle before she puts some distance between your faces again.
You let out a deep sigh when she pulls out the next second, catching her own soft groan at the emptiness. But your words fail you when you look down and see the mixed cum leaking from her and dripping down your abs.
Cursing under your breath a single “fuck.” at the image, you are not surprised at Wanda's naughty giggle.
“You made such a mess, babe.” She teases, the toy still vibrating and it occurs to you that it doesn't just answer to your arousal, but hers as well.
“Me? You're the one who, you know… ride it. I didn't even know I would come through it.” You tried to defend yourself with rosy cheeks but Wanda is clearly teasing you. She giggles again, adjusting herself and causing you to shut up immediately.
“I think you should stop babbling and start cleaning your mess.”
You swallow hard when you realize she's still moving. Up towards your face. The bed makes a strong crack sound when you use all your strength to pull your hands free from her magic chains.
Wanda allows you to break free. Mainly because she loves to feel your hands holding her thighs open when you eat her out.
Some old habits never die.
#wanda maximoff x reader#wanda x reader#elizabeth olsen x reader#marvel imagines#wanda maximoff#wanda maximoff imagines#wanda maximoff oneshots#wanda maximoff smut
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Part Three
Warning: If you don't like Taylor Swift, you're not gonna like this chapter that much, homie. But So Long, London is so fitting for this drabble series. (I guess a series since it's longer than a drabble at this point)
Can’t stop thinking about reader just trying to move on
You had to remind yourself several times not to check in with the guys. It had almost become second nature doing something big like this. But going to another country…
Not that they would care. You told yourself. It was for the best that way.
The expo went better than you expected. You didn’t believe that there would be a line out the door of eager readers wanting to read your book, but you got a decent amount. More than a few told you they couldn’t wait to read it. Several asking for photos and asking questions on any future books, a spin-off or even continuing the series.
When one a particular large group of girls your age asked for a group photo, you could have cried. They were had found each other in an online book club. You had given them your book several months ago. All copies signed with a note thanking them for taking the time to read what you had poured your heart into.
You had spent a large chunk of your free time talking to them. Bonding more so as women than over your book.
"Have you listened to Taylor's new album?"
It had only been out for two days and you had been able to avoid it like the plague. You didn't need to even listen to 'So Long, London' to know it would fucking gut you. So you would enjoy your time in the states. Save the listening experience for when you were packing up their stuff.
They had posted and tagged you before continuing on with the rest of the expo. You had reposted the photo to your own social media. Or at least one attached to the pen name you had crafted. You only had twelve thousand instagram followers, but it was something.
The first day was much like the second. You had attended several Q & A sessions with a panel of more experienced authors and managed to go to a few meet and greets. Before you knew it, it was time to pack up shop.
The agent the publishing house had assigned to you had stuck with you for most of the day. You were able to pick her brain a bit about new ideas for possible future plot lines and her thoughts. Overall, the trip was great.
Not only were you able to make great connections and take a lot back home with you to reference, but for a few days you forgot what waited for you back home. Or rather what wasn't waiting for you.
By the time your plane landed back in London you could barely hold yourself up. You left the expo, went straight to the hotel to shower, pack and head to the airport.
Your flight was delayed. Your luggage was taking forever to get onto the belt. It was only seven, but fuck if you weren’t ready to just call it a day. Tomorrow you would have to start again. Opening up the shop. Coming back to an empty flat. Maybe start gathering up the items the boys had left behind.
Should you give them in separate boxes or just one giant one and let them sort it out themselves? It was easy to discern whose sweatshirt and t-shirts belonged to who, but when it got to things like socks and chargers...
Yeah.
They could sort it themselves.
You could drop it off at Kyle's when you knew he would be at the gym. He was good at avoiding you anyway.
It wasn't until you stood in your apartment did it hit you.
You were alone.
For the first time in over a year you couldn't call one of them over to soothe that ache of loneliness.
For the first time in over a year, you had to relearn how to handle just being alone.
You usually showered at night. Washing away the grime of the day before settling into bed. But today was a new chapter. You woke up wanting to start it on a good note. Plus you went straight to bed after getting home so you still had a bit of airport funk on you.
It had been a week. One official since you had sent that text nailing the coffin shut. You had touched base with your friends who didn't bat an eye at you dating four men at once. They liked them, even if Simon scared them. You didn't give them the details of the breakup or the cause. You were pretty private in your problems and if you wanted relationship advice, you would seek an unbiased unopinion.
You had a good group of friends, but the moment you told them that you were well and truly heartbroken, they would insist the best way to get over someone is to get under someone else. Something you were nowhere near ready for.
So you needed to look like you had your shit together. You put on a dress that was feminine and, most importantly, comfy as fuck. An A-line floral frock paired with a light sweater and some white trainers. You knew a few of your friends would be stopping by for tea so you need to look like you were taking the separation well. Even if you were barely holding it together.
With makeup and perfume on, you started the early morning stroll to your shop.
You loved openings. Starting up the register and selecting the playlist for today. Picking out the essential oil to put in the diffuser even though you mostly stuck with a lavender and vanilla blend during the spring months.
For the morning you stuck with a Taylor Swift Instrumental playlist you had found initially for studying, but you liked the peaceful feeling it brought. Even when it covered the most gut wrenching songs.
You had started to collect the online orders that had accumulated over the last week. Sending out the e-mails alerting to your patrons that their orders were ready for pick up. Luckily you weren't set to receive a delivery until tomorrow.
It was eight and everything was set. Although not many people came to a bookstore at eight in the morning, it really didn't bother you opening up that early considering you were the only employee that was on the payroll. It gave you the possibility of making money, but mostly you spent the morning reading or writing.
You flipped the sign over from CLOSED to OPEN. Ready to start take on the day.
You had turned the kettle on in the back room when your friends had stopped by around lunch. You always said it was just tea, but you always had an array of snacks on standby for you all to munch on.
Meredith was complaining about what a dick the new client at the law firm was being. An absolute slime who had been married to his wife for almost twenty-five years before he decided to fuck his twenty-two year old assistant.
Tabitha didn't want to talk about work. To her, her career in tech was just a paycheck. She did what she needed to do and left when she was done.
You talked about the expo and how your book. Although neither of them really read, they had promised that they would read your book. You didn't hold your breath. They had reposted your posts as well as making ones of their owns in celebration of you. Words of praise about your dedication and hard work.
You realized that even though they couldn't give you the support you needed as readers, they supported you blindly. You could have written absolute garbage, but they would still support you.
You talked about how many people liked your book and wanted pictures and to sign their copies.
Then came the question you had been rehearsing since you had texted them a week ago. They both shared a look before Meredith finally asked.
"How are you holding up?" You gave a half-smile and a shrug. So perfectly rehearsed in your head you were ready to deliver your lies lines.
"I'm fine," you lied. "It was just fading so there isn't much of a difference, I guess." Not necessarily a lie. "We just wanted different things and were on different paths in life." Not a lie. "It's for the best." You weren't sure if that last one was a lie or not just yet.
They both shared a passing look before returning their gazes back to you. "You know you can come to us about this stuff." Tabitha's hand reached across the table, placing a hand on top of yours.
"It wasn't going to work out." You added. "Situations like that don't and I should have known better."
"A situation?" Meredith asked. "When have you ever called it a situation?"
"It always was one."
"I love you enough to call bullshit." She raised her eyebrow at you, crossing her arms over her chest. "You loved them and you need to stop pretending this is easy."
"You're a divorce lawyer, Mere," You reminded. "You see marriages fall apart every day."
"I do. I get to see from across the table how a woman is still willing to take her cheating arse of a husband back. So the fact that you went from on cloud nine with all of them to not even talking about the break up is concerning to say the least."
"Tabitha," you looked at your only ally left. "A little back up would be nice."
"I'm with her on this one." She confirmed. "You loved them. Not that I cared, but if you weren't talking about books or the shop, you were talking about them. What you did, where you went. How they fucked you."
"I think I'll miss that part the most." Mere sighed. "I lived vicariously through you."
"You know you could actually date people." Tabitha suggested.
"I'd rather live with chronic carpal tunnel than a man." You almost choked on your tea. If you were wearing pearls you would have used the comedic relief of clutching them to break the awkwardness of the current topic of conversation.
"That should be put on a t-shirt." You suggested
"I wouldn't mind it on a welcome mat to be honest." Tabitha added.
"But in all seriousness, cut this bullshit." Meredith gave you an sympathetic smile. "We're here. Good, bad and ugly."
You returned her smile. "I know."
You had closed up shop for the evening. Your lunch had gone longer than expected so now you were left doing the dishes and clean up during closing. You were setting the last cup on the drying rack when you heard the front door chime.
Shit.
You must have forgotten to lock the door when you turned the sign.
“I’m sorry!” You apologized, making your way out of the back break area and to the front of the store. “We’re-”
“Closed.” He said, locking the door behind him. “I saw the sign.”
#captain john price#kyle gaz garrick#simon ghost riley#call of duty#angst#angst with a happy ending#john soap mactavish
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Cool girl
ghoap x female reader / 18+ warning: the boys are foul - could be considered dub con / part one / part two
Two (three) can play at that game.
"When you're done being a brat, call us."
You decide within a week, that you're very much not done being a brat.
And you're very much done with them.
Fuck them, you coach yourself in the mirror as you fix your makeup. Fuck them both. And her, whoever she is, though you know she doesn't deserve your wrath. She probably has no idea the tangled web she's walked into, she's the one stuck in the trap, now.
The doorbell rings, and you check your reflection one more time, satisfied with your dress, the way it gathers across your breasts, how it flatters your shape. It's a tad short, there's a bit of cleavage, little pieces that make it more than perfect. Something about this style, the way it fits, always drove the boys nuts, so it should be more than good enough for your date.
Fuck them.
You bring him to the dive. It's a safe choice, the bartender knows you, pays attention. You feel safe here, familiar. It's a great option for a first date.
And because you're a cool girl, you don't know how to play pool.
Of course, he's happy to teach you.
You start with a tequila. It scalds on the way down and settles like fire, but it takes the edge off. One turns to two, and it's enough to get you closer, allowing him to rest his hand on your knee at the bar, allowing him to keep a hand at the small of your back as he guides you to the finally empty pool table.
He's handsy, and normally, you'd be a little put off.
But not tonight.
"Okay, it's simple. You use the white ball to break." He lines up your shot for you, folding you into place, bending forward, hand brushing against your thigh as he leans beside you.
You intentionally short the shot, barely breaking the triangle of balls free. He chuckles. "Not bad for a first go."
"What do I get if I win?" Your smile is shy, and it's only half forced. You do like this guy, he's very nice, very attractive. Tall with a strong jawline, kind eyes. His fingers find yours, and his touch is gentle, patient.
"A kiss?" He ventures, testing the waters. You nod.
"Sure thing."
You're halfway through the game when the energy in the bar shifts. It's like everyone freezes, a collective whoosh of air washing through the bodies hunched over at the bar, loitering on the walls, perched on the wrought iron chairs out back.
The regulars look at one another and then return to studying the TV, or each other, their half empty drinks.
You don't need to look, to know.
You can feel them.
Apparently, so can your date.
"Don't look, but there are two guys staring at you, across the bar." You bat your eyelashes.
"Who?" It's innocent, this kind of play. Playing dumb. It's pure, until your chin turns over your shoulder and find them, white knuckled and focused, Johnny alight with anger, Simon stoic as ever. Sadness, and rage, roar inside your head, and you force yourself to look them in their eyes. Force yourself to be brave.
After a second, you turn away and into your date. He pulls you closer, palm resting on your lower back, mouth dangerously close above your ear. "Are they bothering you?" What a nice guy.
"No." You assuage immediately. You know what would happen, if he tried to be your knight in shining armor. You know how it would end.
With blood. Broken bones. And tears.
"Let's keep playing." You suggest. "Will you show me how to hold the stick?" Your teeth hold onto the last syllable, hand wrapping around the polished length of the wood, slowly moving it up and down. Your heart pounds, but a thrill rushes through you at the same time. Fuck them. Your date raises an eyebrow, mouth cocking into a sly smile, and nods.
After your third drink, you can't delay using the bathroom anymore. Skin tingling from all the places his hands have traversed, you're dizzy with the pulse of power, the high of your performance. It's wrong, and twisted but...
they deserve it. They deserve worse.
"I'll be right back." You promise, tracing a fingernail down his arm. "Get another round?" He trots off, eager to please.
The chairs scrape as soon as you turn into the dingy hallway, and their shadows fill the air, sucking it dry. You resist the urge to turn, palm flat against the swinging door of the toilets.
"What are ye doin'?" Johnny rages, and you turn to mouth off, only to jerk backwards at the realization of how close he is. You can count the flecks of gold around his irises, see the shimmer of cerulean blue. Simon stands at his back, a wall blocking out the rest of the hall, hiding you from view.
"I'm on a date." Simon laughs.
"You call this little show a date, sweetheart? Is that what you think that is?"
"Not sure you'd know what I'm like on a date since you never took me on one." You spit, and Johnny goes rigid, muscles hardening.
"Not sure that little boy would know the first thing about handlin' ye."
"Handling me?" The squeak your voice makes is embarrassing and incredulous at the same time. "Handle me? You think I need handling? I'm a full grown woman. I don't need-" He presses closer, close enough you can smell him, and your mouth drops open when he pushes you against the wall, cock hard under his jeans. "J-johnny."
"Aye, we think ye need handlin'. Ye're only supposed to be handled by us. Not by some sad wank who cannae stop droolin' like a dog."
"Stop." The resolve in your voice wavers, your resistance cracking and crumbling as Simon appears beside him, mouth pressing to your ear.
"You think that boy has a fat cock to feed you, sweet girl? Think he knows how-" One of them cups you between your legs over the fabric of your dress, palm grinding against your clit, and you grit your teeth against the friction, the moan it tries to pull from your throat. "to take care of this pussy?"
"She's high maintenance, ye know." Johnny snickers, lips dotting your cheek, down to your neck. He cups a fistful of your breast, thumb stroking where your nipple strains beneath your bra. "Ye think he'll be able to make ye gush for him? Make ye cum on his cock?" You're boiling, anger and desire feeding twin flames, trying to sputter out a response.
"What's going on here?" Your date practically shouts from the edge of the hallway, and Simon's grin turns feral. Predatory.
Fear strikes, and turns you cold.
"D-don't." You try to implore.
"Are you okay?" Your poor date catches your gaze, and you try to will him away with your eyes.
"Leave him alone." You plead.
"Fuck off mate. This is between us and our girl. Ye're done here."
"Excuse me?" He steps closer, and Simon pushes off the wall. Desperate, you latch onto his forearm.
"Simon, please. He's not-"
"He said you're done here." Simon snarls. "Run along like a good boy."
"Fuck you." He postures, and you shake your head frantically, trying to step out between them. Johnny doesn't budge, keeping you half pinned against the wall.
"You'd like that, wouldn't you? Maybe you'd like to watch us fuck her, after we make you beg for it. After we stretched out your neglected little hole." Johnny laughs, a cackle full of crow, smart and mischievous, and you nearly faint. Your date looks sick.
He takes one look at you, another look at the boys... and then flees. Johnny whistles. "Coward."
When they both turn back...
you burst into tears.
#lmaoooo#peaches writes#ghoap x reader#its a milkmaid dress for sure#simon riley x reader#john mactavish x reader#unedited
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king of my heart | pt. 2
pairings: lando norris x fem!reader | pato o'ward x fem!reader
warnings: love triangle? kinda.
author's note: go get some popcorn cause we have some drama here🍿... and it's a long part, so enjoy!!
part 1 | part 2
------------------------------------------------------
yourusername
liked by charles_leclerc, isahernaez, frosenqvist, and 79,121 others!
yourusername Miami GP over and out ✅🏁 No words could ever explain just how grateful I am for all of you and for the opportunity that I get to cover this amazing sport with such incredible people by my side. Thank you for everything Miami, I hope to see you again soon! 🌴💖
user1 the power she holds 🙌
user2 she's really living my dream 🥹
lissiemackintosh so happy to be able to share this with you!! love u❤️
yourusername we really need to do this more often😘 love u too!
user3 y/n and lissie hosting track tv together is my new roman empire fr
user4 SLAY QUEENS!!
user5 the queens are thriving
user6 i wanna be friends with them so bad 😫
user7 omg girl you're STUNNING
user8 BEST F1 WAG
user9 facts facts facts
user10 she's not even a wag lol it's so obvious lando just keeps this nobody around for when he's bored and horny
user11 user10 this "nobody" has done SO much in terms of women representation in motorsport, she's hardworking and a lovely woman. meanwhile, you're just a sad little person who's jealous of her because she's successful and close to your crush, who doesn't even know who you are. so get a life and stop embarrassing yourself.
user12 user11 SAY IT LOUDER 👏
user13 user11 PREACH!!!
user14 i don't know if i wanna be her or be with her😩
user15 this is such a mood tbh
landonorris so proud of you, boo😍
yourusername 🥰🧡
user16 YNLANDO NATION WE WON
user17 we love a supporting boyfriend 🤩
user18 i want what they have, your honor
user19 is this considered a soft launch or what?
user20 y'all are delulu😂 it's so obvious they're just friends
user21 user20 girl being delulu is the solulu 🙌
user22 so when are we gonna talk about felix liking the post?
user23 i'm lost sorry, who's felix?
user24 user23 he's pato's teammate in indycar and one of his besties
user25 if felix liked then WHERE'S PATO
user26 user25 doing more important things than being focused on this girl.
lilymhe such a pretty girl 💗
alex_albon should i be jealous?
yourusername you should indeed. can u fight?
user24 the friendship i didn't know i needed 🥹
user25 MY FAV WAGS INTERACTING YAY
user26 f1 is so lucky to have you!!!
user27 LOOOL why would they be lucky to have her?😂😂😂 she's nothing special
user28 user27 and yet she's still rising 💅
user29 user27 then why are you even on her post? lol obsessed much?
user30 my role model ❤️🩹
📞 incoming call
[y/n; normal] [pato; cursive]
"...Hello? Did you butt-dialed me or something?"
"Uhm, hi. It's not a butt-dial. I-I actually just wanted to talk to you. Hear your voice, y'know. I've been kinda missing you."
"Oh really? And here I was thinking that your cold behavior toward me over the past three weeks meant that you didn't want anything to do with me. Silly me, I guess."
"I-I'm... [sighs]. That's what I wanted to talk to you about, actually. About the way I've been treating you. I'm sorry, y/n. I really am sorry. I know I've been a total jerk-"
"Yeah, you can put it that way."
"...I've been a total jerk and I regret it very much. You didn't deserve it at all. I just- I'm not trying to excuse my awful behavior but I just think I got- Uhm..."
"You got what?"
"Well... I saw Lando's instagram story when you went back to Monaco, as you've probably already figured it out. And I think- Well... I got jealous. And I know it probably sounds stupid now but at the time it felt like a punch in the face."
"Pato..."
"I know I didn't and still have absolutely no business to be jealous about you and Lando, cause you and I are not dating or anything and you don't owe me any kind of explanation about the type of relationship you have with him. But after the great time we spend together in Long Beach... I don't know, it just hurted seeing you with him. But that doesn't excuse anything and I just regret so much the way I've been treating you since then, it hasn't been fair to you at all."
"And it didn't cross your mind that we could have had this conversation way before now? I mean, you waited three weeks to finally talk to me like a decent human being, how-"
"I know and I'm so-"
"Let me finish."
"Sorry, go on."
"However, I do appreciate that you're finally acknowledging all of this and communicating with me like an actual adult. I know it's not always easy to do. And although I don't owe you any kind of explanation, I just want you to know that there's nothing going on between Lando and me."
"So you and him...?"
"We're friends and that's it. We care for each other but there's nothing going on."
"Oh... well, thanks for clarifying that for me."
"Yeah, yeah. You'll have to work harder for my forgiveness, anyway. I appreciate the call but it won't be that easy for you."
"Is that so?"
"You've heard me."
"In that case, what would you say if I invite you for a few days to come here to Punta Mita? Maybe that'll help me a little to earn your forgiveness."
"... I'm sorry, what!?"
"You've heard me."
"You're joking. You have to be joking."
"I'm not joking. You're still in Miami, right?"
"I am..."
"Great! My brother in law is in Miami too and he'll take the jet tomorrow morning. If you want to, you can join him and come here with him! We'd be thrilled to have you here too."
"Oh my God... Pato, I don't know what to say!"
"Say yes and you'd make this birthday boy the happiest man in the world. You'd even make my sister happy, I've been telling her a lot about you and now she's eager to meet you."
"I hope you've been telling her good things about me, then."
"Only the best. She's even on your side, y'know. Said I was being a giant cabrón and needed to make things right. She wasn't wrong tho."
"[giggles] Fine. I'll go, but I'm only doing this for your sister."
"I'll take that anyway! I'll let Brett know you'll join him and I'll send you the details, okay?"
"Okay!"
"Now go and pack your bags for tomorrow."
"Hey! Don't get bosy with me, mister!"
"[Laughs] Fine. Take care, I'll see you tomorrow."
"See you, birthday boy!"
patriciooward posted to his story!
[caption 1; 🦈] [caption 2; beautiful views]
yourusername posted to their story!
[caption 1; para-para-paradise 🌞] [caption 2; in his sharkboy era] [caption 3; 🐶❤️]
paddockgossips
liked by magui_corceiro and 84,091 others!
paddockgossips Among the alleged "breakup" between y/n and Lando, the McLaren driver was photographed last night having fun in a Monaco club in the company of Max Fewtrell and other friends. Some sources have said that Lando seemed very cozy with a blonde woman at the party, whom he later left with. However, we cannot verify this information in any way, so it remains a rumor.
user1 I HAVE A CHANCE AGAIN (i'm delulu)
user2 so this confirms ynlando is over?? 😭
user3 girl i'm devastated 😭😭😭
user4 i'm still in denial
user5 well they were never together to begin with
user6 user5 THIS!! people act like they were a couple when they NEVER confirmed anything 😂
user7 "blonde woman at the party" "it remains a rumor" and magui goes and like the post LOL
user8 she's so desperate for attention🙄
user9 who's magui???
user10 user9 she's kika's friend and she was dating football player João Félix not so long ago (in fact, i thought they were still together lol)
user11 user10 and don't forget she's a cheater.
user12 user9 she's trouble
user13 yn >>>>>>>> magui
user14 user13 no need to compare them
user15 sorry but single lando it's so hot 🥵
user16 SO TRUE
user17 FACTS he looks so good omfg
user18 in his heartbreaker era 😎
user19 in his reputation era 😎
user20 in his idgaf era 😎
user21 i'm a child of divorce fr
user22 i know y'all love y/n for some reason but i'm SO glad lando finally got away from her.
user23 SAME. and if magui makes him happy then great for him
user24 stfu i'm mourning here
user25 y/n this magui that but max was, is and will forever be lando's true wag💅
user26 the one and only indeed
elbaoward posted to her story!
[caption1; off to dinner] [caption2; my love🤍] [caption 3; lovebirds!]
patriciooward
liked by landonorris, yourusername, brettkimbro, and 86,382 others!
patriciooward BDAY WKND DUMP 📸 thank y'all for all the love❤️🔥
user1 THE HARD LAUNCH IT'S HARD LAUNCHING
user2 OMG IT'S HAPPENING EVERYBODY STAY CAAAAALM
user3 he really said i'll give you what you want: thrist traps and y/n... and he's so real for that
user4 he really knows his audience
user5 king behavior if u ask me
user6 everybody say thank you Pato 🙏
user7 YNPATO NATION HOW ARE WE FEELING??
user8 I'M STILL SPEECHLESS
user9 they're so perfect i wanna cry😭
user10 LOVE TO SEE🔥
user11 as a ynlando shipper i have to admit they're cute but ngl this still hurts 😩
user12 MOOD
user13 ynlando will always be in our hearts 🥺
user14 ynlando >>>>>>>>>> ynpato
user15 user13 girl grow up.
user16 THAT SHOULD BE ME
elbaoward where are my credits for the last pic? cuties🤍
user17 u literally gave us the cutest pic ever
user18 elba thank you so much for your service🫡
user19 elba is ynpato's #1 fan and you can't tell me otherwise
user20 elba is just like us fr
user21 LOVE YOU ELBAAAAA 🩷
user22 MOM AND DAD
user23 can't believe how fast she moved on and got together with this dude lol lando really dodged a bullet with her
user24 how fast she moved on?? girl y/n and lando were never even together so stfu
user25 ???? why are you even on pato's ig post? go away
user26 user23 y/n is such an attention seeker and yet everyone loves her, i'll never understand it 🥱
user27 not to be that person but i would KILL to be that piñata😏
user28 MOOD
frosenqvist oh to be tanned, young and in love
patriciooward 😜
user29 IN LOVE??? FELIX BESTIE TELL US MORE
user30 i don't know about y'all but this is all the confirmation i need about ynpato being real, bye
user31 i think i can hear the wedding bells
user32 user31 yesss and felix as pato's best man
user33 bestie don't be shy and drop more y/n pics 🫶
user34 i second the motion !!!
user35 NOT LANDO LIKING THE POST LOOOOL
user36 he is so unserious i love him
user37 ICONIC BEHAVIOR TBH
user38 yeah but i just know he's crying inside
user39 user38 for what? lol lando knows he's so much better than this cheaper version of him.
user40 user39 i'm so done with people like you who insult pato just because you cannot defend lando with good arguments.
yourusername magical weekend 💖
patriciooward with you there? always
user41 STOP THEY'RE SO CUTE OMG
user42 this is such an upgrade tbh
user43 SO HAPPY FOR THEM 🥹
user44 what a bitch.
yourusername posted to their story!
[caption 1; back to reality✈️] [caption 2; I'm a high performance athlete. Athletes sweat. Sweat, baby] [caption 3; cutest model🧡]
paddockgossips
liked by magui_corceiro and 53,237 other people!
paddockgossips NEW WAG ALERT? 🚨 Magui Corceiro, the Portuguese model and actress, attended the Monaco GP after being seen a few days ago having lunch with Lando. It has been rumored that they could be in a relationship, especially since Lando and y/n apparently went different ways, and Corceiro's presence in the paddock has not gone unnoticed by anyone. Still, neither Lando nor Magui have confirmed or denied these rumors.
user1 A TRIGGER WARNING WOULD BE NICE NEXT TIME
user2 um let's hope there isn't a next time
user3 user2 let's pray girl, let's pray 🙏
user4 "neither lando nor magui have confirmed or denied these rumors" well that's bs cause she just liked the post
user5 istg she's trying so hard to get attention
user6 lando was asked about magui and he said she was just a friend... and then she goes and does this lol what a clout chaser
user7 and people used to say that y/n was after lando's fame and yet she NEVER did anything like this
user8 she's such a pick me girl
user9 everything i know of this girl has been against my will istg
user10 SAME
user11 oh good luck lando
user12 oh be prepared for the y/n fans and little girls that'll come attack magui when she hasn't even done anything wrong
user13 literally they're just mad at magui cause she's dating their fav driver loool
user14 they're only jealous cause magui is a gorgeous woman
user15 user14 she's gorgeous but she's still a snake
user16 i'd ask why lando would be with someone like her, but then i remember he's an adult and if he wants someone like her by his side then that's up to him. let's not treat him like a baby please
user17 say👏 it👏 louder👏
user18 weeeeell if this is the kind of people lando likes to have around then i guess y/n really dodged a bullet with him
user19 FACTS
user20 i mean at the end of the day he's just another privileged white boy, so🤷♀️
user21 i really don't get all the hate that she's getting, is she really that problematic?
user22 user21 girl google it yourself but yeah, she is
user23 I MISS MY GIRL Y/N WHERE IS SHEEEEEEEE??
user24 what is she even doing there?
user25 must be cause lando wanted her to be there
user26 why y'all never asked the same thing about y/n? y'all are such hypocrites istg
user27 user26 cause y/n was actually doing her job?????
user28 user26 oh you're stupid 😂😂
user29 magui in the paddock, pato not being able to finish Indy 500... it really is a shitty day huh
user30 DON'T EVEN REMIND ME WHAT HAPPENED WITH PATO OMFG
user31 I'M STILL SO MAD ABOUT PATO
user32 the only good part is that y/n and his family were there for him ❤️🩹
see y'all in part 3!
taglist: @drunkinthemiddleoftheday @evie-119 @evans-dejong @minkyungseokie @noneofyourfbusinessworld @bernelflo @eiaaasamantha @ijustgomessitupx @honethatty12 @daemyratwst @f1fan65
(if you'd like to be tagged in the next part, just let me know in the comments!🧡)
#kingofmyheart#lando norris#lando norris x y/n#lando norris x you#lando norris f1#lando norris imagine#f1 fanfic#f1 social media au#lando norris fanfic#lando norris fic#f1 fanfiction#pato o'ward#pato o'ward x reader#pato o'ward x y/n#pato o'ward x you#pato o'ward imagine#indycar social media au#indycar#f1#formulaone#pato o'ward fanfic#indycar fanfic#fanfic#fanfiction#female!reader#f1 content creator
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⋆ ˒ 💭 ۫ ּ ROMANCE IS NOT DEAD IF YOU KEEP IT JUST YOURS !
pairing: actor!gojo x singer!reader wc: 0,3k warnings: not proofread ‼️, reader's album is basically reputation by miss tswift 🙈
a/n: i've had this in my drafts for a while now,, hope you like it >< i just looove actor!gojo and if you'd like to see more of him leave a comment!
WIRED AUTOCOMPLETE INTERVIEW WITH GOJO SATORU AND Y/N
3. 2. 1. ACTION !
As the camera clicked on, you sensed the beginning of another recording session. Satoru, next to you, shifted in his seat about before the start of the video.
"Hey there, it's l/n y/n," you chimed in with a grin, "and i'm Gojo Satoru," the white-haired male beside you smoothly finished, "and this is our Wired auto-complete interview!" both of you beamed as the staff handed over boards containing the internet's most searched questions.
Satoru held your board while you held his, diving into the depths of what the online people wanted to know about you.
Q. "Who's y/n l/n's 'gorgeous' about?"
With a smirk, you retorted, "sorry to burst your bubble, person-who-searched-that but 'gorgeous' is about your mom," you answered, eliciting laughter from Satoru and the crew.
"Lame! Just tell them the truth" Satoru teased, well aware of the implications behind his words.
"That's the only truth," you replied, feigning innocence before swiftly moving on.
Q. "Is y/n l/n's song 'call it what you want' about Gojo Satoru?"
Your cheeks flushed with embarrassment as you stuttered, "That's... quite the assumption," failing miserably at masking your nerves.
The crew chuckled, mentioning how your fandom had already orchestrated a fictional relationship between you two.
"We know, next they'll claim we're expecting a baby or something!" Satoru quipped, earning a horrified look from you, "Alright, my turn now."
Q. "Who's Gojo Satoru's favorite actor?"
"I'd say my good ol' friend, Geto Suguru! He's a top-notch," Satoru replied, reminiscing about the movies and series they did together.
"True, i'm a big fan of his work" you confessed, prompting a playful pout from Satoru.
"Maybe he's not that great anymore," he mumbled in mock jealousy.
"You're good too!" you reassured him amidst laughter.
Q. "Is Gojo Satoru married to y/n l/n?"
"Spiritually i am" Satoru quipped, earning a playful jab from you.
"Don't encourage them, Satoru!" you scolded him.
"Sorry, couldn't resist," he replied unrepentantly.
Q. "Is Gojo Satoru in a relationship?"
"I am. . .not! i'm a lone wolf" Satoru declared with a hint of melancholy, though everyone in the room knew the truth but as you looked at him, his convincing lie almost had you fooled, if it weren't for the fact that you, his actual girlfriend, stood right beside him.
"Alright, alpha boy, next question!" you exclaimed before the tables turned.
Q. "What's the name of y/n l/n's next album?"
"I've just released 'reputation' can't I catch a break?" you exclaimed, playfully collapsing out of your chair.
"How dramatic," Satoru chuckled before suggesting, "You should write a song about me though."
CUT !
[BONUS] [CLIP THAT WAS CUT FROM THE VIDEO]
"Sure, it'll be called 'gorgeous,'" you teased, planting a kiss on his cheek.
"The greatest song ever! Although 'So It Goes' is my personal favorite," Satoru grinned mischievously, almost revealing too much of your relationship before you intervened.
"Too much information!" you laughed, covering his mouth to keep him from saying more.
© 2024 HRTBEOMI
#lacy writes for jjk ❕#gojo satoru x reader#gojo x reader#gojo fluff#gojo x you#gojo fanfic#gojo headcanons#jjk x reader#jjk fluff#jjk scenarios#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jjk fanfic#actor!gojo <33#hrtbeomi
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౨ৎ Brothers Best Friend 2 ౨ৎ || ⋆౨ৎ˚ Matt Sturniolo⋆౨ৎ˚ || series master list ||
ᡣ𐭩 | Warnings - Smut
ᡣ𐭩 | Summary- Matt and Nate have always been friends. But throughout their friendship, Matt kinda developed feelings for Nate's younger sister, Y/n, but shes off limits for 2 reasons, her boyfriend, and the fact that she's his best friend's sister! what happens when she comes home crying because her boyfriend broke up with her?
A week later, Nate and Matt have a hockey game against another school. It's a big deal, and the entire school is there to cheer them on. As usual Y/n is there to support the team, even though she doesn't really understand the game. She sits in the bleachers with her friends, waving a blue and gold pompom around and cheering.
During a break in the action, she spots Matt skating up and down the sidelines, talking to the other players. She walks down to go talk with him, but before she gets there, Nate comes up behind her and picks her up, laughing at her scream
"Nate! Put me down!" she shrieks, struggling in his grip.
"Come on, Y/n/n," he teases. "You're not going to tell me you're not glad I'm winning" He finally sets her down and she turns around, glaring at him. He chuckles and messes up her hair a bit.
"Matt's been playing really well," she says, glancing over at him. "I'm proud of him."
Nate smiles down at her, his expression softening. "He's always been good at sports." He says, "But never as good as me." He says, flexing his muscles dramatically.
"Okay sure." she says walking away from Nate, rolling her eyes. "If you say so." She turns back to the edge rink and walks up to Matt. "Hey," she says, smiling up at him. "You're really kicking butt out there."
He grins down at her, his eyes sparkling. "Thanks, princess. I couldn't have done it without you." He says with a little smile. "Alright i gotta go, Nate's watching us."
She nods, watching as he skates back onto the ice. Her heart skips a beat as she thinks about what it would be like to be his girlfriend. It's silly, she knows they can't be together, but she can't help but wish things were different. She turns back to her friends, feeling a little down.
The game ends with the school's team winning and Matt making the winning shot, everyone is cheering. Nate comes skating over to her, panting and grinning from ear to ear, she smiles at him and punches him in the shoulder " I guess you're kinda good." she says with a small grin.
"Don't you ever forget it, " He says, wrapping an arm around her. "Hey, i'll meet you and the guys outside in 30, okay?" he says and walks into the locker room.
she walks over to the sidelines and jumps up into Matt's arms as soon as she sees him
"Matt, you won" she says and kisses him. He kisses her back and hugs her tightly.
"I couldn't have done it without you, you know that" He says and she blushes.
"We should celebrate" She says to Matt and he grins at her.
"I have some ideas on how we can do that." he whispers into her ear.
"Matt!" she giggles, "Nate is outside waiting for you!"
"Come on, i'll ditch Nate." he says, kissing her again. He pulls his phone out and texts Nate "Hey, I'm sorry but I can't meet you outside, something came up." Hits send and turns his phone off. "come on" he drags her into the bathroom, locking the door behind them. He kisses her passionately, pushing her up against the wall. She moans into his mouth, feeling the heat between her legs.
"Fuck baby, You're gonna be a good girl and stay quiet for me?" he whispers against her skin. She nods, her eyes closed, her hands tangled in his hair. "Good girl," he says, kissing her neck. "Now, show me how good and get on your knees."
She moves down onto her knees, looking up at him. His cock is already hard and she reaches out, wrapping her hand around it. She starts to stroke him slowly, looking up at him as she does. He leans against the wall, closing his eyes and groaning. "That's it, baby." She speeds up her strokes, feeling the heat building in her core.
He looks down at her, his expression intense. "I want to feel you around me." He says, guiding her head towards his cock. She opens her mouth, taking him into her mouth as deep as she can. He gasps, his hips moving involuntarily.
She sucks on him, teasing him with her tongue. She can taste his essence on her lips, and it only makes her want more. She bobs her head up and down, feeling him grow harder in her mouth.
"Fuck, Y/n," he groans, his hands tangled in her hair. "That feels so good." She moans around him, loving the feel of him in her mouth. She sucks harder, her tongue swirling around him.
Suddenly he pulls her mouth off of him then pushes it down all the way onto his cock, making her gag a little. He holds her there, his hips moving roughly as he fucks her mouth. She lets out muffled moans, feeling him get closer and closer.
"Fuck, you take it so well." He growls, his hands gripping her shoulders. "You're going to make me cum." He says, thrusting one more time before he groans loudly into her ear, pulsing his release down her throat.
She swallows, feeling the warmth of his cum spread through her mouth and down her throat. He pulls her up and kisses her roughly, tasting himself on her lips. "You're amazing." He whispers before leaning her against the wall, her back facing him. "I want you."
He pushes her pants down and underwear aside, and then sinks into her with a groan. She gasps, arching her back into him. He begins to move, thrusting slowly at first but picking up speed as they both grow more lost in the sensation.
"God, you're so tight," he whispers, kissing her neck. "I've missed this."
She moans, her nails digging into the wall.
He reaches down, rubbing her clit roughly with his thumb. "who's cock are you taking so well?" he whispers. She moans, her hips moving with his, her orgasm building quickly.
"Y-yours." she whispers, feeling herself start to come apart around him. "I'm taking yours." She cries out, her body shuddering with pleasure as she comes. Matt keeps thrusting into her, overstimulating her. "I-i cant!" she cries out, feeling her body begin to tremble.
"You can, and you will" he growls, his hips moving faster. "You're gonna take my cock like the slut you are." He says, pulling her hair roughly, making her moan.
She feels another wave of pleasure wash over her, her body tingling all over. Matt groans, thrusting into her one last time as he comes. He picks her up and places her on the sink and gets on his knees in front of her. "I'm not done with you yet," he whispers, kissing her neck. "I want to see how wet you are for me."
He pushes her legs back, spreading them wide, and then leans in, licking her slowly from her thigh to her clit. She gasps, arching her back into his touch. He sucks on her clit, flicking it with his tongue before slowly pulling it into his mouth. She cries out, her hips bucking up toward him.
He groans, holding her hips still as he continues to eat her out. "That's it, baby. Show me how much you want it." He growls, his tongue dancing over her sensitive flesh. She moans, her head falling back against the cold mirror. "Oh fuck, Y/n." He says, feeling her body start to tense beneath his lips. He sinks his 2 fingers into her, curling them and fucking her harder
She comes, her body shuddering with pleasure as she cries out his name. He continues to move his fingers in and out, sucking on her clit. Finally, she collapses bonelessly against the mirror.
He pulls his fingers out of her and places them between her lips, "taste yourself baby." She does as he says, licking the sweet, salty flavor off of his fingers. He grins, reaching up to wipe the counter top. "Now let's go find you some clothes and get you home." He says, kissing her softly. "unless you wanna come over to my place and tell me how proud you are again?" She smiles up at him, her cheeks flushed. "I'd like that."
Taglist - @gvf23 @3kslav @riasturns
#chris sturniolo#chris sturniolo fanfic#chris sturniolo smut#christopher sturniolo#matt sturniolo#chris sturniolo fluff#sturniolo triplets#matt sturniolo x you#matt sturniolo smut#sturniolo#nick sturniolo x you#nick sturniolo x reader#nick sturniolo#nicolas sturniolo#nathan doe x you#nathan doe#nate doe#nathan doe imagine#nathan doe x reader#nathan doe smut#chris sturniolo x you#chris sturniolo x reader#christopher owen sturniolo#matt sturniolo fluff#matthew sturniolo#matt sturniolo x reader#matthew sturniolo x reader#matthew sturniolo smut#matthew sturniolo x you#matthew sturniolo imagine
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Now, You're Mine
Rhea Ripley x Fem!Reader
WARNING: SMUT 18+, ANGST, Possessive!Rhea, Breeding Kink, Hickeys (R Receiving), Choking (R Receiving), Cum-Filled Strap On (R Receiving), Bulge Kink, Mommy Kink
PREFACE: Rhea and Reader were hooking up on and off, but Rhea wanted her all to herself
A/N: Rhea's P.O.V. in Bold and Colored!
Flashback in Italics!
Texts in Bold and Colored!
Some surprise appearances by other WWE Stars!
THIS HAD ME GRIPPING THE SHEETS FOR REAL
Kinda toxic, but eh
RHEA'S P.O.V.
She was all I've ever wanted. From how beautiful she was, to her kind-hearted nature and quick wits, she was nothing short of perfection. I remember the day we met vividly.
I had just gotten done with my match and was grabbing a bite to eat with my friends.
"I'll take-"
"The chicken tenders", I say in unison with Fin and Priest.
The three of us laugh, as Dom shook his head.
"Typical", Priest mocked,
"Hey, I know what I like, alright?", Dom argued.
Snapping the menu closed and handing it back to the waiter.
"I'll be back", I say,
Dismissing myself and heading to the bathroom, but as I did, somebody walks out.
Time came to a sudden halt, as I took in just how beautiful she was. It was as if everyone else disappeared and we were the only people there.
She gives me a shy smile, before walking past me and heading back to her table. My eyes never leaving her, as she took her seat.
YOUR P.O.V.
I immediately walk back to my friends, trying hard to hide my flushed cheeks.
"You good?", Nikki questioned,
"Yeah", I hesitantly answered,
As my gaze fell upon her once more. I couldn't help it, even if I tried. Besides how breathtaking she was, there was just something about her that intrigued me. Maybe it was the jet black hair or the tattoos that masked her hands, either way, I couldn't take my eyes off of her.
"What's got you all shy?", Brie questioned,
Taking me out of my head.
"What?"
She turns to try and see what I was looking at and immediately caught on.
"Oh, she's so your type"
"Dear God, please shut up", I pleaded,
"Who?"
It was now Naomi's turn to look and she also began teasing me.
"Oooh", she taunted,
Nudging me.
"Guys, come on. Let's not embarrass her", Nat ceased.
During the time of my friends poking fun at me, she looks over and sends another smile my way. If my heart wasn't racing out of my chest already, it surely was now.
Once we were done with our food and paid the bill, her table was also finishing up their dinner.
"Now's your chance, don't be shy", Nikki egged on,
"Nikki!", I warned in a whisper,
"Oh come on, what's the worst that can happen?"
"Um, she could hear me?"
"You're really gonna let her go?", she emphasized,
Pointing, when I smack her hand away.
"Keep your hand down!"
"Sorry", she whispered,
"I think you should go for it", Nat chimed in,
"Oh, not you too"
"(Y/N), you've got nothing to lose. She says no and then what?"
"And then I die of embarrassment"
Causing her eyes to roll.
"Look, nothing's gonna happen, if I don't talk to her"
"Exactly. Nothing's gonna happen if you don't talk to her, which I personally think is worse", she retorted.
I take a deep breath, slouching back against the booth chair, when I notice her table begin to gather their things.
"It's now or never, champ", Brie added on.
Was I terrified? Absolutely...but after battling with the anxious chill in the pit of my stomach, I ultimately got up and carefully made my way towards her.
Every step feeling like boulders strung at my feet.
Once I was less than a foot away, I clear my throat in an attempt to catch her attention. She turns around and somehow, she was even more breathtaking up close.
Her eyes reflecting baby blue skies in them, as her lips curled up into a grin.
"Hi", I greeted,
"Hello", she smiles down at me,
"I hope I'm not being too forward, but, I think you're...really beautiful", I struggled,
I knew my face had turned a bright red by the way she eyes my cheeks.
"Do you, now?", she challenged,
"Yeah", I chuckled nervously,
"Well", she began,
Taking my hand inro hers.
"I said the same thing to my mates earlier. You're quite the sight"
My heart was on the verge of giving out.
"What are you doing after this?"
"Um", I say,
Glancing back at my friends, who immediately turned away.
"It seems we have an audience"
"Don't mind them, they're just nosy", I reassured,
Making her laugh to herself.
"I'm not doing anything"
"Perfect", she said,
Gently leading me outside.
We head back to the hotel she was staying at and after letting my friends know where we went, she started up a movie for us.
Let's just say the movie had simply become background noise.
Since then, we'd been hooking up on and off, but in all honesty, I wanted more. Don't get me wrong, what we had was beyond my wildest imaginations, but I often caught myself daydreaming about being more than just 'friends'.
It didn't help, the fact that she fueled these delusions. Intentionally or not.
In those moments, post-sex, there would be a glimmer of softness that made me melt from the inside out. A contrasting difference from how she would usually treat me in bed.
Little gestures she'd do, like playing with my hair till I fell asleep or tracing mindless shapes onto my back. It all just added to the already burdensome weight in my chest.
The longer this went on, the harder it became to keep my feelings at bay. The harder it got to avoid the questions that plagued my mind.
Would she want that too? What if she didn't? Would she get upset and cut me off entirely? I could have all the time in the world and none of it would be enough to find a single answer.
I was planning to just keep my mouth shut and take this secret to my grave...until I heard about Liv. She was Rhea's tag team partner and at first, I didn't think anything of it, till I saw their backstage interview, where she kissed Rhea's cheek.
Alarms immediately went off in my head.
I knew she'd been sleeping up with other people, but to actually see her flirt with someone else was the wakeup call I needed.
I decided to keep my distance for a while and eventually, she caught on. For the last few weeks, I'd been responding less to her texts and have ignored her late night calls all together.
As much as I hated to admit it, I missed her, but I knew I had to hold my ground.
(SUNDAY)
Rhea: Hey
Seen at 5:06 pm
Rhea: I haven't seen you in a while, how's things been?
Seen at 5:25 pm
(MONDAY)
Me: Good, you?
Seen at 9:03 pm
Rhea: Pretty busy lately, aren't you?
Seen at 10:00 pm
But what I think finally made things click for Rhea was when I run into her at Dom's birthday party.
As it was being thrown at her house, I knew to come prepared, so I put on the dress I knew she liked and paired it with the perfect heels. Between my hair, makeup and outfit, I was undoubtedly sure to make some heads turn.
Not even a minute goes by, before Rhea spots me and makes a beeline toward where I stood.
"Ladies", she greets,
As they all nod, before heading inside. She eyes me up and down, before taking a few steps closer.
"(Y/N)", she grins.
I cross my arms over my chest, avoiding her daunting stare.
"Beautiful, as always"
"Thanks"
She goes in for a hug, when I simply brush past her, leaving Rhea undoubtedly confused. For the rest of the night, I stood by, watching my friends get wasted and have the time of their lives.
I, however, was too distracted by Rhea watching me from across the room. The slicked-back hair, the leather top that perfectly showcased her strong arms. I was intoxicated solely by staring at her.
Somewhere in the night, my friends had completely disappeared and I was left on the couch alone.
That was until Sonya took the vacant spot next to me.
"I don't like parties either", she spoke,
Finally ripping my gaze away from Rhea.
"Hey, Sonya"
"You know my name?", her eyebrows meet,
"Yeah, I saw your match with Nikki and John. They invited me to watch"
"Oh, cool, your Nikki's friend. I'm assuming you came with her and Brie?"
"Yup, but...", I say,
Quickly scanning the room.
"I have no idea where they went"
"Well, Brie's probably throwing up the drinks she chugged and Nikki's probably hooking up with Cena upstairs"
"Probably", I chuckled,
Sipping my cocktail.
"But, hey, at least you got me", she joked,
Playfully nudging me.
"At least", I agreed.
"I hope this isn't me coming on too strong, but would you like to dance?"
"Um..."
I go to look back at Rhea and it was almost as if she was trying to communicate with her eyes.
It was now my turn to have fun.
"I'd love to", I turn back to Sonya,
Grabbing her hand and leading her to the dancefloor.
RHEA'S P.O.V.
What the hell was Deville up to and why was (Y/N) reciprocating it? I knew she'd gone almost radio silent lately, but I didn't think it was this serious.
My blood boiled at the sight of Sonya twirling her around, as her eyes raked up and down (Y/N)'s body. Shamelessly staring at what was mine. I knew I had only myself to blame, but I couldn't help but seethe with anger. It should be me grabbing her hips that way. It should be me making her laugh like that.
Had I messed up by not owning up to how I really felt? Yes, but I wasn't going to lose her over that. She was everything I could ever want and I'd be a fool to just let her go.
Having had enough, I shove my drink into Priest's chest and made my way over to them.
"(Y/N). Deville", I address,
Interrupting their laughter.
"Hey, Ripley", Sonya replied,
As I respond with a sarcastic grin.
"I need to talk to you", I address (Y/N),
"I'm kind of in the middle of something-"
"(Y/N)", I cut off,
Causing her to be taken aback.
YOUR P.O.V.
I couldn't lie, the stern tone in her voice made my core ache and my knees go weak. I had no choice but to comply.
I follow her through the crowd and up the stairs, till we reach her bedroom at the end of the hall.
As we step inside, she closes the door behind her and leans against it.
"What do you want?", I questioned,
"Don't play dumb with me"
"I'm not", I egged on.
She scoffs, leaning off the door and taking a step towards me.
"Are we really going to do this?"
"I don't know...are we?"
I knew me challenging her was a risk, but it was one I was willing to take. I needed to know once and for all if this was something worth fighting for.
With a mischievous grin, she leans down to whisper in my ear.
"Do you really think Sonya, of all people, can treat you better than I can? Hm? Make you feel as good as I do?"
Her hands creep up to the small of my waist and pulled me in closer. I could feel my knees threatening to give out and was fighting so hard to stop it.
"Or was this all just to get my attention?"
She kisses up my neck and chewed on the lobe of my ear.
"You want me? You've got me"
Like I'd weighed nothing, she picks me up by thighs, causing a surprised gasp to escape me.
"All you had to do was say so"
She then carries me to bed and crawled atop me, kissing and licking up my legs.
"This dress. Fuck", she murmured against my thighs,
Before spreading them apart.
"Well"
Eyeing the wet spot on my underwear.
"I've barely started and you're already making a mess", she teased,
"Rhea", I whined,
"Yes, darling?"
"Please"
"Please what? You know I like to hear you say it"
I take in a deep breath, before finally locking eyes with her.
"Fuck me"
She smirks once more, before pulling away and walking over to her closet. I carefully observe her every move and once she was done digging through her clothes, she turns around, causing my stomach drops.
She's used straps on me before, but this one was...different.
"I've been saving this for something special, but of course you had to be a brat tonight", she says,
Stopping right before the bed.
"Take my clothes off", she ordered.
I crawl over to her, helping her out of her blazer, before unbuttoning her blouse and pulling her pants down.
Unbeknownst to me, she was already completely naked beneath her clothes. The sight of her exquisite body never failing to drive me crazy.
"My turn"
She pulls my dress off over my head, leaving me in just my stockings.
"No underwear? God, you are a slut"
And without wasting another breath, she pulls me in by my waist, whilst wrapping her lips around my hardened buds.
Desperate moans and whines escaping me as she did so.
"You're so much nicer when Mami's got a hold of you, hm?"
She then pushes me onto my back, before spreading my legs and ripping my fishnets down the middle. She must've sensed my concern, by the way her eyes flickered up to me.
"I'll get you new ones", she reassured,
Before pulling back and securing the toy around her hips.
I was practically drooling from how good she looked. From her inked hand rubbing up and down the dildo, to her insatiable eyes eating me alive, I could've cum right then and there.
"I need you, Mami, please", I pleaded,
Tugging her lips up into a smirk.
"I know you do. Why else would you try so hard to get my attention?", she teased,
Licking the shell of my ear and sending a chill up my spine.
In a flash, she throws my legs around her waist, dragging me in closer, whilst rubbing the tip of the strap against my entrance.
"Let's see if you can keep up"
She thrusts into me in one swift motion, filling me up to the brim and causing a cry to escape past my lips.
Her pace was immediate and rough, like the hand she snaked up my body, before settling around my throat. It felt like I was being split apart in the best way possible. The mixture of the pleasure and pain already causing tears to blur my vision.
"You're fucking mine", she grunted against my shoulder,
"Yes, Mami!", I cried out,
Grabbing her wrist.
With each merciless thrust, my orgasm was nearing faster and faster and I knew it was only a matter of time, till I came undone in her grasp.
"Fuck!", I whined under my moans,
"You're doing so good for me", she licked up my throat,
Reaching down to rub vigorous circles on my clit and yanking a final scream out of me.
"Do it. Cum for Mami", she demanded.
The stars in my eyes were all I saw, before being pushed over the edge.
Just when I thought it couldn't get any better, I feel her hand pull back to squeeze the base of the toy, causing it to spurt out ropes of warm sticky liquid all over my clenching walls.
I let out a surprised gasp, as Rhea chuckled against my neck. She looks back up and smashed her now-smudged lips against my own.
"Now, everyone here knows who you belong to", she teased.
My stomach dropped at the realization.
#rhea ripley#wwe#rhea ripley x reader#rhea ripley oneshot#rhea ripley fanfic#rhea ripley fluff#rhea ripley angst#rhea ripley smut#demi bennett
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Rage, rage | four
prologue | one | two | three | four
Pairing: Azriel x Hybern!Princess!OC
Summary: Nimue was a gift for the King of Hybern. His shining jewel, the perfect heir. However, she is clear about who the villain of the story is. When she saves her father's enemies from a tragic end, she realizes that now it's the Cauldron who has a gift for her: a mate.
Warnings: blood, bad language, talking about trauma, bad familiar relationships (King of hybern father of the year)
Sitting in that chair, Nimue did nothing but absorb everything she saw around her: the paintings hanging on the walls, the rugs covering the floor, every detail placed on the shelves, the books arranged alphabetically...
It was all perfect. She had never imagined what the physical representation of the word "home" would be like, yet she felt it should be like this. In every carefully placed thing, she saw the affection behind it.
She stopped daydreaming and returned to the most pressing matter: the fact that, for some reason, she was tied to that chair.
Bound, but without seeing the ropes. It was an invisible force that pushed her against the wood of the armrests and the cushion of the backrest. She tried to suppress a laugh with little success because she knew effortlessly she could free herself from those ties. But well, if it made them feel safer, so be it.
She looked up, first to that male: Azriel, as she had heard others call him.
She still felt that sensation pulsing right in the middle of her being, making her gaze involuntarily go to him even in that room full of people.
Azriel felt like he was going to explode. He stood, leaning against the back of one of the sofas in the living room, positioned between Rhysand and Amren. With his arms crossed over his chest, he tried to control his breathing, counting to ten and releasing the air, counting again.
His wings trembled upon hearing the small laugh that escaped from the lips of that stranger. "What the hell are you laughing at? Do you find the situation funny?" he barked at the girl. She seemed surprised as her expression changed abruptly.
"No," she replied, furrowing her brow. She could feel the man's anger through that invisible thread connecting her to him. She tried to clear her mind. "It's just amusing that you have me tied up here. I can free myself at any moment, and if I don't, it's because I know you're afraid of me."
Rhysand's face must have been a sight. Afraid of her? He reinforced even more the restraints binding the girl to the chair, and with a sly smile, he took a step forward. "Dare to let yourself go, and you'll see what happens."
Was that some kind of sarcasm? Nimue didn't understand, she was just used to people speaking to her clearly, if only to avoid being in her presence more than necessary.
So she stood up, crossing the restraints of the High Lord like someone walking against a gentle breeze. Everyone jumped in their seats, reaching for their weapons or preparing to defend themselves.
But Nimue simply stood there, scanning from one to another: from the High Lord to Azriel, from the petite woman to Cassian, as she had heard Rhysand call him.
"I know you don't understand what I am or who I am right now, but it's okay. I'll explain it calmly, but you have to be willing to listen to me. You need me more than I need you."
Cassian let out a mocking laugh, "And why did you help us if you say you don't need us?"
And then silence fell.
Why had she helped them?
She had acted without thinking, that's for sure. She had never contradicted her father, and for the first time it was under such circumstances that something didn't fit deep within her conscience. She could excuse it with those memories that weren't hers: seeing those two humans in the Cauldron had awakened in her those memories from twenty years ago. But it wasn't just that.
Yes, she knew that within her, that idea of killing her father, ending him, stopping that plan he wanted to carry out and doing good had always been germinating. But in between there was always that rotten and unconditional love she felt for the King of Hybern, which was written in every cell of her being from the day she emerged.
"I needed an excuse," she said aloud. All the attention of those present was on her, and she kept talking. "I always knew my father was never the good one. I'm missing pieces of the story, I only know what he told me through filters. I know there are people in Prythian, I know there's going to be a war, I know everything revolves around the Cauldron. But I don't know much more."
My father.
When the girl uttered those words, Azriel felt a surge rising from the depths of his throat. How could a monster like the King of Hybern have sired such a beautiful creature?
Yes, beautiful. She is beautiful.
He stopped his thoughts abruptly, trying to ignore his own shadow's whispers. He was hallucinating, again.
"I also know that my father expected me to fight for him in this war, to incinerate Prythian's forces. He counted on an easy victory, however now..." Nimue's hands couldn't stop playing with the fabric of the dress she was wearing. It was then that she realized the pristine white fabric of her skirt was stained with blood, the blood of the Illyrians. She took a deep breath and continued speaking, "He's not going to take it very well that I've done this. That I've... betrayed him.”
"Well, don't tell me."
Nimue looked up at Azriel. Was that irony again?
Rhysand gave the Shadowsinger a stern look, and everyone fell silent again, waiting for the girl to speak.
But she didn't know where to continue. What should she tell them about herself? Should she tell them what she was?
And in the midst of the prolonged silence, the High Lord spoke up, "No one knew of the existence of a princess of Hybern. If you claim to be so powerful, why did your father never boast about you?"
There was something that didn't add up in all of this and had Rhysand uneasy. He felt the presence of the female, a pale, pulsating white light in the middle of the room. It was a strange magic, something he couldn't quite categorize within the fae magic that flowed through his veins. His gaze shifted to Amren, hoping she could shed some light on the situation, but to his surprise, she looked just as bewildered as he did.
"My father never wanted my existence to be known. I..." Nimue bit her lip, weighing how much revealing everything to this group of strangers would be a good idea. "I've never left Hybern. In fact, I've never left the castle."
"How old are you, girl? Have you been locked up in there your whole life?" Amren asked.
"It's hard to say how old I am. In this body, I've lived twenty years of yours. Before that... my memories are clouded."
"In this body? Before that?" Azriel inquired. He felt like he was going crazy, wanting to pull his hair out and scream. What was happening? Of all the outcomes he had predicted for today, this was certainly one he wouldn't have even dreamed of. "Tell us the truth, or I swear I'll slit your throat."
Nimue smiled, a poisonous smile she had learned from her father.
"I doubt it. If I have to kick your ass again like I did out there, I will," she held Azriel's gaze. And added, "And with pleasure."
Azriel snorted, baring his teeth in an aggressive gesture and reaching for his dagger. Nimue simply smiled, holding his gaze without flinching.
With that mask she had learned to wear.
Rhysand rolled his eyes and brought his hands to his face, trying to process everything that was happening.
They hadn't obtained the Cauldron, they had learned of Tamlin's betrayal, they had transformed his mate's sisters, and now this. It had been a very eventful day, to say the least.
"So you're trying to tell us that you've been in this world for twenty years, but before that, you were somewhere else, right? Do you remember where?"
"Yes," said Nimue. She tried to hold back another laugh at the absurdity of the situation. "In the Cauldron."
And they fell silent again.
The expressions on everyone's faces were like something out of a painting, and Nimue let out a quiet laugh.
She had never had to explain who or what she was; everyone where she came from knew. They all knew her.
"Well," she began calmly, "we all know my father, the King of Hybern. The fanatic, lunatic and power-hungry one."
"Yes, unfortunately."
"He impregnated one of his royal concubines, and in the midst of that madness, he decided to put her in the Cauldron. I don't know if it was under coercion from the Cauldron itself, if it was a demand my father made, or what. But the woman died instantly, and in exchange for her life, I came out of the Cauldron."
"So, you're telling me that the Cauldron not only has the power to turn humans into fae, as we've seen with Feyre's sisters. You're telling me," Rhysand took a deep breath, trying to organize his thoughts, "that the Cauldron granted the King a daughter in exchange for a sacrifice, no more, no less."
"Yes, but it's not something that will happen again. The Cauldron created me as its own whim, just as it has done with those two humans you mentioned. Feyre’s sisters…"
“Elain and Nesta.”
"Yes," said Nimue. "What it has done with them won't happen again. Not for a long time, at least. The Cauldron only responds to its own impulses, and I don't even understand them myself. Our fae minds aren't made to understand what the Cauldron is or how it acts. Not even the mind of that creature."
Nimue pointed at Amren, who crossed her arms with a sly smile.
"Well, on that you're right. Not even this creature," she said, pointing to herself, "is capable of understanding under what desires that pot acts."
And they all fell silent again, weighing the situation and assimilating what the girl had said.
Azriel was simply angry, furious. He couldn't feel anything else at that moment. He didn't care much about the Cauldron's affairs, nor did he lose sleep over trying to understand how it worked.
He just wanted to know why he had the misfortune of finding out that his mate, whom he had been waiting to meet since he was a child, had to be the damn daughter of the King of Hybern.
"And regarding your problem," Nimue continued, this time addressing only Azriel, "well, our problem. I never knew what a mate was, as you called it. I knew that the Cauldron forged the souls of people to be incomplete, so that if they were lucky, they would find the other half they were missing during their life. But when I saw you, when I felt it, I was able to understand. I'm sorry if it's been a disappointment, but it is what it is."
Azriel frowned, his arms crossed and the hair on his arms bristling. He felt like he was trembling with rage.
"I didn't ask for this, princess."
Nimue didn't want to admit it, but the pull of disdain she felt on the other side of the bond made her heart shrink.
"Great, neither did I."
Taglist:
@lilah-asteria @agentsofsheilds @leptitlu @just-here-reading @glitterypirateduck @saltedcoffeescotch @donttellthecats @annblvd
#acotar#acotar fanfiction#acotar fic#azriel imagine#azriel#azriel x female!reader#azriel x reader#azriel x oc#cassian#rhysand
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Don't Kill My Vibe
Title: Don’t Kill My Vibe
Rating: Explicit, 18+, Minors - DNI
Pairing: Clark Kent x BestFriend!Black!Fem!Reader
Word Count: 2.7K
Summary: You help Clark ease the pain of his broken heart.
Warnings: mention of a breakup, recreational drug use (marijuana), friends-to-lovers trope, oral sex (f receiving), unprotected p-in-v sex, creampie, mention of bodily fluids
A/N: This is an AU where Clark Kent is not superpowered and Superman does not exist. Unbeta’d, we die like people who tried their best.
Dividers by me
Support/Reblog banner by me
Cover Art by me
My Masterlist
It wasn’t the first time Clark asked to try some bud, but it was the most pathetic. His gorgeous blue eyes were puffy from crying over that woman. As much as you wanted to say, “I told you so," you didn’t want him to feel any worse about the failed relationship with his reporter beau, Lois Lane.
And yet again, you think to yourself, ‘Fuck Lois Lane’.
When he showed up at your place an hour ago in sweatpants, sneakers, and a button-up pullover, you were surprised to see he opted for something other than his normal flannel and jeans. His hair was mussed, and he avoided eye contact with you. Something was wrong.
You dragged him into your apartment, turning down your Spotify playlist on the Bluetooth speakers so you could talk over the mellow tunes. While you flopped down on your couch, Clark sat down slowly and sighed.
You were already elevated, having taken a couple of puffs from your blue and red glass bowl earlier, so you were struggling to pay attention to everything he was saying. You tried to put on your “I’m not high” face and nod enough, saying “Oh wow” occasionally. But, in actuality, your eyes were as red as the Devil’s dick, and Clark wasn’t stupid.
His eyes looked from yours to the tray on the coffee table that held your various assortments of smoking apparatus, grinder, lighter, and stash box. Leaning forward so his elbows rested on his knees, he motioned his chin toward everything and said, “I know you’ve said no a million times, but I could use an escape. And before you say no again, know I’ve tried all the tricks in the book to get over somebody, and nothing is working.”
“I have a feeling there’s another thing you haven’t tried either, but whatever,” you rattled on, waving off his confused expression. “Fine. It should be illegal for you to use those puppy eyes when asking me for something, by the way.”
So here you are, preparing a strawberry cone for you and Clark to share. You were always weird about people using your favorite bowl. You also figure that for a first-timer, it would be the easiest for him to start with. Twisting the end after filling the cone, you reach for the lighter and ashtray.
“First things first,” you purr, using your phone to turn the music up. “Now, watch what I do. I’m going to draw the smoke into my mouth and then hold it for a few seconds, or as long as I can, before blowing it back out. Ready?”
Clark nods as he turns toward you, tucking one leg under the other. Now that you have his full attention, you suddenly feel flustered. Casting your eyes downward, you take the cone into your mouth and light the end. You inhale deeply and take it out of your mouth. Savoring the citrus flavor of the strain, your tongue licks your lips, and you exhale.
You close your eyes and take a few breaths. After a moment, you hear Clark’s voice breaking through your haze: “Everything good?”
Your eyes pop open, and just like nothing happened, you perk up. Handing him the cone, you blink as he holds it like someone who has never smoked. You’ve known Clark long enough that you have a suspicion that is probably true for him.
He’s polite, almost to a fault. He screams Boy Scout, altar boy, and ‘promise ring’ all at the same time. What can you say? Clark was a good boy. And you were getting him high. You little devil!
Clark takes a short pull from the pink-colored joint and manages to hold it for about two seconds, then attempts to exhale. A small plume escapes his mouth, he inhales sharply and has a coughing fit. You take the joint back before he drops it and sit it in the ashtray.
Rubbing his back, you try to talk him through catching his breath. You grab your water bottle and hold the straw to his mouth when he nods his thanks. He sips the water, then clears his throat loudly, burping up a bit of smoke. He laughs quickly as he sees it exit his mouth, reminding you of a little surprised dragon.
“That was fun,” he sputters, his voice deeper than usual.
“It gets easier, Clark. Trust me, coughing is normal. And most of the time, coughing gets you higher,” you laugh, picking up the joint to take another hit.
You inhale, exhaling into the air, and hold it out for Clark to take again. He sips from your water bottle and gives it to you in exchange for the joint.
Holding it between two fingers, he brings it to his lips. You watch his mouth curl around the tip, and your brain conjures up the vision of what else that boy’s mouth can do. He takes the joint out of his mouth, holding his breath for a few seconds, then blows it out slowly. He gives it back to you and leans back against the couch.
“I don’t think I feel any different yet. How long does it take to kick in?” he asks, crossing his arms and pouting.
It being his first time, he is completely unaware that he is already high. His body language is different; Clark Kent doesn’t slouch even a little. He also certainly doesn’t fidget; his hands suddenly become very interested in the material of his pullover.
“You’ll feel it sooner than you think,” you mumble, the joint between your lips as you speak.
Twenty minutes later, Clark tells you exactly what the last straw was that ended his relationship with Lois. He pauses to take a hit, handing it back to you as he exhales. “But it was always whatever she wanted. I treat her like a queen. And she goes and blows Jimmy-fucking-Olsen. Then she lies about it after Jimmy comes clean to me. I…,” he trails off, looking over at you and shaking his head as he laughs.
“What?” you question when you realize he stops talking.
“Nothing. I just… I think I’m high,” he giggles, the corners of his eyes wrinkling when he smiles at you.
“Besides being high, can you describe how you feel?” You press, wanting to know just how high he is.
“I feel lighter. Clear…er? Is it clearer or more clear? Whatever. I think I also just figured out how I want to finish that article on The Wayne Foundation,” he explains, leaning back so he is lying on his back with his head on your lap. “Is this ok? Your lap looked so comfortable,” he wonders aloud, looking up at you.
That’s when you realize three fundamental truths at the same time.
1. Clark is single.
2. Clark is literally in your lap.
3. The crush you have on Clark is swiftly turning into lustful infatuation.
Bringing yourself back to the present, you smile at him and say, “Yeah, of course it’s ok.” You focus on the heat radiating from your best friend as he makes himself comfortable so close to your thirsty pussy.
“You are the best,” he replies, closing his eyes as your hand finds its way into his curls.
“This cool?” you dare, hoping that you can continue to push the boundary between friendship and something more.
As if the groan from the back of his throat wasn’t enough, he voices his satisfaction. “More than cool. I love having my hair played with. Feel free to go to town on me.”
Oh, the importance of phrasing.
This man is not going to make it easy on you.
You’re explaining to Clark about that episode of Bob’s Burgers where Bob and Linda accidentally get high after eating cookies laced with marijuana at their accountant’s office. “So, anyway. Bob, Linda, and the accountant build a pillow fort from the cushions on his couch, and somehow it makes them feel safer which I get because pillow forts were the height of safety when we were kids. And sometimes, people feel safer thinking about the simplicity of their childhood,” you rattle on, leaning forward to grab your water bottle and forgetting about Clark’s head, which is still very much in your lap.
An oomph is spoken into your boobs, and you shoot straight up to a standing position and knock Clark off your lap and onto the floor.
“Shit!” he cries from his spot on the floor.
“Fuck, Clark! I’m so sorry! Are you ok?” You cringe, your hand touching your forehead as you watch him pull himself up.
“Hey, hey. It’s cool, I’m fine,” he reassures, his hand grabbing yours to take it away from your face. With the other hand, he grabs your chin between his thumb and forefinger. Tilting your head up, he smiles and counters, “Are you ok?”
Yeah. Fine. My tits were just thrust into your face for a bit there. Oh, and you have no idea that I like you. And that pesky curl is falling into your pretty eyes again. And your handsome face is close enough to-
One second, you’re staring at his smile; the next second, you’re attacking his mouth with yours. His lips are just as pillowy and soft as they look. At first, the kiss is timid. Surprise gives way to need as he deepens the kiss. His tongue seeks solace as it slides against the seam of your lips. Granting him entry, he licks into your mouth like an explorer discovering new lands.
His hands find their way to your hips, bringing you impossibly close. He feasts on every whimper that leaves you, peppering in some moans of his own. This is the kiss of a man waiting for a moment like this. At least, that’s how it feels.
Begrudgingly, you slowly break away from Clark. His kiss-swollen pink lips beg to be reunited with yours, but you must prove this is real. You look up into his dilated eyes, noting how blue is almost completely taken over by black.
You open your mouth to speak, but Clark beats you to it.
“Unless you are about to tell me you don’t want this, please just kiss me again,” he breathes, resting his forehead against yours. “I don’t know what’s more intoxicating. This drug or having you so close to me.”
Instead of worrying about what this means, you throw caution to the wind. Tilting your head, you slot your lips with his, devouring the subtle whimper that escapes him. From nervous to commanding, you feel Clark’s demeanor change as his hands wander over your body.
He picks you up by the waist, your legs instinctually wrapping around him. With you in his arms, he walks blindly to your bedroom. Once he lays you down, he covers your body with his. The hard length against your mound gives you pause, but you quickly recover as you angle your hips to meet his.
Clark breaks the kiss to sit up and remove his pullover and shirt. A pink hue dusts his cheeks as he watches you scan his torso while you bite your lip. Leaning down, he tugs at the hem of your shirt, wanting you to get rid of it.
You oblige, now topless in front of your best friend for the first time. You don’t have time to freak out over that information because Clark hooks his fingers in your leggings, his eyes begging for permission. You raise your hips, and he pulls them down your legs along with your underwear.
You sit up as he chucks his sweatpants, his heavy erection now visible. Your first thought is, “Now that is a pretty dick.”
“Thank you,” he says, a smirk playing on his lips.
“I said that out loud, didn’t I?” You wonder aloud, already knowing the answer.
Clark smiles, nodding at you before coaxing you to lay back. He sinks between your legs, holding them open to kiss your thighs. He teases you a bit, licking and nipping at your mound and outer labia until you wiggle your hips and whine.
“Tsk, tsk, tsk. Patience, please,” he cautions, shaking his head at you. He winks at you, diving fully into your snatch and sucking your clit between his lips.
You throw your head back in ecstasy as his tongue slides over your swollen button. Humming while sucking on your nub is a fucking power move, and your hands tangle in his hair. You dig your heels into his back as he laps up the juices that accumulate at your entrance. Looking down at him as he worships at the altar of your body, you are taken aback as he peeks up at you over your mound.
With your eyes locked on each other, he watches as he tips you right over the edge. He groans into your pussy, his mouth and chin soaked, as your walls contract around nothing. The euphoria of being high mixes with the joy of being with someone new for the first time.
But this isn’t just anybody; this was your best friend. Warmth and comfort exist between you, allowing you to feel safe enough to fall and that Clark will catch you.
You come down as he plants a kiss on your mound, grazing his lips up your tummy. When he is back above your face, he runs the tip of his dick across your wet folds. He maintains eye contact while he slides in for the first time.
Once he is fully seated inside you, he lets you adjust to his size before he withdraws slightly and thrusts forward. The wet squelch of your pussy and the smack of your bodies against one another are music to your ears. Clark’s grunts as he fucks into you only fuel your impending second climax.
“Fuck, you feel so good. Too good. Not going to last long,” he warns, sitting up on his knees as his hands go to your waist. Throwing his head back, he growls and picks up the pace, using your body like his personal fucktoy.
Your back arches as he repeatedly hits that hidden bundle of nerves. A searing fire erupts in your belly as your cunt clamps down on his dick, spasming and coating it with your cream.
“Good girl! That’s it. Fucking come for me, just like that,” he encourages. “Oh, shit. I’m right fucking behind you. Fuck, fuck, fuuuuuuuuuck.”
You lock your legs around his waist, keeping him right where he is as his dick spasms and fills you to the brim. Your hands smooth down his big chest, feeling the muscles ripple as he comes down from what is probably the most intense orgasm he has ever felt. He stills soon enough, breathing back to normal as his softening length slips from you.
Flopping down next to you, Clark wraps an arm around you. You curl into his side, an arm across his stomach, and a leg thrown over his. Contented silence fills the room as you both take in this unforeseen turn of events.
Clark’s hand makes idle patterns on your back as you lay on his chest, listening to his heartbeat. You close your eyes for only a moment, missing Clark smiling at you. He gives you a quick peck on the top of your head, causing you to tilt your head to meet his eyes.
“You hungry?” you guess, feeling a bit peckish yourself.
“Yes!” he exclaims.
“Good. I know a great place down the street that makes the best samosas. Does Indian food sound good?” you ask, already tasting the rich spices of the food.
“Sounds perfect,” he says, picking up his arm to let you get up from the bed to grab your phone, watching your hips sway as you walk out to the other room.
Once back in bed, you order various dishes for the both of you. While you wait for the food, you pass a joint back and forth and steal a kiss or two. You decide there is plenty of time for you and Clark to talk. There is no use in killing the vibe for heavy stuff.
With the way Clark is looking at you, there’s not much to talk about anyway.
🍃The End🍃
A/N: I would love to know what you think!!! Feedback is appreciated!
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When you're rejected by your crush
Pairing: BTS ot7 × Gn!Reader (individually)
Genre: fluff, headcanons, just a bit of angst because you were rejected
Request: Hello! Can you please write headcanons for BTS (they have a crush on the reader) reacting to the reader being sad after finding out that her crush (a coworker or a friend) is in a relationship with someone else?
Warnings: none?
A/n: this was inspired by the "secret crush" series by @7ndipity a bit. If you do not allow this, please let me know and I'll delete this post right away!
Jin
Your friend
That's all Jin wants to be for you right now
Of course, he'd be lying if he said he didn't feel at least an ounce of hope when you said that your friend, your crush, was now dating someone else
But at the same time, he'd hate to show interest in you when you're so vulnerable
So he settles in being only what you need right now: a shoulder to cry on
I believe he'd be the one to wait the longest to tell you how he feels, scared you're not on the same page just yet
Suga
His mind is a mess right now
Nothing breaks him more than seeing your eyes without its usual shine
But he had been praying for the day where you fall out of love with your co-worker
So he really doesn't know how to react right now
He chooses to listen to you talk about how you found out everything and about how you're feeling
Will try to forget his feelings and focus on being the best friend you could ask for now
But as soon as you feel better and your feelings for your past crush start to fade, he might try to make subtle moves on you, scared someone else could catch your attention again
J-hope
I see this going on a slightly different way
He found out about your crush's relationship before you
He just knew you'd be heartbroken
So he tries to let you down gently, saying that maybe the guy wasn't this big of a deal
But when the time comes and you're inevitably sad after finding out, he tries to comfort you as much as possible
Is very hesitant on being flirty right now though
Besides being sad, he'd hate for you to be confused because of him
Namjoon
Honestly, for a second he even forgot he liked you
His mind went blank the moment you texted him about how you were in need of comfort right now
Will fulfill his role as your friend and, before you even notice, you were already laughing through your tears at something he said
Just later that day that he realises what this can mean for your relationship
He finally had a chance now!
Waits for a while though, planning exactly what he wants to do
Jimin
He feels so bloody guilty and selfish right now
Because he's your friend! And you're sad right now!
He should be only focusing on how to make you happy again
But knowing that this means you'll have to eventually move on from your current crush just gives him so much hope
Obviously, he will try to hype you up
But as soon as he can, he will try to make you see him in a different light
Taehyung
Relief floods over him the moment you tell him the news
He was so scared of what could've happened if your crush were to reciprocate your feelings
He had to hold back his smile
Hangs out with you immediately to try to make you forget things for a while
Is already making a plan on how to confess
But for now he's focused on making you feel better
Even thanks your crush with literally no context at all
Jungkook
Deadass smiled when you told him about the situation 💀
Don't get him wrong, he's not happy because you're hurt!
He's happy because he might have a chance now
But he at least was able to hide (part of) his happiness in front of you lmao
And now he's 100% dedicated to make you smile again
He wasn't even that cool, you could find someone better than him anyways
Either way, he makes it his personal mission to distract you from that other guy and make you realise that maybe you're better off without him
And if he ends up being extra boyfriend material throughout it, it was purely a coincidence
Masterlist | you'll probably like: secret crush (by the author I mentioned in the a/n)
Thank you for reading <3
Taglist (open!): @yuyubeans
Credits for images 1 , 2 and 3
Dividers by @cafekitsune
#next post will be for the 1k event#celi headcanon#bts fluff#bts imagines#bts fanfic#bts scenario#bts headcanons#bts angst#bangtan#jin#jin fluff#jin angst#namjoon#namjoon angst#namjoon fluff#jhope fluff#jhope angst#hobi#suga#suga fluff#suga angst#jimin#jimin fluff#jimin angst#taehyung fluff#taehyung angst#jungkook angst#jungkook fluff#bts x reader
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— 02 the invite [1.5k]
MASTERLIST | PREV | NEXT
PAIRING: brothers bsf!sunghoon x f!reader
WARNINGS: mentions of heartbreak, mentions of throwing up, cussing
AUTHORS NOTE: babies!! this is my first ever written piece!! it’s not perfect but I hope you guys enjoy nonetheless. i’m excited for this storyline to begin to unfold. love you, thank you for reading <3
Sunlight streams through the curtains, and your eyes snap open. Panic sets in as you realize you're not in your own bed. Scrambling to check the time, the memory of last night's chaos comes flooding back – Jungwon, in a lot worse condition thanks to Jake's encouragement, making it so you had to play caretaker after the countless shots and rounds of beer pong.
You leap out of bed, heart racing. Class starts in twenty minutes, and your professor isn't known for leniency. Grabbing your things and getting dressed in some clothes you had left behind, you rush downstairs, only to nearly collide with Sunghoon, who's looking unfairly good with his tousled hair and that deep, just-woke-up voice.
"What’s the rush?" he asks, an eyebrow raised in amusement.
You're momentarily distracted by his disheveled charm, but the urgency of the moment snaps you back to reality. "I'm late for class," you blurt out, then remember Jungwon, still knocked out in the guest room. "Can you keep an eye on Jungwon? He had a rough night."
Sunghoon nods, a smirk playing on his lips. "Sure thing. you should go before you’re even more late."
Grateful, you offer him a quick smile, glancing around only to see niki and sunoo slumped on the living room couch. you turn back to sunghoon ,giving him a knowing look and bolt out the door, hoping you can make it in time.
You rush through the crowded hallways of your university, heart pounding in your chest. The sound of your footsteps echoes, matching the frantic beat of your thoughts. As you finally reach your classroom, you take a deep breath to steady yourself before pushing open the door.The professor pauses mid-lecture, giving you a stern look. "Late again, Y/N?"
You offer a sheepish smile, quickly finding an empty seat. "Sorry, sir. it won't happen again."
as if your morning couldn’t have gotten worse you feel your phone buzz with a new message. Glancing down, you see it's a forwarded email – a formal wedding invitation from your ex. Your heart skips a beat as you read the elegant script, announcing their upcoming marriage. It's a surreal moment, one that brings a mix of emotions swirling through you.
You're not sure how to react. Part of you is happy for them, genuinely wishing them the best, but there's also that tiny, complicated twinge of... something. It's not exactly sadness, not exactly jealousy, just a poignant reminder of the past.
Leaning back in your chair, you can't help but let your mind wander to Jeno. he was your first everything. Your first love, your first heartbreak, the first person who made you feel like you were truly alive. You remember the way he used to hold your hand, the way he smiled just before he kissed you, and the way he made you laugh until your sides hurt.
Heeseung had always been wary of Jeno. He'd seen the signs, warned you about his antics, and tried to protect you like he always has, naturally, being your older brother, but you don't regret a single moment. Despite the warnings, you plunged headfirst into the relationship. You got to experience love—the highs, the lows, and everything in between.
Even now, with the wedding invitation in hand, you can't bring yourself to feel bitter. Heeseung might give you that 'I told you so' look, but you'll just shrug it off, because to you, love, even when it ends, is something to cherish. It taught you, shaped you, and you wouldn't trade those memories for anything.
Class finally ends, and you make your way back to your brother's house. Opening the door, you find everyone except jay, saerom and jake in the living room, engaged in a random conversations about the previous night.
As you step into the living room, the change in your expression doesn't go unnoticed by Heeseung, his brow furrowing with concern. "What's up?" he asks, his voice tinged with brotherly caution.
You hesitate for a moment, feeling the weight of your phone in your pocket. Sighing, you pull it out and hand it to him. "It's Jeno's wedding invite," you admit, watching his eyes scan over the elegant script, capturing the attention of your friends in the room. Heeseung's protective instincts kick in immediately. "You're not thinking of going, are you?" He hands back your phone, his gaze steady on yours.
You meet his look with a resolve that surprises even you. "I think I need to," you say firmly. "For closure." Heeseung doesn't look convinced, but he knows better than to argue when your mind is made up. "Just... be careful, okay?" he says, and you can tell he's trying to understand. You nod, grateful for his concern but knowing this is something you have to do for yourself.
Niki, always the joker, jumps into the conversation, trying to lighten the mood. . "I never liked Jeno anyway, you were too pretty for him, and he’s the clumsiest person to literally ever exist”. You can't help but laugh at Niki's attempt to make you smile. "Thanks, Niki," you say, playfully rolling your eyes. "But let's not get too carried away with the ego boost, okay?"
you glance over at jungwon, who clearly has not made a full recovery and is still very much regretting letting jake feed him shot after shot. it’s then you realize that you have no idea about saeroms whereabouts. that probably makes you the worst best friend known to man but in your defense, you had a pretty hectic morning. iyou catch sight of her walking out of jake’s room. confusion spreads across your face. why would she be in his room?
looking a little disheveled, she freezes as she notices everyone's eyes on her. The not-so-secret secret is out, and her cheeks turn a shade of pink.
"Guys, it's not what it looks like," Saerom stammers, but the knowing smiles and snickers from heeseung and sunghoon tell a different story.
You raise an eyebrow playfully. "you and jake? when did that happen?” Saerom bites her lip, trying to suppress a smile. "Okay, okay, maybe it's a little bit like what it looks like, and i’m sorry i didn’t tell you. i was afraid you’d be upset since yknow jake is heeseung’s friend and all" she admits. “trust me im more worried about you catching something from jake than him being my brothers friend” you tell her.
heeseung smiles, “trust me jake’s ONLY been sleeping with her”. you snap your head, giving her an offended look, “my BROTHER knew about this before me? ok now im hurt”. Sunghoon laughs, “it was kind of hard not to find out when they both clearly have a thing for exhibitionism”.
“ ok i think im gonna throw up now” jungwon says causing everyone to let out a laugh”.
niki gasps, “SO THIS is why you’ve been wanting to come to every ksana party??? i knew you were still a boring bitch”. “ok who invited him” saerom rolls her eyes. the sudden commotion in the room wakes sunoo, who had still be deep asleep on the couch next to niki. “what’s going on” he says in a groggy tone. “you don’t wanna know” sunghoon tells him.
you turn to him. Once again admiring his look, now put together as opposed to his disheveled state you encountered when you ran into him this morning. you made a mental note to thank him later for keeping an eye out for jungwon.
You can't help but feel grateful for your friends, even in the midst of reminiscing about your past. With their humor and love, you know you'll be able to face whatever comes your way.
later on back at your place, you catch Saerom up to speed on all the details. “that dick invited you his wedding???, what the fuck is his problem” saerom states with a tone of disgust. “i found it odd too but I think it’s what I need in order to finally close that chapter in my life” you say, assuring her.
“you now what this means right?” she presses. “no?” you ask, a bit confused as to what she has up her sleeve. “you need a date!” “yeah no” you quickly reply. “come on babes you can’t show up alone. you need to show him that you’ve moved on too and don’t care that he wasn’t the one for you”. you ponder her idea. it wouldn’t be so bad. it’d save you from the internal embarrassment of showing up to your ex’s wedding all alone, looking like some pathetic loser who came to drown in her sorrows at the sight of her first love being wedded away to a different woman. after more careful consideration, you reluctantly agree. saerom claps her hands in excitement. “where in the world am i going to find someone that’ll agree to being my date within 2 weeks?” you weren’t exactly the popular type around campus, despite being heeseungs little sister.
“i can ask jake, maybe he’ll know someone?” saerom suggests. you’re hesitant and take a moment to really think about your plan here. “we need to find someone you can be comfortable with. you’ll need to hold hands and do couple shit to make it beliveable”. Saerom tells you, a little to excited about the whole ordeal. you swallow, oh boy are you in for a ride.
taglist: @cornenhapovs @myjaeyuns @magssu @leeknowsgfsblog @luminouskalopsia @jentlecoeur @heeslut4life @variety-is-the-joy-of-life @jaeyungxrl @rapmonie2047 @anormieee @nishislcve @leesura @en-happiness @kimsunoops @heelariously @rikiwaify-blog @ihrtgyuuu @purennn @hoonharem @g0niki @hearts4itoshi @yongbokified @shuichi-sama @xiaoderrrr @hongshuaknow @skylaly @yzzyhee @jwnghyuns @heelovesmeknot @kookify
#enhypen#enhypen fic#enhypen scenarios#enhypen texts#enhypen smau#fake texts#park sunghoon#enhypen imagines#kpop smau#park sunghoon x reader#sunghoon x you#sunghoon smut#sunghoon fluff#sunghoon angst#sunghoon smau#sunghoon x reader#enhypen smut#enhypen x reader#enhypen niki#enhypen jungwon#jake sim#park jongseong#kim sunoo#lee heeseung#enhypen social media au#social media au#kpop fake texts#kpop#kpop fanfic#engene
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vivarium
rating: explicit 18+
pairing: ezra x f!reader
word count: 8K
summary: you request a vacation for your birthday. With the rain and a few drinks, you get a lot more than you asked for.
warnings: alcohol drinking, minor age gap (less than 10 years), oral (f!receiving), fingering, smut, possessive!Ezra, dom!Ezra, one booty smack, dirty talk for real, smut, pining, a bit of angst, referenced/implied orphanhood, made a religious sex pun and i'm so proud of myself
a/n: so @morallyinept requested this and it turns out when I write for a boy for the first time, it can’t be less than 7K – whoops. i've gotten ezra requests from some moots before, so i hope this lives up to your expectations!
**massive thanks to @toomanytookas for editing and providing the initial validation so i don't post in a mouth-frothy haze. I've never had a beta like you before and I genuinely feel like I've turned over a new chapter in my fic writing. thank you!
🤍Masterlist 🤍 Ezra Masterlist 🤍 AO3 Link
💜come see what else we've done to celebrate 1K followers
Your feet in the clear blue water, the humidity like a wet tongue on your skin, you scratch a nail under the tab of a mustard yellow can, crack it open, and drink. The bite of alcohol dulled by the carbonation, you take several pulls, drawing out the mid-afternoon buzz from two other cans and whetting your mouth in the heat of the jungle day. You lean back on your elbows into the sponge-soft grass, and let out a massive sigh.
A few feet ahead of you, on a repurposed inflatable reentry tube, your long-time privateer partner chuckles, the sound deep in the back of his throat as he floats by. Thick fingers and exposed heels dragging along in the crystal water, he greets the yellow sun like an old friend – arms wide, chest out, a lazy smile on his face. A damp rag – supposedly clean – sits over what you know to be dark-earth eyes, every other inch of him relishing in the inevitable sun tan.
“I see your aaahhh, pet, and I raise you a mhmm.” The rubber squeaks as he adjusts, tips his scarred chin up to the cloudless sky and rests his head back. “Kevva said there’d be days like this, but I think the old hag mighta left out a thing or two.”
You grin, the wet heat of Banu 8’s lowlands drawing sweat droplets onto your hairline at the back of your neck, settling thick behind your ears where it co-mingles with the drunk haze loping around in your brain. You watch Ezra with his bare arms, hairy legs, and prominent nose turned towards the divinity he’s so fond of invoking and the thought crosses your mind – again:
Shit, he’s so fucking hot.
Oh, bad thought.
You drop your gaze, pressing the cold aluminum lip of the can to your mouth, drinking quicker than you probably should, anything to distract you from your partner as he obliviously floats by.
For our sake, you silently beg the hungry little creature that whines and snaps at the image of a shirtless Ezra, please fuck off.
While Ezra whistles a vaguely familiar tune, terribly off-key, you scoop up the cool lagoon water and dribble it over your hot knees, then your thighs, dampening the rims of your make-shift shorts just enough to cool them without leaving them vulnerable to a permanent state of moisture due to the high humidity. You flick the last drops of the water onto your chest, your white cotton bra choked to your skin. A final effect, you press the cool can to the thrumming pulse on your neck, closing your eyes with a relieved grunt, taking the time to enjoy the sensation of the cold metal against the rapid beat in your throat.
From the water, you hear an unsettled grunt and you open your eyes to find that same shirtless Ezra staring at you, the rag now curled in one hand against the rubber float. He swallows, looks at something past your ear, and again tries to adjust in the sticky rubber float without flipping himself over, his hands falling into his lap.
“Neptune, dear, would you do us the favor of tossing over one of those cans? I’m parched. I think my lovely skin is drying out.”
Neptune. His favorite nickname for you. You never got any real explanation from him as to why you got that name, other than after you’d officially joined his crew, you told him you came from a blue planet in a far off system. But that was often the way of things: Ezra did something and you didn’t question why. From that simple truth, you learned about how to repair and rebuild the entire electrical system from a drop pod. You learned, in excruciating detail, the parts and mechanics of a thrower, so much so that you could almost identify the model number at a glance. You learned about which corporate dig sites to avoid, which made for easy marks, and which would draw the eye and ire of entities hardly worth the trouble.
Being out on your own since you aged up out of the orphanage had not gone the way you hoped and life had not been so kind as to teach you any other way to survive. Ezra had found you in the back of a red spice market, cornered and slurping down the last few of your credits from a muck bowl that you had vastly overpaid for.
For whatever reason, he offered you a job on the spot, despite you having nothing to offer him. and no experience in anything except cleaning prophylaxiams and staying out of the way.
And yet, he has been far kinder than life, or anyone else, had ever been to you.
As a result, loyalty was only a fraction of what you felt for him. What had begun as overwhelming adoration had grown hot to the touch, slippery between your fingers at night, and perhaps – what you feared most of all – obvious.
Yet when Ezra looked at you with a smile on his face, it was only comradery he wished to share with you, certainly not his bed. He shared it with practically every other bi-pedal humanoid you came across, but not you. And this you had to accept. And you did.
But being a little drunk made it that much harder to remember where to keep your hands to avoid being burned.
“Sure, Ez.” You tuck your legs out from the cool water and dig around in the canvas bag at the base of the white nut tree. Most of the ice had melted into the bright green grass around the lagoon, but a few of the cans were still cold. You’d probably tease Ezra later for skimping on the insulation bucket the provisions store the port offered, but he had been so eager to get to the camp ground after spending an “exceedingly exorbitant amount of time stacked up against human drivel on public transportation”. One lopsided grin, and you’d give him the world.
“Ez–,”
He lifts the rag, glancing at you over his shoulder, hands cupped as the can flies through the air. The cold metal presses against the overheated skin on his chest and he hisses. Eyeing the can ruefully, he cracks it open and drinks deep. You busy yourself with sliding to the edge of the pool again to keep from watching his throat move.
Ezra finally pulls back, smacking his lips, with a pleased groan. He wets the rag again and dramatically flops it over his eyes. Hidden from his view, you watch the roll of water down his temples, his neck, his chest.
“Name anything better than this, Neptune, I beg you. Free from obligation or assignment on commission. Where my only moral imperative is to drink as many of these as I can and remind you how beautiful you are. Which . . .” he tilts the bottom of the can towards you, head still tilted back on the raft and dripping rag covering his vision, “fantastic, by the way.”
Having stifled your blush while under his watchful gaze about three or four other times today, without him looking, you flush so hard and fast you go lightheaded. Beautiful, he said. You drink more carbonated alcohol to choke back your rising heart, your eyes skim over the curve of his nose, a drop of sweat as it peaks on his forehead. You can’t linger over him too long; he has a six-sense about you – unable to know what you’re thinking but that you’re overthinking all the same.
“Was this worth the trip on public transportation, Ez?” Your ankles stir the water again.
“I could do this all day,” he sighs contently, bringing a warm smile to your face. “And definitely all night.”
Maybe you’ll both be so sun-drunk later tonight, you’ll fall asleep together on the pallet on the floor. Of course, by nightfall, someone will have to come to their senses and you’ll be tucked back into your separate sleeping bags, but maybe, as a present you couldn’t possibly ask for, you can just nap together.
With the bottom plush of your lip stuck between your teeth, you rim the metallic edge of your can with your nail, ankles spinning slow circles in the water.
“Thank you, Ezra,” you say quietly, “for the best birthday I’ve ever had.”
It began as a sort of joke one night on the volcanic hotspring moon of Wulkan after a twelve hour shift hunting through the black ash in search of fire pearls. The job was rather rushed, and Ezra had his reservations going into it, but fire pearls were a near certainty and you both needed a boost after a jump exchange had gone a little cockeyed. Sweat dripping from his temples, the provided water packs in the harvest suits doing just enough to keep him from passing out from heat exhaustion, he extended the skein of hydro-electric towards you across the narrow lane between your cots and asked you if you could be anywhere right now, any system, where would you be.
“Somewhere so cold I freeze my tits clean off,” you said with a sigh and wiped your own sweat-drenched forehead. You could smell yourself after two days of sweating profusely, but your stench in comparison to the rest of the crew, including Ezra, barely registered any more. You took a sip as Ezra laughed.
“A grievous crime against humanity and all its luscious gifts, but I get your meaning. Anywhere else?”
“Water.” This was said with more conviction, so much so it turned Ezra’s head towards you. “The few memories I have of my home planet and my parents, we were always near or in water. An ocean, maybe. I’m not sure. But I remember being really, really happy and I think being near water . . . it would make me happy again.”
You handed the skein back to Ezra, something unreadable in his gaze. He took it back from you, his fingers dark from the ash that clings to everything. On the other side of the tent, the rest of your crew and other teams mill about, yelling, with cutlery clattering as the camp gets ready to slow for the night, a graveyard shift picking up in just a few hours.
Ezra’s eyes are as dark as the ash you’ve been shifting through the past two days.
“Then you shall have it, Neptune.” He said, quietly. “I’d give you the fucking galaxy if I could.”
Those words often came to you in the crevice between sleep and wakefulness, when your mind was idle and the reins that tightly bound your affection for him loosened without a conscious grip. When you thought you weren’t being watched.
The flat of his foot hooking behind your ankle breaks you from your reverie. Cast into shadow by the wide, rubbery palm leaves above your head, he looks at you curiously.
“That look of deep consternation is giving me a headache. Spill.”
With a faint smile, you gently bump his knee with your own. “Nothing, Ez. I’m just glad we get to take a break from it all. I can’t remember the last time I . . . the last time we’ve just had nothing to do.”
He cocks his head as his gaze crawls up your ankle, your shin, to your knee. You think it might linger on your thigh before it bounces to your face. You tighten your grip on the hot, expansive feeling behind your ribs and stare back at him.
“Then that’s a black mark against me, as the leader of this clan.” His mouth curls, eyebrow arching as he talks, knowing that statement has been a point of playful contention between you two for years. “A good overseer knows when to crack the bullwhip and when to let it rest.”
“Well, a better overseer knows when to demand that her team rests, because sometimes they have no idea what’s good for them.”
His foot rotates behind your ankle, his toes brushing against your calf, bringing your attention to your own body part in the water. Your legs are hairy, nearly as much as Ezra’s, and you haven’t shaved your pits in possibly a decade. Ezra once brought home a professional nightwalker, one from the Upper City, to the derelict flat you’d been sharing for two weeks as you offloaded your haul to the under markets. You never forgot how smooth her skin had been, shaved clean and smelling of moon lilies. That scent permeated the small space for weeks afterward. Even now, just the sight of moon lilies makes you nauseous.
His aversion to you runs much deeper than physical aesthetics, even if you can’t help but wonder sometimes if becoming as smooth and hairless as the nightwalker might change his mind.
“Observational to a fault as always, Neptune.” The ball of his foot rests briefly between your legs before he pushes off from the spongy lip of the lagoon’s edge. He floats back into the sun, his head shaking slightly, a smile drained of amusement on his lips. He inhales as the sun crests over his forehead and he glances up at the blue sky. “I have no idea what’s good for me.”
Something about his tone, the way he turns away from you, scratches a very raw place inside of you – a place that fears and obsesses over abandonment. You wouldn’t survive it if he abandoned you, if he left you to fend for yourself one day. Logically, you know he would never do that – he has sworn up and down to your face that that notion is fundamentally ludicrous to him – but the anguish of him silently rejecting you from his bed again and again and again makes that fragile place inside you bleed red.
You stand up, swipe another can from the bag, and move towards the waterfall.
“I’m taking a hike.”
You feel his eyes on the backs of your thighs as you march towards the gentle incline.
“Be safe, Neptune,” he calls softly.
For a fleeting second, you wish he had made you stay.
The first fat raindrop splashes against your cheek and wakes you from a humid, irritated nap. You’re scowling by the time you open your eyes to several more wet droplets as they splatter against your neck, your forehead and you sit up, even more frustrated than when you fell asleep. The last sticky tendrils of dreams snap and pop as you pull yourself onto your feet, back hunched and arm held high against the steamy sprinkle. A crack of lightning, then a growl of thunder, and the sky splits open, drenching you in seconds. With a snarl of your own, you snatch up the empty can from the grass next to you and make for your camp down the hill. As you crest the top, you see a figure standing outside the tent, back tense and hand raised as if searching through the twilight gray downpour.
Normally, the thought of warming up beside Ezra in your yellow tent fills you with something inexplicable, the grime and load of the day melting from your shoulders, but your buzz from earlier has thickened, made worse by the heat, the emotions in your heart all gummed up and smashed together. The sight of him cranks up your irritation high in your ears. With a huff, you concentrate on a smooth slide down the hill without breaking your ankles and not the fire rising in your gut.
But the rain and the distance apart has only stoked his own outrage.
“Where the hell were you?” He snaps as you yank back the velcroed tent flap. He is dripping from head to toe in jungle rain as he follows closely behind you into your small space. You ring the water from your hair into a corner and scowl up at him.
“I fell asleep. The rain woke me up. I came back as soon as I could.”
His eyes narrow, water rolling off his bare shoulders as if he still stood out in the downpour. The droplets pat pat pat against the tarp floor as he snatches up a fiber towel and dries himself off, scowling all the while.
“I searched for you, calling your name up and down this fuckin’ jungle and I didn’t hear a peep. What if something had gone wrong? What if you’d been hurt?”
“Then I would have fucking dealt with it, Ezra.” You stomp to your feet, neck hot from his patronizing gaze. Hands on his hips, you feel like you’re being scolded. “I can take care of myself.”
One dark eyebrow arches mockingly, the scar on his cheek twisting in his scowl.
“And you expect me to lay about, twiddling my thumbs, while I wait for you to return or until you deem it appropriate for me to fret over your corpse?”
That patch of blonde hair is a shade darker, drenched and pressed flat against his forehead. His bare chest is littered with scars and divots where chunks of flesh had been torn away. His skin is a reflection of the hard life he lives. You doubt you’d look any different if you’d seen yourself in a mirror.
“We are partners, Ez,” you grind out between locked teeth. “Equals, alright? I am not your little sister for you to fuss over and you are not my keeper.”
At that, the indignant swell of his chest deflates and the anger in his eyes flickers before fading out.
“You are beyond capture,” he mutters, eyebrows down but gaze distant. “I’d never dream of keeping you, Neptune.”
Again, it’s his phrasing that hurts most of all. You glance away, the backs of your eyes growing hot and tight, drying out despite the sticky moisture warming the inside of the tent. But then his hand around your elbow startles away the tears forming in the corners of your eyes.
“You are the most important thing to me in the entirety of this world and the next,” he says softly, earth eyes searching your face. “I came on too strong, I know that, but the idea that you’d ever be gone from my side for any amount of permanence . . . well, it’s been a lifetime since I’ve felt fear like that.”
His frown goes belly-up, a hopeless smile on his face. “I wasn’t aware I even still could.” His calloused thumb brushes your skin, skin that nearly catches fire from the rough drag of scar tissue, before he lets his hand drop. Your own curls into a fist at your side, a tremor rattling the bones of your wrist in an effort to keep from reaching up and touching that moon-shaped scar you dream about at night.
“I’m not going anywhere, Ez. You taught me enough to survive in a world like this. But you’re going to have to trust me.”
That smile goes wan, sickly. “That’s the problem, dear heart, I trust you with my life.”
He swallows, as if suddenly bashful to make direct eye contact with you. He clears his throat before rummaging around in his canvas bag for dry clothes. He yanks a black, sleeveless shirt on over his head before setting up the materials for a flameless pocket fire.
“Since my dreams of showing you something called a barbeque have been quite literally rained out, we’ll finish off the rest of the dredge pack tonight. But come first light, I’ll fix you breakfast so succulent, the smell alone’ll make your mouth water. How does that sound, Neptune?”
He barely slows to breathe as he seamlessly switches topics from breakfast to another meal made at camp without looking up or stalling in his prep for dinner, hands almost disconnected from the humming of his mouth – one so methodical, the other like a channel rat on fire.
“– and the thing was no one was really sure enough what a squatter egg looked like when it goes bad. But being out in a cramped hold-out for two weeks where it was so dark, your own ass and someone else’s had no demarcation, well, there wasn’t a single peep of dissimilitude . . .”
Words strung together so quick and so melodic, it was always incredibly easy to fall into a sort of easy trance around Ezra. Sounds and syllables just sounded right coming out of his mouth and after a while, that trance became a state of repose, Ezra’s own sense of calm filtered to whoever was also in the room. But not to you, not right now.
After spending immeasurable time with less than half a space between you in cramped tents and in claustrophobic dig sites, you could read the tension on the lines of his body as well as the lines on the palm of your hand.
“Neptune? You with me?”
Ezra glances up at you, always aware of you and your movements like the twinge on a spider’s web, a signature smile that has always seemed to shine a bit brighter for you plastered over his face. The anger was the only thing holding you up and with it gone, you can feel your bruised heart twinge as it folds over itself.
“Yeah, that sounds good. I’m gonna switch out of these wet clothes before we eat, okay?”
He hums, nodding, eyes fixating on the steadily boiling water in front of him as you turn away to the other side of the tent, by your pallet and traveler’s pack. As further evidence that he feels nothing but companionship for you, you feel his eyes remain nowhere near you as you strip off your shorts and bra for a sun-warm suit. Then again, you’d like to think it’s kind of scandalous to be changing in front of him, but you’d both seen each other naked more times than you could count – there is no modesty in foxholes. The space between your hips and your thighs feel sticky from sweat and the slick rain, the curve of your spine warm and flushed. The zipper is loud in the silence.
You’re braiding your damp hair away from your face when he sighs and the noise makes you look back at him.
“Answer me honestly, if you’ve ever cared for me a tick. Do you regret it?”
His eyes are sorrowful, worried, brow fixed down. Ezra is not, and never has been, a man prone to melancholy. His wrists rest loosely over his knees, gaze deep in the bubbling bone broth. The rain outside taps insistently at the tarp.
“Regret what?”
“Coming with me and taking on this life. It’s not an easy one,” he says quietly. “I should have offered you another choice, that day in the market. But one look at you and I . . . I was willing to trust you with my life, Neptune – far, far too soon. Even at my best, you make me irrational.”
You watch him, his broad shoulders moving, as he scoops up the hot, dark liquid into two bowls, and joins you by the entrance to the tent. You pin back the flap as he settles, the scent of humid rain immediately flooding your mouth, the pattering sound now twice as loud. Wordlessly, he hands you a spoon before digging into his own bowl.
The heat of the soup burns away all the silly, impossible things sitting on your tongue. You sit in silence, his presence never rushing you to answer before you are ready. As you eat, you stare out at the dark lagoon, where you had both been only hours ago, the clear water murky beneath the downpour.
“No, Ezra, I don’t regret it.” He stills, as if surprised you’re answering him now, mid-meal. He lowers the bowl to his lap, eyes trained on you. “You saved my life, more times than I can count.”
Your words loosen the rigid lock of his shoulders. He grins. “As you’ve said, you would have been just fine without me.”
Your vision goes blurry. You pin him with such a stare, you watch the blood rush from his face.
“But it would have been only half a life.”
“Don’t kid about that, Neptune, it’s not –,”
“I’m serious.” You put your bowl down and rub your eyes with your sleeves. Of all the ways he hasd seen you bare and naked, he’s never seen you this vulnerable. “I don’t wanna do any of this without you. I want you, Ezra.”
“You have me, dear heart, you have me.”
“Not like that and you know it.” You watch as understanding rolls across his face. His lips part, eyes wider. He swallows and you stare at the ceiling, cheeks suddenly wet and hot. He said he’d never leave you, but what if this is the thing that finally does it? Could he work with you, knowing just how deeply you love him, and not feel an ounce of disgust? “You told me once sex is just a way to pass the time, but never, not once, have you ever even tried to pass the time with me.”
He swallows, deeper this time, jaw locked, his eyes fluttering with the force of it. He brings his knees to his chest.
“Because it wouldn’t just be passing time with you.”
In that moment, you’re grateful for the rain, for the sound of something to fill the silence.
You stare at him, cross-legged in front of the open corner of this yellow tent, abandoned bowls growing colder, but he sits with his leg up, knee to his chest, as if to ward you off. Ward off whatever is growing in your gaze, under the flat bone over your heart in your chest. But whatever is stifling the air in your lungs, is warming his eyes past the point of comfort, barrelling towards expletives and the crass, the lewd and depraved. You cannot go back to having him look at you any other way.
That look loosens every line in his face when you crawl into his lap, your knees around his hips. The backs of your thighs go damp, even through the suit, pressing down onto his still-damp shorts, and you think his breathing has quickened.
His massive palm hovers near your cheek, unwilling or unable to pull you forward or push you back, his oak eyes searching your face for signs of discomfort as if he had somehow dragged you across the tarp floor.
“Neptune,” he mumbles as he focuses on the curve of your bottom lip, “this is unwise. You don’t know what you’re asking for.”
You can feel the hard curve of his shoulders as you follow the lines of his arms and settle them on his collarbone. Nothing has happened that can’t be undone – not yet. Your perfect, vicious Ezra hasn’t pressed you flat on your back like you thought he would at the hint of sex. You could return with your dignity tomorrow morning, this moment never spoken of again, and he’d let you have that. The shake of his elbow with his palm against the tarp is the only indication that something might be unsettling to him.
But it is your birthday after all. Maybe he’d let you have this one thing. He doesn’t know you’ll die without it.
“If you don’t want this . . . if you don’t want m-me, then say something. Push me away and I’ll never bring it up again.” You cup the sides of his neck as your hips shift forward, closer to him. The air in your lungs tightens, breath coming in shallow pants. Only then does he drop your gaze and fixate on your encroaching heat. “At least then I’ll know.”
There. Out loud. It’s been said, heard above the deluge of rain against the tent and the jungle outside.
His palm finally settles on your cheek. It brings a sense of wholeness to you like you’ve never known. Your eyes flutter shut at the sensation, a breathy exhale pours out of your mouth. His thumb catches the plush curve of your bottom lip and he draws it towards your chin, his own mouth open, enraptured.
“Sweet thing, how have you not always known?”
His mouth is humid against yours, as if he swallowed the jungle while looking for you, his thumb releasing your lip to capture with his own. The tip of his pointer finger massages the hinge of your jaw, just below your ear, and he manipulates your head until your mouth parts like he wants.
His tongue skims your upper lip, a tentative exploration into the unknown rewarded with a low groan that is warmed by the heat coiling low in your hips. You taste his tongue, a hot glide inside your mouth, and you feel his arms slip around your lower back, his inhale of breath sharp across your face as he brings you closer. He bites your lips roughly, the spark of pain and pleasure crackling across your face as if you’d brushed a live wire.
His fingers wrap around your wrist, prying you from the back of his neck, just for a moment, his eyes heat-soaked. You suck your teeth, mouth open and seeking, and the hand around your jaw drops to your collarbone, the breadth of his palm nearly suffocating your throat.
The briefest pressure – the slightest touch – at the pulse at the bottom of your neck and your hips rock forward into him as he flattens his other palm to your ass, clutching you to him and pinning you to the pallet.
His teeth scrape against the curve of your ear, pinching the cartilage between his incisors, while his hands frantically search up and down your waist. His weight smothers you, his stomach breathing into yours, the flat plane of his chest rubbing your nipples raw against your suit, an unfocused lurch to his hips every time you tug on his hair. With every breath, every time you try to savor his touch, the taste of his mouth is like a wave, dragging you forward, wrapping a dizzy chain around your throat and squeezing.
Ezra’s greatest weapon has always been his mouth, that silver string spinning faster the longer he captivates you, spell-bound. Now he uses to decimate you in entirely new ways.
The suck of his lips against the moist flesh below your ear distantly distracts from the afterburn of his unkempt beard against your jaw, your cheek. His lips alternate patterns of reward with a plush kiss and punishment with a stern nip when you try and stifle a moan. The edge of his shirt is damp from resting against his shorts when you slip your fingers underneath to palm the small of his back. He stills when you run your fingers around to the front of his trunks.
His hand curls around a clump of hair at the base of your skull, his eyes darker than volcanic ash. The steady heat of his groin against your thigh is a sensation you’ll chase for the rest of your life.
“You know what happens when you touch a man there, Neptune?” He’s breathing hard, you both are, and the way he snags your hair in his fist has your head twisted at an odd angle, but you’d be damned to a Kevva-forgotten corner of the cosmos before you drop his gaze. You nod and that moon-shaped scar on his cheek twitches. “I know I didn’t teach you that.”
“L-learned it – somewhere else – Ezra.” Your mouth isn’t working properly, your lips swollen from his kisses, the slight pain in your scalp making it difficult to focus, while your cunt tightens hungrily. “Had to.”
“Yeah? Why’s that?”
“Because you wouldn’t give it to me.”
He leans back, his forearm tense and corded where he has you by the hair, a seemingly disinterested scowl on his face. But by the throbbing length pressed up against you, so far from where you need him the most, he is anything but.
“So you’re saying this is my fault?” Without breaking eye contact, his chest raised inches above yours, his fingers snag on the blue zipper by your collar and your breathing nearly stops. He hums to himself, eyes following the path of the zipper as the material separates, click by click by click. When it reaches your belly button, he stops.
“Ezra –,” it’s a whine and you can’t even chastise yourself for it. And neither, it seems, can he.
Head tilted as if curious about the label of a box beneath colorful wrapping, he dips his wide hand beneath the edge of your suit. The heat that radiates from his palm against the curve of your stomach has you writhing underneath him, your knees drawing up to his hips, trying to catch any relief.
But he takes his self-satisfied time. Callouses of a hard-won life snag and drag over the soft paper-thin skin that covers your ribs as he maps you in one hand. When he cups your right breast in his palm, the noise you make is a sob of gratitude.
“You let another man besides me do this to you?”
The snarling pit of your own thoughts slows as some awareness realizes he’s speaking to you.
You swallow, clutching his bicep, begging for forgiveness before even opening your mouth to answer.
“It didn’t mean anything, Ez, it wasn’t you – it meant nothing to me–,”
“But you let someone else touch what’s mine, hm?” That lazy, slightly irritated look on his face, he rotates his hand, squeezing the cup of your tit again, before sharply pinching your nipple.
“Ezra–,” you choke out and his thigh shifts between your legs, just close enough to feel the heat but nowhere near close enough to grind against. His thumb rotates the raised flesh slow enough to capture and catalog every sigh it draws from you, his eyes catching between his hand and your relaxed face.
He wears the same expression he does when sitting in the backs of blackmarket tea shops and smoky alebins. When the prospect of striking gold becomes all he can think about.
“Strip.” He suddenly commands. He lifts off you just enough for you to wrench your arm through the armhole, all the while keeping a rough palm on one breast, and then the other. You watch him massage your flesh and your ribs tremble with an unsteady breath. Only when a slightly cool breeze meanders over your bare shoulders and chest do you realize that the tent flap is still open, your head inches from the edge. A perfect and unimpeded view to anyone who wants to watch him hungrily grope your tits. Embarrassment peaks sharply, despite his hand pressing you into the tarp, you wrench your neck back and look over your shoulder through the window of the open tent as if you need to confirm that you are giving the jungle a floor show.
“Ez– shit, the flap–,”
He finds that the skin beneath your breast had grown sticky and slick from sweat, the humidity still oppressive even with a breeze. He bends his head and licks that same sweaty path and your attention snaps back to him, nails curling against his scalp, his warm breath a high-intensity balm to your roughly-played-with nipples.
“Not a soul in sight, Neptune,” he murmurs lazily into your ribcage, his nose running up and down the valley between your tits. “And if there were, let them learn a thing or two.”
His teeth nip the swell of your stomach as he crawls down your half-naked body. Without his heat and hands, the tenderness from his attention on your breasts ratchets up to an ache, a minor preoccupation before he hooks his fingers around the rest of the jumpsuit and tugs.
You are naked beneath him, swollen chest rising and falling, your knuckles scraping against the pallet as you search for something to grip with all your might. You smell of lagoon water and hot jungle air, of muggy photosynthesis and algae. The smoky scent of the black ash of that distant planet never really left Ezra and the dampness of the rain seems to stir it up. He towers over you, dark and breathing heavy. Smoke and brimstone.
He gropes your ankles, then your calves, hands gliding over the thick hair there – now grown soft in length – as he slowly spreads your legs, with a light you’d never seen before in his eyes.
“Neptune, I revolve around you.”
A wave of anxiety lurches up your throat when he brings his mouth to your cunt, the cloying, imagined scent of moon lilies threatening to tear you out of the moment – he won’t want you wild like this – but it’s forcefully yanked back down with a single stripe of his tongue. His previously casual, authoritative persona cracks when he buries his face into your unkempt curls and lets out a deep, overly pleased moan.
Your back bends and he’s gathering up your limbs in his arms to pin them down, nearly resting his forehead on your pubic bone. A few more licks, some deeper than others into where you drip for him, and your thighs start to shake. His fingers around your thighs squeeze roughly against your flesh and pull you further apart.
Between the flush of slick seeping from you at an embarrassing rate and the wiry hair kept natural out of a certainty no one would see it, he must be drowning or choking, his tongue flicking and sliding, nose prodding your clit just enough to spread the sparks of arousal up through your spine. Feeling as though you’re losing your grip on reality, you sink your hands into his hair, thumb rubbing back that blonde patch, and tug. The moan he shoots into your cunt as he rocks forward into your touch has you whining helplessly. The tarp squeaks where he rubs his hips into it.
His arms curled around your thighs, your hips shake with restraint against every lap of his tongue until he flicks your clit and your hips grind up against his obliging mouth, a sunspot of pleasure flaring brightly. But all too soon, Ezra lifts up onto his elbows, his hands smoothing across your stomach and he pops his mouth up from your wet folds. With an irate gasp, the swell of bliss fading, your gaze snaps down to plead with him, but he shakes his head.
Wordlessly, he takes one hand from your thigh and wipes his mouth clean with a swipe of his fingers. Then, with his eyes wide, the skin around his mouth loose, he crooks two fingers at the top of your mound before sliding them down where his mouth was seconds ago and presses them inside of you. That simmering in your low belly roars back to life and you toss your head against the unforgiving pallet, eyes slamming shut. He growls at the obscene sucking noise your cunt makes as he plucks at you, in and out.
“Oleaginous,” he hums, so quietly, it might have been for him. He tongues your clit lightly, pushing his fingers as deep as they can go, watching you thrash. “Mine. Understand?” You remember that tone of voice from when he had you dissecting throwers on a workbench in front of him. You nod, eyes fluttering open, balancing on the precarious edge of release.
You want to obey his every word.
His thumb twists up, opening your clit to him and within a whispered breath of “good girl” he sucks your bundle of nerves and launches you into orbit.
Your entire body goes stiff from the force of it, only to crash back down into his waiting hands, your voice wavering on a high-pitched, girlish wail that shrieks above the sound of rain. Waves of bliss lap at every nerve ending and your vision goes fuzzy for a minute, the only sound you can register is the pounding of your blood in your ears.
And then you register the steady, wet plunge of his fingers still dragging in and out of your pussy.
“Was that mine?”
Your clit tingles from overstimulation, but you’d rather die than have him stop – you want to answer, if only you could pick up the pieces of your voice. You can only nod, whining. He presses a wet kiss to your inner thigh, the skin there smeared with your release.
“You did a bad thing, letting someone else touch what’s mine.” He scolds, rubs that spot inside you that makes your eyes roll back in your head, holds his finger to it until it burns. You cry, his punishment evident. “Now you have to apologize, Neptune.”
You nod again, mouth wrenched open as he drags you back and forth across pleasure and pain.
“Y-y-yes, Ezra,” the words are bone dry, cracked between your teeth. “I’m sorry.”
Pure wickedness strikes those earth eyes and scorches them a singed black.
“Unfortunately, atonement is a fickle thing,” Ezra tuts, dragging his lips across your thigh in a mockery of a kiss, “and I’m not quite ready to offer absolution. Despite your offerings,” he wipes his mouth with a stroke of his palm, “this godhead remains rigid.”
You whimper. He grins with a mouthful of teeth.
Ezra pulls back onto his knees and shuts your thighs, his hand palming your ass as he indicates that you should turn. Your entire lower half still feels like jelly – no one has ever made you come that hard with just their mouth before – but you obey. You stagger onto your hands and knees in front of him.
His wide palm appears beneath your chin.
“Spit.”
You do.
That spit-wet hand cups your still wet cunt, middle finger rubbing briefly against your clit, before it disappears. You feel him move closer, hear his slick hand pump himself a few times with a grunt. Hot lips drag up your spine, interspersed with the nip of teeth, and when he lays across your back, his hands overtaking yours and threading your fingers together, his bare chest presses up against the skin of your back and you shudder.
He noses your temple, his throbbing cock coated between your folds. He bites at your jaw and follows your line of sight through the open tent flap.
“Breathtaking, isn’t it? All that moisture, dripping and running over smooth rock and fern. All that heat coagulating in spaces it shouldn’t fit. All that . . . open field, for anyone to just wander into. Take a look around and smell the air. Could they smell you like I can, Neptune? The way you leak for this cock?”
As he hums filth in your ear, his hand settles again at the base of your throat, thick fingers squeezing just enough to threaten, before sliding down to your swinging breasts, rough palms catching your swollen nipples, then arching down your stomach and between your legs.
He plays slowly with your clit; barely enough stimulation and he knows it.
“Ask for forgiveness.” He croons in your ear. The breeze returns for a moment, and between the heat of him mounting you like a feral animal and the hesitant touch of outside air against your sweaty chest, you shudder with a groan.
“I’m sorry, Ezra. I’m so–,” his middle finger increases its pressure slightly and the words shatter in your mouth, “sor-ry.”
“And for what?”
He continues to rub between your folds and the minute hitch in his breath is more intoxicating than anything he’s done so far. This is affecting him just as much as it does you. He kisses your jaw then tugs on the skin with his teeth.
“For letting a-anyone but you t-touch me.”
Ezra presses his damp forehead into your shoulder, panting, your correct answers soaking the neurons in his brain. Your reward is the faster stroke of his finger.
“And why was that a reprehensible thing to do?” His hips rut into yours, the scrape and rub of his cock between your slick lips and thighs almost enough to set you off.
“Because it’s yours – I’m yours – f-fuck, Ezra, I’m yours, I only wanna be yours,” you sob.
He’s suddenly gone from above you and the loud crack of his hand against your ass cheek deafens you for a minute, the sting skittering up your back and down your thigh.
“Good fuckin’ girl.”
Your elbows shudder, the weight of his tone, his hand nearly forcing you onto your chest with your ass still in the air. You wanna be so good for him.
He’s breathing hard and his skin is warm and damp where you feel his thigh press against the back of yours. There’s a measure of restraint he’s showing and it makes your heart pound in anticipation. You swing your hips back at him, as if you could catch yourself on his cock.
“I wanna show you I’m yours,” you cry, nails curling into the pallet. “Please, Ezra, please!”
His broad hand settling on your spine draws a hiccup out of you, a sob.
“Breathe . . . Good girls get what they need.”
On an exhale, his blunt tip spreads you apart and he shuffles closer as he thickens inside you. His loud, unabashed moan overwhelms yours, when you think you might just be devoured by him. His hand, the one at your hip, squeezes you, silent reassurance. You can feel the knuckles on his other hand against your slick lips as he feeds himself into you.
“Neptune, talk to me. How,” your cunt tightens around his girth at the sound of his voice coaching you along and he grunts, as if suddenly dizzy, “h-how do you feel?”
“Amazing, Ez. Please keep going don’t stop I can take it–,”
He obliges; something’s reconnected the wires in his brain enough to tell him to move. He huffs before sinking deeper and your eyes roll back in your head. He bottoms out and waits again, letting you both catch your breath.
“Spent a hundred moons thinking about this.” The puff of breath against your shoulder is the only warning you have before he presses his mouth to your skin. His hand free of your clutch, his thumb softly rubs the muscle of your neck. He kisses you and kisses you and kisses you, wherever he finds bare flesh. “Would wake up in the night, with you a few feet from me, looking like divinity made sin, made real, but I wasn’t worthy to touch you. You got me all tongue-tied, Neptune, all mucked up in the head. A silly boy,” he purrs.
You glance over your shoulder, unsure which Ezra is going to meet your eyes, but wanting all of them. The man you feel most safe with in this world and the next greets you and you reach back and squeeze his hand. He chuckles softly, and with it, comes a gentle roll of his hips. You gasp, airily, your gaze slipping from his face to his chest, to the steady breathing in his stomach, and then to the growth of hair that fades as it reaches up his low belly. How many times did you sit across the room from him with your fists in tight balls, watching as he regaled exploits of riches and wonder, all the while thinking about how thick his cock is outlined in his suit – you’re so blinded by breathy dreams of what the musky scent of his cock must taste like that you miss that he’s pulled out farther, halfway now, and you are completely knocked senseless when he thrusts back in, a beat faster.
“Later, Neptune. I’ll let you suck my cock later, but right now I’ve gotta ride this pussy to oblivion.”
Your thighs quake at his promise, cunt squeezing him, and he huffs, picking up speed.
“I felt that. You really like sucking cock that much?”
All you can answer him with is a whine. Your knees are starting to ache from the barest cushion the tarp provides, the palms of your hands sore, but you can’t find it in you to remotely care. With every stroke, he fills you up to a breaking point before riding you back out. Moaning gratefully, you finally drop onto your elbows, your cheek scraping against the pallet with every forceful thrust behind you. He tilts your hips up higher, on one knee to fuck down into you; he’s searching with his cock for that spot that made your brain numb.
Like a flood, you feel bliss roll down your spine, his hands on your lower back pulling you up another peak, and you gasp, at the edge of a very, very long drop, the sounds in the tent as sticky and wet as the rain outside.
But Ezra’s sounds are loudest of them all. Grunting. Hissing. Moaning like he’s fucking the best pussy of his life. You open one eye, glancing over your shoulder and the sight drops open your mouth. Hips pumping forward, skin dewy with sweat, he breathes like a freshly broken-in stallion, relieved that something finally bested him. Chest full and tight with muscle, flushed pink with roaring blood. Stomach torqued with tension. His rhythm is caught between his hands pulling you onto him and his cock thrusting into you. A frantic beat that bounces wet and hot, mouth agape and eyes rolling shut, his head drops back between his shoulders. You push back slightly and he stutters, the hand on your hip tightening.
“Not gonna last, Neptune–” he grits, his jaw locked tight. The image of him actively staving off an orgasm for you to finish first has been imprinted on your brain for the rest of your life.
“J-just a little harder, Ez.”
He obeys, submitting as you had for him, sweat curling around his neck and down his chest.
As release barrels down on you, those mahogany eyes catch and hold yours in a second that lasts through infinity. They promise you things that you didn’t know you asked for, those eyes, made vows only your soul could hear. You see, in that instant before you are swallowed whole, that he’d die at your feet, if you asked him to. He’d give up every worldly treasure he won through grit and his teeth if you needed it or wanted it. If it made you happy.
His Neptune – in the crushing grip of your gravity. Willingly caught in the trail of your comet as you fill up his night sky.
“Yeah, that’s it, right there – Ez-ra!”
His face blown out in near ecclesial bliss is the last thing you see before your vision goes white. Your heart pounds in your ears so loudly, it's the only thing that exists for an instant. And then you shatter with a perfectly soft cry, bliss breaking across you like a heavy wave, and you succumb to exhaustion.
Behind you, he groans, fucking you faster through it, snarling something entirely incomprehensible.
You think you might say his name, you don’t know what your mouth is doing, but whatever you say, it breaks him and you are dragged through another low shock, the flood of cum deep into your achy cunt enough to contract your walls again, his harsh groan stuffing your ears just as full.
The rain is barely louder than your desperate attempts to breathe.
The tarp crackles as you slump forward onto your stomach, Ezra dropping to his side with half his body over yours. Panting raggedly, his hand curls up to the base of your neck, a reassurance of his presence and commitment when words have failed him.
You lay like that for a long time.
And then, when feeling starts to return to your limbs, you turn your head, your nose rubbing against his. When you breathe hotly across his face, he grins a satisfied grin that splits into a chuckle. You laugh with him too, curling up into his chest, his forearm is sticky across your spine, and he kisses your forehead.
Staring up at the tarp, together you listen to the rain.
In the long drawn out, buzzy silence, his nails scratch the base of your skull. And then, like he remembered something vital, he picks his head up and looks at you.
“Do you want this to change things for us?”
“Yes.” You cup the muscles of his thick neck. “Yes, Ezra. I want this to change everything between us. Please.”
He smiles, unguarded and open.
“Wild horses never stood a chance . . . especially against these tits.” He nips at the swell of your breast and you laugh. “I had no plans of letting you go in any case . . . but we are bound from this day forward. You know that, don’t you?”
You nod. A stroke of heat passes over his eyes and Ezra leans forward to kiss you, his hand on your cheek pulling you in close, as close as you can be, two sticky bodies, cum-dried and tingling.
“And if we’re going to spend every year of our lives together, I have a question for you.” he pushes away a stray strand of hair stuck to your face, nose tip to nose tip, “did you have a good birthday, Neptune? Are you satisfied?”
With a giggle that has his eyebrow arching playfully, you kiss his cheek.
“I already told you. This was the best birthday I’ve ever had.”
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#ezra prospect#Ezra prospect 2018#Pedro pascal Ezra#Ezra#ezra smut#prospect 2018#prospect smut#pedro pascal characters#ezra fanfiction#Ezra fanfic#Pedro pascal character smut#smut#Pedro pascal character fanfiction#ezra prospect x reader#ezra prospect x you#ezra prospect fanfiction#ezra prospect smut#ezra prospect fluff#1k followers#1k celebration#followers celebration
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⋆˚࿔ 𝐃𝐞𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐝𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝜗𝜚˚⋆
synopsis: how genshin men would degrade you <3
tags: degrading (obviously) facesitting, mentions of gagging, oral, penetration, explicit
wrd cnt: 800+
a/n: cooking up an hsr version soon
Ayato is always complete and proper in his semantics, he's fair and he loves to praise you.
But tonight...you stretched his patience too thin and his only choice was to stretch your little cunt til you couldn't talk back anymore. "Fuck, you're tight, honey.. this is what you want, isn't it?"
This day was big for Ayato, but you just had to keep pestering him with question after question. Usually, he'd entertain your playfulness but tonight was stressful. So he took it out on you instead. Call it karma?
"Clenching from my vulgarity..what a whore you are." He whispered into your ear, bending you across his desk, while all the guests sat outside having tea while you got fucked hard from behind by Ayato, who put a hand over your mouth, warning you greatly to stay quiet and stop those slutty moans of yours.
"Am I wrong or, did you not hear me? Ayato said lowly, slowly growing more and more annoyed and irritated at your misbehavior.
"Do you need me to gag that mouth of yours, y/n?” Sounding more like a promised threat than a question.
The only way you can get yourself out of this is giving Mr. Kamisato all he asks for and more, and be an obedient girl.
Nothing could really piss off Alhaitham as much as you, but not in the way that's most obvious.
He hated how much you doubted yourself, looked down on yourself, and harbored deep annoyance of the fact you didn't love the things about you he can't get enough of.
Sure, he could give you a little cute pep-talk but, fucking it into you is the approach that'll really make it stick. Some reverse psychology maybe?
After hearing you badmouth yourself for what felt like hours, he's stripping you of all your clothes and sitting you onto the couch armrest, forcing you to look him in the eyes; daring you to say those things again.
"Fucking pathetic is what you are. You're lucky I'm not fucking that stupid shit out of your mouth". He said, grabbing your hips as he sat down, positioning your cunt over him.
Not sure if you should just hover, his large hand lands on your ass, surely leaving a handprint.
"Sit down y/n." Alhaitham groaned, pulling your hips down onto his face and swallowing your clit with his tongue; his eyes never leaving you and your perfect tits.
Wriothesley loved showering you with compliments and nothing but the sweetest of words, but sometimes he just can't hold back all the filthy things he knows you want from him.
Oftentimes he's just worried you're gonna start crying, but fuck is it hot when you do.
"Fuck, I'm gonna ruin your pretty little mouth." He breathes out, watching you kiss up his cock. On your knees and eyes up is his favorite way to gaze at you, and it's just so easy for him to fuck your face.
"Wrio...you said-"
"Sluts don't get to talk." He cuts you off, his brows raised in amusement as he lights up a cigarette and throws the lighter somewhere, taking his cock in one hand to push past your lips as the other keeps the cig inbetween his fingers.
"Open that dirty fucking mouth of yours... can't take it all of a sudden?" He says, shoving it deep into your throat while his hand grips the back of your head, letting you take it at your own pace before he throws his head back and thrusts his hips up as he hears all the sloppy noises, waiting for your glossy eyes to make an appearance.
Now, Childe really tries to be sweet and praiseful, but he loves how disgusting and filthy you can be, and it's even better when he gets to tells you how much he loves it.
Wearing a new outfit wasn't something you expected to lead to something like this.
Definitely not being put in a tight mating press by your lover, pressed into the couch cushions while he left marks all over your neck and collar, biting and sucking places anyone could see to leave no guessing who's you belong to.
"Look at your thighs...they're just spilling out. You look like a filthy slut, do you want me to fuck you like one? Is that it?" He asked, pulling and smacking the material of your stocking that you didn't think too much of, but the minute he saw you walk out in them his cock wanted to spring out and get in between your thighs. But your pussy was an even better spot.
Deep and deeper be thrusted, the springs in the furniture squeaking while your voice almost did the same, cursing and moaning his name while he kept you close. Small protests for him to be quick fell from your lips, urging him so the two of you could get to where you were headed prior to this..."short" break.
"Are you gonna be a good girl or a fucking headache?" He asked, only fucking your harder and slower, a hand finding to squeeze the sides of your neck.
whimsic4alwasab1 ™ - do not copy, translate, modify, or claim any of my work as your own.
#jo’s posts#genshin impact smut#genshin#genshin impact#genshin imagines#degredation kink#childe smut#alhaitham smut#wriothesley smut#ayato smut
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A Cinderella Story
Charles Leclerc x Hispanic/Latina! Reader
Summary: Y/N, a McLaren mechanic, dances with the prince of Ferrari, at a Rolex masquerade charity ball. Charles has no clue who he danced with and is trying to find the girl of his dreams.
Warning: bad writing I guess, spelling and grammatical errors, inaccurate events
A/N: like i said before, I’m new to F1 so I don’t really know what kind of events go on so bear with me, please. Also, thank you so much for liking my other Charles Leclerc one shots, you have no idea how much it means to me that you like them. Y/N’s relationship with the Lando and Oscar is very much like brother and sister. Y/N is younger, mainly because I’m 21, hope all of y’all are okay with that.
Y/N was talking to Lando about his car after the Monaco Free Practice 1. (As a mechanic, she has her hair up)
“I am almost finished fixing your car, I think there’s something missing but it could be that I’m overthinking. You think you can test it out before FP2? That’s allowed, right?” Y/N asked, fishing her bracelet out of her pocket and putting it back on.
“Yeah I can drive it, 10 laps should be enough, yeah?” Lando asked, putting on his race suit and helmet.
“You’re the best, Lando!” Y/N exclaimed.
“I know.” Lando teased as he got in the car.
After the 10 laps, Lando got out of the car, took his helmet off, tied the suit around his waist, and walked to Y/N.
“The car is good, you worry too much, there is a reason why Zak hired you as a mechanic. Listen, I’m going out with the guys from Quadrant, want to come? I’ll invite Oscar too.” Lando said.
“Yeah sure I’ll come, when?” Y/N asked.
“I was thinking after the second practice, we can hit the showers, change, and go straight to the club.” Lando said.
“Okay, sounds good, I’ll go ask Oscar if he wants to come.” Y/N said, she was clearing her stuff and was on her way to talk to Oscar when she bumped into someone. “Que torpe soy, I'm so sorry.” Y/N apologized without looking.
“My fault, chéri, you alright?” Charles asked, looking at Y/N for signs of discomfort.
“Nah I'm good, thank you.” Y/N said flustered, unbeknownst to her, Oscar saw the whole thing go down and he was holding in his laughter. “Don’t you dare, Australia.” Y/N warned.
“Your crush on Leclerc is so obvious, America, it hurts to watch.” Oscar said between laughs.
“Ha ha, like you weren't like this around Lily?" Y/N asked.
"Yeah, I was nervous, but I definitely wasn't as bad as you." Oscar said.
"Anyway, Lando invited us to go out after FP2 with the quadrant gang, you coming? Please say yes, Lando is probably going to spend all night talking to Max anyway, I can’t be alone.” Y/N practically begged.
“Yeah sure, I’ll go, you need a few drinks to erase what happened with Leclerc.” Oscar said.
“Awesome! So Zak sent an email saying that he has a surprise for us tomorrow, do you have any idea what that might be?" Y/N asked, showing Oscar the email on her phone, Oscar took her phone to read it better.
"I don't know what it could be about. Anything that needs to be fixed in my car or is it good?" Oscar asked.
"it should be fine, i checked everything with Henry and Bryan (other mechanics), nothings wrong. It’s ready for the second free practice." Y/N said.
“Great. You'll be watching, right?" Oscar asked.
"Of course! Need to make sure my papaya boys get fastest lap." Y/N said.
"And your monegasque too." Oscar teased.
"Don't make me hurt you, Australia." Y/N said.
"You love me too much to do that, America." Oscar said, walking.
"Whatever." Y/N replied.
Two hours later, FP2 started, Y/N was watching everything with the rest of the team, eating chips.
“Is that necessary?” Andrea asked.
“You have no idea how much.” Y/N commented.
FP2 went well, Charles Leclerc got fastest lap. Lando and Oscar took off the helmets and balaclavas, tying their suits around their waists.
“Great free practice, sorry you didn’t get fastest lap though.” Y/N said.
“No your not.” Lando commented.
“Bet you were happy when Leclerc got it.” Oscar said.
“Well I can’t say I wasn’t happy.” Y/N said.
“Alright so let’s start getting ready. Will you drive or am I driving you?” Lando asked.
“I carpooled with Henry, drive me?” Y/N asked.
“Yeah sure. Shit, i can’t, gotta pick up Max.” Lando said.
“I’ll drive you.” Oscar offered.
“Thanks, Australia.” Y/N said. “Now both of you hit the showers, y’all are sweaty.” Y/N said.
After the boys showered, they changed, Y/N changed into something more club appropriate and let her hair down.
Y/N walked to Oscar’s car.
“What took you so long?” Oscar asked.
“Im a girl, guys can wear a shirt and jeans and everyone will freak out, if I wear the same thing, I get told I look crusty.” Y/N said.
“But you just had that outfit with you?” Oscar asked.
“If I learned anything from watching Crazy Rich Asians, you should always have a clubbing outfit and a cocktail outfit with you at all time.” Y/N said, getting into the passenger seat of Oscar’s car. “Lando sent you the address right?”
“Yeah, let’s go.” Oscar said. He started the car, they listened to music and talked until they got to the club. They got in, Y/N said hello to everyone with a kiss on the cheek because that’s how her mom raised her. She sat at their booth and Y/N spotted Charles at the bar.
“Bro, Charles is here.” Y/N said, patting Oscar’s arm.
“And? You gonna do something or observe from afar like you always do?” Oscar asked.
“Well…” Y/N started but she saw a woman approach Charles. “I don’t want to interrupt his scintillating conversation.”
“I Don’t understand, you talk to Lando and I just fine.” Oscar commented.
“I was nervous around you guys too, don’t lie. I just got used to y’all, but I never had a crush this huge before, I’ve never been in a relationship, had a first date, or even a first kiss, I’m very inexperienced, okay?” Y/N admitted (guilty).
“So you’re just going to be pining away for him?” Oscar asked,
“Yep.” Y/N said.
The table ordered drinks, designated drivers get 2 drinks max. The night was fun, Lando got to deejay again, Carlos was also there so he joined their group. Since they had free practice 3 tomorrow, they needed to rest up. Oscar dropped Y/N off at her apartment, she changed, washed her face, put on a silk bonnet to protect her hair, and went to sleep.
The next morning, Y/N had her hair in two French braids and wearing her favorite bracelet. She drove to the the track and walked to the Lando’s garage.
“Are you as tired as I look?” Y/N asked.
“No, I feel fine, really.” Lando said,
“Lucky, i had trouble sleeping.” Y/N said. Lando was going to say something else when Zak came into the garage.
“Alright, I have an announcement to make. As you know, F1 is partners with Rolex, so we are invited to Rolex’s masquerade charity ball. It will be on Sunday after the Grand Prix. It starts at 8, it gives you plenty of time to get ready after the race and podium interviews.” Zak said. Everyone was excited.
“Would you give me money to buy a dress? And shoes?” Y/N whispered to Lando.
“I’ll tell you what, I’ll go shopping with you.” Lando whispered back.
“This is why I love you.” Y/N teased. Zak walked towards Y/N and Lando went to talk to Oscar.
"Y/N, I need you in the McLaren Technology Centre on Monday." Zak said.
"Really? For what?" Y/N asked.
“For mechanical stuff. We’re planning on creating a new McLaren, you like the creative process, and I still need Henry and Bryan here if we have anything major to fix after the Grand Prix. I already got your ticket, first class too. Don’t miss your flight.” Zak said.
“Of course, I won’t.” Y/N said. Zak gave Y/N her ticket and she started checking the information. Her flight leaves at 3am. “Wait, isn’t this flight a little soon?”
“I know, but I need as many people working on the new McLaren as possible. You’ll only be there for 4 days, then you can relax in Monaco before we go to Canada.” Zak said and he walked away. Lands came back with Oscar and saw Y/N’s worried face.
“Whats wrong, America?” Oscar asked.
“If i go to the Rolex ball thing, I would have to leave before midnight so I have time to change and go to airport in Nice. Oh shit, I have to pack my luggage.” Y/N said.
“Can’t you just skip the ball?” Landon asked.
“Dude, when am I ever going to get invited to theses kind of events? I’m going and you’re taking me shopping.” Y/N said, pointing at Lando.
“Fine, but we’re getting food after. You think we can do it after qualifying?” Lando asked.
“I guess, but you’re calling the store, they know you.” Y/N said. “How do y’all feel about this race?” Y/N asked the boys.
“Max is definitely winning, but hopefully we’ll get on the podium.” Oscar said.
“I believe in you guys, really.” Y/N said before hugging them.
“But you also want Leclerc on the podium.” Oscar said.
“I’m just a girl, leave me alone.” Y/N said,
FP3 and Quali went by fast, no accidents. Max got pole, Charles P2, Oscar P3. During the break between FP3 and Quali, Y/N tried fixing up her Jeep Wrangler Sahara, with Zak’s okay so, of course. Lando texted Y/N the address to the shop and she drove there, parking right next to Lando.
“Alright, love, let’s get you that dress.” Lands said, guiding Y/N into the store with his hand on her lower back. “Hello, we’re looking for an evening dress for her.” Lando told the sales associate.
“Of course, all these dresses right here should be in your size, we have a selection of heels that would go well with these dresses as well.” The sales associate, Ana, said.
“Do you have any dresses in pastel blue?” Y/N asked. Ana started looking through the rack and pulled out a dress that she thought Y/N might like.
“Here you go. Because this dress has a slit, I recommend some tall high heels to elongate your legs. I prefer the platform ones like these.” Ana said, showing Y/N the heels. “Here is a dressing room, I’ll be right outside if you need help zipping it up, okay?” Ana said, handing Y/N the dress and heels.
“Thank you so much.” Y/N said, stepping into the dressing room and getting changed. She got the dress on and sat in the chair to put on the heels. After she strapped on the heels, she tries zipping up the dress, but can’t make it to the top. “Ana, I need help.” Y/N said. Ana pulled the curtain and helped Y/N zip the dress.
“You look beautiful.” Ana said. Y/N walked out of the dressing room, and she looked at Lando, who was on his phone, he looked up and his jaw dropped.
“Wow Y/N, you look great. You’ll be the most beautiful girl there.” Lando said, getting up to get a closer look. He made the motion to have Y/N twirl and she did.
“Not bad for a mechanic, right?” Y/N joked.
“Not bad at all. We’ll take it.” Lando said.
“I’ll change and we’ll be on our way.” Y/N said. Lando unzipped the dress, stopping right above her waist and Y/N unzipped the rest already in the dressing room. She changed, putting the dress on the hanger and the heels in its box, she got out and gave the things to Lando so he could pay.
After paying Lando handed Y/N her things and they walked outside to their cars.
“Thanks again for buy it.” Y/N said.
“Yeah of course. Where do you want to eat though? I’m starving.” Lands said.
“You pick.” Y/N said.
“If you say so.” Lando said. “Just follow me.” Lando got into his car, Y/N got in hers, and she followed Lando to Graziella, an Italian restaurant.
They were seated, Lando had beef tagliata with Gorgonzola sauce and French fries, Y/N had penne alla carbonara (I looked up the restaurant menu to be as accurate as possible). When they finished eating, they went to the parking lot to get their cars.
“I’ll see you tomorrow.” Lando said goodbye, they hugged before driving off to their apartments.
When arriving to her apartment, Y/N started playing music as she packed for a four day trip. She hung her dress right in front of her closet. She finished packing, had a late night snack, and went to bed.
Tonight’s the night, after the Grand Prix with Max P1, Charles P2, and Lando P3, Y/N was getting ready, putting on her dress, her shoes, styling her hair down, and putting on her bracelet. Everything looked good, her luggage was already in her car. She drove to the venue where the ball was taking place, gave her name to the people in charge, and Y/N was given a masquerade mask.
(Choose whichever dress you like better)
Y/N walked in and all eyes were on her. She began fiddling with her bracelet until two guys approached her.
“America, you look great.” Oscar said.
“Thanks, Australia, Lando showed you the picture he took yesterday huh?” Y/N asked.
“He did.” Oscar said.
“I had to show you off. I don’t see you with your hair down that often, you know.” Lando said.
“I’m a mechanic, can’t have my hair in my face.” Y/N commented. “I’m gonna get a drink, okay, I’ll be right back,” Y/N said, she walked to the drink table to get herself some champagne and another guy walked up to her.
“You made quite the entrance, you know. You Commanded the attention of everyone in the room.” The guy spoke, his voice seemed familiar to Y/N but almost everyone in Monaco has a similar voice.
“Why thank you, kind sir.” Y/N feigned an English accent as she curtsied.
“Do you go to these events often?” The guy asked, also sipping champagne,
“Not really, it’s technically a work thing, but this is my first time going to a charity ball.” Y/N replied to the mask stranger. His eyes a beautiful shade of blue-green, his eyes feel so familiar to her, why the hell can’t she figure out who this guy is.
“I’m here for work as well.” The guy replied. They kept talking until a slow song started playing. “Care to dance, chéri?” The guy extended his hand to Y/N
“I’d love to.” Y/N said, taking his hand to dance.
“Baby blue is actually one of my favorite colors.” The guys admitted.
“It’s mine too. I love all shades of blue, but pastel blue is just beautiful.” Y/N said. “So since you’re here for work, what do you do? I’m a mechanic.”
“You’re definitely the prettiest mechanic I ever saw. I’m a driver.” The guys replied. What’s going on in Y/N’s mind is that he’s a driver and has a French accent, it could be Pierre, but he’s with Kika. She’s hoping it’s Charles but she doesn’t want to get disappointed either.
“Thank you, that’s cool that you’re a driver.” Y/N said.
They talked and danced some more, it was all going well until the clock chimed, saying it was 11:55pm.
“Listen, Frenchy, it’s been fun, but I gotta go,” Y/N said, pulling away from him.
“I’m not French, I’m monegasque.” The guy said, the confirmed Y/N’s suspicions. He took off the mask.
“Charles.” Y/N said.
“Yes, I’m Charles Leclerc, what’s your name?” Charles asked, Y/N heard the clock chime again.
“I’m sorry, I really have to go.” Y/N said, she exits the hall and puts the mask on the table before running out the the parking lot to get into her car to drive to her apartment. Charles chased after her but she saw her car leaving. He looked on the ground and he saw the bracelet that she was wearing on the floor.
“I will find out who you are.” Charles said, placing the bracelet in his suit pocket.
Y/N made it to her apartment, parked her car, went upstairs, got changed, and went downstairs to her car but it won’t start.
“Hijo de la chingada, this can’t be happening to me.” Y/N said. She got her luggage out of her car and order an Uber to nice airport,
The car arrived and dropped her off at the airport, she was on time for her flight, everything was good, but Y/N noticed her bracelet was missing.
“Ah, for fucks sake.” Y/N exclaimed as she waited in the terminal for them to call her flight.
Meanwhile Charles got into his Ferrari and drove back to his apartment. When he was home with his dog Leo, he was looking at Instagram to see if anyone posting from the event was the girl he danced with.
"What do you think, Leo? Am i going crazy?" Charles asked the blonde dachshund on his lap. He gets no answer. "Okay, maybe a little, but I had a wonderful time with her."
Charles decided to do the reasonable thing and posted a photo of the charm bracelet he found with the caption "Does this belong to you? Found on the floor of (venue) on May 26th. Contact me if this bracelet is yours." Charles turned off his phone and decided to go to sleep.
The next day, Y/N got off the plane, she turned off the airplane mode on her phone, and that's when she started recieving calls from Lando, she answered.
"Dude, what is wrong with you? I just got off the plane, who died?" Y/N asked, confused why she had so many texts and missed calls from Lando and Oscar.
"Charles posted a photo of your charm bracelet last night. You fucking danced with Charles and you didn't tell me or Oscar? We're happy for you." Lando said. "You should tell him its yours."
"No way, I know i told him i was a mechanic last night, but he is definitely expecting someone as beautiful as Kika, he would totally be disappointed if he finds out it was me." Y/N said, getting an Uber to drive her to the hotel Zak also booked for her.
"You are beautiful, Y/N, honestly, if we weren't friends, i would have flirted with you everyday until you gave me a chance." Lando said.
"Thank you but i can't help but feel how i feel. I gott go, I'm heading to my hotel then i'll go to McLaren, talk to you later." Y/N said.
The four days Y/N was in Woking, Charles was answering DMs of women claiming it was their bracelet. He would follow up with the questions "What do you do for work?" and "What color was your dress?" No one has answered those two questions correctly. Charles was starting to think it was a lost cause and he would never find her. He decided to go out with Pierre and Kika and he brought Leo with him.
"Still haven't found her, Charlie?" Pierre asked.
"No! It has been four days, everyone in my DMs who is claiming the bracelet is not her." Charles said.
"Charles, do you even know this girl's name?" Kika asked.
"I don't, i just have her bracelet and there is no indication of a name or anything that could be useful." Charles said.
"I'm sorry, Charles." Kika said, rubbing his arm.
"I felt we had a connection, even if she did call me frenchy." Charles said.
"Well there isn't a way to shorten 'monegasque' you know." Pierre said.
"Yes, I am aware." Charles said.
It was now the Canadian Grand Prix, Y/N flew with Lando and Oscar obviously. When they landed, they went to their hotel rooms, to leave their stuff and went to the hotel restaurant to order some food. Y/N had her hair down becasue she was not risking a ponytail headache. She was sitting with Oscar while Lando was talking to Carlos. Charles came downstairs and he spotted Y/N with her hair down. It looked remarkably similar to the girl he danced with. She saw Lando with Carlos so he sat right next to Lando.
"Hey Lando, quick question, did Y/N attend the Rolex thing?" Charles asked.
"She did, yeah, why?" Lando asked the monegasque.
"Does this happen to be her bracelet?" Charles asked, pulling out the bracelet from his pants pocket.
"Okay, why are you carrying that around?" Lando asked curiously.
"Just answer the question, Lando." Charles said.
"yes, yes, thats her bracelet." Lando admitted.
It all made sense, Charles started thinking about the first time he met Y/N and she called him 'Frenchy'.
It was Y/N's first day in the paddock and she walked into Charles's garage by accident. She was looking around and she bumped into him, Charles exclaimed something in French.
"Oh my god, I am so sorry, frenchy, I'm just a little lost." Y/N said.
"First, I am not French, i am monegasque." Charles said.
"Oh my god, you're Charles Leclerc! Sorry, I'm Y/N, I'm looking for the McLaren garage." Y/N said, holding her hand out for Charles to shake, which he did.
"Its on the other side actually. So why are you here?" Charles asked.
"Oh, I am McLaren's new mechanic." Y/N said.
"Nice to meet you, I'll walk you to McLaren." Charles said.
Charles had a tiny crush on her since that day but Y/N hardly spoke to him so he thought she didn't like him. He wlaked over to the table where Y/N was with Oscar.
"Y/N, can i talk to you for a second?" Charles asked. Y/N looked at Oscar.
"I'm gonna sit with Logan." Oscar said, getting up. Charles took his seat.
"I think this is yours." Charles said, showing Y/n the bracelet.
"Are you disappointed to find out that i was the girl you danced with?" Y/N asked, too shy to look at him. Charles lift her chin with his finger so she could look in his eyes.
"Why would i be disappointed? I don't know if you noticed, amour, but I've like you since you came into my garage by accident." Charles admitted. "Were you disappointed to find out you danced with me? Is that why you rushed out so quickly?"
"No, of course not! I had to go to Woking for some McLaren business and my flight was at 3am so I had to leave to change and have time to go to the airport in Nice. I was so shocked that it was you though, like i was dancing with my celebrity crush the whole night." Y/N said.
"Good to hear I'm your celebrity crush. Let's get this bracelet on." Charles said, opening the bracelet, Y/N held out her wrist, and Charles successfully secured the bracelet on her wrist. "That's better."
"It is. Thank you for finding it, I would have died if i lost it." Y/N said.
"It's no problem. So i was wondering if you would like to go on a date with me, we could go after FP2." Charles suggests.
"I would like that a lot." Y/N said.
"Perfect. Is it alright if i kissed you? I've been imagining this moment for months." Charles said.
"Go ahead." Y/N said. Charles moved her hair behind he ear and kissed her softly. They pulled away. "That was way better than my dreams."
"You dream about kissing me, mon ange?" Charles teasingly asked.
"You imagined kissing me too." Y/N said.
"True, I'm glad i don't have to imagine it anymore though." Charles said, wrapping his arm around Y/N's shoulders as they looked over the menu.
The End
Hope y’all liked it! Was it too long? I thought it was okay
#hispanic reader#latina#hispanic#charles leclerc fluff#charles leclerc imagine#charles leclerc fanfic#charles leclerc x you#charles leclerc#charles leclerc x reader#formula one#f1 x reader#f1 imagine#formula 1#f1 fanfic
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Loads of Fun
Laundry Day (Loki x female reader Y/N)
How Could This Not Fit?! (Loki x fem reader Y/N)
Pairing: Bucky x female reader (Y/N)
Summary: Bucky doesn't want to admit that he hasn't quite gotten used to all the new technology since he was freed from the Winter Soldier and his latest issue is with the dryer. Y/N catches him mid-struggle with the machine and comes to his rescue.
Warnings: some light swearing, feeling a tad useless and old, Bucky struggling hard with the laundry, Y/N being super awkward
A/N: So in Laundry Day (linked above) I wrote an off hand little comment about how much laundry Bucky needed to do and @alexakeyloveloki comment inspired me to write a short fic about it so... enjoy 💚
This is not the same Y/N from Laundry Day & How Could This Not Fit?!, this is a different one. Apparently a bunch of women in the Tower have the same name as you (haha sorry that's dumb but I wanted them both to be Y/N fics so here we are)
"Oh.... I messed up," you close your book and get up from the couch quickly as you suddenly realize it's almost midnight. You had meant to only read one more chapter but you had gotten lost in your book as always.
You grab your detergent from the closet, drag your overflowing laundry hamper to the door and slide on a pair of flip flops. "Every freaking time," you mumble to yourself as you open the door. Once again, you put off doing laundry until you completely ran out of clothes.
The elevator doors open and you step out into the basement. "At least no one should be down here," you think out loud thankfully.
You had tried to do your laundry this morning but you gave up on that idea as soon as you opened the door. Loki's girlfriend was sitting on top of one of the dryers with her legs around his waist. You put your hand on the door and shake the images of the two of them away, you don't need that to be stuck in your brain.
"Damnit," you whisper as you freeze completely, the door halfway open. Bucky has his back to you as he stares at the dryer, unaware of your presence. You had developed a crush on the super soldier and decided the best way to handle it was to avoid him at all cost like any other mature adult. You were terrified that you might say or do something embarrassing so you thought your best option was to never be alone with him.
You sigh, knowing you're out of underwear and options so you open the door the rest of the way. Before you can say anything to him, the dryer Bucky is focused on begins to beep loudly.
"I don't know what you want from me," he says to it, his voice full of frustration.
He opens the door and the sound stops, you are both completely still but as soon as he closes the door it begins again. He pushes the button on the panel to start the dryer but the beeping continues.
"Why are you so complicated?" he asks the machine, clearly unaware that he is no longer alone. He pushes another button that does nothing to quiet the sound then he groans loudly, nearly ripping the door off the hinges with his metal arm.
"Do you need help?" you ask quietly from behind him.
He closes the door quickly as he turns around to face you. You can see the frustration in his expression turn to embarrassment when he realizes you were watching him. As he opens his mouth to answer you, the dryer starts to beep again.
He pulls the door open and turns towards you again. With a look of utter defeat he says, "I think it hates me."
You cover your mouth to keep from giggling at the fact that a super soldier is losing a battle with an appliance. There is no need for you to add insult to injury, you think, but he does look like he is in desperate need of a hug.
You walk over to him and drag your hamper in front of an empty machine. "I'm sure it doesn't hate you," you reassure him with a smile and he shrugs, clearly not believing you.
"Can I take a look?" you ask pointing at the dryer and he nods, moving away from it as if it might explode at any second.
"You can try but I'm telling you, this one is evil," he laughs nervously.
"I think I can handle it," you try to sound sure of yourself. "Oh, I'm Y/N, by the way," you suddenly decide to introduce yourself as you close the door.
"I know," he answers and you turn your head to look at him over your shoulder, the beeping continuing. "You work for the IT department," he says and you feel yourself blushing. "I've seen you around the Tower a few times."
"Yep, that's me," you respond, trying not to sound as if your internally screaming. He remembers my name? When did we even talk? I definitely would remember if we talked. Focus, focus, you yell at yourself, you've been staring at him for too long.
"Well, they don't train us to handle haunted appliances but I think I can handle this one," you say then immediately cringe. Why do I talk? You think, this is why I avoid him.
Your thoughts are interrupted by Bucky laughing. You turn towards your new favorite sound and he smiles at you as he leans on a nearby washer.
Ok, you think to yourself, time to show off and fix this stupid thing. You check to see what settings he's used but they all look right. Well, there's that, you think a bit annoyed but you're determined to figure it out. Suddenly you get an idea.
"Sometimes these things get weird when they are unbalanced or too full," you explain as you open the door and bend down. You reach in to level things out. A second too late you realize your holding a pair of his damp boxers and throw them back inside.
"Yep, these look fine," you close the door quickly and stand up, hoping he didn't notice but you can tell he saw you pick them up. "No. I mean... not that the boxers look fine, just like the load is fine. I- I'm just gonna..." you say, as you turn to face the dryer again. "I'm gonna die," you whisper as you rub your face with your hands. Good job dummy, you managed to make this even more awkward.
"Damn dryer is going to beat both of us," he says after a moment of continuous beeping and you can't help but agree with him.
"I think you might be right-" you pause, your eyebrows scrunching as a blinking red light catches your attention. "Has this been blinking the whole time?"
"I think so," he guesses. "Is that important?"
You sigh and nod, "It means I'm an idiot."
He tilts his head, his arms folded across his chest as he watches you open the dryer door again. You pull open the small door at the bottom and groan. He walks closer to see what you are doing but you don't notice until he leans over your shoulder.
"What is that?" he asks and you jump at how close his voice is to your ear. "Sorry," he laughs. "Thought you knew I was in here."
"Yea I just thought you were over there," you wave you hand towards where he had been and almost hit him in the face with the back of your hand. He dodges it easily and laughs lightly as you cover your mouth. "I'm so sorry," you mumble from under your hand.
"Its fine, you missed," he says with a grin. "So what's wrong with it?"
You pull out the lint trap and show him, "This thing is full so it won't run until we empty it." His expression tells you he has no idea what it is so you explain how a lint trap works and that if you don't clean them out you could potentially start a fire.
"Oh," he responds. "Wouldn't it be helpful if the stupid thing said that's what was wrong with it instead of just beeping?"
"It did," you groan then point to the light that is no longer blinking. "That's what the little light was for."
You wait for him to be stunned by your stupidity. You work for the IT department at Stark Industries, the most technologically advanced company in the world and you barely fixed a not broken dryer. You turn it on for him then turn your attention to finally loading your clothes into the washer.
Instead of responding the way you think he will, he sighs and takes a seat. "I don't understand any of this new technology," he admits.
You turn over your shoulder to look at him and see that he seems defeated again. "Don't worry," you try to make him feel better. "Stark likes new toys. He gets all the fanciest tech, no one knows how to use this stuff."
"I don't know how to do anything," he rests his elbows on his knees and leans forward. You turn on the washers and walk towards him. "Nothing is simple anymore."
"What do you mean?" you ask as you sit in the empty chair next to him.
"Everything is a computer now and the whole building talks. The fridge has more technology in it than the last car I drove, the toaster is voice activated, hell even the sinks are motion sensors," he says, his eyes focused on his hands as he talks.
You cover your mouth quickly to hide your laugh but it slips out. He looks at you and you lower you hand to ask, "I'm sorry but... who told you the toaster was voice activated?"
"Sam," he says then his eyes widen, "It's not is it?"
"No," you shake your head and can't hold back your laughter.
He groans, lowering his head again, "I'm gonna kill him."
"You didn't really believe him did you?" you ask in disbelief.
"I spent five minutes yelling 'toast' at it this morning before he said it was probably updating," he admits, covering his face with his metal hand.
You smile and imagine him getting more and more annoyed at the poor little appliance.
He sits up, resting the back on his head on the wall behind you. "I just don't know why everything is so complicated," he says and you suddenly feel guilty for laughing.
"I'm sorry," you tell him, looking down at your feet. "Have you tried talking to Steve about getting you up to speed on some things?"
"I don't want to keep bothering him every time I can't turn on a light or get ice out of the fridge," he says. "Steve adjusted fine so I just have to keep trying to figure all of this out."
"Who told you Steve adjusted well?" you ask before you can stop yourself.
He looks at you but doesn't answer so you continue talking. "I was part of the team that helped wake him up. Trust me, he freaked out plenty of times and he was confused by pretty much everything in the beginning."
He shakes his head, "I didn't know that, it's one of the only things we've never really talked about."
"I'm sorry we didn't have a team prepped for you when you joined. I guess we just sort of figured you had been awake a lot more than Steve," you say. "As the uh... other guy," you add awkwardly, trying to avoid calling him the Winter Soldier.
"Technically I was but..." his voice trails off and his flesh hand covers his metal hand as he looks down.
"The other guy didn't do much cooking or laundry, did he?" you ask, finishing his thought.
"No," he answers.
After a short silence you say, "If you want, I can help get you up to speed. A lot of the tech around here is actually pretty easy to use, if you know what your doing."
"You don't have to waste your time," he shrugs. "I'll figure it all out."
"Helping you wouldn't be a waste of time," you tell him with a smile. "Besides, I have a lot of free time. I pretty much do nothing but read when I'm not working so I'm always around if you need me," you add and groan internally. Try to make it sound like you don't have a life at all, good job, you think.
He smiles and makes eye contact with you, "That would be really helpful, thanks."
You get lost in how his smile lights up his face but the long beep of the dryer finishing thankfully means you don't stare at him until it gets awkward. He gets up to empty the machine and you grab your book from the top of the washer before sitting back down. As you open the book he sits next to you again.
"Oh," you close the book and look up. "Sorry, I thought- you don't have to stay down here. I've got a while left until it'll be done."
He looks at the time left on the washer and says, "I just thought we could talk for a bit but... if you would rather read, I can leave you to it."
"I can read this later," you smile. You mean to gently toss the book on the table used to fold laundry but you over shoot and it hits the floor, sliding away from you. You cover your face with your hands and get up.
"I've got it," he laughs. He places the book on the table and sits next to you.
"I'm not usually a disaster," you tell him and he chuckles. "Actually, I kind of am. That's why I'm way better off with books and the tech stuff then with people," you admit. "I always do something stupid or say something weird," you feel yourself shrink back in your chair.
"I think it makes you interesting," he replies with a smile. "I'm never quite sure what you're going to say or do."
You laugh nervously, "Me neither." A second later your brain turns on, wait did he say I was interesting?
"There is actually one thing you could help me with now, if that's ok?" he asks, keeping you from focusing too much on what he had just said. He takes out his phone, "I think there's something wrong with it."
He hands it to you and you almost drop it when your fingers touch, "Ha, I've got it. Sorry." You open the settings and start looking for usual problems but things seem fine. You look up at him, "What's wrong with it?"
He smirks and says, "It doesn't have your number."
"Wow," you can't help but laugh. "That was really smooth."
He laughs and says, "I'm a bit out of practice but I thought that was good."
"It was," you blush and add your number before handing him back his phone.
He looks at it then back at you and says, "Okay, but seriously, how do I text you cause I'm not sure how exactly to do that."
I hope you liked this!! Please like, share and comment if you did 💚💚
(I don't have a Bucky tag list yet so sorry my Loki list didn't get a choice lol)
@soubi001 @michelleleewise @harlequin-hangout @ace-of-gay @xorpsbane @mochie85 @sheris532 @lokiswife-dark-fox-queen @lokiandbuckysdoll @winterfrostlovetriangle @cabingrlandrandomcrap @stupidthoughtsinwriting @mjsthrillernp @lulubelle814 @goblingirlsarah @janineb86 @alexakeyloveloki @siconetribal @jiyascepter
#bucky x y/n#bucky x female reader#bucky#bucky x you#bucky x reader#bucky barnes#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes x you#bucky barnes x female reader#bucky barnes x y/n#bucky au#bucky fanfic#bucky fluff#bucky fic#bucky drabble#bucky imagine#former Winter Soldier#james buchanan barnes#james bucky barnes#james bucky buchanan barnes#james barnes#bucky mcu#bucky marvel#bucky barnes fanfiction#bucky barnes fluff#bucky barnes fic#bucky barnes marvel#bucky barnes fandom#sebastian stan#seb
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