#made a lot of these and it was no skin off my back and apparently he fucking paid a kid to copy them into microsoft word and then checked
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On and Off the Court
based on this request <-
words: 3.7k
summary: You've just been accepted for a sports medicine internship at the University of Connecticut, joining your best friend Sue Bird. As you meet Diana, you're quickly warned about her romantic habits. Will this warning be enough to keep you away?
made an OC for this one, hope you guys enjoy and lmk how we’re feeling about the DT stuff and if I should keep making it 🙏🏾
as always my requests are open so send me anything you guys want to see, please enjoy!!💕
UConn Campus: 2002
Securing the internship at UConn had been a long shot, but you had never been one to back down from a challenge. The application process had been rigorous—endless forms, letters of recommendation, and a nerve-wracking interview. But when the call came through, informing you that you’d been selected as an athletic trainer intern for one of the most prestigious women’s basketball programs in the country, you knew it was all worth it.
Sue was right there with you too, she’d already been attending UConn two years prior to your application but she was the one who encouraged you apply in the first place. She knew your love for sports medicine and what’s greater than having your best friend study that at your school?
You first met Sue Bird during a summer basketball camp, you’d dabbled in the physical sport before deciding on sports med. She was the cooler older girl who’d taken you under her wing and from then on you were inseparable and the rest is history.
Sue had been the one to drive you on campus for your first day, she helped you move into your dorm and now she was showing you around the UConn practice facility.
As you walk beside her, she points out players, giving you a quick rundown of who’s who. And then she mentions, almost casually, "And that’s Diana. Lemme introduce you real quick."
Your eyes follow her gesture to see Diana, tan freckled skin and a slick back curled bun, who's shooting three-pointers with an ease that defies logic. There's an intensity to her that draws you in immediately.
"Aye, D! Meet the new intern," Sue calls out. Diana pauses, her gaze shifting towards you. She walks over, her confidence apparent in every step.
"Hey, I’m Diana," she says, extending her hand. You shake it, feeling a jolt of something you can't quite identify.
"Yeah! I’ve heard a lot about you, I’m Nora" you manage to say, your voice steady despite your racing heart.
She gives you a once over, nodding and biting her lip lightly “Nora, that’s a pretty name”
You flush and go to respond but Sue quickly cuts you off, clearing her throat.
“Alright! Um we’re gonna… I’m gonna show her around the rest of the place.” she makes an awkward thumb gesture, pointing down a hallway and quickly ushers you away, not even giving Diana a chance to respond.
“Do you think D’s hot?” She blurts out once you get to one of the med rooms.
“Huh?!”
She groans, rubbing a hand over her face “ D’s… she’s like- well she’s..”
“Spit it out Sue” you shove her lightly
“She like- she sleeps around! I don’t know, I just got vibes that she thinks you’re cute and as your self appointed big sister and very best friend I don’t need her breaking your heart”
“You got all that from a three-second conversation??”
“Well no- but also yes, look.. all I’m saying is I know my teammates and I absolutely know you, as much as I love D don’t fall for her lesbian flirty tactic thingys”
“Lesbian.. flirty… tactic… thingys…”
“Yes!”
“Sue you sound crazy but sure”
—————————
Your next few weeks at UConn are chill as you settle into your role, finding a rhythm in the fast-paced environment. You spend your days taping ankles, stretching out sore muscles, and learning from your mentors.
Even after what Sue said about Diana you can’t help but be attracted to her and honestly you feel that Diana reciprocates your feelings. These past few weeks you and Diana have only gotten closer, first it started with talking during practice, then getting food together after practice, and eventually hanging out at each other’s dorms.
One evening, Sue invites you to your first college party, eager to show you the social side of university life. You’re excited but also nervous, partly because you don’t know what to expect and partly because you can’t stop thinking about Diana. Despite Sue’s warnings, you can’t shake the feeling that there’s something real between you and Diana, something more than just casual flirting.
The party is at a popular off-campus house, and as soon as you walk in, you’re hit by the loud music and the sight of students milling about, drinks in hand. Sue is quickly pulled into a conversation with some friends, leaving you to navigate the crowded room on your own.
You grab a drink and wander around, trying to blend in and relax. Just when you’re starting to enjoy yourself, you spot Diana across the room. Your heart skips a beat as you watch her laughing and talking animatedly with another girl, her arm casually draped over the girl’s shoulders.
You tell yourself not to overreact. After all, it’s a party, and Diana is allowed to talk to whoever she wants. You start heading in her direction, hoping to get her attention but as you walk, Diana leans in and kisses the girl, a deep, lingering kiss that leaves no room for misinterpretation.
Your stomach drops, and you feel a cold wave of disappointment wash over you. Sue’s words echo in your mind, reminding you of Diana’s reputation. You turn away, trying to focus on anything but the scene unfolding before you, but it’s no use. The image is burned into your mind.
Feeling a mix of hurt and foolishness, you decide to leave. You make your way to the door, hoping to escape unnoticed. Just as you step outside into the cool night air, you hear Sue calling your name.
“Nora! Hey, what’s wrong?” She asks, her voice laces with concern.
“Nothing, nothing! Um.. just feeling kinda nauseous, I’m gonna head back but you have fun ‘mkay?” you reach up, giving her a hug “Thanks for bringing me, I’ll see you at the gym tomorrow” you spit out before rushing to your car.
—————————
After the party, you do everything in your power to avoid Diana, shrugging away from her flirtatious touches, opting to eat lunch with Sue instead, and finding any excuse to keep her from coming back to your dorm.
One night after practice, you find yourself in the training room alone, organizing supplies. The door swings open, Diana walks in, and your heart sinks, you still have feelings for her despite everything and being alone with her doesn’t make you feel any better.
“ ‘Sup, Nora,” she greets, her voice dripping with playful charm as if she’s completely oblivious to the change in your dynamic over the past few days.
You force a smile, trying to keep up appearances despite the turmoil inside. "Hey, D"
She saunters over, her movements fluid and confident. "Just thought I'd swing by and see how you're doing. You've been kind of distant lately."
You swallow hard, struggling to find the right words. "Yeah, just busy with work and stuff."
Diana raises an eyebrow, her expression unreadable. "Is that all it is? Because it feels like there's something else going on."
You avert your gaze, unable to meet her eyes. "I'm fine, Diana. Really."
But she doesn't seem convinced, and you can feel her studying you intently. "Nora, whatever it is, you can talk to me. I'm here for you."
Her words stir something inside you, a flicker of longing mixed with frustration. How can she act so caring and yet be the cause of so much pain?
"I don't think that's such a good idea," you murmur, your voice barely above a whisper.
Diana takes a step closer, her presence overwhelming. "Why not?"
You finally look up, and your breath catches at the intensity in her eyes. She’s so close now, you can see every detail of her face, every freckle, and the way her lips curl into a slight, confident smile. The air between you is charged with tension, and you can’t help but feel drawn to her.
“I…”
You’re standing so close now, mere centimeters apart. You can feel her breath on your skin, and it’s intoxicating. Your body leans in almost of its own accord, the pull towards her undeniable. You can see the same desire reflected in her eyes, and for a moment, you think you might actually kiss her.
But then images of Diana and that girl at the party flicker into your mind. You take a shaky step back, breaking the magnetic pull between you. “I.. I don’t know, I’ve gotta get back” you laugh awkwardly, trying to play it off and rush towards the door “Um I’ll catch you at practice tomorrow!” and with that you go, leaving Diana standing in the training room alone and confused.
—————————
The next day at practice, the atmosphere between you and Diana is noticeably tense. You arrive early, as usual, to help set up and assist with stretches. You’ve managed to avoid telling Sue about this whole Diana debacle, trying to keep from her lectures.
As the team files in, you focus intently on your tasks, hoping to avoid any awkward interactions. But it’s impossible to ignore the magnetic presence of Diana as she walks into the gym, her eyes immediately seeking you out.
You try to act natural, going through your routine with the players. When it’s Diana’s turn, you lead her to the training room as she takes her place on the mat, and you approach with professional detachment, though your heart is pounding.
“Morning,” she says, her tone casual but her eyes betraying a hint of something more.
“Morning,” you reply, keeping your focus on the task at hand. “Let’s get started.”
As you begin to help her stretch, the proximity brings back the memory of the previous evening. Your hands brush against her skin, sending electric sparks up your arms. Diana doesn’t make it easy, her body language and occasional lingering looks making it clear she hasn’t forgotten either.
“You know,” she says quietly, “I’ve been thinking about last night.”
You swallow hard, trying to maintain your composure. “ D, we shouldn’t talk about this here”
She chuckles softly, a sound that makes your stomach flutter. “Maybe not. But we can’t ignore it forever.”
You don’t respond, focusing instead on finishing the stretch. But when you look up, her face is inches from yours, her eyes dark with intent.
“Nora,” she murmurs, her voice low and intimate. “I don’t know what’s going on between us, but I can’t stop thinking about you.”
Your breath catches in your throat, her proximity overwhelming. “Diana, we can’t—”
But before you can finish, she leans in, her lips brushing against yours in a soft, tentative kiss. It’s like a spark igniting, setting your senses on fire. For a moment, you forget everything—the warnings, the doubts, the pain. There’s only Diana, and the undeniable pull between you.
But just as quickly as it began, the moment is shattered as coach’s voice booms across the gym, down the hall, and into the training room, breaking the spell.
“Alright, everyone, get your asses up let’s get started!”
Diana pulls away, her expression unreadable. You’re left standing there as she runs back to the main practice area, heart racing, trying to make sense of what just happened.
As practice continues, you struggle to focus, the memory of Diana’s lips on yours distracting you at every turn. It’s like a whirlwind of emotions, pulling you in all directions at once.
After practice, you find yourself alone in the training room once again, sorting through equipment as you try to process everything that’s happened. You’re still reeling from the kiss, unsure of what it means or where things will go from here.
Just then, the door swings open, and Diana walks in, her expression determined.
“Nora,” she says, her voice soft but resolute. “We need to talk.”
You suck in a sharp breath “D I have to go I’m-“
“No, Nora you keep running and we need to talk”
“Diana…”
“Just five minutes, please”
Diana's voice is pleading, and you can see the sincerity in her eyes. Despite your reluctance, you can't deny her request. You nod silently, gesturing for her to take a seat as you settle into a chair opposite her.
For a moment, there's silence between you, the tension palpable in the air. Diana fidgets with her hands, her gaze fixed on the floor as if searching for the right words.
Finally, she looks up, meeting your eyes with a mixture of vulnerability and determination.
“I’m just confused about what’s going on between us? I mean, your first few weeks here we were inseparable and then you do a 180° on me and pretend like I don’t exist? And then- then we almost kiss and then we do kiss I’m just.. I’m confused on who you feel here.”
“You’re confused? Imagine how I fucking feel D, you flirt with me and call me pretty and take me out to eat and sleepover at my dorm and—all this other shit but turn around and kiss another girl? And on top of that you tell me you can’t stop thinking about me, It’s frustrating like just be honest” you rant, letting all your feelings from the past few months voice themselves.
Diana sits there sort of silent and you continue “Even fucking Sue warned me that’d this what happen! And I didn’t listen when I know I should’ve, it would’ve saved me all this confusion” you huff.
“Nora I…”
Diana's voice trails off, and she runs a hand through her hair, clearly struggling to find the right words. She takes a deep breath and starts again, her eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that makes your heart race.
“Nora, I didn’t realize how much I was messing with your head. I’ve never felt like this before, and I didn’t know how to handle it. I was scared,” she admits, her voice barely above a whisper.
“Scared of what?” you ask, your tone softer now but still edged with frustration.
“Of this,” Diana gestures between the two of you, “Of us, of how strong my feelings are for you. It’s easier to flirt and mess around than to face how real this is. That kiss at the party… it was a mistake. I was trying to convince myself that what we have wasn’t real, that it was all just in my head. But I can’t keep lying to myself, and I can’t keep hurting you.”
Her confession leaves you speechless for a moment, the sincerity in her words cutting through the fog of your emotions. You take a deep breath, trying to process everything she’s said.
Diana reaches out, taking your hand in hers. Her touch is gentle, but there's a desperate urgency in her grip. "Nora, I'm so so sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you. I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you if I have to just please forgive me”
You take a deep breath, glancing down at your intertwined fingers and feeling the weight of her words. Part of you wants to hold onto the hurt, to protect yourself from getting hurt again. But another part of you recognizes the sincerity in her eyes, the genuine remorse in her voice.
"D," you start, your voice trembling slightly, "I need to know that you won't hurt me like this again. If we're going to move forward, I need to trust you."
She nods fervently, her eyes shining with determination. "I promise, I swear on fucking everything, I promise."
A small smile tugs at your lips, the vulnerability in her words melting some of the walls you've built up. "Okay, but this has to be different. No more games, no more mixed signals. I need you to be honest with me."
"I will," she promises, her voice steady. "I want to make this work, Nora. Let me start with asking you on a proper date m. No more hiding, no more confusion. Just you and me."
You feel a flicker of hope in your chest, a warmth spreading through you at her words. "A proper date, huh?"
Diana grins, her usual confident demeanor peeking through. "Yeah, a proper date.“
You stand there silently, watching her sweat a little at your lack of response.
“So? You gonna ask me?”
“Wha- I thought I just did?” genuine confusion paints her face.
“I’m waiting…..” you sing song, smiling
She rolls her eyes at your sarcasm, scoffing then takes both of your hands in hers “Nora Evans, will you please do me the honor of sharing a meal with me, outside of the facility, in a romantic setting, preferably under $40”
You chuckle nodding before glancing down at her lips. She leans in, her eyes sparkling with relief and excitement, and presses a soft, lingering kiss to your lips. When she pulls back, you can see the sincerity in her gaze, the promise of something real and honest.
—————————
Over the next few days, you and Diana take the first steps into your new relationship. It's a gradual process, filled with small, meaningful gestures—a shared laugh, a lingering touch, a whispered promise. The awkward tension that once filled the training room is replaced by a quiet, mutual understanding.
One afternoon, you both decide it's time to tell Sue. You've been dreading this moment, knowing how protective Sue can be. But it feels right, and you want your best friend to be a part of this.
You catch Sue in the dining hall, finishing up a study session. She looks up as you and Diana approach, a curious smile on her face.
"Hey, you two," she greets, her eyes flicking between you with an all-too-knowing look. "What's up?"
You glance at Diana, who nods encouragingly. Taking a deep breath, you start, "Sue, there's something we need to tell you."
Sue raises an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. "Oh? This sounds serious."
You exchange a nervous look with Diana, then take a step forward. "Well, Diana and I... we're kind of seeing each other now."
For a moment, Sue just blinks at you, her expression unreadable before she groans, smacking her hand on the table “Dammit, I owe Tamika $20 bucks”
You and Diana burst into laughter “What? You were betting on us?”
“She knew the second I told you not to date DT you were gonna do it anyways, shit” she sighs “I guess I’m happy for you though” she says jokingly.
“Oh whatever, Sue” you laugh
She looks up at Diana “If you hurt my best friend, just know I’ve got something in store for your ass”
Diana raises her hands in mock surrender, a playful glint in her eyes. "Got it, Bird. No need to send out a hit squad."
Sue narrows her eyes, leaning in for dramatic effect. "I'm serious. I've got connections."
You can't help but burst into more laughter at the exaggerated threat. Sue joins in, pulling both you and Diana into a tight, affectionate hug.
"Honestly, I'm happy for you guys," Sue says sincerely, giving you a squeeze. "Just be good to each other, alright?"
You nod, feeling a warmth spread through you. "We will, Sue. Promise."
———
lmk how you feel about this everyone! i kinda struggled writing it but in the end i like how it turned out
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do not underestimate what an adhd teenager can do to cope with being in the torment nexus
#im referring to the fact that in high school i disnt have a phone capable of meaningful internet access to sneak looks at and was tired of#my books being confiscated so when the 'need to be writing writing writing right nowdoesnt matter what or we will die' would hit#(as it does) i would sit there in class and handwrite out a 5k lovecraft story from memory just to keep myself busy. picked bc it had#memorable turns of phrase and i would sometimes do this several times a week and it could be my side project for up to 4 class periods#a pop and this was so interesting to mr[redacted] he asked if he could keep the copies when i was done writing them and i said yeah bc i#made a lot of these and it was no skin off my back and apparently he fucking paid a kid to copy them into microsoft word and then checked#them against each other and the original and i came into class one day and he had a report for me printed out from i guess a#plagarism checker website bc even though we both knew that wasnt what the situation was it was the easiest available source for this#anyway it said my worst copy of the ones he got was a 79% word for word match. out of like half a dozen. that was how high my accuracy was.#from memory. 5k. insane. anyway the next year his ongoing extra credit project for all his classes involved having to correctly write#increasingly long passages from memory perfectly and these were done on times tests and went from 'very long word' to 'four minute#monologue from an 80s movie' and everyone knew it was my fault for being insane in a way he found interesting and wanted to see if he could#replicate in controlled conditions or whatever lol
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Dean doesn't like the word "boyfriend." He decides this the second time Cas says it–the first time it was new, shiny, exciting. The second time, he fights the urge to cringe.
It's not the "boy" part. It's not. It would have been, for a long time, but he's dug all that shit up and unpacked all the suitcases. They hold hands in public. They kiss goodbye in front of his coworkers at the garage.
It's just–not enough. Not nearly. Jack comes home from hanging out with his friends and fills Dean on the gossip and his boyfriend and her girlfriend and–that's not them. "Boyfriend" feels like a cheap mockery. Like how demons used to tease.
He's heard "partner." He's heard it from Sam, to Eileen, but he doesn't know how he can stomach it. He's said that word too many times. I'm Agent Tyler and this is my partner, Agent Perry. This is my partner, Agent Page. My partner, Agent Stills. All lies. Sam says he likes it, that he's making it mean something real. Besides, Eileen loves it.
Good for them, Dean thinks. It makes his skin crawl.
So he sticks with “boyfriend” and he shrugs off the funny urge to protest every time Cas says it. It makes him happy, and honestly, it’s not like he has an alternative.
It’s a Sunday when he realizes that somehow, Cas does. They’re at the farmer’s market, like Cas is every weekend, but Dean had picked up weekend shifts and missed the past few. Cas is excited the whole way there, telling Dean about how he’d manage to befriend the local honey vendor in his absence, how she’d invited him to a beginner’s apiarist group she helps run. They beeline (heh) to the honey booth as soon as they get there, and the woman--Judith? Janice?--smiles up at them both, hands Cas a jar of honey like she’d been expecting him, and says “Oh, this must be the husband! I’ve heard so much about you.”
Dean stares at Cas. Cas stares at the honey. Judith/Janice stares at both of them, smile fading as the silence goes on a beat too long.
Dean clears his throat. “Uh, yeah. The husband, that’s me! Ha ha.” Beside him, Cas relaxes, just barely. In front of him, the woman breathes an audible sigh of relief. “Sorry,” Dean shifts. “Just didn’t, um. Realize I was such a hot topic.”
The smile he gets is almost sympathetic. “Oh, only good things. Here,” she hands him a business card. “You should also come out to our meeting on Wednesday. Lots of people bring their partners.” She leans in, almost conspiratorial. “Beekeeping can be wonderful for couples.”
It’s at this point that Cas clears his throat and finally looks up from the honey in his hand, evidently giving up hope on escaping this conversation. “Thank you, Janet.” (oh. Janet.) “Dean works late on Wednesdays, but I’m very excited to see you all.” He’s pulling out money as he says this, apparently deciding to just go ahead and end the entire interaction. He hands her the bills, grabs Dean’s hand, and is already moving away from the booth by the time Janet calls “See you Wednesday!” after them.
Cas drags him all the way back to the car without stopping for tomatoes, or Sam's carrots, or the free-range eggs that are way too expensive but Cas buys anyway because you can taste when the hen is well cared-for, Dean (whatever that means). They slide into the car, still not talking, and sit in silence for several long seconds. Dean stares at Cas, who stares out the windshield at the parking lot.
"I can explain," Cas speaks, finally, right as Dean was about to open his mouth and say anything to break the silence.
Dean pauses. Can you? Cause I feel like I missed a few chapters, he thinks.
"I don't work late on Wednesdays," he says instead.
"Oh." Now it's Cas staring at Dean, and Dean staring out at the asphalt.
He turns the keys. He drives them home.
Later, making dinner, Dean rolls the word around in his head. Husband. He's making his husband pasta (It's missing the tomatoes. He's made more with less).
Husband doesn't feel like a costume, like an ill-fitting suit and scratchy tie. It doesn't feel like high school gossip, or a monster trying to hit him where it hurts. It settles in warm in his chest.
It's just the two of them that night, and they're eating in the comfortable silence of the bunker until Dean clears his throat and brings it up. "Why does Janet at the farmer's market think we're married?"
Cas pauses, fork of pasta halfway to his mouth. He puts the fork down and takes a deep breath. "I'm sorry."
"I'm not mad," Dean hurries to clarify. "It's just that there's usually, uh. Steps, you know. Like a whole....thing."
"I'm aware." Cas sighs. "She assumed, seeing us around - the first time I spoke to her without you, she asked where my husband was. And I..."
"You didn't correct her?"
"...No. I, um." Cas is looking down at his plate again. He picks up the fork, still half-full of pasta, then puts it back down again. "I didn't want to?" He says the end of the sentence like a question but looks back up at Dean and squints just a bit, and Dean knows he's watching for a reaction.
"Uh huh."
"It felt trivial."
"To tell her we're not married?"
"To call you my boyfriend." For the first time, he stumbles over the word.
Dean blinks. "You--" he stops, brain processing too much information to finish that sentence. "Okay." He leans back in his chair. Sighs. Rubs a hand across his eyes and lets it drag down his face. "Okay, listen. I don't like boyfriend either, but we gotta...talk about it."
"We are talking about it. You don't like it either?" Cas leans forward as Dean slumps back, following him across the table.
Dean snorts. "No, man." He shakes his head. "It's been a decade. I've seen you die." Six times. But who's counting.
"I agree." Cas pauses, and then, as if it's the most natural conclusion in the world, "Will you marry me?"
Dean actually laughs at this. "You're asking me that now?"
Cas quirks an eyebrow at him. "I've grown quite fond of calling you my husband at the farmer's market. I'd like to continue."
Dean stares at him in disbelief. It's not how he'd pictured it going, but he also can't think of it going any other way. Slowly, he nods. "Yeah, okay. Let's be husbands."
Across the table, Cas grins at him.
"But we're getting rings," Dean points a finger at him, because something about this is going to be normal.
"If you'd like. Although I already told Janet that you can't wear a ring because of your work at the garage, and I don't wear mine in solidarity."
"Rings," Dean insists, and decides to overlook the rest of that sentence. For now. He stabs his fork into a pile of the pasta. "And let me stop for the damn tomatoes next time."
They get rings and wear them on chains around their necks. Cas puts a beehive on the hill, and there's a small ceremony in the summer - a "vow renewal" to Cas' beekeeping group, who all receive invites attached to little jars of honey. Janet gets the nicest one.
#mae clairenatural writing fic in the year 2023......#go easy on me im rusty#i started this a year ago and decided to finish it and that was PAINFUL#destiel#deancas#destiel fic#1.2k words#my words
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congrats on 5k queen! you’re writing is so brilliant beyond belief and you deserve all the love and support this site has to offer. can i request lando+angsty smut (the best combo)…prompts along the lines of “i don’t think im ever going to love anyone the way i love you”//“i don’t think i want to love anyone else”
how did it end?
ln x famous fem!reader
in which it ends, until…
i love this fic with my whole heart. thank u sm for this request, anon, and for being so absolutely for gorgeous and kind <3 kicking off the 5k celebration with a big, sad, sexy bang! lemme know what you think, hugs n kisses
songs to set the mood: how did it end? by taylor swift
warnings: 18+!! minors dni!! smut, angst angst angst, fluff, happy ending! exes to lovers, just. a lot going on. sad!lando, sad!everyone, so many feels, r is a big deal model, alcohol consumption, mentions of smoking
4.1k words
one gasp, and then…
“how did it end?” the woman strokes your arm, soothing, tentative.
you don’t know her all that well, she’s signed to the same agency as you, you see her in the halls sometimes and sit next to her in makeup chairs.
you stare blankly at her, registering. news travels fast apparently.
you smile, small, fake, tilting your head to the side. you mumble something about different schedules, timezones, right person, wrong time. she watches your face intently, with sympathy. you want to throttle her. she’s being kind and you despise her for it right now.
“i won’t tell anyone.” she affirms, her fingers still smoothing over the skin of your arm.
yes you will, you think. all of her friends, the rest of the building will know exactly what you’ve told her by the time you get to your meeting. you don’t begrudge her, though, that’s the nature of the industry.
“well, it was good to see you.” you nod, even go in for a quick hug, and then you speed away, beelining for the elevator. the ride is short, your managers office somewhere on the third floor and you shuffle down the corridor, ready to be informed of what your life will look like for the next three months.
fittings, shoots, paris trip.
mhm.
swimwear season, charlotte tilbury, meeting with the vogue journalist.
cool.
week off, few days in london, monaco grand prix.
no.
“what? no.” you splutter. out of habit, you reach for a necklace, frown when you realise it’s no longer there.
“what do you mean, no?” she narrows her eyes at you.
“i can’t go to the race. no.”
“girl, i love you, but did i ask?”
“you know i can’t-“
“you won’t have to see him.” she reasons.
“but what if i do? he’s obviously gonna be there, and the events before and after- no. no.”
“lando norris is not gonna be the end of you.”
you stifle a laugh, one that sounds more like a strangled cry.
what if he already was?
-
look who we ran into at the shops,
walking in circles like he was lost
lando stares at the shampoo.
specifically, the one you use. used. he can’t be too sure anymore, he supposes.
he’d popped out for a loaf of bread, about an hour ago. he didn’t want to acknowledge how long he’d been staring at the women’s toiletries section.
you seemed to live on, everywhere. lando could see you in his apartment, the passenger seat of his car, the back of the garage. even the fucking supermarket wasn’t safe. you were very much alive, moving on with life, and yet you haunted him like he’d killed you himself.
perhaps he had, in a way.
the basket grazes the outside of his leg.
that’s the shower gel he’d buy for you, the one you only used when you stayed with him in monaco.
there’s the tampons you asked him to buy, crying back at home on your- his bed.
oh, and there’s the shampoo that you made him buy, the one that you told him made his curls feel extra fluffy when he was between your legs-
“lando?” a voice calls, drawing lando out of the mist.
“oh, alex. hey.” lando croaks. he hasn’t noticed the lump in his throat until now. he clears his throat, running a hand through his hair.
“what you doing, mate?” alex asks, eyebrows furrowed. he scans lando’s face, puffy eyes, watery.
“shopping.”
“for women’s shampoo?”
“no, no, just… looking.” lando stutters.
“when was the last time you slept?” alex’s voice is laced with concern, apprehensive. he doesn’t know what to say to his heartbroken friend.
lando smiles weakly.
“i’ve been sleeping.”
alex sighs.
“okay, when was the last time you slept properly, then?”
lando’s shoulders visibly sag.
“about a month ago.”
-
we hereby conduct this post-mortem
“we can’t do this anymore.”
the words fall from your lips in a whisper, but they reach him like you’ve screamed them at him. he sits opposite you, in the arm chair, so far away, only a metre or so.
“i know.” lando breathes shakily.
“i don’t want this but…”
“yeah.”
it’s been such a good year. you’re in love. it’s not enough. there’s too much distance, too many outsider opinions, too much longing for someone who’s on the other side of the world.
he’ll be in london. you’ll be in brazil.
he’ll be in australia. you’ll be in amsterdam.
it’s too much.
“i love you, though.” you remind him meekly.
“don’t know how to not love you.” he sniffles.
your heart shatters, the pieces flying over the room, spilling across the floor. they mix with the splinters of his, painting the room red. all you feel is blue.
you cry in his arms when he takes you to bed, his own tears spilling over your collar bone when he buries his head in your neck, licks over the marks he’s left there. to remember me by, he’d muttered dryly.
when you’re both finished, he lays there for a moment, still on top of you. damp with sweat and tears, the taste of one another still lingering on your tongues.
“how is it possible that i miss you already?” he pants, lips grazing just below your ear.
“i get it, lan. i’ve been missing you for a while.”
you’re gone when he wakes up.
and so, a touch that was my birthright became foreign
-
come one, come all
it’s happening again
the empathetic hunger descends
there are about six cameras pointed at you when he asks the dreaded question.
you’re in new york, sat on a talk show hosts sofa, lit by stage lights and his inquisitive eyes. two hundred people sit in the audience, on the edge of their seats waiting for you to spill your secrets.
“so, what happened there, with lando?”
you plaster on the fakest smile to date, crossing your legs anxiously.
“we’re both just so busy, you know? he’s doing amazing things in f1 and i’m all over the place with work.”
“we love both of you over here, it was sad to hear.” he sympathises, adjusting his tie and leaning back in his chair. his fingers drum over the wood of his desk, waiting for more.
vultures. everyone is a vulture.
“and we still have a lot of love for each other. he’s a wonderful person.”
there are tears in your eyes and bile rising rapidly in your throat when you shake hands with the crew, the host, and retreat to your dressing room. you stumble into the en-suite and throw up. then, you fall onto the sofa and cry. you fix your makeup at godspeed and reply to the text from your team, inviting you to drinks at some rooftop bar, promising to meet them there. you punctuate the text with one too many exclamation marks, feigning excitement.
“we still have a lot of love for each other.”
translation: i can’t understand: how did it end?
-
lando watches your interview. of course he does. he watches everything that you do, watches the way you set the world on fire.
he can’t help himself where you’re concerned, like an addict craving the next hit. you look so pretty on tv, glowing. you look fine.
god, why do you look fine?
he hates himself for hating just how fine you look. he is not fine.
“he’s a wonderful person.”
your words ring in his ears. they anger him, because if he’s oh-so-wonderful, why aren’t you here? why isn’t he there with you, waiting backstage? why can’t you just hate him? why can’t he just hate you? maybe you will, if he shows you just how not wonderful he can be.
he gets drunk that night. forces max to hit the clubs with him. sticks his tongue down a pliant woman’s throat. doesn’t ask her name. let’s her invite him back to her place. it has to be her place, he can’t fuck someone else in your bed, the one you used to share. he leaves minutes after he’s pulled out. he’s sure she’s lovely, too good for him and his bitter fucking heart. he feels utterly disgusting.
lando goes home, scrubs his skin red, and then does it again. he doesn’t go to sleep, watches from his balcony as the sun begins to rise over the sea. he hikes to the highest point he can reach in monaco, where it’s quiet and there’s no one to judge him, or worse, sympathise with him.
he stands at the edge of the cliff. screams once, twice. he sits on a rock, and lets himself cry.
the deflation of our dreaming
leaving me bereft and reeling
my beloved ghost and me
sitting in a tree
d-y-i-n-g
-
your stylist is plying you with options.
you can wear the denim with the cream OR you could do the red and white? or we can go full glam! or! or! or! we could-
you drown her out. you don’t give a fuck. not a single one.
what you wear to the monaco grand prix is quite literally the least of the your problems. your biggest problem, of course, is that you have to go to the fucking thing.
visibility is important, get people talking! the words of your manager ring in your ears until you have a dull migraine brewing behind your ears.
you leave the fitting not entirely sure what you’re wearing, but your stylist will be sending the clothes over so you can pack.
when you land in all too familiar nice, there are cameras. when you get to the hotel in monaco, you and lando are already trending on twitter. well, at least he knows you’re coming. when you’re getting your makeup done before your first event, you get a text.
i’ll try and keep my distance.
try.
try is such an interesting word. the fact that he has to try to stay away makes your belly flutter with embarrassing, self loathing butterflies. don’t try too hard, you want to respond. you don’t.
should’ve told you i’d be here you shoot back.
you think i didn’t already know?
of course he knew. he’d probably asked god knows how many brands to invite you. you try and feign an illness but your team drag you kicking and screaming to the event.
-
there are no two ways about it: you’re drunk, on a tuesday night, somewhere in the principality. a few cocktails with a jewellery brand turned into a night on the town, bar hopping with people you hardly knew and barely recognised.
you’re shaking your ass in jimmy’z, pretending to have fun when you see him.
lando stands at the bar, watching you, jaw tensed, eyes solemn. you exit the club faster that his car down a back straight, stumbling into the smoking area. you bum a cigarette from a guy who tries really hard to convince you that he’s the son of a british lord, and sink into the corner, ignoring the people recording you.
depressed model shame smokes outside monaco club because she is fucking pathetic, the headlines will read.
“thought you quit that shit.” his voice washes over your body like you’ve been set on fire, smooth tone, ambiguous accent making you ache.
“i did but then i got forced to come to monaco, so.” you shrug.
“forced?”
“‘m here for work.” you sigh.
“i guess i am too.” he mumbles. you raise an eyebrow.
“you live here, lan.” you tease. lan rolls off of your tongue too sweetly.
“doesn’t feel like it anymore.”
how can it, without you? he wants to scream at you. he can’t, you don’t deserve it.
“how are you?”
you want to touch him.
“shit.”
he needs a taste.
“yeah.”
you put your cigarette out. it tastes like shit, half smoked.
you stand there, stare at each other.
take me home, you want to beg.
come home, he clenches his fists, trying not to grab you and remind you how you’ll always be his, right here, up against the side of the club.
“good luck, if i don’t see you.” you whisper. you linger, praying that he’ll beg you to stay so that you can crumble into his arms, without having to make the first move.
lando ponders his options. his head and his heart wage a war.
logic wins, unfortunately.
“thank you.”
you take that as your queue to get the fuck out of there, and disappear into the night.
-
it’s raining on sunday. the dreary weather seems to perfectly sum up what has been the worst week of your life.
you’ve seen your ex boyfriend more times than you can count, ended up with about four hangovers as a result, and with a pounding head, you have to sit in the paddock club and wait for the sound of engines to split your head in half. it was your own doing, so you’d suck it up, recognising that you were a disgustingly privileged bitch, and there are people who would sell their kidneys to do what you’re complaining about.
you never complain, not usually. but your heart hurts and your body hearts and your mind hurts and it’s just not fair. lando is gorgeous, and you miss him so badly, and your shoes are digging in. who the fuck thinks it’s a good idea to wear heels to an f1 race?
you see him before the race, mouth good luck from afar. he winks. it’s something you used to do before every race. old habits die screaming.
the rain falls harder, the track slick. you say a prayer and take your seat.
“norris has this in the bag, he’s bloody good in the wet.” you hear some old guy say behind you. you are cursed with the knowledge of just how good in the wet he is, and you end up flushed.
he wins. his second one in three races. you pray that no one notices the way you weep. everyone notices.
you make a mistake and rush for the podium, your pass giving you access. he graces the top step and you sob, grinning like a fool, soaked through with rain. the anthem plays, the champagne pops. he finds your eyes in the crowd. your hair falls, stringy and curled, mascara smudged. you are the most breathtaking sight. he stands still, washed with an onslaught of champagne, watching you like he’s scared to take his eyes off of you. his boyish grin and hopeful eyes render you weak - you’re there for him, after all - and he can’t help but bask in that little fact.
dangerous territory. you break, and disappear.
-
say it once again with feeling…
the photographers barely get a second to snap a picture of the top three, because lando is gone. he takes the stairs two at a time, descending from the podium and throwing his pirelli cap and a shaky apology at his pr rep. the adrenaline spike makes his blood rush; he needs to find you and stop you and tell you that he will never be able to stop loving you.
the exit is the natural assumption, and he nearly slips a thousand times as he sprints through the paddock. the ground is wet, but he figures that if his car made it, so can he. the gates are in sight, and so are you, your clothes sticking to your shivering frame.
he calls your name, thunderously travelling towards you, his voice hitting your ears like a sonic boom. you freeze, turn slowly until your facing him. the rain splashes around you, not letting up.
you’re within his reach, and he pulls you in, hugging you tight. you melt into him, clinging like he’s a life force. he inhales you, your scent that he’s missed so horrifically. you crumble, and so does he, pieced back together as one.
“i can’t do this, i can’t.” he kisses the words into the cold skin of your neck.
“no, neither can i.” you choke wetly with emotion.
“miss you too much. it’s too hard, it’s stupid, it’s-“
“wrong. it’s wrong. ‘m sorry.” your breath fans his face, breathing life into him, life that he’d lost four months ago.
he grabs your shoulders, lowering so that his eyes are level with yours. his curls fall over his eyes, sodden from the rain.
“i don’t think, no, i know: i’m never gonna love anyone the way i love you.” lando speaks slow, convincing. your chest is tight.
“i don’t want to love anyone else.” you croak, the lump in your throat making it hard to breathe.
“come back to me.” he mutters, pleading.
“don’t think i ever left.” you breathe, hushed.
your lips slot over his easily, it’s like breathing. the kiss is messy, helpless, and he engulfs you whole, his body wrapping around yours like a blanket. you latch onto his race-suit, drawing him in, and then you both seem to remember where you are.
lando norris caught kissing ex like horny teenager in monaco paddock!
you pull away with breathless chuckle. the air is fresh, and you feel alive. he steals another peck.
“wait for me at home. i’ll be quick.” his hand finds you ass, just for a second and you scold him playfully.
home.
yeah, home.
“don’t make me wait.” you grin.
his brain short circuits.
“do you still have your key?” he splutters, refocusing.
you scoff. “never took it off the chain.”
-
you pace the apartment, taking in the space. it hasn’t changed, but it’s messier, a visual representation of lando since you left. the pit of your belly swirls with anxiety, anticipation. he’ll be back soon, and he’ll kiss you, make love to you, remind you that you’re home and that it’d be stupid to leave again.
you’re still damp from the rain, shedding layers until you’re left in your vest and jeans, ridiculous heels kicked off by the door, your jacket airing over the back of a chair.
he hasn’t taken down the pictures of you together. he hasn’t moved your ugly collection of magnets from the fridge. he hasn’t changed the blinds that you chose, but he didn’t really like. your candles sit on the bookshelf half burned, the teddy he’d won you at a fair sits neatly on the sofa. the L pendant and it’s chain is strewn over the coffee table, right where you left it the morning after it ended. your breathing is heavy.
the front door opens behind you.
you don’t move, your eyes still fixed on the silver chain, overwhelmed by how empty your neck feels all of the sudden. he comes up behind you, his head resting on your shoulder, arms finding home around your waist. you often used to find yourselves in this exact position; while you brushed your teeth, made coffee. the room is deathly silent, breathing and the distant buzz of post race festivities the only thing you can hear. lando follows your gaze.
“kept it. knew that one day, you’d come back for it.”
“i came back for you.”
“and that necklace will stay with you when i can’t be there.”
you nod. he kisses your neck.
“missed you so bad.” you gasp. he licks your skin, bites down softly.
you spin in his arms, his hands pawing at your hips and everything blurs when he kisses you.
-
shaky fingers work over zippers, buttons, clasps, and then you’re both bare. you sink into the mattress that you missed so much, his body moulded with yours when you both tumble into the sheets. this is messy and frantic, utterly lovestruck. the lightning strike of his touch has you keening, sweating beneath him already.
“missed you. missed this.”
“do something, lan.” you cry, quiet against his shoulder.
“missed my perfect girl.” he grunts, lips working your chest while his fingers leave a trail of goosebumps over your inner thigh.
“please.” you sigh when his fingers dip between your folds, sliding over your wet flesh. his lip catches between his teeth, eyes fluttering shut at the feeling of you.
he thumbs at your clit, stroking over you in slow, firm swipes, and then he’s sinking a digit into you, slow and steady. your toes curl, tears pricking your eyes at the intrusion, but you don’t have much of a chance to adjust, a second finger joining the first. he fucks you full, the stretch of just two fingers making you whine, one hand threading into the sheets while the other slams over your mouth. you want to hide, the pleasure rendering you a mess across the pale grey linen.
“no, let me look at you.” lando rasps, spare hand tugging at your wrist. you whine, writhing when he curls his fingers. “why are you hiding?”
you can’t hold back the choked cry that sounds from the back of your throat, his palm bumping your clit as he grinds his fingers deep.
“gone shy on me, baby? where’s my good girl gone?” lando coos, moving so that he’s leaning over you. the angle change sends your legs flying, kicking out at the sweet torture. “‘s because you haven’t been fucked right in so long, hm? can’t remember how to behave?” he’s smirking down at you, scanning the changing lines of your face.
“need it, need-“ you stutter, the words dying on your tongue.
“words, pretty girl, words.” lando encourages, false sympathy dripping from his tongue.
“need to cum, want you to make me…” you trail off.
“was that so hard?” he tuts, and everything speeds up.
the sound of him working you so sweetly makes you shake, your thighs clenching tight around his hand. the wet squelch hits your ears and you blush, cheeks coloured deep with embarrassment, awe, desperation.
your mouth drops open, screaming silently when it hits, your thighs slick. you drip down his wrist, his hand covered in your release.
“there’s my girl.” lando sighs, diving down to kiss you hard.
you can feel the damp press of his fingers as they dig into your thighs and you squirm beneath him, finding your way into his mouth.
“fuck me.” you slur, teeth knocking with his. he swallows you whole, groaning into your mouth.
“not so shy now, hm? been dreaming of hearing you beg for it.” lando shudders, shifting between your legs.
you can feel the press of him, thick against your cunt and you wiggle your hips, pushing to meet him halfway. the stretch burns deliciously, and you grab at his shoulders, dragging him in.
“fuck, baby.” he breathes, sinking into you slowly. “feel like heaven.” disbelief coats his voice, like he can’t reconcile that this is real; you’re back here, his, in the bed you were always supposed to share.
“it’s so good. feel so good for me, lan.” you whisper, lacing your fingers through his hair.
“love you so much.” he kisses you like he means it, rocking into you with purpose.
“can’t believe i lived without this.”
“can’t believe you’re all mine.”
the release builds, every thrust reminding you of what you could have lost for good. there was no lack of love, in fact you were starting to wonder if you had loved each other too much before.
“never losing you again. can’t live without you. my beautiful girl.”
your tummy grows tight, and he finds your clit when he feels you clamp down on him. he pulls you through the pleasure, guides you to your orgasm and you blindly follow him. you’d follow him anywhere, you decide.
you tell him you love him when you let go, spilling all around him, warm. he’s panting, kisses your forehead gently. he rolls off of you, and you feel the slow drip instantly, but you curl into his side and he wraps around you.
home.
“promise me something.” he whispers. you feel the way he shakily inhales.
“hm?”
“don’t leave again. you belong here, too. with me.”
your eyes are watery.
“i’m staying. ‘m yours.”
“about that…”
lando springs from the bed, naked, disappearing from the room. you watch, confused, cold all of the sudden.
you can hear his footsteps padding through the hallway, and then he’s back, his figure in the hallway. he runs, jumps, lands gracelessly next to you. endeared, you laugh softly.
“sit up.”
you do, leaning up to sit next to him. his fingers skim your shoulder, pushing your hair out of the way. cool metal dances over your skin.
“back where it belongs.” lando smiles at you, eyes wide and stunning.
you toy with the L. something heals in your chest, right around where your heart is.
“the sweetest boy.” you shake your head in disbelief, grin up at him like a fool.
“bath?”
“you know me so well, noz.”
come one, come all
it’s happening again
-
oh, my heart. there is something deeply wrong with me
-
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disarm (18+)
contains: steve x reader; reader with a vagina; reader is called ‘girl’ once; sexual tension; drunk!flirty!steve; lil bit of inspection kink; size kink; teasing; no smut just whorish vibes
author note: i hope you folks like it! i won’t be doing a part 2 of this one, but hope you enjoy the tension :)
Steve’s always saying weird shit to you when he’s drunk.
You know he’s just uninhibited. That if he were sober he’d be so embarrassed. You keep telling yourself that, at least.
The first time he approaches you like this, he asks, “What color underwear you got on?”
You humor him, tipsy yourself. “Take a guess.”
Steve really looks like he’s thinking, dilated pupils staring deep into yours. “Red?”
“Nope.” you can’t stop looking at him, and he isn’t looking away either. “They’re blue, actually.”
“How’d you know that’s my favorite color?” he asks, voice low, leaning forward to rest his palm on your knee.
“Oh, you think I wore them for you?”
“I wish.”
He’s easily distracted and the conversation goes no further. It’s easy to shrug him off. You know he’s a whore, anyway - have to hear about his most recent date every time you see him.
But then it happens again.
Steve stops you in the hallway at the next party, his warm hand curling around your bicep gently. Makes you stop walking to look at him.
“Havin’ fun?” he asks. His t-shirt is cut low - your eyes are drawn to the dark patch of hair on his chest.
“I think so.”
He grins, borderline diabolical. Teeth straight and white, blunt edges that could bite bruises into your skin. “There’s a free bedroom upstairs if you wanna have more.”
“Huh?”
“I said -“ he leans in towards you, until the tip of his nose touches yours, “- there’s a free bedroom upstairs if you want to have more fun.”
He doesn’t stay very serious, however. He giggles, pulls away from you and winks before continuing on his way. You roll your eyes after him, trying to brush off the way he made your stomach flip. He apparently doesn’t fuck without a first date, anyway.
And then it just sort of keeps happening. Sometimes he’d just stare at you, mouth slightly agape, watching you from the other side of the room. Or he’d make sure his palm presses firmly against the small of your back as he “squeezes past” you to grab another drink, despite there being a five foot clearance.
One night, when he’s more drunk than usual - something to do with a bad week at work - he goes a lot farther than he has. He finds you in the corner of the living room, looking at the lines in your own palm.
“Hey,” he says, quite loudly, startling you.
When you look up, he’s extremely close to you. Eyes soft, but staring into yours. He smells like maraschino cherries, no doubt from the strawberry daiquiris he won’t admit he loves. “Hi,” you breathe, trying to look at his eyes, but they keep moving languidly from your eyes to your lips to your chest. Your breasts peak out from the scoop-neck of the baby tee you’re wearing. And, okay, it’s baby blue - you may have worn it just to see what he’d do.
“Can I help you?” you ask.
He nods, nose slanting downwards towards your tits. “Y’never really wear stuff like that.”
You shake your head. “Not really.”
“Why not?”
You grin. “Because pervs like you will stare.”
He scoffs. “That’s ‘stactly why you shouldn’t be wearin’ it here.”
Your eyes narrow at him. Now he’s just being annoying. “Oh, are you mad?”
“A little.” He licks his lips, tongue stained red from the mixer. “You should only be wearin’ somethin’ like that when you’re gonna get fucked.”
Your eyes widen, heart hammering in your chest, enough to feel it in your throat. He’s never been so forward before. And he’s backing you into the wall, trapping you in - very deliciously.
He tilts his head, highlighted hair bobbing over his forehead. “Are you gonna get fucked tonight?”
You swallow hard, blood icy cold. You’re not used to this tango, not with him. “You tell me.”
Steve blinks like he’s also shocked, goes a little slack jawed. He looks down at your tits, then back up. “I think you should get fucked tonight.”
Your hand clenches around your drink, threatening to fall to the floor. You’re weak, sore and needy between the legs.
Perhaps he’s willing to make an exception for the date rule for you.
“Will I?”
“With tits like those?” He nods down again. “Bet you’ve got the sweetest nipples. You like havin’ ‘em bit? Sucked?”
You wonder if he feels the heat radiating off of your face. “Steve,” you say, trying to give him a warning. You can’t breathe, knees beginning to shake. “What kind of friend asks that?”
His jaw clenches, then unclenches. “So you just see me as a friend?”
You bite your cheek. “That’s what you are, aren’t you? Or do you know something I don’t?”
“I -“
You’re both startled by the sound of champagne popping, shrieks and woops breaking you out of whatever you were just entangled in. And Steve, so easily distracted, groans and marches towards the kitchen, shouting, “I told you to take that shit outside!”
You inhale deep, thumping chest caving in, collarbones turning sharp. It’s suddenly so cold without him in front of you. You run a hand through your hair and look around, spotting Robin grinning at you from ear to ear. You roll your eyes at her and move through the living room to get some water and air.
You wonder if he’ll even remember when he’s sober. If he’ll apologize for asking something so insane. But he either doesn’t remember or wants to forget, because when you’re back to return tapes two days later he acts completely normal. It isn’t a bad thing - it’s a bit fun to play with him in such a non-serious way. Though you do find his hands gripping the next tape you rent for a bit too long, shoves your change into your hand and lets his palm linger against yours.
Another get together - you can hardly call it a party when there’s only ten people present - brings you back to his apartment two weeks later. It’s much more low key and he, in turn, drinks much less. He still gets drunk, though - laughing loudly, freckled neck on display. Does things he gives Robin shit for. You laugh beside her when she scoffs at him, throwing a pillow across the way to hit him in the back of the head.
“I’m gonna get a drink,” she says. “Do you want one?”
You tell her you’re okay and she’s off, leaving the couch beside you empty. Which Steve notes. Immediately.
“What’s a place like you doin’ in a girl like this?”
“You invited me,” you remind, the couch dipping as he sits beside you.
“Ohhh. And why’d I do that?”
You hum, trying to suppress a smile. “I don’t know. You must like me.”
He narrows his eyes. “You know I do.”
You’re already getting horny again. “Because I leave big tips for you?”
“And what do you know about big tips, huh?”
You laugh, a little shrill, feeling very much on the spot. Then he grabs your hand, pulling it up against his. You assume he’s comparing the size - a clear flirting tactic - and you watch him with much adoration as he examines them together. His first knuckle is able to come down on your finger tips and he grins. “You’ve got small hands.”
“Maybe yours are just freakishly big.”
“Wanna know what else is?”
Which, truly, in any other situation this would be funny. But it so isn’t. His words are deathly serious to you.
“Well, it can’t be your brain.”
Steve scoffs again. “Oh, funny.”
Out of nowhere, you’re doused with something cold. Robin’s tripped on the rug, spilling her wine on you. You gasp just as she says, “Oh, shit!”
“Rob-in!” Steve sounds more than exasperated with her, but it’s hard to take it seriously when he’s slurring.
“Oh my god, I’m so sorry - I got - I tripped - with my big clown feet - oh my god, are you okay?”
“I’m fine!” you promise, despite the huge red stain on your white shirt. It’s still dripping down you, onto your skirt. Drenched. “Uh, let me go to the bathroom.”
“I’ll help,” Steve says, stumbling when he stands, helping you off the couch. You’re certain he won’t be much help but you accept his assistance anyway.
You’ve noticed how Steve gets into these dad modes. Like, one time Robin choked on a lemon seed that was in her water and Steve wouldn’t let her drink without him checking her cup for two months afterwards. And there was the time that Eddie, clumsier than Robin, tripped and scraped his knee, and Steve acted like Eddie was five. So now it’s your turn, ushered into his bathroom while he props you against the counter and scrounges around for a towel.
“It’s okay,” you say, “I’m just wet.”
“I got it,” he assures, running a washcloth under the tap. You’re sure he thinks he’s helping, as much as he can when he’s inebriated, but you’re very certain a wet washcloth won’t help. He swats your hands away when you try to take it from him, and he starts blotting the wine.
His hair in your face smells fruity, like his hairspray. “Steve, I don’t think this is doin’ much.”
His brows are knitted in concentration. “‘s almost out.”
You look down. It is not.
But you let him feel important anyway. Watching as he dabs and dabs and dabs over your sternum. His breath tickling your neck. And now that the shock has worn off, you’re getting turned on again. By his attention, how he’s trying to help, how his big fucking paws are right there. You’re practically begging god to make him do something when his hands start wandering.
Steve brings the towel over your breast, blotting as usual, then slowing. Like it’s clicking what he’s doing. And then he presses a little harder, lingers for a while. His palm touching you more than the cloth. His eyes drift up to yours as he moves towards the other. And instead of blotting, his hand cups it.
You simply let him.
The cold has made your nipples perk up under your bralette. Steve’s thumb swipes over the hardened nub. You both stare at each other, willing the other to do more, but it’s left in a stalemate. Steve throws the washcloth in the sink, lets his hand slide over your heart.
“Heartbeat’s so fast,” he observes softly. “What’s that all about, huh?”
You swallow hard. “Lot of excitement.”
His eyes drift down. “I can tell.”
You take a big breath, looking away from him. “Do you have something I could borrow?”
“Like what?”
“Like, a shirt?”
Steve blinks, looking sad. “Oh. Yeah, yeah, prob’ly.”
As you walk behind him to his room, you decide you’ll throw him a bone whenever the opportunity arises. You certainly can’t have him thinking you don’t like his attention. You watch him clumsily rifle through his closet before he finds a black sweater that’ll match your skirt well enough.
It makes you dizzy how it smells like him, even freshly laundered. “Thank you.”
“Mhm.” Steve simply stands in front of you, hands on his hips, lips pulled in tight. Looking at you like he’s thinking really hard.
You bite your lip, heartbeat fastening again. You turn from him to place the shirt on his bed, which seems to snap him out of whatever stupor he’s in. He clears his throat and turns to leave, but you call after him.
“Steve?”
He turns, brows furrowed. “Yeah?”
You inhale deep before slowly peeling your shirt off of you. Taking your time, letting it catch on the curve of your breasts. You let it slip to his floor and you continue watching him. Watching his chest rise and fall rapidly, his nostrils flaring, chestnut eyes staring right at your bra-clad chest. You’re so hot you’re beginning to sweat - and then you reach behind you to unclasp your wet bralette.
Steve’s jaw drops comically slow as it joins your shirt on the floor. You can’t help but to smile.
“What do you think?” you ask quietly.
He shakes his head slowly. “Think you’ve been holdin’ out on me.”
You press your tits together with your arms as you shrug at him, turning around to fetch the sweater he’s given you. You figure it’ll be enough for him to know you’re wearing his shirt, chest bare underneath, but then he says, “Your skirt is wet, too.”
You don’t turn to look at him as you grab the fabric, leaning forward for it. “Don’t suppose you have one for me to borrow?”
You didn’t even hear him walking up behind you. You’re suddenly pressed into the bed, his hand pushing down on the space between your shoulder blades to keep you against the mattress. Your breath hitches, stomach flipping. You feel how hard he is against your ass, and he grinds once before sliding down to kneel behind you.
“What are you doing?” you breathe.
“Checkin’ out the damage.” His hands push your skirt up, up, up, until it rests above your ass. You feel his breath fanning across the back of your thighs. “Y’know,” he continues casually, “since you said you’re wet.”
Your breaths turn shallow. Steve’s hands, warm and soft, run up the backs of your thighs slowly. You part them for him. Heat rushes to your face when he laughs behind you, but he doesn’t say anything. Must just be overjoyed that you’re letting him do this.
His hands move to your hips, squeezing them slightly before tucking his fingers under the waistband of your underwear. You’re so dizzy it almost makes you sick - but you wait patiently as he slowly pulls them down.
“Oh, you weren’t kidding,” he observes quietly. Lets your underwear hang around your knees. “All this for me?”
“Yes,” you whine. “Been - you’ve been working me up for weeks.”
“I know.”
You want to call him a bastard, but you’re stunned into silence when he parts your folds. The sound it makes is embarrassing to you, but Steve coos at it. “You’ve got such a pretty pussy. Knew you would.”
You exhale shakily. “Steve….”
“Fucked my fist to it,” he admits. “But I didn’t think it’d be so tiny.”
And then one of his fingers presses against your hole. Just enough. You short circuit, electric running through you, knees going weak. Steve’s free hand steadies them, fingers splayed out along your skin.
“Can you even get any fingers in here?” he mumbles. Circles your little hole, your eyes crossing. “Know your hands are so tiny, too.”
“No,” you force yourself to say. “Not really.”
He sounds contemplative. “Just one of mine would split you in two.”
His finger trails down, resting at your swollen clit for a few short moments before he pulls away, yanking your underwear back up.
You feel more than upset. Devastated that he’s pulled away. You want to grab him, cunt hurting from the teasing with no relief.
“Steve-“
“You know I don’t fuck without a date first,” he grins. As if he didn’t just ruin your life with whatever that was. Like he didn’t just turn you into his cock-dumb whore. Jesus Christ, if he told you to spend the rest of the night topless, you would. “So here’s what’s gonna happen, okay?”
Then he’s back, leaning over you, pushing you into his bed. His cock really straining against his jeans while he presses into your ass. He puts his lips right up against your ear. “You’re gonna get dressed ‘nd we’re gonna party, ‘kay? Then tomorrow I’m gonna pick you up and take you for breakfast.” He ruts himself into you and you moan. “Sorry, sweetheart. ‘m usually a dinner guy but I can’t wait that long to have you. How’s nine sound?”
“You… there’s n-no way you’re going to be up at nine.”
He scoffs. “‘ve got an alarm clock.”
You press your ass back into him. “You’ll forget.”
“Haven’t forgotten you so far.” Grinds against you again.
“You remember when you’re sober?”
“Honey. You’re all I’ve been able to think about.”
Then he’s off of you, leaving your tits pressed to his mattress, overwhelmed. He walks towards his desk while you desperately try to stand - your legs are still shaking. Your fingers curl around his sweater just as he comes back, arm marked up with a pen.
BREAKFAST AT 9 WITH HOTTIE :)
“See? Won’t forget.”
You’re still not so sure - you’ll have to wait and see. As you finally start pulling his sweater on, he grabs your bra, tucking it into his back pocket. “I’ll wash it for you,” he says, patting it.
“Yeah? After you cum in it?”
Steve smiles deviously. “You wanna watch me do it?”
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Canto V
Plagas!Leon Kennedy x fem! reader
Synopsis: Leon's back from Spain, but there's something off about him.
CW: nsfw 18+, p in v, dubcon, implied somnophilia, breeding kink, bruising, titplay, cunnilingus, creampie, unprotected sex, forced orgasms, overstimulation, lots of spit, choking, reader passes out during sex
WC: 2.4k
It may as well be a universally known concept that when you’re in a relationship with a government agent, you’d better get used to being strangers with the finer details. Who, what, when, where, and why made themselves at home in your vocabulary while you were dating Leon. It was all futile; he couldn't ever tell you where he was going for his next mission or when he was coming back to your grabby hands. Swearing confidentiality with your left hand on the Bible trumps a loving, concerned girlfriend apparently.
Leon had been gone for a few days this time around, and you weren’t sure when exactly he’d be back. You prayed to every divinity who cared to listen that he would come back home safe and sound to you. You did so every time he left. The government calls, he runs, you make your deals with Jesus.
The clock strikes midnight as you flit around your apartment, closing the kitchen and ensuring everything is locked up for the night. You got home from work rather late, and you’re looking forward to falling into a deep slumber, especially since you’ve taken your everything shower, completed your skincare routine, and changed into a cute teddy bear print cami with matching boy shorts. While your heart aches for your absent boyfriend, you throw your shoulders back and keep your chin high, braving another night of sleeping alone in your queen-sized bed. You slide under the covers and turn off your bedside lamp before closing your eyes and ultimately slipping into a welcomed state of unconsciousness.
Scratching, more scratching… Huh? You blearily open your eyes before squinting at the time displayed on your alarm clock - 1:48 am. Did something wake you? You don’t hear anything, yet you have the sinking feeling that something did lull you out of your sleep. You fumble to turn the lamp on - thankfully, there’s nothing standing in the corner of your room or anything else that would have you screaming bloody murder until your lungs collapsed. The covers are pulled aside as you sit up in bed, planting your feet on the hardwood floor.
Once your feet lightly hit the floor, a terrible shuffling resounds from the living room which makes your blood freeze over. Your limbs are immobilized, but your eyes move towards the door, like you’re in a state of sleep paralysis and your demon’s lurking around the corner. Heavy footsteps grow closer and closer to your door, and you watch the doorknob turn in slow motion.
The door swings open, and your body dissolves.
“Leon?” Your eyes blink at him, unsure for a second if he’s the product of a sleep paralysis induced hallucination.
Your lover stands before you with a somewhat dazed expression himself - dark circles engraved below his exhausted eyes, faded bruises on his face, dark veins trailing across his pale skin. He stands transfixed for what feels like forever before he blinks. “Baby.”
The sound of his voice breaks you out of your own stupor, and you launch off the bed and straight into his arms. You bury your face in his chest as you wrap your arms around him tightly. “You’re home.”
He shudders violently before his arms encircle you as he buries his face in your hair, inhaling the smell of your shampoo - ah, figs and camellia, a breath of fresh air from guts and mold. “I missed you… I almost didn't…” His voice is unsteady, wavering in a way that makes you want to never let go of him.
“It's okay, my love. You're home now, you’re safe.”
“I almost didn't make it… You don’t know what happened…” His hands shake slightly as he grips onto you a little harder.
A lump forms in your throat at the realization that he could have very well perished during this mission. It’s not often that he lets you see him in such a vulnerable state, so hearing the fear decorate his tone causes your heart to squeeze painfully.
“What happened?”
“You know I can’t tell you that.”
“Fine, at least tell me where you were. S’not like I can head there and foil the government’s plans after it’s already over. ”
“...Spain.”
You wonder what kind of horrors had transpired in Spain, but you know better than to inquire further. You hold him close and rub his back soothingly, trying to make him feel as loved as possible. “It's over now, right?”
“Right…” A hint of worry colors his tone as he presses a kiss to your head. “Can we just go to sleep?”
“Of course,” you reach up to gently rub the shadowy veins visible underneath his eyes and creeping up his neck. “Are you feeling okay?”
“Yeah. Guess my body just went through a lot back there.”
You take his arms, turning them over and over and examining them closely for any serious wounds. Thankfully, you don’t see anything except for the occasional minuscule scrape, though the unnaturally dark veins worry you. You’re afraid they may be the result of some sort of vascular impairment, so you make a promise to yourself that you’ll drag him to the doctor’s office soon for a proper assessment. You help him wash up, letting him use your products so he’s soft and smelling like you. You hold each other close in bed, relishing the feeling of finally being able to sleep in each other’s arms after time apart.
Ouch. You wince slightly as you wake up to the sun streaming in through your lace curtains. You drowsily fumble for Leon’s hand to hold first thing in the morning like you usually do, but the space next to you is empty. You certainly hope you hadn’t just dreamed of his homecoming.
“Baby?” You croak as you wince again. Are you naked? And why are you so sore? Your eyes trail down to your arms which are littered with bruises. Eyes wide like cherry pies, you tug the comforter off to discover that the rest of your bare body is marked in a similar fashion - bruises bloomed across your neck, teeth marks engraved in your breasts, handprints stamped onto your hips like someone had been gripping onto them for dear life. Trembling, you slowly raise yourself up to a sitting position. You squirm as you feel slick in between your thighs, how fresh it is, you can't say for sure.
“Leon?” Your voice sounds foreign to your own ears as you call out for your lover.
You’re dazed as you take a step forward, feeling your body spinning like a ballerina, a delicate little thing that’s been used and abused and stuffed in a box marked FRAGILE. A strong pair of arms wrap around you from behind, anchoring you to his bare chest- they’re so much warmer than your Leon’s. Your eyes flutter as they gaze straight up into a pair that look like your Leon's except they’re murkier, hungrier.
Inky blood vessels coagulate underneath his skin, giving him a mottled appearance. They interweave throughout his body like morbid ribbons decorating his limbs for a funeral. He breathes heavily as he squeezes at your already tender body, causing you to whimper.
“Leon, ‘m sore… What did you do?” A low growl reverberates within him as he pulls you back onto the bed, shoving you onto your back. Before you can interrogate him further, his lips smash against yours. His kisses are all teeth and slobber, filled with nothing but the desire to ravage everything you hold near and dear.
“Mine, all mine,” he groans as he latches his lips onto your neck, decorating it with his very own artistic flair. “Mine to keep forever.” You whimper at the way his lips assault your most sensitive point like a wolf ready to tear out the wide eyed fawn’s throat.
“Fuck, feels so good,” you moan which further ignites that primal instinct in him that wants to give you the greatest pleasure you’ve ever known, all for the sake of claiming you as his very own mate. He squeezes your tits together and spits on them before rubbing it into your nipples with the rough pads of his thumbs. You squeal at the stimulation as he takes a nipple in his mouth, suckling at it as hard as he can before letting go with a pop.
“God, Leon,” you cry out as he continues to suck on your tits. He pushes them together as hard as he can and forces both nipples into his mouth so he can lap at them like a creature who stumbled across an eternal spring in the vast desert.
“Love these tits,” he groans. “Sweet fucking nipples, made to suck on all day and night. To think they’re gonna get even bigger when they're full of milk.” He pushes his face in between them before finally pulling away with a slap to each one, watching them jiggle with a carnal gaze.
“M-milk?” You whimper as he kisses across your abdomen and lowers down to your leaking pussy.
“Yeah,” he pants as he spreads your dripping folds open with his thumbs, inspecting the remnants of the now stale cum he had dumped inside while you slept like an unsuspecting angel. “Your body has accepted my gift.” A tinge of fear courses through your veins at this last line; you can’t put your finger on why it makes your skin crawl, but they don’t sound like your Leon’s words.
“Gift?” You involuntarily moan as he lets himself drool on your pussy before pressing sloppy kisses straight onto your clit.
“You’ll take my seed.” He starts lapping at your pussy ruthlessly, but not before grabbing your thighs and forcing them to clamp around his head, keeping him fused to your most intimate parts. Your sweet noises overflow the room as your back arches like he’s possessing you, dragging you down to flail around for eternity among the powerful black winds. Your voice turns shrill as you cum on his salacious tongue. Canto V.
When he finally emerges for air, his eyes are now murkier than before - the once serene blue that inspired such tranquility is now charred, tenebrous. “Leon,” your eyes tear up as you gaze down at him with your elbows propping you up.
“Shh,” he smirks as he raises himself up to pump his hard cock a few times before aligning himself with your pretty hole. “My baby, my lamb. Gonna get your beautiful belly all swollen for me. Gonna creampie you as many times as it takes.” He pushes himself inside your sopping cunt as you wail for the heavens. Your pussy allows him to enter with ease, clenching around him like it needed him to breathe - which it did. He begins to thrust into you with all the vigor of a madman.
“So good for me, my fucking girl,” he pants as he continues to pound into you. He leers at the way your tits bounce at each thrust before leaning over to spit on them. Your chest gleams with his saliva as you moan louder than you ever have before, like your throat really is being ripped out by the big bad wolf. His cock reaches deep, hitting all the spots you know nothing else can, and before you know it, you’re cumming all over him as he continues to pummel into you. Your nails dig into his back as you try to claw onto anything that can keep you physically grounded through your orgasm.
He laughs a little to himself as he continues to fuck you despite the fact you just came. “L-leon,” you cry out. “S’too much, too sensitive.”
“You can take it, been taking it all night.” His balls slap against your ass as he leans down to jam his lips against yours, licking into your mouth until your head’s all dizzy again. He rears back to push your legs up against your chest as his cock pounds into you; the new angle’s making your eyes roll all the way back into your head. “Oh, fuck,” he murmurs to himself as his breath hitches and he stares down at you losing yourself in the mating press. “That’s a good breeding bitch.” His words are hushed, but they bounce around in your head and yank another orgasm out of you, leaving you sobbing from the overstimulation.
“S’okay baby,” he coos as he kisses your salty tears away and wraps a hand around your smooth throat. “You’re doing so well, accepting my gift.” His eyes unsettle you, damn near pitch black as they peer right into yours. Your battered pussy tightens in tandem with the hand gripping your throat. Your tongue lolls out as you start seeing stars, and he sucks on it. “Give me another one, little lamb.”
“C-can’t,” you slur as your limbs dissolve. You want to give him another one. Want it, want to bear his child, want to exist for him. Want to breathe him, let him pump through your circulatory system. His breathing becomes erratic, damn near hysterical, as he nears his own high. He rubs your swollen clit to bring you closer to yet another orgasm, though you wonder if you’ll live to tell the tale once you reach it. He pounds into you as hard as he can, unrestrained growls falling from his lips as he dumps his load into you. You manage to cum yet again, release so intense on your already wasted form, that it shatters your senses. You’re vaguely aware of someone shrieking, and it takes a while to realize that it’s coming from your own mouth. You did it. Your vision goes black, and you slump into unconsciousness.
The first thing you perceive when you regain consciousness is the calloused hand gently caressing your face as if you’re a china doll. “Leon?” Your mumble brings him to slowly gaze at you with concern and shame.
“Baby.” He raises his other hand to hold yours with all the love and tenderness he could muster. “How are you feeling?”
“Sore… tired…” You frown slightly as you try to sit up, but he stops you from straining yourself. “What happened, Leon?”
“I’m so sorry.” His eyes are cast downwards as if the floor will be more forgiving than his own lover. “I’m not okay.”
“It’s okay,” you frown as you squeeze his hand reassuringly. “You didn’t hurt me.”
“I could’ve. I thought this thing had resolved itself in Spain.”
“We’ll figure this out together.” You gently tug his arm, signaling to him that for now, you just want him laying with you. He slides into the bed and cautiously rolls you over on your side so that he’s spooning you from behind. He buries his face in the crook of your neck and gives your belly a pat.
#leon kennedy x reader#leon kennedy smut#leon kennedy#leon kennedy drabble#leon kennedy x you#leon kennedy fanfic#leon kennedy imagine#leon kennedy angst#leon kennedy oneshot#resident evil x reader#resident evil smut#resident evil
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omgg how about car sex with gojo?
⟣ tags. gojo satoru x female reader. unprotected, creampie, breast play. spanking. big dick satoru bcs. yes.
you wouldn’t have agreed to this if satoru’s windows weren’t tinted. luckily for both of you they were and it was in the middle of the night—an empty parking lot serving as the perfect setting for your ‘activities’.
“shit—look at you, riding this cock so fuckin’ well.” satoru grins, slumping back in his seat, legs spread with his hands on your hips to guide you back and forth on top of him. you were doing most work however, bouncing and sometimes grinding against him in attempt to take his massive length in as far as it could reach.
“nghhh, ‘toru, s’good.” your fingers dug into his shoulder and curl around the material of his shirt. the condensation on the car windows becomes more noticeable the more you two go at it. your mixed breath, gasps and moans fill the air whilst your combined thrusts make the car itself shake in its place.
satoru’s hand lands harshly on your ass once, and then twice for good measure. he relishes in the sensations of you tightening up whenever he’s spanking you; “yeah? i know it is. you wouldn’t be bouncing on my dick like a desperate and greedy little thing if it wasn’t.”
you felt like you could run out of breath at any moment thus you slowed down a bit, pressing your upper body against your lover’s to calm yourself down—the pleasure chasing was a tiring task after all. especially when satoru’s mainly letting you do all the work while he’s lazily leaning back against the headrest.
he did look as handsome as ever; the light blue dress shirt crinkled and slightly unbuttoned at the bottom to let you see his abs tensing with each grunt, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows which allowed you to see every vein on his arms whilst his hands played with your breasts. the one thing that perfected that look were his sunglasses which rested on the top of his head. satoru had apparently took them off to see you in all your glory;
“already tired, hm?” he chuckles once he notices how much you’re struggling to resume your movements. his hand strokes the back of your head lovingly, the other still playing with your tits, “want me to help you out?”
you nod with a weak ‘please’, too exhausted to ride him any further all on your own. you had already came thrice whilst he had reached his climax only once.
“aww, all right, pretty.” satoru chuckles before slowly lifting your hips up and off his lap, eyes darkening for a second once he sees the mess on his dick and thighs—your own slick mixed with his cum staining his skin. it made him want to devour you right away.
he lays you down over the backseat and wastes no time climbing between your legs, pumping his length with one hand whilst looking down at your body spread out for him in such a small place.
having spent the last half an hour seeing you bounce on his cock whilst he did nothing but smack your ass or play with your tits was all for this moment—he was gathering and sparing his energy to fuck you good at last;
“hold onto me, angel. can’t guarantee you’ll be able to walk straight after this.”
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In which Floyd's transformation potion wears off, causing him to be stuck in his eel-merman form in a large tank.
Now (Y/n) has to entertain him.
Request by anon.
You had always admired the Mostro Lounge's interior design. Large tanks that lined the walls, some that connected to the vast ocean outside the building and allowed little fish and other creatures to pass through. You used to spend a lot of time watching all these adorable and innocent creatures swim past the glass facade. But now, all of them had been chased away by a vicious predator.
Floyd.
You exhaled and watched as he terrorised the last remaining guppies until they fled the tank. The large eel-merman was left alone in the tank, now bored out of his mind. There were no more little fish to torment. So he turned to you, who stood outside the tank and watched him swim around. He flashed his teeth at you, you poor little fish.
"Shrimpy!" he cried out once his head penetrated the surface of the tank. His arms were resting on the upper edge of the tank, the water from his skin dripping to the ground. He shot you a sly smile. "Come a little closer. I don't bite."
You wrapped your arms around yourself, making sure your blazer was still dry. Despite his pressing gaze, you didn't move a centimetre. "I don't wanna get wet. You splashed Azul when he gave you your lunch earlier."
Floyd let out a groan at your reply. "Shrimpy, don't be such a guppy!"
His words caused you to quirk an eyebrow. "I'm not a guppy. I have good reasons not to trust you," you said, a tad bit of playfulness lingering in your voice. You chortled softly, knowing better than to come closer to him.
"What?! I'm as innocent as those little spikeballs from the Heartslabyul garden, the ones you like to cuddle! I deserve appreciation too, don't I?" the merman whined, as if your words had offended him. He pulled his arms away from the ledge of the tank and sank to the bottom of the tank, so he could face you properly. His long tail curled around the floor as he glared at you, the glass wall being the only thing separating you two.
You shrugged softly. "Who says you won't pull me into that tank if I get closer."
"I would never. I swear on Jade."
His words drew loud laughter from your lips. You almost doubled over from how intense the wheezes were that shook your body. "You'd swear on your own brother?" you asked and held your stomach in pain. As your laughter faded out into chuckles, you gazed around the empty Mostro Lounge. "I hope he didn't hear that..."
Floyd chuckled along, but his laughter quickly turned into grumbles of annoyance again. "Come on, Shrimpy. I'm bored!" he complained again and swam circles in his tank. It was large enough to allow for vast movement, but it was empty of any entertainment. "I wanna walk again, poke your side and annoy you."
You chuckled and crossed your arms. "Yeah, you're a real menace. Maybe it's good you're stuck in that tank for a few hours," you teased him. Unable to help yourself, you stuck your tongue out at him.
Floyd clutched his chest dramatically and sank to the bottom of the tank, where he remained motionlessly. "Shrimpy, you're so mean to me..."
Laughter spilled from your lips, and you couldn't help but tap your finger nail against the glass wall. "Stop it, Floyd. You're so dramatic."
"You're breaking my heart..." the eel-merman whined before regaining life again. At the speed of light, he shot up from the ground of the tank and zoomed off into a dark corner.
You brought your face closer to the glass, your eyes scanning the vast tank. The back was littered with large stones and tall kelp plants. Even though his tail was long, he somehow managed to easily hide amongst the flora of the tank. A worried feeling made itself apparent in your stomach. "Floyd? Where are you? Come out again," you yelled out nervously.
Did your playful banter go too far? Did you actually manage to insult him.
Your head began to spin with thoughts of how hurt he must feel. Feeling awful, you desperately searched for any sign of life from him. But your eyes never managed to see past the plants and rocks in the tank. He was nowhere to be found.
With each passing minute of your fruitless search, guilt and dread weighed down your conscience. You began to feel bad about what you had said to him. Any attempt of calling out to him was met with awful silence. With Floyd gone, the empty Mostro Lounge became eerie and lifeless.
Your guilt got the better of you, and you climbed up the ladder that led to the upper ledge of the tank. Your eyes scanned the crystal clear water, but even from up there, you couldn't manage to find him amongst the kelp. With your hands tightly gripping onto the ledge, you leaned over the tank.
"Floyd... I'm sorry. I didn't mean what I said," you murmured softly. "Please come out again. I'm worried about you..."
You're met with silence again. He still seemed too hurt to reply you. Or that's what you thought at least. With all the feelings of guilt that plagued you, you didn't notice the threatening shadow that approached you from below. Your torse continued to lean over the ledge, desperately trying to find your friend in the tank.
That was until a webbed hand shot out from the water and grabbed your arm. A scream escaped your lips as you were pulled into the tank with ease. Your body toppled over the ledge and plunged into the water. Strong limbs and an even stronger tail constricted most of your panicked movement.
Your clothes felt heavy and your eyes burnt as you were finally able to open them. You came face to face with a mischievously grinning Floyd. He held you tightly, but making sure your head remained above the water. An unsettling giggle escaped his lips. "I never was mad at you. I just needed you to feel guilty and come closer to the tank so I could pull you in."
You glared at him, but your anger was only half-hearted. "You sly eel..."
Your struggling is met with carefree laughter from his side. "That's what we're known as. Smart, sly and slippery!" he exclaimed smugly and swam around the tank with you. A bright smile was plastered onto his face, akin to that of a child that had just received a present.
"I should have known this was just another one of your ploys," you murmured in dismay.
Floyd pressed you against him until you could only wheeze out your complaints. "You're like a rubber duck! So easily squeezable and cute," he cooed playfully.
"Hey, let me go!" you cried out with red cheeks.
His laughter turned louder, until it filled the entirety of the Mostro Lounge. "Sorry, no can do, Shrimpy. You're my little rubber ducky until I get my transformation potion."
"Azul! Hurry up with the potion!" you yelled out at the top of your lungs.
Before you could say more, Floyd pulled you underwater to shut you up. After a few seconds of having his fun, he pulled you up again. A giggle escaped his lips at your disoriented state. He merely soothed your strangled whines by pulling you closer, his arms circling around your waist.
An eerie smile decorated his face as he patted your head. "Oh, he can take his time. I don't mind...."
#twisted wonderland#twst x reader#twst#disney twisted wonderland#twisted wonderland x reader#reader insert#y/n#disney twst#twst x you#floyd leech#floyd leech x reader#floyd x reader#twst floyd#twst floyd leech#twst floyd x reader#twisted wonderland floyd#gender neutral reader
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She’s A Gun
Pairing: Joel Miller x fem!reader
Author’s note: *John Mulaney voice* My wife is a bitch and I love her SO much (gif by @salome-c) I also didn’t know how to end this so sorry
Summary: Somebody didn’t give the new guy a heads up about talking about Joel Miller’s family [1.6k]
Warnings: idiots in love, a quick mention of a queer slur, I can’t think of anything else!!
You catch him looking at you across the room as you sip some new whiskey Tommy traded for. He looks young and fresh-faced without many scars or littering the surface of his skin. His eyes are bright when they meet yours, and you give him a polite smile before returning to your drink. Unsurprisingly, he bellies up to the bar a few minutes later. You glance at the door, and the man follows your gaze.
"You meeting someone?" He asks. The bartender, a kind man named Nick, flashes you a look, but you wave him off, turning to the younger man, who is dead set on making his presence known.
"You must be new." You say, and he laughs as he holds out his hand.
"You got me. I'm Luke," He says. You meet him halfway and shake his hand, giving him your name. "Where are you from?"
"I came here from Boston."
"You're a long way from home. What brought you here?"
"Long story."
"Is it longer than the time it would take to get you another drink?"
"I can get my own drink, but thank you."
"'Course," he says but doesn't move from his place next to you. "What do you do here in Jackson?" He asks, and you open your mouth to say something, but he cuts you off. "Let me guess. School teacher. No, a nurse."
"I work patrols, but good guess."
"Oh, I'm going to work patrols, too. I actually just signed up for my first shift tomorrow. Speaking of which, do you know anything about this guy… Miller, I think, is his name. I heard he's a hard ass."
"Joel or Tommy?"
"There's multiple?" He asks, and you smirk as you sip your drink.
"There's a few of 'em hanging around, yeah. What did they say? Maybe I can," you shrug and try to hide the amusement in your voice. "Help you figure it out."
"Well, this guy, Seth, said Miller shouldn't even be in Jackson. Something about him killing people to get by before coming here, but he gets to stay because he's buddies with Maria. Apparently, he's a hell of a shot, though. I heard a rumor that he once shot an Infected from a mile away, but I'll believe it when I see it." He says, and you nod.
You remember that day well. Tommy had been bragging about his marksmanship, mostly telling big fish stories, and you finally got sick of it. Joel told you to leave it, but you had to see. When you went on patrol the next day, you and Tommy had a competition to see how far he could actually shoot. You passed the gun back and forth to see who could hit accurately and how far. You were the one holding the gun when the Infected bound his way up the hill and quickly went down as the bullet buried in his skull. You didn't think that story would've made the rounds, though.
"What else did Seth say?" You ask, and he puffs his cheeks out as he shakes his head.
"He told me to stay away from him. Something about not fucking with people like that because he's ruthless, especially when it comes to his kid. He said Miller yelled at him last week because he said something to her. Just... totally lost his mind like a crazy person." It wasn't just something. He called my daughter a dyke, you think to yourself. Joel may have pushed him and made him leave, but you threatened to ruin his fucking life. If you ever hear him say something like that to Ellie again, you'll make Joel look like the poster child for forgiveness. You bite the inside of your cheek and save that information for later.
Seth wasn't warning Luke about Joel. He was warning him about you.
"And you're sure he was talking about a man?"
"Pretty sure. I mean, I know people do lots of shitty things to stay alive, but I can't imagine a woman instilling that much fear in a man like Seth," He says, and you hum. "No offense."
"None taken." You smile and watch his guard come down just enough for him to feel comfortable reaching for your arm.
"I wish I had known they let women as beautiful as you out on patrol. I would've signed up with you instead of Miller." He says, and you almost gag. Joel's hand skims your lower back almost as if on cue, and you turn to face him. He kisses you a second too long before looking over your shoulder to face the stranger who looks embarrassed. His arm wraps protectively around your middle, and he's close enough that you can smell his shampoo over the bar’s stench of stale beer.
"Great timing. This is Luke. He's starting patrols tomorrow," You say. Joel reaches across the space to shake his hand, and Luke winces at his too-tight grip. "Luke, this is my husband, Joel Miller," you wish you had a camera to take a picture of the stunned look on his face when he hears the last name. "Joel, we were just talking about the last time I was on patrol with Tommy."
"You're Miller?" Luke asks, suddenly looking pale. "Why didn't you say anything?"
"Oh, I thought I mentioned it. I'm sorry, I'm probably losing my mind." You echo Seth's words and smack yourself on the forehead dramatically. Luke drains his drink before glancing around the room.
"It was great to meet you, man. Um, I'm gonna run to the bathroom really fast." He says and takes several steps away from the bar.
"Oh, so soon? I was hoping you and Joel could talk about routes."
"Maybe later." He says, and with that, he's gone. You smile and turn in Joel's arms to face him.
"Jesus, I thought he was going to have a heart attack. What did you say to him?"
"Seth was warning him about the mercenary who's buddies with Maria and shot an Infected from a mile away, asked if I knew anything about the guy."
"Seth should learn to keep his fuckin' mouth shut." He grumbles, and you nod.
"It didn't help his case that he tried flirting with me. Even asked if I was a school teacher." You say, and he gives you a look. His warm fingers reach under your shirt collar to pull out the chain with your wedding band on it.
"Maybe if you actually wore this, that wouldn't happen so often."
"C'mon, everybody knows I'm yours. It's not my fault no one gave him the run down," you say, and he tugs on the chain to kiss you, his big hands moving to hold your jaw. He swallows your gasp when he licks into your mouth, sending a zing of electricity down your spine. He's a touch too handsy for a public space, but you're not complaining. "I don't see you wearing yours out on patrol either." You say, pulling away before he can start something he can't finish, at least not in public. Still, his hand slips into your back pocket, squeezing your ass through the denim.
"Don't want to lose a finger. Besides, everybody knows I'm yours," he parrots, and you smile. A familiar, old country song plays over the speakers, and Joel lights up at the first few chords. "Will you dance with me?" He asks, pressing light kisses to your jaw to butter you up. You lock your arms around his shoulders and let yourself forget about everyone else in the bar.
"And to think there was a time when you hated PDA."
"That was before someone tried hittin' on my wife," he says, and you feel like your face will get stuck from smiling so much. It's been three months since the small backyard wedding officiated by Tommy and Maria. Ellie walked you down the aisle— more of a patch of grass than anything else— and acted as your maid of honor. When Tommy asked if she agreed to give you to Joel, she said, "it's not like she's fucking property, but sure." She beamed so brightly when she realized you each included her in your vows, promising to love and protect her as much as you love and protect each other. It wasn't planned, but the unexpected matching further proved that you three are a family. Still, you don't know if you'll ever get used to hearing Joel call you his wife. "Dance with me, please." He pouts into your neck, and you finally give in, grabbing his hand and leading him to the dance floor.
He pulls you close, and you bury your face in his neck as you slowly dance to Tanya Tucker's voice. He sings along for only you to hear, his accent getting stronger as he does. You could stay like this forever, wrapped up in him and listening to him sing the same song you used to sing along to while driving on backroads. You would marry him again if you could. You think you would marry him in every lifetime.
Scary rumors of mercenaries and blood on your hands fade from your mind. To men like Seth and Luke, you are a subversion of their holy mother. You are bloody and broken, a monster beyond saving. You are a warzone with a heartbeat.
But to Joel, you are the most sacred thing he's ever held. It's not enough to erase the rumors and nightmares about you, but it's enough to knock the wind out of you and make you love your husband that much more. That has to count for something.
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Tag list: @evyiione
#joel and ellie#joel miller#the last of us#joel miller fic#joel miller x reader#joel tlou#the last of us x reader#joel miller the last of us#joel miller fluff#i wrote this for me but you can read it too i guess
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✿ Fever - 1 ✿
A/N: Not included Brook and Jimbei bc I have absolutely no idea how to write them. Also, since Chopper is baby it would feel weird including him, even though it'd be in a purely platonic way. Just because of all the pining going on. Idk, I'd rather keep the themes separate, if that makes sense?
Summary: You're sick and try to ignore it.
Characters: Luffy, Zoro, Nami, Usopp, Sanji, Robin, Franky.
Content: SFW, G/N reader, no serious illness but Usopp's is a liiiiittle angsty bc of his mum, not proofread (effectively) bc it's past 2am ✿
(Part 2)
Luffy
✿ He's honestly oblivious to things at first. You are doing your best to maintain your usual level of enthusiasm but it's so exhausting, and that's the most he registers - that you're tired.
"Hey, did ya not sleep too good?" he asked, entirely too loud for the headache beginning to form. You groan and lean your head into your hand, as if that would somehow soothe things, but to no avail.
"Don't worry about it, I swear it won't affect my duties," you say, not sure who you were trying to convince. Apparently it didn't work regardless, as when you looked at him he was just stood there frowning with his arms crossed, and his head tilted. Before you could say anything you were greeted with a rubbery palm lightly smacking against your forehead, earning a surprised yelp from you.
"You're hot."
"Luffy!"
Of course he had to say it that way. If you weren't already burning up with this fever, that would've set your skin ablaze. He really had no filter, and he never realised how the things he said affected you.
He removed his hand from your face to grab your own, turning to drag you back to your quarters, not listening to any of your protests on the matter. There really wasn't anything you could do once Luffy had made up his mind, and you'd be lying if you said it wasn't part of his charm.
"No duties for you today, 'kay?" It may have been phrased like a question, but you knew it was 'Captain's orders.'
✿ You'd end up sleeping most of the day, with Luffy having gotten Chopper to look after you.
✿What you wouldn't be aware of was his constant presence while you slept, keeping a quiet vigil whilst he made sure the damp cloth on your head was always nice and cool.
✿ He just wants you to get better as fast as you can!
Zoro
✿ One word; clueless.
✿ It just looks like a hangover to him, what with the way you groan at the light, are unsteady on your feet, and complain about being nauseous.
"And I thought I drank a lot last night." he'd comment with a smirk.
"Shut up, Zoro, you always drink a lot," you whine. "I didn't drink anything!"
"The pathetic whining says otherwise."
You threw the rag you'd been cleaning with at him. He raised an eyebrow, watching it harmlessly drop to the floor in front of him.
"Your form is off."
This man, you swear!
You try to growl out an insult, but it dies on your tongue, a wave of nausea hitting in it's place, causing you to clasp a hand to your mouth.
"Alright, easy champ, no need to strain yourself," Zoro raised his hands in faux surrender. "Come on, you gotta sleep this one off."
He can't help but smile as you pathetically smack at him while he picks you up, opting for bridal style as opposed to flour sack, only so you don't empty your guts down his back. Saying that, he'd be lying if he said he didn't enjoy holding you like that, though you're far too busy trying to fight him to notice the dusting of pink on his cheeks.
"Don't worry I'll get you through this. I know my way around a hangover."
"I'm not hungover," you protest as he gently places you in a hammock.
✿ True to his word though, he does see you through it, even if 'it' is the wrong thing. Task failed successfully!
✿ Zoro stays beside you, makes sure you drink plenty of water, and get plenty of rest, even falling asleep himself at one point; his face inches from yours as he was leaning against the post the top end of the hammock was attached to at the time.
✿ Sadly you never saw that as you slept right through it. Would've been good ammunition to use against him when he needed taking down a peg.
Nami
✿ One of the people who would actually do a good job of looking after you. She's not got the gentlest bedside manner; she is firm yet fair, so you're in good hands.
When you don't join the crew for breakfast, Nami took it upon herself to make sure you hadn't gotten tangled in your hammock, or something equally as stupid.
You wake up in a cold sweat when you hear your door open, and manage to croak out, "Nami? Oh, did I oversleep?" When you try to get up, she pushes you right back down.
"Don't."
Her tone indicates that she will not tolerate any shenanigans, and so you do as you're told.
"You need to sleep more. I'll get you some water, and later Sanji will make you some soup." She tucks a thin blanket around you, so you don't overheat. "If you so much as try to get out of this hammock I'm going to tie your arms and legs together. Understood?"
Unable to stop yourself, you let out a light chuckle. "Nami, you're so cute when you pretend not to care," the fever disabling any kind of filter you may have had.
While it did catch her by surprise, you are none the wiser, as you quickly drift back off to sleep.
Nami has to take a brief moment to collect herself again, silently cursing the noticeable warmth in her cheeks, then mumbling about how you're an idiot before leaving your room.
✿ Nami basically dictates how your day is. Lots of sleep, plenty of fluids and maybe a warm bath to help sweat this out, and of course she 'requests' (demands) Sanji make a hearty soup to help you get better, which he is more than happy to do for her!
✿ She'll deny it, but she sets up in your room so she can monitor you throughout the day, only going to Chopper for medicine if she thinks it's bad enough, deciding it isn't necessary to bother him with something so manageable.
Usopp
✿ He panics. Something about seeing someone he cares about getting sick makes him think of his mother, and he doesn't want to lose anyone else like that.
Usopp scoops you up and books it to Chopper. You've seen him afraid, but nothing this intense, and no matter how much you try to convince him that you're okay, and that it's just a cold - you can't seem to break through to him.
"Chopper, please help! Please!" He begs as he gently places you on a bed. Tears are streaming down his face, as he takes your hand in a vice-like grip.
Once Chopper confirms what you already tried to tell him about it being a common cold, he relaxes a bit. You don't hold it against him, clearly this is something deeper for him. Chopper's words, those of a professional, were very reassuring.
"You just need rest, but I do have medicine to help with symptoms if you need," he says before putting a comforting little hoof on Usopp's knee. "Everything will be okay, I promise."
Usopp takes a moment to collect himself before quietly saying, "Can I stay?"
You and Chopper look at each other before smiling back at him, letting him know he is welcome to stay as long as he likes, or in this case needs. Neither of you press him on why this had him so scared, figuring he'll tell you if and when he's ready to.
✿ Chopper will handle all of your care, because Usopp refuses to leave your side.
✿ He keeps you entertained with his stories when you're awake, and scribbles on some loose papers Chopper gives him while you sleep. It's mainly ideas for things to make, and it keeps him calm.
✿ At one point he falls asleep with his arms crossed on the bed beside you, his little fingers linked with your own, like an unspoken promise that you'll get better, and he'll be there when you do.
Sanji
✿ As soon as Sanji catches on that you are sick, he decides to completely dedicate himself to your care and recovery! He's very attentive, and will do every little thing you want or need to get you back to health.
"Darling, I insist!"
Every 'it's okay,' and 'you don't need to do all that for me,' will be shot down immediately.
"What kind of man would I be if I let someone as lovely as you do anything in this condition?" He clutches his chest dramatically. "No, no. Don't you worry about a thing; I'll make sure you're well again in no time at all."
You really don't have the energy to try and dissuade him, so you accept your fate, and let him dote on you the whole day.
It's honestly really nice; you love having his attention, and are thankful that the fever hides your blushes, but you also can't help feeling a little guilty with how much he does for you.
"Please don't overexert yourself on my behalf, I don't want you to end up getting sick yourself."
"Even if I was sick, it wouldn't stop me from looking after you, my dear."
You can't help but frown at this. He's so eager to do for others, but is painfully stubborn about receiving that same care.
"If you're ever sick, Sanji, I'm gonna do everything that you've done for me - and I won't hear any objection from you on the matter!" You say in as stern a voice as you can manage with a sore throat.
"Darling-"
"Nope!" You cut him off quickly, "You deserve the same level of care that you give out!"
He looks at you a little wide-eyed, an adorable blush creeping along his face. He lets out a small laugh. As much as he'd like to, he says nothing more on it; you're as stubborn as he is it would seem.
✿ Sanji makes lots of lovely food to help aid in your recovery; warming soups, peppermint tea, porridge with ginger and honey. Everything that soothes and settles, no matter the malady.
✿ His bedside manner is impeccable! He's so gentle with you, and he makes sure to check in as often as he can, whilst still doing his duties, getting as much done as possible while you're asleep.
✿ Like Nami, he only goes to Chopper if he feels your condition requires it. He's confident that his cooking will be more than enough to get you back to health.
Robin
✿ A blessing, and a curse. She's very logical, and she knows how to handle such a minor illness, but, she really can't help telling you all about other illnesses that have worryingly similar symptoms.
"Oh, this one is very unpleasant," she beams, and you can't help but press your hands over your ears.
"Chopper!" You cry, before she can start telling you about this particular strain of 'instantdeathitus,' practically running into the infirmary with Robin hot on your heels, holding an open book on diseases.
"Robin keeps talking about scary diseases and now I'm scared I'm gonna die!"
After being given a quick check-up, and much reassurance that, no, you do not have a rare disease that can only be contracted on a specific island in a completely different ocean, and yes, it is just a common cold, you relax. Mostly.
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you," Robin says later once you have bundled up and settled down. "Your cold just reminded me of this book, and I thought it was fascinating. I just wanted to share it with you."
She clearly felt guilty, and you appreciated that this was just how she is, but you really would've rather she'd chosen a different topic to tell you about.
"Maybe, you have a book on old remedies you could tell me about instead?"
Robin perks back up at this. She truly values how much you understand her, and she can see why talking about diseases when your ill is not the most pleasant experience, so this is a perfect compromise.
"That's a wonderful idea," she smiles, and you swear she puts the sun to shame with how bright her smile is. "There might be one we can try that will help with your recovery."
✿ Once you get past the scary disease hiccup, Robin is a great companion, looking up home remedies, and trying out the ones that are clearly based on logic as opposed to superstition.
✿ If you find a good remedy, she's excitedly write it down, and later pass the information on to Chopper.
✿ She's happy to get you water when needed, and will watch over you as you nap in the library. It's one of the quietest parts of the ship, so there is no way to disturb you there.
Franky
✿ Aside from Chopper, Franky is genuinely the best at dealing with sick people. He tones down his behaviour, and knows exactly what you need to get back on your feet.
Your head was absolutely thundering, at least that's how it felt.
Franky clocked onto your condition as soon as he saw you enter the kitchen, and once you had what you came in for, he hurried you off to his workshop. You thought it was an odd choice.
"Shouldn't I go somewhere quiet?"
"I know it doesn't seem it, but I can keep this place absolutely silent if I need to. No music, no one else barging in and making a racket," he said, keeping his voice uncharacteristically quiet. "Also the walls are soundproof - keeps noise out just as well as it keeps my noise in."
"Oh! That's really impressive," even when ill, there is a sparkle in your eyes when he tells you about pretty much anything he's designed or built. You notice his cheeks turning red, but assume that it's just from the compliment as he looked so proud when you gave it to him.
"That's not all," he grins, "I've been working on a lil something, and now's the perfect time to show you!"
That certainly piqued your interest, and he was doing a great job at distracting you from how bad you felt. Franky led you to one of the corners of the room, one that was covered in a large tarp. You'd seen it many times, and you were always curious, but he'd always brushed it off whenever you brought it up, so the thought of finally seeing what was under there was exciting!
Pulling down the tarp revealed a little alcove that was almost like a nest considering the amount of cushions.
"It's a space for you," he said sheepishly, "so you have somewhere comfortable to sit when you hang out in here. I figured you could rest there whilst you're ill, and I can look out for you."
You stared at it in absolute wonder, big shining eyes darting between it and him.
"It's absolutely perfect, thank you so much!"
✿ Franky kept the workshop quiet like he said he would, and whenever you needed anything, like water or medicine, he'd go and get it for you.
✿ At some point Chopper came in to check on you, since Franky had mentioned you were ill, but there really wasn't much to do about it besides getting lots of rest, and you had that covered.
✿ He'd work on his quiet projects, the ones still in the planning and design stages, whilst you slept peacefully in your cosy nest.
#one piece imagine#one piece x reader#one piece x you#luffy x reader#luffy x you#zoro x reader#zoro x you#nami x reader#nami x you#usopp x reader#usopp x you#sanji x reader#sanji x you#robin x reader#robin x you#nico robin x reader#nico robin x you#franky x reader#franky x you#cyborg franky x reader#cyborg franky x you#monkey d luffy#roronoa zoro#cat burglar nami#god usopp#black leg sanji#vinsmoke sanji#nico robin#cyborg franky
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Good Luck Charm
Joel Miller x f!reader (pre outbreak)
Summary: Joel loves the Texas Longhorns and you're just needy (someone please make an edit of him wearing any Longhorns merch im begging)
Warnings: smut (duh), established relationship, mainly just cockwarming, with a daddy kink, and heavy on the dirty talk, cream pie, ass play, whatever else I'm forgetting, no use of Y/N
w/c: 3.3k
A/N: Here's something no one asked for! This definitely isn't my best work but I'm in a funk rn and it's the best I could do! Also hello daddy kink apparently! Oh! And I hit 1k followers a while ago so thank you for that!!! So many hugs and smoochies for everyone ilysm guys 😚🫶🥰❤️❤️❤️ ALSO the AMAZING EDIT MADE BY @serenaxpedro !!!!
my masterlist
There were two things that Joel loved wholeheartedly: you and the Texas Longhorns.
Joel goes all out for football season. Each year, as soon as September rolls around, you rarely find him without his Longhorns cap on. In the car, it’s not music, it’s a live radio broadcast or a recap of the latest game. And God fucking forbid if you even thought about touching the TV on a Sunday or Monday night.
And now It’s a Sunday evening in September and the Longhorns are playing, which means Joel is completely preoccupied.
You waltz down the stairs and into the living room clad in nothing but his Longhorns t-shirt that ends at your midthigh. You find him sitting on the couch, a half empty bottle of beer in his hand with his eyes glued to the screen. He doesn’t notice you at first and you have to stand practically right in front of the TV for him to take his eyes off the screen. When he finally does, he rakes his eyes over your body, a crooked smirk spreading across his face when he sees what you’re wearing.
Thankfully, you caught him at the start of a commercial break. So, he leans back and pats his knee and beckons you over with a soft “C’mere pretty girl.”
It’s the first bit of attention he’s given you all evening, so you happily bounce over to him and climb into his lap, straddling him with your knees on either side of his hips and your arms draped around his neck.
“You look so fuckin’ good in this, angel” Joel says, his voice already husky with arousal as he smooths his hands up your thighs.
“Thank you, daddy” you whisper with an innocent giggle.
He looks up at you and cocks an eyebrow. You’re no stranger to calling him that, but Joel usually has to spend a lot more time taking you apart for you to use it.
“You gettin’ needy, sweet girl?” he coos, his hands sliding over your hips and over the curve of your ass.
You don’t say anything, just grind your hips down harshly, moaning softly at the friction. Joel chuckles at your eagerness while palming at your ass.
“The game is almost over, angel. Just one more quarter and then I’ll play with you all you want.”
You huff in frustration.
“But you’ve been in here all day” you whine.
Joel laughs again.
“I’ve barely been in here for two hours, angel. Think you’re just needy” he retorts, poking you in the side with a playful smile.
You huff again and tug at the curls at the nape of his neck as you roll your hips against his.
“Please?” you ask, your voice drenched in desperation. “I’ll be a good girl and stay still so you can watch the game. Just wanna feel you inside me.”
Joel eyes you and his hands tighten on your hips as you continue to move against his.
“Can’t say no when you ask so pretty like that.”
You grin ear to ear and Joel rolls his eyes.
“Needy and spoiled” Joel teases as he fiddles with the hem of your t-shirt.
With his eyes fixed on yours, his palms slide up your thigh, leaving goosebumps on your skin in their wake. He reaches the crease of your thigh and stops suddenly with a sharp inhale. He raises an eyebrow at you as he trails his fingers over the bare skin that should be covered by your panties.
You look at him, feigning innocence as you chew on the corner of your lip to suppress a mischievous smile. He narrows his eyes at you as he slowly slides a finger along your already soaking wet seam. You’re far too wet and swollen just from sitting in his lap for less than two minutes. And when he slides a finger into your leaking hole, he can obviously feel it. He looks down and sees the wet spot that’s already forming on the front of his jeans.
“Needy, spoiled, and naughty” he purrs, his voice low and gravelly. “S’that what you were doin’ up there all by yourself, babygirl? Stretchin’ your sweet little pussy so you could come down here and sit on daddy’s cock?”
All you can manage is a vigorous nod, a needy whine, and another roll of your hips, trying to get his finger deeper inside you. He graciously slips in a second finger with minimal resistance and lets out a soft groan as your leak starts to leak past his fingers and drips to his palm.
“Tell me how you did it” Joel commands calmly as curls his fingers and starts moving his wrist with languid strokes.
You whimper pathetically and clench tightly around his fingers as he slowly strokes your g-spot.
“J-just on my fingers, daddy” you whimper while trying to grind your clit against his palm.
Joel hums suspiciously.
“How many?”
“Just shit – just two.”
“Did you cum, babygirl? Did you cum with your fingers stuffed in your little cunt?”
Joel’s voice is so low now, his gravelly timbre sending a shiver down your spine. You shake your head and whine again and nose at his neck, hoping that a few neck kisses might distract him. But of course, they don’t.
“C’mon, sweetheart. Be a big girl and use your words”
“No, daddy” you mumble, dropping your head to avoid his gaze.
Joel moves a hand from your thigh to under your chin, tilting your head up and forcing you to look at him again.
“Why’s that angel?” he presses.
“Needed you, daddy. Couldn’t do it myself. Didn’t want to do it myself” you confess, your cheeks heating up at the admission.
Even after all this time with Joel, he still easily made you a blushing, flustered mess within seconds.
“My poor little baby” Joel coos with sarcastic empathy. “Just a needy little slut for daddy’s cock, huh?”
You nod shyly and tug at his hair again. Joel just smirks at you before focusing on the screen again.
“Get it out then, angel. Game is ‘bout to start again”
With a jolt of excitement, you scramble to tug his pants halfway down his thighs. Your mouth waters when you free his cock, his length hard and heavy against his abdomen. Your eyes flicker up to him and he looks at you through the corner of his eye, gives you a slight permissive nod then looks back at the TV.
You move to hover over him before you start slowly sinking down on his cock, both of you moaning in unison at the sensation of him stretching your tight walls. It’s a stretch, it always is, especially when he doesn’t get the chance to open you up on his fingers.
“You’re so big, daddy” you pant breathlessly, your nails digging into his shoulder as you stretch yourself out on his length.
“Don’t tell me it’s too much after begged to be filled, baby.” Joel chides.
You make a small noise and double down on your efforts. You whimper softly as you start sinking again, feeling every single inch of him stretch you out your little hole so deliciously. You exhale deeply once you’re full seated. Joel lets out a quiet groan and tightens his grip on your hip.
“God fuckin damn, babygirl” Joel says quietly. “Always so tight for your daddy.”
Your sink your teeth into your lower lip, biting back a moan at his words, trying to prove to him that you can be good. It takes a moment for you to resist the urge to ride him, but soon enough the desperation melts into relaxation, the feeling of being so full of him satisfying all your needs. He’s not even fully hard yet and your walls tingle and flutter around him as he continues to swell inside of you. With a sated sigh, you lay your head on his broad shoulder, and you let your eyes close. He holds you close to him, a protective arm draped over you stroking your back absentmindedly.
“S’this all you wanted, sweet pea? Just needed daddy inside of ya?” he asks, his hand still gliding over your back and occasionally squeezing your ass.
You nod and snuggle up into him even more. You could die happy right here, stuffed full of Joel with his heart beating against your cheek, warm and safe in his embrace.
There’s no resisting falling into the overwhelming sense of tranquility that settles deep in your bones. Your breathing starts to slow down as you melt against his body and your head goes fuzzy when you bury your face in the junction of his neck and inhale the intoxicating scent of fresh laundry mixed with his cologne. You’re vaguely aware that Joel is talking to the TV, the sound of his voice fading in and out of your head. But you don’t bother making any sense of the words. You just focus on the rumble of his chest as speaks.
After a few quiet minutes, he reaches over to the side table to pick up his beer, jostling you around a bit in the process. You make a small noise at the movement, his cock sliding just a bit further inside you to press against that spot deep inside you. You can feel every twitch and surge of his cock inside you, your body responding with a fresh gush of slick to each one, leaving you dripping mess in his lap.
Joel finishes his beer in two gulps and sets it back down on the table before pressing a kiss to the crown of your head. You’ve been good so far, staying still and not moving like you promised and the game is almost over. So, Joel decides to give you a little reward.
He brings his free hand up to your face and traces the line of your jaw and cheekbone with a knuckle. You practically purr and nuzzle into the gentle touch. And as if he can read your mind, probably because he can at this point, he rests two fingertips, cool and damp from the condensation on his beer bottle on your lips.
You automatically part your lips, giving him silent permission to slide his fingers into you warm, wet mouth. He can’t stop the groan that bubbles up out of his throat as you suck his fingers mindlessly, your cunt clenches rhythmically around him.
He turns his head away from the screen just long enough to see your eyes rolling in bliss under your closed eyelids with drool starting to dribble out past his fingers and down your chin.
“Bein’ so good, pretty girl” he whispers, pushing his fingers further back and pressing down against your tongue, making a strained sound when you gag.
“Sound so pretty too gaggin’ on my fingers like that.”
You keen at his praise and reflexively roll your hips. He shushes you and tightens his grip on your hip, keeping you in place. You squeeze your eyes shut and pant against his neck when he resituates again, his thick head now firmly pushing against your sweet spot.
You let out a soft mewl, the sound muffled by the fingers shoved down your throat. Joel hisses quietly when you dig your fingernails into the backs of his shoulders. There will be some pretty marks there in the morning.
“Game’s almost over, sweetpea. Can you hold on for five more minutes? Can you do that for daddy?”
You nod lazily against him and try to stay as still as possible. You want to be good; you really do. But it’s a herculean effort with him buried so deep inside of you, pressing against all the right places.
Joel slowly slides his fingers out of your mouth and shushes you again when you whine quietly. You open one eye to watch as he lowers it behind you. You can’t see what he’s doing but your certainly feel it when he spreads your cheeks with one hand and feels where you’re connected.
“Oh, baby” Joel sighs, feeling how much you’re leaking out around him. “Making such a mess, sweet girl.” He whispers roughly.
He gathers some of your slick on his already spit-soaked fingers before moving his finger higher to circle your tight hole.
“Daddy!” you whine, lifting your head in surprise to look at him.
“Hush, baby” Joel commands. He doesn’t even look at you as he cradles the back of your head with his freehand and forcing you to rest your head back on his shoulder. He stopped watching the game a while ago, but he keeps his gaze fixed to the TV knowing that his lack of attention gets you all the more worked up. “Let daddy play with his little toy.”
His hand leaves your head and spreads you open once again. And all you can do is lie there, helpless, and desperate at the mercy of your lover’s hands.
“You’re so naughty, baby” Joel whispers, as he prods at the tight ring of muscle. “All you little holes are so tight for your daddy. Just for me, huh?”
You nod and open your mouth to speak but he starts pushing a finger in you and all the comes out is a wanton cry.
“Jesus Christ” He curses when you tighten even more around him, absolutely obsessed with how your body reacts to his touch.
You try your best to stay still as he keeps pushing his finger in slowly. But you keep clenching around his cock, and he keeps twitching in reaction creating a circular kindling effect that drives you crazy.
“Can’t daddy” you whimper pathetically, breath fanning over his neck, hot and humid.
“But you are, babygirl” Joel reassures, pushing his finger all the way inside of you, groaning at all the different ways your squeezing him. “Takin’ me so well sweetie god you’re so fuckin’ perfect.”
You moan again, the sound going straight to Joel’s ear and travelling down his spine as a hot tingle. You give an experimental roll of your hips, testing him and seeing what he’s willing to let you do. And he doesn’t stop you.
With his finger buried in your ass and his cock stuffed in your leaking cunt, you start gently rolling your hips, gasping at the new sensations with each movement. Joel’s chest heaves with each breath as you slowly build up speed against him.
It doesn’t take long at all for you to find the perfect angle that lets you grind your clit down against the patch of hair at the base of his cock. It’s too fucking much to handle and the pool of molten liquid in your abdomen is quickly growing as you hurtle towards your release.
“Oh, daddy please” you whine desperately between loud moans.
“What do you need, angel?” Joel asks like he doesn’t already know. “Tell me. Tell daddy what you need.”
You gulp for air, but you still can’t get a good breath. You’re so full of him. Every square inch of your skin is on fire now, every touch feels so good, his scent is filling your head and you can’t think straight.
“Need – fuck daddy! – I need to cum, I’m gonna cum please let me daddy please” you babble, now clawing at his shoulders.
“Shh baby it’s okay. You’ve been so good for me, lemme feel you cum all over my cock, sweet girl.”
You moan in relief and start to allow the pleasure to take over your body. Joel watches in amazement as you fall apart on top of him when he barely even had to move a muscle. You keep your face buried in his neck and Joel groans at the sounds your making so close to his ear. You start trembling on top of him as your moans grow louder and louder, letting him know you’re seconds away from release. He keeps his finger inside of you and wraps his other arm around your waist, holding you flush against his body.
“Lift up a bit, baby” Joel grunts into your hair.
You barely hear him, but the last working part of your brain process his words and your body automatically complies. You press into your knees and your thighs shake as you lift yourself up off of him just slightly.
The next second, Joel slams his hips up into yours, chasing after your tight, wet heat, already needing to be buried inside of you again. You scream as he pounds into you, his pace brutal and unwavering. Liquid heat surges through your veins and your hypersensitive walls grip him like a vice as the hot coil in your abdomen starts to unravel.
Joel doesn’t stop as you start to cum. If anything, he speeds up. He punches up into your g-spot with each thrust over and over and over again, desperate to draw out your orgasm for as long as possible. More hot slick starts gushing out of you around him and Joel can’t believe how drenched you are right now.
“There you go babygirl. Soak daddy’s dick” Joel rasps, his voice cracking as he starts to chase his own orgasm.
The way he can feel himself move inside you, just a thin wall separating his cock and finger combined with the feeling of you sinking your teeth into his neck is making him absolutely feral. He’s only seconds behind you. He’s been just as affected, just as turned on as you this whole time. He’s just a lot better at hiding it.
“You want daddy’s cum, angel?” Joel pants, his eyes rolling back when you tangle your finger in the curls at the base of the neck and pull.
You nod fervently and choke out “Yes, daddy! Please, want it inside” between long, loud moans.
“M’gonna fill you up, sweet girl. Have so much for you. Just for you, baby.”
You cry out at Joel’s promise and tug even harder at his hair and suck at the skin between your teeth. That’s all it takes for him to break. His fingertips dig into your ribs, and he pulls you down on top of him then empties himself inside you, unloading ropes and ropes of hot cum into your awaiting pussy. He holds you impossibly close and gives your moans a run for their money with the sounds he makes.
“Baby, baby jesus fuck you’re so good” Joel huffs as you continue to move your hips, riding out and extending both of your orgasms for as long as possible.
You’re both completely unaware of how much time passes as the two of you sit there, panting and trying to catch your breaths. Joel moves his hand from your waist to your hair, gently stroking and grunting softly as you keep spasming around him as the aftershocks of your orgasm course through your body. He brushes the hair out of your face and tucks it behind your ear so he can get a good look at your face, your eyes closed, eyebrows drawn together and your mouth hanging open as small whimpers tumble past your lips.
“You look so pretty all fucked out like this, baby” Joel murmurs.
You slowly open your eyes and look up at him with hooded lids. He gives you a soft smile that heats you from the inside out and fills your heart with a warm fuzzy feeling. You give him one in return, the corners of your lips curling up into a crooked grin.
“Thank you, daddy” you mumble, your voice rough and ruined.
“Anything for you, sweet girl” Joel says quietly as he cards his fingers through your hair. “Anything.”
He looks at you for a few more moments, wishing he could burn the image to the inside of his eyelids to look at forever. But the sound of the announcers on TV catch his attention and he flicks his eyes to the screen.
He looks back at you with a wide, giddy smile.
“Did we win?” you ask, your words slow and syrupy.
“Sure did, angel” Joel says happily before leaning down to place a kiss to your temple. “You’re my good luck charm, baby. Think you need to do that for every game from now on”
You giggle and let your eyes slip close again, finally fully satisfied.
Thank you for reading!! please let me know if you liked it I need extra validation rn
#joel miller smut#joel miller x f!reader#joel miller x you#joel miller one shot#Joel miller#the last of us#tlou#pedro pascal characters#pedro pascal smut#javiscigarette
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Your writing is so good! If it's not too much trouble, can you write soft loving sex with Las Plagas Leon or any of your favorite Leon's?
Crave | Las Plagas! Leon Kennedy x Fem! Reader
✎ Notes: I hope you like this, I was thinking about Las Plagas Leon and him being possessive of you in a cuddly way when he comes back from saving Ashley. Sorry that it's short, I have a lot going on for me atm!
➤ WC: 1.55K
➤ CW: Porn with barely any plot, possessive Leon, Leon sucking and appreciating your tits (he's definitely a boob guy), Pet names: sweetheart, baby, my love. P in V (unprotected sex), creampie, fingering & rubbing.
Days passed, worry flooded all over your body as you wondered where your boyfriend was. Although you knew this mission was important in many ways than one - Leon never deserved to be forced into working for the government. However, you couldn't help him in any way but care for him when he came home. Tonight would be different, the Leon that returned wouldn't be the one you knew.
You snuggled yourself onto your couch, the only sounds ringing in your ears was the sound of the wall clock ticking each second. 02:41 AM. Your eyes wouldn't bring themselves to sleep, the constant ideas of what Leon was doing made you shiver in fear. His mission was laced in pure secrecy, nobody but him and the government knew what he was doing. Suddenly, the thoughts in your mind were quickly shut off as you heard keys jingle, a familiar figure yanking them out as he opened the door. He was home. You rapidly lifted yourself up, fumbling the blanket in your hands as your eyes gazed upon Leon. He seemed different. Low groans sporadically came out of his mouth as he threw his duffel bag against the wall, Leon's eyes averted to you. Without hesitation he approached you, wrapping his arms around you. "I missed you... Fuck, you smell good." The feeling of his voice rumbled against the skin of your neck as he nuzzled his head into it. "L-Leon, you should really go rest." A small mewl erupted out of your throat as you slowly caressed his arm, staring upon it. Why was black liquid flowing through his veins?
You tried to pull his head away from your neck, but to no avail. He calmly sucked onto your skin, holding you gently. Leon fought off the feeling of something telling him to lose control, he wanted to make love to you. To caress you in ways where the softest moans would be elicited out of you. Subconsciously, his arms lifted you up for the ground, pulling his face away from your neck. This time, you could focus on the cuts and fresh scars that illustrated all over his face. The dark veins protruding out as he took you upstairs. "Leon? What is up with you?" Your soft voice echoed through his brain, oh how he loved you. How he loved you soft skin against his, the roughness of his own pressing against yours. "What do you mean my love?" His coarse voice juxtaposed his mellow actions towards you, gently placing you down on the shared bed. He stared at your figure with such lust and adoration apparent in his eyes, the way his shirt hugged your curves just right. Your shorts pressing into your plush skin as the movement of his hands slowly crept onto your thighs. Rubbing them tenderly as he gave you a small smile.
"What do you mean? I mean... Look at you. You've got some pattern on your skin." You whispered out as his touch infected you with a burning feeling. An ache pulsing where you needed to be touch - how his hands were so close to your sensitive clit. Was this right? You didn't even know if you knew the man in front of you. Of course it was Leon, your lover, was it really him? "Don't worry about me baby, look at how gorgeous you are." He purred out, slowly lifting up his shirt to see your tits. God, they were perfect. He couldn't help but remove his own shirt, feeling hot in his own skin. Seeing your body was a fuel that he never knew he needed, his veins becoming more prominent in his skin. Spreading all over him, your face still in constant worry. Leon didn't like that. He didn't like that you worried for him, when he felt perfectly fine right? He knew he wasn't okay, the voices still in his head and flashbacks to when he previously just saved Ashley. The government would find some type of cure for him, surely right?
The pads of his fingers fondled with your nipples, his mouth enclosing on one of them as he looked up to see your blissful face. Light moans escaping your throat as your fingers laced themselves into his hair strands - tugging on them just slightly. Leon groaned into your tits, feeling himself jerk into the soft bed you both laid on. He craved you. Your body craved him too as a wet patch formed on your panties, the baby blue colour turning dark as your slick clung on it. Leon's hands moved methodically all over your body, caressing parts that needed him for so long. Until moving them to tug under the waistband of your shorts. "Can I?" He begged, his eyes pleading for you to say yes. A quiet mumble fell out of your lips as you granted him permission to see you. To see that pretty pussy he missed so much. A bite of your lip nearly drove Leon over the edge as he touched the wet spot on your panties. He could smell the sweetness of your pussy calling out to him. Without a thought, he pulled them off.
"L-Leon!" You yelped as you felt his fingers slowly slide into you. "Need to get you ready baby, want to make you feel good with my cock." The squelches of your cunt taking two of his fingers muffled his sentence as he watched them go in and out. A slight curve to his movement causing a loud whine to flood out of your mouth. You could feel yourself starting to gush onto him, needing more of his touch. Leon's other hand interlaced with yours, a sweet look on his face of appreciation as he watched you moan his name out. He was so in love with you. This new profound feeling in him, made him feel different from any other time he was having sex with you. You were his, his craving. A familiar feeling bubbled up in your chest as you felt the pad of his thumb rub on your little clit. "O-oh Leon..." A mellow moan left you as you shook in his touch, your orgasm gushing out. "That's my good girl... Yeah, cum on my fingers." His praises inundated you. You desired this, as much as he desired you.
Leon made quick work of his pants as he unbuckled his belt, removing the cargos that he used in his rampage in Spain. A wet spot standing out on his boxers where his tip leaked out it's pre-cum. Your eyes followed his hand as he pulled his cock out, it was beaming a harsh pink colour. Impulsively, you sat up and reached out for it. A gasp hushed out Leon's lips as he moaned into his hand, feeling your hand rub his hard cock. "Fuck... Baby please I can't do this anymore." A soft smile appeared on your face as he took it into his own hands, positioning himself in front of your entrance. A slow but steady thrust left you both panting as he rutted himself into you.
"Oh my.. fuck, you feel so good sweetheart." Leon whimpered out as he placed his hands on your hips, staring into your eyes as his thighs tapped against yours. He didn't want to fuck you, he wanted to make love. You were his pretty girl, the one he loved so dear and if it meant holding back his own urges for your pleasure, he would do it in a heartbeat. The eye contact shared between you and Leon made you shy; you covered your face, just to have your hands softly removed by your lovers. "Let me see you.. please you're so pretty like this." His lips pressed against yours, moans rung out between the both of you. Creating a melody filled with raw passion as his thrusts became deeper. Your eyes rolling back in pure ecstasy as you felt yourself shake.
"H-Honey.." you whimpered as your hands scrunched the sheets beneath you. The soft cotton rubbing against you as Leon admired your body. His fingers found their way to your clit again as he started to rub it. "Cum on my cock, cum f'me." His voice turned raspy as his dick throbbed inside of you. The pitch of your moans heightened as you felt a sensation that burned so good, the coil in you snapping as your orgasm rushed over you. Making you chant Leon's name as he felt his thighs starting to shake from pure pleasure. Leon watched his dick move in and out of you, a sheer film of sweat forming on his forehead as he felt his release coming. "Fuck baby, I'm gonna cum. Need to fill this tight pussy up." His head fell back, the strands of his hair sticking to his forehead, the black veins spread all over his body as his load filled you up. A warm feeling loaded into you as he slid his cock out. Seeing some of his cum drip out of you with a silly grin on his face.
"We need to get you checked up Leon.." You mumbled, tracing a dark line down his face. "Tomorrow sweetheart.. Let me hold you." A gentle smile formed on his face as he stared at your blissed out body.
#leon kennedy#leon kennedy x reader#leon x reader#resident evil#leon kennedy resident evil#leon kennedy x you#leon kennedy fluff#leon kennedy smut#leon kennedy x y/n#leon kennedy imagine#leon s kennedy#leon kennedy fanfic#resident evil smut
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Satiated Desire.
Part 2 to 𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐍 𝐃𝐑𝐀𝐁𝐁𝐋𝐄𝐒!
adult content | minors do NOT interact.
Pairing. Dean Winchester x Female Reader.
Outline. You help Dean find relief after the intense hunt.
Warning(s). Smut, P in V (use protection yall - better safe than sorry!!!), Dirty Talk, Use of Pet Names, Oral Sex (F Receiving) Exhibitionism, Semi Public Sex, Strong Language, and Praise Kink.
Word Count. 1285
Author's Note. As promised, here's part two! I like this one a lot actually <3 so I hope you do too :) I'm missing Dean & Supernatural like crazy right now, which is why I'm rewatching it again - but to also mend my broken heart. Thanks to whatever the hell season fifteen was. Lolll. Anyway, I hope you enjoy! Cause I know I did. Xoxo. 💗
The moment the hunt was over, Dean was all over you, his strong hands grabbing your waist and pulling you close. You could feel the urgency in his touch, the barely contained desperation radiating off of him in waves.
“Y/N,” he breathed, his voice was rough with barely restrained desire. “I need you, now.”
You felt a shiver of anticipation run down your spine at the intensity in his tone. Wordlessly, you nodded, your own hands gripping the front of his shirt as he began to steer you toward the nearest private space he could find.
It didn’t take long before you found yourself pressed up against the wall of an abandoned warehouse, Dean’s body flush against yours, his lips crashing hungrily against your own. The kiss was searing, filled with a primal need that left you breathless and aching for more.
Dean’s hands roamed your body, mapping every curve and dip with a reverence that had your head spinning. You arched into his touch, your own fingers tangling in his hair as you eagerly reciprocated the kiss.
When you finally broke apart, both of you panting heavily, Dean’s eyes were dark with desire. “Shit, baby,” he growled, his hips grinding against yours in a slow, sensual rhythm. “You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for this.”
You let out a soft whimper, your nails dragging lightly down the strong planes of his back. “Then what are you waiting for, Dean?” you cajole, as you gaze up at him through your lashes. “I’m waiting...”
That was apparently all the encouragement Dean needed. In one swift motion, he swept you up into his arms, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist as he carried you deeper into the warehouse, finally depositing you onto a sturdy table.
Your back hit the cold, hard surface with a dull thud, but you barely registered the discomfort, your entire focus solely on the man hovering above you. Dean’s hands were everywhere, tugging at your clothes, caressing your skin as if he simply couldn’t get enough of you.
You arched up into his touch, your fingers working to rid him of his shirt, desperate to feel the heat of his skin against yours. Dean helped you, shrugging out of the garment with practiced ease before diving back in, his lips trailing a scorching path down your neck.
You let out a breathy moan, your head falling back to grant him better access. Dean seemed to take that as an invitation, his teeth grazing the sensitive flesh, eliciting a sharp gasp from your lips.
“Dean,” you pant, as he sucks vigorously on your exposed neck. “Please, I need you.”
He responded with a low, guttural growl, his hips grinding against yours in a way that had you rolling your eyes to the back of your head. “Soon, baby,” he grunts, his breath hot against your skin. “I’m gonna take care of you.”
True to his word, Dean’s hands made quick work of the rest of your clothes, stripping you bare before his hungry gaze. You felt a flush of self-consciousness creep up your cheeks, but the pure, unadulterated desire in his eyes quickly had it melting away.
“You’re so fucking beautiful, sweetheart,” Dean rasped, his fingers tracing the curves of your body with a reverence that left you breathless. “I can’t wait to taste you.”
Before you could even process his words, his lips were on you, hot kisses trailing down your body. You let out a sharp gasp as he reached your most sensitive place, his tongue darting out to tease and caress in a way that had your toes curling in pleasure.
Dean seemed to revel in your reactions, his ministrations growing more intense, more relentless, as he worked you closer and closer to the edge. You writhed beneath him, your fingers tangling in his hair, urging him on.
“Dean, oh God, fuck,” you pant again, letting out a high-pitched moan. “I’m so close, please, don’t stop.”
He growled in response, the vibrations sending shockwaves of pleasure through you. With a final, well-placed flick of his tongue, you unraveled, your body trembling as wave after wave of ecstasy washed over you.
Dean worked you through it, his hands holding your hips in a vice-like grip as he lapped up every last drop of your release. When you finally began to come down, he pressed a soft, tender kiss to your inner thigh, his eyes shining with a mix of pride and unbridled lust.
“Fuck, Y/N,” he groans. “You taste even better than I imagined.”
You let out a breathless chuckle, your fingers tracing over the sharp lines of his jaw. “Well, don’t keep me in suspense, Winchester,” you purred, your tone dripping with invitation. “Show me what else you’ve got.”
Dean’s eyes darkened, a predatory grin spreading across his face. “Oh, baby, you have no idea,” he growled, surging forward to capture your lips in a searing kiss.
You melted into him, your bodies tangling together as the kiss deepened. You could taste yourself on his tongue, and the knowledge only served to stoke the flames of your desire higher.
When you finally broke apart, both of you panting heavily, Dean wasted no time in shucking off the rest of his clothes. You drank in the sight of him, the firm, sculpted planes of his body making your mouth water with anticipation.
“Dean,” you breathed, your fingers trailing down his chest. “I need you, so bad.”
He let out a guttural groan, his hips bucking against your touch. “You already have me, baby,” he chuckles, giving your hips a light squeeze. “I’m all yours.”
With that, he positioned himself at your entrance, his eyes locked with yours as he slowly, but agonizingly, pushed inside. The sensation of him filling you up, stretching you to the point of delicious fullness, had you crying out in pure, unadulterated bliss.
Dean paused for a moment, allowing you both to savor the feeling, before beginning to move. His thrusts were deep and powerful, each one hitting that sweet spot inside you that had you seeing stars.
You clung to him, your nails digging into the firm muscles of his lower back as you met him thrust for thrust, your bodies moving in perfect harmony. The warehouse was filled with the lewd sounds of your mingled cries of pleasure and skin slapping, echoing off the bare walls.
As the familiar coil of tension began to build inside you once more, Dean leaned in, his lips brushing against your ear. “That's it, Y/N,” he growled, filthy encouraging you. “Come for me, baby. Let me feel you fall apart.”
With a strangled cry, you did just that, your body trembling as the waves of your release washed over you. Dean followed closely behind, his hips stuttering as he spilled himself inside you, his forehead pressed against yours, his breath coming in ragged gasps.
For a long moment, the two of you stay entwined together, your heartbeats slowly returning to normal. Dean pressed soft kisses to your face, murmuring words of adoration and praise.
“You were amazing, sweetheart,” he whispered, his fingers tracing the curves of your body. “Absolutely fucking perfect.”
You smiled, your own hands caressing the strong lines of his shoulders. “So were you, Dean,” you responded, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips. “I’m glad we finally got to... take care of that problem of yours.”
Dean chuckled, a mischievous glint in his eye. “Oh, trust me, baby,” he spoke in that sexy gravelly deep voice of his, hips rolling against yours in a way that had you biting back a moan. “We’re just getting started.”
#﹙ kari writes 𝜗𝜚 ﹚#dean winchester#dean winchester imagine#dean winchester x you#dean winchester smut#dean winchester x y/n#dean winchester one shot#dean winchester imagines#dean winchester angst#dean winchester fluff#dean winchester x reader#dean winchester x fem reader#dean winchester x female!reader#dean x female!reader#dean x y/n#dean x you#dean x reader#dean smut#dean angst#supernatural#supernatural smut#supernatural angst#supernatural x reader#supernatural x you#supernatural fluff
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Late nights - drabble
Tara Carpenter x fem!reader
Summary: sorry anon, i accidentally deleted the request 😓 but they asked for me to write a fic with tara in fem!reader’s hoodie (aka cuddly tara strikes again)
Words: 0.9k
A/n: hopefully a lil something to get me out of my writing slump. let’s hope this isn’t too bad considering i haven’t written in a few months 😅
You really didn’t mean to be out for so long
First your boss asks you to do one favor, then another, and next thing you know you’re at work for 4 hours more than you’re supposed to be. The asshole didn’t even pay you for all the extra shit you did! You made a mental note to go job hunting this week.
Maybe the gay club was looking for a stripper? Nah. Your girlfriend would get jealous
So you were angry. Angry about your paycheck
Next a few storm clouds roll up that night. Of course you forget to bring your rain jacket that day. Not to mention, rain feels like hail stones when you’re on your motorcycle. Apparently it’d be a cold day in hell before you dressed right for the weather
So along with being angry, you were cold and wet. Shitty might’ve been the lightest way you could’ve described your day
At least you could come home to your wonderful girlfriend in an apartment of your own. It took lots of convincing and hundreds of game nights to convince Sam to even accept the idea of you and Tara being alone together. Fortunately you were blessed with patience and homosexuality — two things that could withstand Sam’s will to protect her sister
Was the older Carpenter’s place on the floor right above you and Tara’s?
…
Yes. Yes it was.
But if it made your girlfriend and her sister happy, you had no reason to not be as well. Other than the elevator that never fucking worked but that was out of their hands
Your shirt and hair were absolutely soaked in rainwater by the time you reached your apartment door. The was a small trail of water behind you from where you walked but that might’ve been the least of your concerns. Fishing around in your damp pants for your keys, you fortunately find them without much effort
Opening the door with as little energy you can, you lock the door behind you and triple check you locked it just like Sam told you
Not wasting any time you slide off your wet shirt in the middle of your living room, throwing it on a chair and missing the younger Carpenter waiting on the couch for you half asleep
“Baby?” Tara rubs her eyes. You stand in the middle of your hallway like a deer in headlights. You were awfully vulnerable while wet and almost naked. Who knew.
Before you can respond, there’s shuffling behind you then something weighted and warm on your back. Tara’s leaning into you with her arms around your torso while you’re wet and almost naked in the middle of your hallway. What a sight.
“Why were you so late? You’re working tonight…” Your girlfriend’s hand dips a bit below your waistband and you have to resist the urge to shiver. From the cold? From Tara? Only god knew
“My boss had me do extra shit. I’ll find a different job that doesn’t have me out so late” You turn around to face Tara while her arms were still around you “I promise”
The younger Carpenter only hums into your chest without any sign of moving. So you don’t. It gives you the chance to really soak in the moment along with the rainwater on your skin. You only pull away when your girlfriend also starts to shiver
Of course she’s wearing nothing but a hoodie
Specifically, Tara’s wearing nothing but your hoodie
“How long have you been fighting sleep? Go to bed, love” You pick up your girlfriend with her legs wrapped around your waist and her arms loosely thrown around your neck
“Since you decided you hated me” Tara mumbles into your shoulder
“When was that?”
“When you didn’t come home on time”
“And I gave you a reason why I was late”
“Which doesn’t excuse you, because you could’ve hurried up” Tara plays with your bra strap as you stop walking toward your shared bedroom
“What I’m hearing is, you don’t want to take a late night shower with me? Even after a long day of work, where you could help me de-stress?” You say with a certain smugness in your voice
Your girlfriend whips her head up at your offer but you’ve already made it to your shared bed, not wasting a second to plop her down
“Waitbabypleaseididn’tmeanit-“ You’re already in the bathroom as Tara’s trying to scramble to you
“What? Sorry, love! Can’t hear you over the shower”
You had a childhood cat that always followed you around when you were younger. Tara reminded you of when your cat would scratch at the door whenever you went to the bathroom. Your girlfriend even had the scratching down just like your cat
When you were about to hop in the bath for a quick shower, something stops you from getting in. The imagery alone that Tara is probably leaning against the door waiting for you to get out is enough to pull at your heartstrings
You weren’t mean. You missed Tara as much as she missed you. It’s why she always wore your hoodies and you always took her shirts that fit you
So against your better judgment and the water bill you’re going to have to take Advil for, you unlock the bathroom door but you don’t open it
You’re both in the shower and you’re in Tara less than a second later
#jenna ortega x reader#jenna ortega#tara carpenter x reader#tara carpenter#scream#scream 6#tara carpenter scream#sam carpenter
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Hell?
⌐‣Hazbin Hotel x teen reader (platonic)
Want more? Check out the masterlist↩︎
Hot.
Hot.
Hot.
Hot.
Hot.
Why the fuck is it so hot.
Damn.
Everything hurts.
I don't want to open my eyes…
You were met with the sounds of screeching tires, crackling fire, yelling, and many other chaotic noises. It was as if the world was falling apart at the seams.
Opening your eyes, you quickly notice that you could hardly see. This place you are in is so different from what you knew. Wait- what did you know?
Standing up and almost stumbling, you felt as if everything you had ever known was slipping from your fingers. From your brain. What was my name again?
God, everything’s blurry.
Why is it so loud?
My heart is beating. Very loud, loud.
I don't like how loud it is…
Your breathing was uneven, and the stress began to show on your face. You looked down at the clothes you were wearing. What?
You were wearing basic black and red plaid pajama pants. A black tank top with wide arm holes that reached almost down the whole shirt length. You could feel your undergarments touching your body under your clothes.
I don't like this.
Something about these clothes makes me feel insanely claustrophobic.
I need to change.
God, I can't see shit in front of me.
You began to stumble around. You felt so on balance but so off balance at the same time. It was fucking nauseating
You couldn't see for shit but you could hear everything going on around you. All the different noises clashing with each other to the point of being unable to distinguish the direction they're coming from.
You're frozen in place when you hear a voice call out to you in the chaos.
“Damn kid- you alright?”
The voice sounded like a man… but it was so hard to tell with everything around you. There were screams.
“Kid.” The voice sounded a lot closer.
Your eyes darted in front of you, wandering aimlessly in hopes of being able to clearly see who was talking to you.
“Wha—” You felt short of breath. “Who?” Your breathing and the sound of your thundering heart made it so hard to focus on what was happening around you.
“You ain't lookin’ too hot kid. You just roll in?” The voice sounded both worried and not at the same time, but then again it's not like you could really care. You were a bit more focused on trying to not have a meltdown if things didn't start clearing up.
“What? What do you mean?”
There was a beat of silence from the man.
“I mean are you new here? In hell?”
Hell?
“What do you mean hell?”
“Damn, kid! Are you blind? Look around and tell me this doesn't look like hell!”
Knowing you wouldn't be able to see, you swiveled your head around in hopes that, maybe, you'd be able to see clearly for the first time in what felt like forever, even if it's only been a few minutes. But to no one's surprise, you couldn't. Everything was still blurry. You could feel your anxiety spike.
“I can't see.” Your voice wobbled with uncertainty.
“Oh, so you are blind…” The voice sounded quiet now. There was silence from the man and from you as well. Hopefully staring at the man, you spoke in his direction. Your voice growing shaky due to stress.
“I can't see shit, what I can hear is so loud that I can't distinguish shit, my back hurts like shit, and apparently, I'm in hell!” You let out in a small outburst.
This situation is so… so entirely frustrating.
I still want to- no I need to change into something.
I feel so itchy in these clothes.
Subconsciously, you scratched at your arms, only to recoil in shock when you felt fur. Not skin. Fur. That must have been the final nail in the coffin for your nerves.
The poor voice (hopefully) in front of you, was not prepared for the following,
You, letting out a high-pitched animal-like shriek.
You, frantically looking around even if you couldn't see.
And lastly, you were fainting.
The voice felt so bad for what had just happened in front of him, even if he didn't contribute much to your shock, seeing someone as young-looking as you in hell and then passing out on the side of the streets. He did the only thing he could think of.
He brought back you to the hotel.
The only place he thought was safe enough for a kid to be in hell.
.
Word Count: 755
#hazbin hotel#gender neutral reader#voonroo#teen reader#hazbin alastor#hazbin angel dust#hazbin husk#hazbin charlie#hazbin vaggie#hazbin hotel x reader#hazbin hotel x you#hazbin hotel x child reader#hazbin hotel + child reader#hazbin hotel x teen reader#hazbin hotel + teen reader#hazbin hotel x reader platonic#platonic#gender neutral y/n#no use of y/n#x reader#reader insert#hazbin hotel + reader#hazbin hotel family relationships#hazbin hotel series
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Like Peas in a Pod
Pairing: Bob Floyd x Female Reader
Summary: What happens when two wallflowers find each other?
Word Count: 5.7k
Author’s Note: I admit that this story is extremely self-indulgent. But I have a feeling that a lot of people can relate to what our leading lady goes through, and I hope you can find pieces of yourself in her!
Warnings: Mild angst, social awkwardness, feeling overlooked, alcohol consumption, flirting, fluff.
If you’d had it your way, you would be at home right now, curled up on the couch in a pair of cozy pajamas with a good book and a steaming cup of tea in hand. But instead, your friends had outnumbered you 3-1 and you were currently sitting in the middle of a noisy, crowded bar, the patrons loudly competing with the music that was blaring through the speakers.
“Do we have to go out tonight?” you’d groaned over FaceTime a few hours earlier. “It’s been such a long week. Can’t we just do a wine night and put on some movies?”
“We did that last week!” Shawna argued. “C’mon, I just got my nails done. Don’t let it be for nothing,” she teased, wiggling her manicured fingers in front of the camera.
“Besides,” Kelsey chimed in, “like you said, it has been a long week. We deserve a night out to unwind and treat ourselves.”
“Hopefully we’ll find other people to treat us,” Renee added cheekily, tossing her unruly dark curls over her shoulder as she winked.
“Besides, the girls at work told me this is a really fun bar. Apparently it’s where all the hotties from North Island go after work,” Shawna giggled.
Your former college roommate had just started a new nursing job at Naval Medical Center San Diego, so if anyone was going to know where the hot Navy guys spent their off hours, it would be her.
“It’s settled! We’re going to The Hard Deck, ladies,” Renee grinned, blowing you all a kiss. “Meet at my place at 8 and we’ll Uber over.”
As much as you would have preferred to stay at home tonight, you had to admit that Shawna hadn’t been wrong. From the moment you’d stepped foot inside The Hard Deck, you’d been amazed at the sheer number of attractive men crowding the space. You certainly never found men like this when you hit the bars downtown.
Renee, ever the mastermind when it came to scoping out the most advantageous situations, quickly managed to grab your group a table smack in the middle of the room. It had an excellent vantage point that not only made you most visible to the bar’s patrons, but also gave you a perfect view of the pool table, the dart boards, and the bar all at once.
“Cheers, ladies!” Kelsey exclaimed once you were all seated with your first round of drinks. “And a special toast to Shawna for telling us about this place!” she added with a grin, holding up her glass of hard cider.
The rest of you held up your drinks—Renee had opted for a bottle of Coors, Shawna had gone with an IPA, and you had chosen a High Noon—and clinked them together with a celebratory “Cheers!”
“Tonight’s the night that you’re finally going to find yourself a man,” Shawna told you, turning to you and playfully poking you in the side.
“Yes, it is!” Renee nodded in agreement, winking at you from across the table as she took a sip of her beer.
“Take your pick, babe,” Kelsey added, waving her hand to encompass the whole bar. “I’ve literally never seen so many gorgeous guys all in one place. And in uniform, too!”
You felt the back of your neck prickling and your skin growing warm at your friends’ expectant stares, a weak smile gracing your lips as you took a sip of your drink. It always ended up being like this. You loved your friends, and you knew they meant well, but they had no idea what it was like to be in your shoes.
The four of you had been best friends since college, despite the fact that you couldn’t have been more different from one another if you tried. Kelsey always joked that your four personalities combined helped to balance each other out.
Despite their differences in looks, style, and demeanor, Shawna, Renee, and Kelsey did all have one thing in common that you had never seemed to possess—the ability to turn men’s heads no matter where they were.
Shawna had the perfectly sweet girl-next-door vibe going on. With her strawberry blonde locks, big blue eyes, dusting of freckles, and curvy figure, she always attracted guys like bees to a flower.
At any given time, Kelsey looked like she had just walked off the runway. Even in a pair of sweatpants and a hoodie, she managed to look chic. With her tall, willowy figure, sleek dark brown bob, almond-shaped eyes, and lips that never needed lipstick, she had men drooling all over her.
Arguably the most exuberant member of the group was Renee, who had been a firecracker for as long as you had known her. The only thing bigger than her laugh was her smile, and she had the most gorgeous ebony curls that contrasted perfectly with her cinnamon-colored skin. Paired with her petite figure, she drew men in like moths to a flame.
And then there was you. Quiet, shy, bookish you. Throughout college, people had often commented that you seemed like the most grounded out of all your friends, but you knew what that really meant. You were boring. And you knew what people were really trying to say—how had you become friends with such fun-loving girls?
You loved your friends more than anything, and you were grateful for the ways they’d helped you come out of your shell since college. But you’d be lying if you said going out to bars with them wasn’t challenging at times.
They all knew how to light up a room, how to flirt and talk to random strangers and get phone numbers from the hottest men you’d ever seen. You—didn’t know how to do any of that.
You’d tried over the years, you really had. Mainly at the girls’ insistence. You made an effort to flirt with the guys they introduced you to, or strike up conversations with random cuties at your favorite coffee shop, but it never seemed to work for you the way that it did for your friends. And guys never approached you the way they did Shawna and Kelsey and Renee.
The most painful experience had been a couple months ago, when a guy had come up to you while you were waiting to order a drink, smiling and chatting in a way that had you thinking he was interested. Your heart had soared inside your chest, only to crash a few moments later when he asked, “So, is your friend single?” while pointing at Kelsey.
You hadn’t told any of your friends about that encounter. You knew they’d just feel bad and you didn’t want them to. They were desperate to find somebody for you, and you didn’t have the heart to tell them that you’d given up hoping for that a long time ago. They just wouldn’t understand. They went on dates all the time. You were just the one guys approached to inquire after their relationship statuses.
“Don’t give us that look,” Renee told you, shaking her head and pointing an accusatory finger at you as you attempted to slink down in your seat. “You look hot tonight, and you need to show it off!”
“You do,” Shawna nodded vehemently, nudging you in the side again until you sat up straight. “I love that top.”
“See? I told you it was a solid purchase,” Kelsey winked, as she had been the one to convince you to buy the top in question when the two of you had gone shopping a couple weeks ago.
Despite your lack of hopefulness, you had put a good deal of effort into your appearance tonight. You couldn’t help it. A bar full of hot guys in sexy uniforms? You’d be crazy not to try. You’d spent over an hour on your hair and make-up, and had decided to finally take the tags off the top Kelsey had convinced you to buy. The neckline flattered your figure and hugged your body in all the right places. You’d coupled it with a pair of high-waisted jeans and strappy sandals to show off your pedicure. Even you had to admit that you looked good, but you still hadn’t seemed to catch the eye of any guy in the bar.
“Let’s just enjoy the night and focus on us,” you said, trying to deflect your friends’ intense attention. “If anybody else happens to come along, then so be it.”
The girls all shot you dissatisfied looks, but didn’t push the point any further. Shawna started regaling you all with stories from her new job, which allowed you to let out a soft sigh of relief.
As the night went on, you tried your best not to grow discouraged, but it was getting harder and harder. Countless guys had passed by your table, stopping to flirt with Renee or Kelsey or Shawna, or even all three, but their eyes skipped over you like you were invisible. Whenever your friends tried to direct their attention your way, they smiled politely before instantly turning back to the actual objects of their attraction. Every time you got up to use the bathroom or order another round at the bar, you attempted to smile and make eye contact and appear open and interested, all the things your friends had been telling you to do for years, but none of it worked.
At that point, all you wanted to do was go home, put on your pajamas, and live vicariously through a good rom com.
You were about to tell your friends that you were going to get going when one of the bartenders—if you’d heard correctly earlier, she might have been the owner—approached your table with a tray full of drinks, a smile gracing her lovely face.
“Ladies, these are for you,” she said, setting down a cider for Kelsey, a Coors for Renee, an IPA for Shawna, and a High Noon for you.
“Oh,” Shawna said, her blue eyes widening in surprise. “I think there might have been a mistake. We didn’t order another round, did we?” she asked, looking at the rest of you.
“Not that we won’t take them,” Renee chimed in with that bright laugh of hers.
The woman smiled at the four of you. “No mistake. These drinks are compliments of the group over there,” she chuckled, pointing at a group of officers clustered around the pool table.
The four of you turned your gazes in the direction she was pointing, your friends letting out various sounds of delighted surprise when they realized the men in question looked as though they had just been featured on the cover of Men’s Health magazine.
“Oh, we’ll definitely take them!” Renee beamed, flipping her dark curls over her shoulder.
“Thank you,” Kelsey grinned up at the older woman gratefully.
“Of course,” she nodded, tucking her empty tray under her arm. She leaned in a little closer with a conspiratorial smile and whispered, “I’ll vouch for the fact that they’re good guys. But if they act like idiots, just come find me. My name is Penny.”
“Thanks, Penny,” Shawna giggled, reaching for her new drink. “We owe you one!”
Penny winked at you before heading back to the bar, which was surrounded by thirsty customers. Business was booming. If Penny was the owner as you suspected, then she must have been doing quite well.
“Should we go thank them for the drinks?” Shawna grinned, chewing on her lower lip as she glanced in the direction of the handsome officers at the pool table.
“Not yet,” Renee decided, smirking mischievously. “We’ll let them sweat it out a little bit first.”
“Renee!” Kelsey laughed, lightly smacking her on the arm.
“What? You know it’ll work. They’ll be eating out of the palms of our hands,” Renee grinned, taking a hearty sip of her Coors.
“They look cute,” you ventured, though your palms were already sweating at the thought of approaching them. You highly doubted any of them would be eating out of your clammy palms.
Clearly you shouldn’t have said anything, because suddenly all three of your friends were pouncing on you like ravenous wolves.
“Which one do you think is the cutest?”
“Do you see one you like?”
“Claim one now before we get over there!”
Their words loudly overlapped one another, to the point that you had to resist the urge to cover your ears with your hands.
“I—I—I don’t know!” you exclaimed, feeling your skin grow warm with embarrassment. You hated being the center of attention. “I just meant—I mean, they look cute for you guys.”
“Um, last I checked, you were just as single as the rest of us. Why wouldn’t they be cute for you, too?” Kelsey demanded, raising one of her perfectly waxed eyebrows.
“Please, you guys, let’s just drop it. I’m probably going to start heading home soon anyway,” you told them, sliding down in your seat and wishing the ground would swallow you whole.
“What? No, you can’t!” Renee and Shawna practically cried in unison.
“C’mon, we’ll go over to them now,” Renee decided, grabbing her drink and her purse. “You can’t leave yet,” she insisted.
Kelsey and Shawna nodded, grabbing their things and following suit, nearly having to drag you out of your seat to get you to come with them.
“Well, well, well, fellas,” smirked a blonde-headed officer as the four of you approached the pool table. “Looks like our little gift didn’t go unnoticed after all.”
Glancing down quickly, you spotted the name printed on his nameplate—Seresin. He was extremely handsome in that clean-cut, All-American way, with his perfectly coiffed blonde hair, sparkling green eyes, and charming smile.
Renee, who always ended up being your group’s fearless leader, smirked in return as she stepped to the head of the pack. “Well, well, well, ladies. Looks like the guys who sent us those drinks aren’t half bad after all,” she said, resting a hand on her hip as she gazed up at the blonde man, challenge twinkling in her dark eyes. “Even if they weren’t brave enough to come bring us the drinks themselves.”
Kelsey and Shawna stood on either side of her, giggling softly, while you hung near the back, staring down at your feet as your cheeks burned hot.
“Most of us aren’t half bad. I can’t speak for Hangman here,” another voice piped up, deep and gravelly. You could sense, rather than see, Kelsey’s ears pricking up at the sound.
Glancing up, you saw another handsome man standing before you, looking every inch Kelsey’s type with his sunkissed brown hair, broad shoulders, tanned skin, and easygoing smile. If you knew Kelsey, you knew she was already imagining what that mustache would feel like against her lips. You clocked his nameplate as well—Bradshaw.
“Hangman?” Renee asked coquettishly, quirking an eyebrow as she glanced between the two men.
“My callsign,” the blonde cut in smoothly, pool cue still in hand. It was clear that while he and Bradshaw might be buddies, there was still a sense of competition between the two.
“Ah, callsigns. You’re fighter pilots,” Shawna commented, grinning knowingly. Thank goodness for her job at NMCSD. She was much more in the know than any of the rest of you.
“Not just any fighter pilots. The best fighter pilots,” came another voice from the other side of the pool table. When Hangman stepped to the side, you saw it belonged to a guy whose jawline looked like it could cut glass and whose smile could melt butter. His nameplate read Machado.
“Oh, yeah?” Kelsey asked, crossing her arms over her chest. “And who determines that?”
“The Navy,” Bradshaw replied smoothly, stepping a little closer to your statuesque friend. “We’re all TOPGUN graduates. The top 1%.”
“Hmm, and humble, too,” Kelsey laughed, delicately resting her hand on his arm as she did so. “So what’s your callsign then?”
“Rooster,” the mustached man told her, chest puffing out with pride. “But I’m being awfully rude. I didn’t catch your name,” he said, holding out his large hand.
“Kelsey,” she replied, her dark eyes twinkling as she slipped her hand into his.
You watched as, almost instantly, your friends partnered off quite naturally with the handsome aviators. Renee and Hangman were already bickering about the best way to sink the 8 ball, Kelsey and Rooster were talking about music near the window, and Shawna was flirting up a storm with Machado, whose callsign turned out to be Coyote.
Your stomach sank as you realized that you were suddenly on your own. As usual. Not that you resented your friends getting to flirt with cute guys. You always cheered them on when they met someone new, and you were always there to celebrate with them. You just wished that, for once, they had a reason to celebrate with you.
Glancing around, you saw that there were several other officers hanging around the pool table, though most of them seemed to be engrossed in their own conversations. No one was paying you any mind. And suddenly you felt like crying.
What was wrong with you? Was there something about you that just naturally repelled handsome men? Your friends were constantly telling you how beautiful you were, but that was hard to believe when you were the only one who never got hit on, never got asked out, never felt special or seen by anybody.
It was time to go home. You could feel the tears stinging the backs of your eyes, and the last thing you needed was to start bawling in the middle of a Navy bar. No one would notice if you just slipped away. You’d text your friends in the Uber and ask them to let you know how the rest of their night went. It always ended up being like this, and you weren’t sure why you had thought tonight would be any different.
Silently leaving your drink on the table with your friends’ things, you turned and began snaking your way through the crowd, trying to get to the bar so that you could close out your tab. Before you could get there, however, someone bumped into you from behind, sending your purse flying out of your hands.
Sighing softly, you dropped down to your hands and knees, praying you wouldn’t get stomped on as you tried to reach for it. Just as your hand was hovering over it, however, a much larger hand closed down around it and lifted it up.
Before you could shout for help, that same hand was hovering in front of your face, silently offering to help you up off the sticky bar floor. You lifted your head and your heart skipped a beat at the man who was gazing down at you. He had sandy brown hair, big blue eyes magnified behind a pair of military-issued glasses, and ruddy cheeks, an uncertain smile on his handsome face.
Wordlessly, you took his hand and allowed him to pull you back up to your feet. He was even taller than you had originally thought from your position down on the ground.
“Are you alright?” he asked loudly, trying to be heard over the din of the crowd.
“Yes,” you yelled back, nodding your head on the off-chance he hadn’t heard you. “Thank you,” you added.
“I’m guessing you were looking for this?” he went on, holding up your purse in his other hand.
You nodded again, accepting your bag with a grateful smile. “I guess I’m just a klutz,” you told him sheepishly, the realization dawning that this man had literally just witnessed you crawling on a grimy bar floor.
He smiled in response, which only made him look all the more handsome. “It wasn’t your fault,” he said, shaking his head. “Someone bumped into you.”
He had seen that? Had he actually been paying attention to you? Or did he just happen to be nearby?
“Well, thank you. I appreciate it,” you murmured, nervously fiddling with one of your bracelets as you glanced over at the bar.
He followed your gaze, his expression conflicted. “Well I don’t want to hold you up,” he told you, sounding vaguely disappointed.
Your head whipped back in his direction. “Oh, no! I mean, you’re not. I was just trying to get to the bar to close my tab.”
Were you losing your mind or did he really look disappointed now?
“Oh, you’re leaving?” he asked, glancing over his shoulder. “I, um, I thought I saw you with the girls who were hanging out with my friends,” he explained, indicating the group at the pool table with his thumb.
He was a part of that group? Was this a sign that maybe you shouldn’t leave after all?
“Oh, um, yeah,” you nodded, chewing on your bottom lip as you tried to think of what to say. “I just, um…well, it’s kind of loud in here and I just…” Your sentence trailed off as you realized how lame you sounded.
“Would you like to maybe go outside for a minute?” he suggested. When you hesitated, he stammered, “I mean, of course you don’t have to. I’m sorry. I mean, obviously you just want to get out of here and I’m—”
“No,” you cut him off, briefly brushing your fingers against his arm. “I mean, I would like that,” you clarified with a shy smile.
“Oh,” he blinked, looking a little surprised. But then he brightened instantly, his bright blue eyes shining as he smiled at you in return. “I’m Bob, by the way. Bob Floyd,” he introduced himself, holding out his hand to you.
Slipping your hand into his, you smiled wider as you told him your name, beaming when he repeated it back to you and told you it was pretty.
“So do you have a callsign, too, Bob?” you asked curiously as he led you through the crowd and towards one of the back doors that faced the beach. “Your friends were telling me and my friends their callsigns earlier.”
“Oh, um, yeah,” he replied, rubbing the back of his neck as he held open the door that led to a little back patio with picnic tables. It was relatively empty, except for a few people hanging out in the sand. “My callsign is Bob. Original, I know,” he said with a self-deprecating laugh, as if he was used to being made fun of for it.
In that instant, you felt a deep sense of connectedness to him that you couldn’t explain. Maybe it was the way he ducked his head and averted his gaze, like he was trying to hide, or the way he nervously shoved his glasses up the bridge of his nose, but you were suddenly certain that no one understood what it felt like to be in your shoes more than he did. To be overlooked, forgotten, underestimated. To be uncomfortable in your own skin because you were so certain you were never going to be enough for people.
“I like it,” you told him with a smile.
“Thank you,��� he replied sincerely, looking caught off guard and surprised by your words once again.
The two of you wandered over to one of the picnic tables and took seats opposite each other, the fairy lights strung up outside illuminating his features as he gazed at you.
“Is this your first time at The Hard Deck?” he asked curiously, resting his elbows on the table. “I feel like I’d remember seeing you.”
You bit down on your lower lip to hide your smile, his words warming you from the inside out. “It is, actually. It was my friend Shawna’s idea to come tonight. She just recently started working at NMCSD and some of her co-workers told her this was a good spot.”
“It is,” Bob nodded, smiling at you. “Penny Benjamin, the owner, is a good woman and she always makes sure to look out for us.”
“I’m guessing this is a regular spot for you guys then?” you questioned, glancing up and spotting your friends through one of the windows. They looked like they were still having a good time with the aviators they’d found.
“Pretty much, yeah,” he chuckled. “It’s been almost a year since I’ve been back in San Diego. I was at TOPGUN a few years ago, then got stationed at Lemoore, then got called back to TOPGUN last October for a special mission, then got asked to stay on permanently with my new squadron. The Hard Deck has become like a second home,” he joked.
You laughed softly, charmed by the way he told you the story without a trace of arrogance or conceit. Clearly, he was one of the Navy’s best pilots if he had been called to TOPGUN not once, but twice, but he wasn’t bragging or boasting. He was just stating the facts.
As if he could read your mind, Bob explained, “I’m actually not a pilot. I’m a Weapons Systems Officer. I ride in the rear of the jet and deal with navigation and operating the aircraft system. I wanted to be a pilot when I was young, but my vision’s always been a problem. I’m proud to be a WSO though. And I have a great partner.”
“I think that sounds really impressive,” you told him honestly, reaching out and resting your hand over his. “I’m sure that takes a tremendous amount of skill and talent. If it was up to me, we’d never make it off the ground,” you grinned.
Bob smiled in return. “I’m sure you’d get the hang of it real quick. You seem really smart,” he said, the tips of his ears turning red as he ducked his head slightly. “So, uh, what do you do?”
“I’m a teacher,” you replied. “I teach history to middle schoolers.”
“Now that’s something I’m sure takes a tremendous amount of skill and talent. Just the thought of middle schoolers terrifies me,” he admitted, which made both of you laugh. “And history, too, huh? I love history. It was always my favorite subject in school.”
“Really?” you asked excitedly. It was rare that you found someone who enjoyed geeking out over history as much as you did.
“Absolutely. If I hadn’t gone into the Navy, I would have loved working in a museum or something. Maybe being a teacher, but like I said—middle schoolers terrify me,” he grinned, his eyes crinkling.
“There’s always high school,” you pointed out with a smile.
“Even worse!” he exclaimed, which made you dissolve into a fit of giggles.
The two of you sat in companionable silence for a few moments, taking in the sound of the ocean waves and the faint trickle of music coming from inside the bar.
“Is that a piano?” you asked when the sound of the music registered in your ears.
“Sounds like Rooster is already trying to show off to your friend,” Bob teased, glancing over his shoulder as the door opened and a small group of rowdy sailors made their way outside.
“Trust me, Kelsey is probably eating it all up right now,” you assured him with a knowing look.
“My friends are very smooth with the ladies, but they’re also good guys, I promise. Your friends are in good hands,” he told you.
“It’s funny, Penny told us the same thing earlier,” you said.
“Ah, well, no one’s more trustworthy than Penny,” Bob smiled.
You nodded and the two of you sat in silence once again. It wasn’t an uncomfortable silence, however. You didn’t feel the need to fill it with awkward chatter. You were more than happy to just sit there with him, enjoying the cool evening air and listening to the sound of the waves lapping against the shore.
Bob looked like something was on his mind, like he wanted to say something, but was holding back. When you met his eyes and cocked your head to the side curiously, however, he seemed to come to a decision.
“Why were you going to leave?”
You were a little taken aback by his question and immediately dropped your gaze to your lap, fiddling with the strap of your purse and trying to figure out how to answer his question in a way that didn’t make you sound completely pathetic.
“I’m sorry, that’s none of my business. I shouldn’t have asked that,” Bob chastised himself, shaking his head. “Please, just forget it.”
“No, um, it’s okay,” you reassured him, clearing your throat slightly. You suddenly wished you had thought to grab a cup of water before coming outside. “Um, I guess I just realized that my friends were really hitting it off with your friends, and I didn’t see any point in sticking around any longer.”
Bob seemed troubled by your response, a small crease appearing between his brows. “Wasn’t there anybody for you to talk to?”
You turned your face away in embarrassment. Things had been going so well. You didn’t want Bob to know what a wallflower you truly were.
“Um, no, not really. My friends are the ones guys usually want to talk to,” you admitted quietly, your voice nearly drowned out by the wind. Your mouth felt so dry, and your hands were sweaty as you wiped them against your jeans.
Bob fully frowned at that. “Guys should be lined up out the door to talk to you,” he said softly, his voice serious.
“That’s sweet of you to say,” you murmured, staring down at the table instead of meeting his eyes.
“I’m not just saying it,” Bob insisted, his tone so urgent that it actually caused you to lift your head up to look at him. “You’re sweet and kind and funny and smart and so beautiful. Guys would have to be insane not to want to talk to you. I’m honestly shocked you’re out here talking to me of all people.”
“Don’t say that,” you begged him, your heart hurting to think that other women didn’t appreciate the wonderful man sitting before you.
“I know that I’m not like my friends,” he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck as he blushed furiously. “I know I’m not the kind of guy that girls want to talk to. So I know what it’s like to feel like you could just disappear in a place like this and nobody would notice. I hate that you feel that way, too.”
Your breath caught in your throat at his words. You had never met anyone before who seemed to know your thoughts so clearly, who could read your mind and understand everything you were feeling.
“Bob,” you breathed out, reaching across the table and clasping one of his hands between both of yours. “I think you’re a terrific guy. And the girls who can’t see that? It’s their loss.”
He smiled at that, his gaze fixed on your face as he rested his free hand over yours, brushing your knuckles with his thumb. “I’m really glad you didn’t leave.”
“I’m really glad you asked me to stay.”
He said nothing in response, just held your hand tighter as his blue eyes bore into yours, as if he was reading the very depths of your soul.
The air hung thick with tension as the two of you stared at one another, leaning in closer and closer until your lips had no choice but to meet, his mouth firm, but gentle as it closed over yours.
It was soft and sweet and chaste, but when the two of you pulled back, you were both stammering and blushing like a couple of schoolchildren.
The stillness of the moment was broken a moment later when your friends shoved open the door and spilled out onto the back patio.
“There you are!” Renee exclaimed, hands on her hips as she did her best impression of your mother. “You had us scared half to death!”
“I told you she was fine,” Shawna insisted, rolling her eyes and mouthing ‘Sorry!’ to you.
“See? Nothing to be worried about,” Kelsey added. “She’s with…” She let her sentence trail off, shooting you a look to make quick introductions.
“Um, Bob! This is Bob,” you quickly supplied, squeezing his hand and shooting him an apologetic look.
“She’s with Bob!” Kelsey said, poking Renee in the side.
“Floyd, there you are! We were wondering where the hell you got off to,” Hangman said, joining your group and wrapping an arm around Renee’s waist.
“I guess they did notice we disappeared after all,” you whispered to Bob with a knowing smile.
“Of course we did!” Kelsey butted in, smiling when Rooster stepped up behind her and slipped his hand into hers.
“We were all going to head back to my place for a midnight swim,” Shawna explained, beaming up at Coyote. Your friend’s apartment complex was the only one that had a pool, and her landlord was cool enough to allow residents to use it whenever they wanted, so long as they were mindful of the noise. “Invite your friend!”
Your cheeks grew warm as everyone stared at you expectantly. “Um, Bob, would you like to come swimming with us?”
“I’d love to,” Bob grinned, his eyes fixed on you and only you.
Your friends clapped and cheered, which made your cheeks grow all the hotter.
“C’mon, let’s go close our tabs. Jake’s paying for the Ubers,” Renee smirked, patting the blonde’s chest as she gazed up at him.
“Aww, thanks, Jake,” Coyote grinned, smacking his friend on the shoulder as he and Shawna headed back inside.
“Owe you one, man,” Rooster nodded, leading Kelsey back into the bar.
“Hey, wait a second—”
“That’s what you get for losing two rounds of pool,” Renee teased, planting a kiss on his cheek before dragging him back inside.
Once you and Bob were left alone in the blessed silence once more, you looked at each other and couldn’t help but crack up laughing.
“I think your friends have really met their matches in my friends,” you told him playfully, gathering your things and rising from the picnic table.
“I think so,” Bob nodded, rising as well. “But I think I really met my match in you.”
Smiling, you slipped your hand into his and beamed up at him. “I couldn’t agree more.”
And as you walked out of The Hard Deck hand-in-hand with Bob, catching the victorious looks and playful winks your friends were shooting your way, you found yourself very grateful for all the times it had never worked out for you before this. Because you were certain beyond a shadow of a doubt that Bob Floyd had been worth waiting for.
#robert bob floyd#bob floyd#bob floyd x reader#x reader#x female reader#top gun#top gun: maverick#lewis pullman
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