#the way this sat in my drafts for nearly a week | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

leclerc-hs · 3 months

Text

ex's and oh's - CL16

pairing: ex!charles leclerc x fem!reader summary: in which you and your ex-boyfriend are in complicated territory OR your ex fucks you in the drivers seat of his car warnings: 18+, SMUT under the cut, badly translated french (pls correct me), not proofread!!!! word count: 2.4k author's note: ok I just want to sincerely apologize for my long absence on here!!! i know you’ve been waiting for me to finish this for a while now LOL but I've been insanely busy balancing life with two jobs lol. So I'm going to leave this here. I can honestly say it's not my best work and I apologize for that but I really wanted to give y'all something in the mean time. I have a bunch of drafts I plan to work on whenever I get the chance. Love you all!! pls forgive me and don't forget to leave me some comments and thoughts xoxo

THERE WAS NOTHING that could’ve prepared you for this fight. You weren’t drunk, as promised. Although you weren’t sober either.

You and Charles were...complicated. Exes but…. still, something more. You would always be something more. Your history stretched back almost forever, and that alone made it challenging to stay apart from each other.

There was a point in time when the aftermath of your breakup made it impossible for both of you to share the same space. It invariably led to bitter arguments over seemingly trivial matters. One such instance was during a movie night with your group of friends when you showed up in a sweatshirt that was far too big for your body, obvious that it wasn’t your own. Charles simmered with silent resentment in the corner until he could no longer contain it. The memory etched vividly in your mind, recalling the knots in your stomach throughout the night, feeling the intense burn of Charles’ gaze upon you. He didn’t cast a single glance at the movie that evening.

“Who’s fucking sweatshirt is that?”

“Already fucking other people, hm?”

As you slid into the familiar supple leather seats of his Ferrari, you felt the warmth of the car hug you like a blanket, providing much relief from the contrast of the cold air outside. In the process of slipping into his car, your skirt had ridden up higher than Charles would’ve preferred, your panties nearly exposed if it weren’t for the sheer tights providing more coverage. Did you really go out dressed like that? He felt his hands grip the steering wheel tighter than normal as a waft of your perfume enveloped the car.

“Did you have fun?” His tone was neutral, but his body posture was tense. He barely turned his head to check if you placed your seat belt on before peeling out from the curb at a speed much too fast.

Sober you would’ve caught onto his attitude almost immediately. But tipsy you, thought nothing of it.

“Oh Charlie!” You exasperated, the click of your seatbelt filling the car as the radio was turned on the lowest possible volume. “It was so fun!”

He dropped one of his hands from the wheel, bringing his hand to rub the scruff of his unshaven jaw, as a deep sigh falls past his lips. He was annoyed—more than annoyed. The sole fact that you left him unanswered for hours wasn’t his only issue. What had his muscles all tight and the permanent frown on his face was the images of one of your guy friends being way too close to you. Too close for Charles liking. It was the same guy that his friends had briefly mentioned weeks ago on his boat.

“Cha, l’aimes-tu toujours?” Do you still love her? His friends sat around the table; half-eaten food left on their plates. He didn’t answer the question immediately. But everyone knew, subconsciously, that he did.

“Elle et Nick été proches récemment,” Her and Nick have been close lately. The phrase alone made Charles choke on his water. In that moment, he thanked the lord for the sunglasses covering his widened eyes. The burn in his chest began simmering as the conversation continued.

“Oui, ne sont-ils pas partis ensemble l’autre soir?” Yeah, didn’t they leave together the other night?

He couldn’t blame his friends for the discussion. They didn’t know that you two were still in complicated territory. Everyone always figured you two would rekindle, but it’s been so long, no one knew if it would happen anymore.

So, although Charles felt like the air was being sucked out of his lungs, he plastered a big smile on his face while throwing his arm around the back of the chair beside him. “Nick, hm?”

He made a genuine effort to control his anger. Honestly, he really did try. However, as you persisted in discussing the night, particularly when the name ‘Nick’ slipped past your lips, he couldn’t help but lose his composure just a little bit.

His voice took on a lethal edge as he maneuvered the car to the side of the desolate road. The act of driving demanded attention, but his mind was a whirlwind of a million thoughts. He was consumed by anger, it oozed from every pore of his skin as he scoffed and turned to confront you. Your eyes were already fixated on him, and his gaze instantly met yours.

“A-t-il touché à toi?” Did he touch you? His voice rumbled like a low growl, and the green in his eyes was so deep and intense that it masked their actual color, making it nearly impossible to discern the green hue. But you memorized those eyes. His eyes. You were familiar with every nuance of shade that adorned them. His breath was slow and even as he awaited your answer.

The idea drove him insane—the notion of another man laying his hands on you. And even worse, you wanting another man’s hands on you.

For a moment, you found yourself taken aback, only to fully comprehend his tense posture and the sharpness in his tone. Suppressing any inclination to react visibly, you wrestled to maintain a neutral expression, ensuring your lips didn’t betray a hint of a smirk at his jealousy. You didn’t even need to ask who he was.

“Et est-ce que cela aurait de l’importance s’il l’avait fait?” And would it matter if he did?

The fact that you didn’t need to even address who he was talking about, only caused him to spiral further. As if you were confirming that Nick is the only other option.

The car felt increasingly smaller as the anger in Charles grew. His knee was bouncing with impatience as he clenched his jaw. Yes. Yes, it fucking mattered. He wanted to shout until his lungs gave out that it mattered. He began to lose the evenness of his breathing pattern, becoming more erratic as you didn’t answer the question.

“Dis-le-moi et nous le découvrirons,” Tell me and we’ll find out. His eyes traced your every movement as your eyes narrowed at him, a scowl forming on your lips. The lips he dreamed about almost every night.

The silence in the car heightened, and with each passing second, you could feel your heart rate quicken. His gaze remained fixated on your face, unwilling to divert elsewhere. It was as if he were a predator, and you, his prey, captivated under the unrelenting focus of his eyes.

“What? No snarky remarks for me?” C’mon play with me. Although he felt like his chest might crack in two, he needed to mask it. Needed to be nonchalant.

The tension lingered until you took a sharp swallow, the muscles in your neck twitching, that his eyes shifted, descending to the nape of your neck. They fixated on the subtle gleam of your collarbones, still glistening with a thin sheen of sweat from the night’s dancing. His gaze traced the gentle rise and fall of your breasts with each breath. He wanted to devour you whole.

You felt your thighs clench slightly from his pressuring gaze. He is so fucking hot. His hair in complete disarray from running his hands through it. He wore a pair of grey sweats and a black hoodie that made you want to cling your body around him as soon as you saw him.

“Y a-t-il quelque chose entre vous deux?” Is there something between you two? His patience was wearing thin. You still haven’t answered his question, and the silence was eating him alive.

You detected a subtle waver in his tone, prompting a softening in your gaze. Your hand gently reached for his face, and he allowed his head to lean ever so slightly against the palm of your hand. It was as if your touch alone had the power to appease the turmoil of anger and jealousy rising within him.

And as much as you loved to get under his skin like he did yours sometimes. You couldn’t find it in you to provoke him. To cause him any pain. “No.”

The corner of his lips twitched up slightly as your thumb brushed against his jawline. His hands tremble when they reach for you, pulling you out of your seat and across the center console into his lap. “Est-ce que cela aurait de l’importance?” Would it matter? You repeated the question as your legs straddled him. His hands slid around your waist, resting on your backside in a tight grip, so you couldn’t move.

His mouth formed into a hardened line, as if he forced it to show you just how serious he was when he answered. “Bien sûr que cela a de l’importance,” Of course it matters.

“Porquoi?” Why?

“Why?” He repeats your question. Scoffing at the fact that you even had to ask him. As if you didn’t already know why.

You suck in a sharp breath as soon as his warm tongue meets with the nape of your neck, trailing hot and wet kisses up until his lips meet yours for a moment before pulling away.

“Mon coeur t’appartient.” My heart is yours. There was no questioning in his words. “Il a toujours été tien.” It’s always been yours. As those words hung in the air, your breath caught. You love this man. You love this man with every fiber of your being.

His fingers gripped onto your thighs with an almost bruising intensity, as if he needed to confirm your presence by feeling you in his hands, ensuring you weren’t a figment of his imagination. His nails traced along the thin fabric at the apex of your thigh, before digging them in and tearing them open instantly. You let out an audible moan as his fingers found immediate solace to the damp spot on your underwear. Of course, you were already wet just by looking at him.

“Est-ce que tu m’aimes?” Do you love me? He questioned, adding slight pressure to your cotton covered clit.

You moaned in delight at the contact but did not answer his question. It drove him mad.

His fingers slipped past your underwear, shoving them to the side, and slipping his fingers into your heated core. His fingers curled, hitting the spot you needed him most just right. Your back arched, barely grazing the horn of the steering wheel. Your hands were frantic, reaching for the waistband of his grey sweats as Charles lifted in hips off his seat to help you.

“Oh fuck,” You moaned out loud. The pace of Charles’ fingers had you careening forward with a cry, before he pulled them out of you completely, leaving you shouting “No!”.

“Relax cherie,” He clicked his tongue before pulling your chest flush with his, raising you up an inch to slide his cock right into you. He groaned as your pussy clenched tightly around him, squeezing him so tight he could barely focus on anything else. He held you down against him, letting neither of you move.

It wasn’t until you fully sat, completely full of him, that he rips the buttons of your shirt open, revealing a lacy ensemble across your chest. He traces the tip of his finger along cup of your breast and says, “Did you wear this on purpose, hm?”

You shook your head, wiggling your hips with a groan. You needed to move, needed to feel the force of his cock into you, but he wouldn’t let you. He just held your hips down as if he was waiting for something.

"You feel so good," He groans. "Squeezing me so tight."

“Cha, please.” You begged, getting agitated at the lack of movement.

“Est-ce que tu m’aimes?” Do you love me? He repeats again. A grin stretched across his features at your obvious struggle. The fact that you needed his cock this badly, had him only growing harder.

You bit your lip as Charles’ fingers sprawled across your neck in a tight grip, pulling your face to his. Close enough that your noses were touching.

“Réponds, et je suis tout à toi.” Answer, and I’m all yours.

“Est-ce que tu m’aimes?” Do you love me?

You don’t know what held you back from answering before. Because you did. He knew you did. He just needed to hear the words from your lips. Needed the reassurance that this was more than a quick fuck to you.

“Oui!” Yes! You half-shouted, eyes blown wide with need. “I will always love you!”

His hand released your hips, giving you the immediate go-ahead. You wasted no time, working yourself over his cock, moans eliciting from the both of you almost instantly. His hands slid to cup your ass, controlling your movements as he urges you to move faster.

“Mon dieu,” Charles groaned, his fingers dipping into the cup of your lacy ensemble, rolling your nipples between his index finger and thumb. “Je t’aime,” I love you.

The mere utterance of those words had you instinctively squeezing his cock with an intensified fervor, bringing you perilously close to the brink of ecstasy. A sly smirk played on his lips, a silent acknowledgment of the effect his declaration had on you.

You moved your hips faster, the bounce of your breasts had Charles in a trance before he brought his eyes back to your face, looking you deep in the eyes. “Je t’aime,” He muttered again, bringing his lips to your mouth, swallowing your moans as if they were the oxygen he needed to breathe. “C’mon, give it to me.” He begged, thrusting his hips upward into you as much as he could, eyes rolling to the back of his head until you both reach that point of ecstasy you both needed.

His face was bright red, cheeks flushed, as you worked yourself over him in a hurried pace. His sweatshirt no doubt, making him feel like a furnace, as sweat forms near his eyebrow. His eyes were wild, unsure where to look until they met with your eyes. His cock twitching inside of you from the clench of your pussy on him, and the gaze of your eyes.

“Je t’aime!” You shouted, releasing all over him and falling forward in exhaustion onto Charles chest.

Charles groaned hotly into your ear, his release catching him completely off guard due to the words you uttered. You could hear his heart pounding in his chest as you rested against it.

“Mon Coeur est à toi.” My heart is yours. His fingers caressed the ends of your hair behind your back. The both of you made no attempts to move.

“Mon Coeur est à toi.” My heart is yours. You repeat back to him, pressing a soft kiss to his lips.

#charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc #charles leclerc smut #charles leclerc angst #f1 x reader #formula one x reader #charles leclerc x you #cl16 x reader

2K notes · View notes

usedtobecooler · 2 years

Note

Virgin Eddie prompt: giving him head and sucking his balls for the first time, no one has ever done it before and he’s just shocked pikachu meme and nearly blows his fuckin load immediately

no thoughts head empty just this prompt

Pairing | Eddie Munson x fem!reader

Warnings | sexual content (18+ minors dni), blowjobs, ball worship, ball sucking, deepthroating, gagging, gentle bullying, goth!reader, tongue piercings.

Word Count | 1.1k

A/N | i am so sorry this has sat half completed in my drafts for weeks because i'm trash!! i hope you enjoy it and it was worth the wait <3!!!

If somebody were to ask Eddie Munson how he spent his usually mundane Tuesday evening, the last thing they'd expect him to reply with would be "Getting blown by the sexy goth chick from the local corner store in the back of my van." And yet, that's exactly what was happening.

You had thought he was cute for a while, ever since you'd first set eyes on him when he moseyed into the store one day with a gaggle of fifteen year olds looking to buy a pack of Marlboros.

"And you're sure that you're not gonna leave this store in two seconds and sell each of these for a dollar to these kids?" You'd asked, dangling the pack between your fingers, clicking your tongue and tsking at him.

Eddie had balked, stuttering over his words as he watched the glint of the silver ball peeking as you rolled your tongue in your mouth, cock kicking up at the sight of you smirking at him, "N-no, ma'am. They're - they're good kids."

He'd walked off flustered, and you'd given yourself a pat on the back well done. What you didn't expect was to see him at least every second day for the following two weeks, until you finally plucked up the nerve to corner him after closing and force your way into his van with him.

"Sh-shit," Eddie's whining, hands grasping for purchase in the material of his threadbare blanket that was laid out underneath you both as you suck him down into your throat wetly.

You weren't cocky by any means, but you knew how to suck a dick.

Your throat widens to allow Eddie's cock to breach, a slight gag trying to make its way up but you shove it down, adamant you're going to blow this silly boy's mind and show him just how good you could be. His cock is big, you'll give him that - thick and girthy, unlike any other you'd seen before, never mind willingly put in your mouth.

The cool silver of your tongue bar glides along the underside of Eddie's cock as you bob your head up and down, catching and dragging on a vein as you suck and lap at the flushed, salty skin, relishing in the choked off, wet sobs you're eliciting from Eddie's pretty mouth in return. Your lips meet your fist wrapped around his base, jerking him into your mouth until a dribble of precum slides down your throat.

"Jesus Christ, oh god," Eddie's crying out, he can hardly look at you other than to flit a glance down every so often then throw his head back again, unable to watch as your eyes water and your mouth widens around him. You chance at taking your other hand away from his thigh, ghosting your fingertips along his balls, and he bucks up into your throat, gagging you in the process.

Your throat closes, tightening around the head of Eddie's cock and he does it again, fucking his hips up into your face until you're unravelling your hand from the base and shoving his hips down, his cock sliding out of your mouth as you gasp for air, "Naughty boy," you tsk, meeting his apologetic gaze.

Eddie is clearly inexperienced, you question if he'd ever even had his dick touched by anything other than his own right hand or a pillow, and suddenly the urge to want this to truly blow his mind overcomes your entire body.

You slide down further, until your mouth is level with his balls, hands heavy on his inner thighs and spreading them a bit wider. You don't think you'd ever called genitals pretty before, but the soft hang of Eddie's balls, his thick, pink cock slapping heavily on his belly, genuinely is a pretty sight. You can't help yourself, tongue snaking out to lick at the seam of his sack.

“Oh fuck, oh shit,” Eddie’s hips buck up off of the floor, hand running through your hair as you nuzzle into his heavy sack, tongue licking a flat stripe before you’re sucking one into your mouth, the cool ball of your piercing sending him reeling, moans echoing into the room, “your mouth is fu-fucking sinful, goddamn.”

You hum with your mouth full of his balls, hand wrapping around his cock and jacking it hard and fast - twisting at the head, swiping a thumb over the slit as you suck and spit on his sack. Eddie's legs begin to shake, a telltale sign this is about to come to an end, and you find yourself grinning against him.

Eddie hazards a glance down at you, his flushed, leaking cock sliding in and out of the grasp of your wet fist, your plump lips swollen around his balls, your tits jiggling and spilling out of the neck of your shirt and he's gone;

"I'm gonna - shitshitshit," Eddie fists a hand in your hair and you moan, vibration bouncing off of his skin, balls drawing up in your mouth as he comes, hot and hard all down your fist, some of it shooting so far it lands in thick ropes on his shirt.

You jack him through it slowly, his spent ballsack slipping from your mouth until he's jerking away from you because of overstimulation, whining and pushing you by the shoulder gently.

You gaze up at him from between his thighs, aware that your eyeliner is probably smeared down your face from the tears, red lipstick staining your chin, drool pooling down your neck and between the crevice of your tits, "Was that okay, pretty boy?"

Eddie splutters, unable to look at you properly for fear his cock would kick up in interest yet again, giving away just how ridiculously inexperienced he was, "Yeah, yeah. It was good - great, even!" He's hasty with his words, trying not to upset you with a lackluster reply.

"Not too bad for your first time, right?" You smirk as you pull yourself up onto your knees, patting his bare thigh. Eddie's eyes widen, finally looking at you properly and he looks like he wants the ground to swallow him up - you were right, had hit the nail on the head with your assumption, "It's okay, Eddie. I like the inexperience, means I can show you a few things. Same time tomorrow?"

Eddie's cheeks flush dark when you wink at him, making to stand up and unlock the door of the van. You jump out gracefully, slamming the door shut loud enough that it echoes into the cool night air.

And when Eddie appears at dead on closing time the next night, you can't say you're surprised to see him, a cheeky smile gracing your features as you lock eyes.

#eddie munson fic #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson #my fanfic #mine #smut

6K notes · View notes

earlgreydream · 2 months

Text

gods, I’m so sorry. this has been in my drafts since APRIL 2023…. I’m finally getting to it, thanks so much for this sweet request ♥️

requested: bucky needing to have a hand on you (stroking ur hair, hand on ur knee, etc) at all times after he nearly loses u 🥺 to reassure u that ure safe and he's there but mostly to reassure himself

The silence was deafening, and it was so dark. Had it always been this way? James couldn’t remember. The Brooklyn apartment didn’t feel like a home anymore. It was empty without you, your absence ripping the essence of life from his home.

He sighed, not bothering to turn on the light. James didn’t have any intention to stay, the emptiness held an eerie feeling that he just couldn’t shake. He almost forgot what he’d gone home for — to get a change of clothes before heading back to the Tower, to wait for you.

James felt like he should have been out looking. You’d been missing for weeks — disappearing on a mission with Sam, to gather intel. There wasn’t supposed to be any real danger, he would never have let you go if he was worried about a threat to your safety.

“We need to go back, they found her,” Steve’s voice cut through the silence, and Bucky’s heart seized at his words.

“Is she alive?”

The first thing your mind registered was pain. There was a dull, heavy throbbing in every part of your body. When you tried to open your eyes, everything was too bright, and a terrible beeping worsened your splitting headache.

You blinked away the fog in your vision, a hospital room slowly coming into focus. James stood up from a chair in the corner and ran to your side, speaking frantically. You couldn’t understand him, it sounded like his voice was underwater, unclear and garbled.

Panic surged through your chest when you looked down to see an IV in your arm, and you registered the tubes on your face that were meant to help you breathe. You clawed at the IV in your arm, nails scratching your skin as you attempted to rip the needle out.

“Stop, please, baby,” James begged, grabbing your wrist to keep you from accidentally hurting yourself.

“James?” You rasped, the fear in your voice breaking his heart.

“I’m here. You’re safe, you’re in the hospital at Stark Tower. Nothing can hurt you anymore,” he promised, the words sounding clearer in your head this time.

Your chest heaved and tears started to leak down your cheeks, whimpering as a nurse emptied a sedative into your system.

James held your hand, so the nurse didn’t cuff your wrists to the bed. Your memory was foggy, but your body remembered what you’d been through — your heart rate monitor beginning to scream as the nurse talked about restraining you.

“Get out. Just get out!” James shouted, one of the few times you’d ever seen him with tears running down his face.

You began to fade as the sedative kicked in, the room quieting once it was just you and James. He listened to your shallow breathing, gently rubbing his thumb across your forearm, needing to touch you as he sat next to the bed. He had to have his hands on you, to remind himself you were there, safe.

“Don’t leave me,” you begged softly, your trembling hand laying over his.

“I won’t leave you, I promise… just get some rest, okay?” He kissed your knuckles, gazing at you with wet blue eyes.

“I can stay with her, so you can go home, change, sleep in your own bed?” Steve offered, coming in while you were asleep.

“I'm not leaving,” James murmured, barely looking up at his best friend.

“Has she told you anything about what happened?” Steve took a seat on the other side of your bed, an action that James was grateful for, even if he didn’t say so.

“No. She’s barely coherent, they’ve got her on some pretty intense medication…. Steve, she’s in rough shape. How was she when you found her?”

James was afraid to ask, but had to know. Steve shifted his weight, looking down at the floor before finally looking back at your sleeping form, bruised and battered.

"Bad, James. Hydra had her tied up, suspended from the ceiling."

James rubbed his fingers over the raw, red rings around your wrists from the restraints, stopping as you winced in your sleep.

You opened your eyes, looking over at him, reaching out to trail your fingertips over the scruff on his cheek.

"Steve, thank you," you spoke hoarsely, turning to the blond who stood at the end of the hospital bed.

"Of course. How are you feeling?" he approached and gently took your outstretched hand.

"Everything hurts," you groaned, shaking as you tried to sit up.

"Here," James helped you, supporting your weight as you settled into a seated position.

Two weeks later, you'd recovered enough to be discharged.

"I don't want to stay at the tower, I want to go home," you insisted to James, anxious to be back in the shared Brooklyn apartment.

You held his hand as he drove you to the brownstone, flinching at car horns and loud noises. As much as you ached to be home, the trauma still exhausted your nervous system, and kept James on edge.

Your friends had been kind enough to clean your place for you, warm and smelling of the dinner that was in the oven, waiting for you and James. He followed you to the kitchen, smiling softly as you eagerly dug into the first real food you’d got since your return.

Despite have the whole table to yourself, you sat on Bucky’s knee as you ate, his arm around your waist. He was quieter than usual, his face pressed into your shoulder, needing to be as close as possible. He was unable to let you go, afraid you’d slip through his fingers.

Later that night, Bucky sat on the edge of the tub, helping rinse your hair. He had all but gotten in the water with you, his sleeves rolled up as he tenderly washed your skin. Candles flickered on the counters, dimly lighting the fragrant room.

“I’m okay,” you whispered to James, your hand going to his jaw as he kissed you. His lips were soft against yours, parting just enough to catch your small gasp. You chased his mouth when he pulled away, only briefly satisfied as he planted another firm kiss to your lips. He stood to get you a towel, wrapping you up as you rose from the water.

“Let’s go to bed,” he urged, unable to hide his anxiety.

“You won’t sleep,” you accused, knowing he’d be up all night, just as he had for days.

“We can put on a movie. I just need to hold you,” his big eyes were framed by dark lashes, eyes that were impossible to say no to.

You slipped into one of his tee shirts before following him, letting yourself snuggle against his side, his arms tightly wrapping around your middle. The rhythm of his heartbeat and soft sounds of the television lulled you to sleep, resting safely in his embrace.

#Bucky #Bucky barnes #Bucky fluff #bucky angst #bucky barnes au #bucky barnes oneshot #bucky imagine

440 notes · View notes

dilemmaontwolegs · 1 year

Text

Going Public || CL16

Another little blurb that was sitting in my drafts... F1 Masterlist

“We heard your girlfriend is a driver for Ferrari too, can we expect a friendly race anytime soon?”

Charles smiled towards the Ferrari crew that was watching the interview from the side of the stage, knowing you were somewhere among them. “Oh no, she’s way too competitive, and unless it’s in a F1 car she will 100% beat me.”

The interviewer laughed along with the crowd. “Surely not?”

“She’s absolutely fearless!” he said seriously as he sat up straighter. “And she’s not even a racer.”

The woman frowned as she looked at her cue card. “I thought she was a driver?”

You saw the pride on Charles' face when he grinned at Carlos sitting next to him, who was trying to hide his laughter behind his hand.

“She is, but she doesn’t race.” The interviewer was growing more confused and you could see the fans taking all the information in to try and figure out your identity after nearly a year of dating under the radar.

“She drives the transporter rig,” Carlos clarified with a laugh. “Which is perfect because Charles can’t parallel park to save his life, so he gets his girlfriend to do it for him. She is very good at it.”

The People’s Prince of Monaco is dating a Trucker???

The F1 Gossip pages were going crazy after the interview and you sat scrolling through them with an amused chuckle.

“Babe, have you seen this one?” you asked as you showed him the latest meme. Some clever person had taken a picture of an overweight middle-aged man in a red plaid shirt over a dirty wife-beater, slapped a Ferrari badge on his truck and trailer and a long blonde wig on his head. The caption: Leclerc’s new girl. “I wish I could pull off that shirt.”

Two weeks later.

The camera crew were waiting out on the track and you caught Charles’ eyes in the mirror as you fixed your hair.

“Ready, mi amor?”

“How do I look?” you asked as you gave him a spin to show off your outfit.

“Gorgeous as always,” he said with a wink. “And a little bit scary if I'm honest.”

You straightened up the collar of the red plaid shirt and brushed your fingers along his jaw. “Is it the wife beater or the wig?”

“Maybe the big dick energy?”

“Gotta play the part, baby,” you teased as you swaggered over to the door with exaggerated steps. “This is what your fans are expecting of me.”

Marketing and Promo were having a field day. They had scoured the internet for ideas to make this video after Charles had given them the heads up that you were going to take your relationship public. You were both more than happy to make it a unique announcement since a sense of humour was something that you both shared.

The final cut was a work of art, and you had watched it at least three times over as your stomach ached from all the laughter. There had been parking challenges, slalom races through cone tracks, and even hot laps around the circuit in Imola. It had been an absolute thrill to shoot, especially with the ridiculous costume, but you were glad to be back in your own clothes.

“Well at least you didn’t lie in that interview,” you pointed out after seeing the final score for the challenges. “You won the F1 race.”

Charles draped a lazy arm over your shoulders and he pulled you closer, his lips brushing your ear as he spoke, “Would you believe if I said I practised reversing and parallel parking with Pierre all week?”

You paused the replay on the tv and shifted onto his lap, cradling his face in your palms. “Oh, my love, Pierre can’t park any better,” you said before your lips twitched with a suppressed smile. “You should have asked Kika.”

#charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc x female reader #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine

2K notes · View notes

enwoso · 15 days

Text

SEXIER IN BLACK! — lucy bronze

*something that’s been in my drafts for a few weeks, sorry for the lack of fics but i am writing little bits in between studying but exams are nearly over so should be able to get more done soon<3*

navigation

“black or pink?” you questioned holding up a black satin dress where the straps crossed over the front and in the other some a matching light pink suit. lucy looked up from her phone as she lying on the hotel bed. looking back and forth between the two outfits several times.

you were leaning towards the black dress, it being a while since you had worn a dress or even had the excuse to dress up fancy. so what better excuse than lucy and the lionesses going to an award show. although you weren’t nominated for anything due to spending half the season out with an injury - you still wanted to be there to support lucy and the other girls.

you and lucy went way back and had been friends for a while before any feelings actually came into the picture. knowing of her since you began in england U17s youth teams.

it not being until you were called up to the senior team, and she took you under her wing, lucy having joined a year earlier that you started hanging out more often, until you both confessed your feelings for each other — ever since then the two of you had been inseparable.

the award show was paying tribute to young and upcoming stars both domestically and internationally, the girls being nominated for their work done at the euros. it also being a chance to see new and old faces.

“hmm.. well you do look adorable in pink but-“ your girlfriend pausing, her face deep in thought you could see the cogs moving behind her eyes as she looked between the two outfits still not giving you an answer.

why was the girl so indecisive?

second felt like hours had passed and she was still looking between the two outfits, the clock ticking and you already didn’t have a lot of time to get ready as the two of you decided to have a thirty minute nap which actually was two hours.

“so i’ll just pick the pick then?” you ask, your arms getting sore from holding up the two outfits for so long like some sort of clothes statue.

“no, no!” lucy quickly said as she moved to sit on the side of the bed, “you look cute in the pick but the black.. you just um what the word..” lucy continued, she was dragging it out on purpose now knowing how short of an attention span you had to begin with and how much your hated waiting.

“you look sexier in black” lucy smirks, as your stomach begins to do flips. “so go with the black!” she confirms her answer as you nod satisfied that you had finally gotten an answer from the girl.

“could have just said that in the beginning!” you mumbled, but still loud enough for lucy to hear you as you turned around to move back into the bathroom to get changed.

placing the dress down on the counter as you began to get changed, the black satin dress which hugged your curves just right and for once maybe lucy was right — you did look sexier in black.

not that you would ever admit that to your girlfriend’s face knowing the smug smile you would get if she knew you thought she was right.

the ego of hers did not need to be boosted anymore than it already was on the daily,

fixing the straps to ensure that they sat on your chest in the correct way, feeling a pair of eyes staring you down from the doorway.

moving your head slowly to the direction of the doorway, your eyes were met with lucy as she stood in the doorway a large oversized hoodie which will definitely make its way into your wardrobe later, and some shorts that she always slept in.

little flyaways coming from her bun as her hair was all messy from the nap the two you you had jsut woken up from but still she managed to look gorgeous, her tattoo arms standing out as she stood with a giant smirk across her face.

“yeah?” you asked wondering she she needed anything as she stood there in her own thoughts, while you began to rummage through your makeup bag for a certain product.

“oh nothin’ just admiring how beautiful my girlfriend is!” lucy smiled as she came and wrapped her arms around your waist her head resting on your shoulder.

“mhm that so?” you mumbled as you began to press makeup into your skin, drawing lines and dots on your face.

“why are you even puttin’ that on your face?” lucy asked, as she focused on you dabbing your face as the product blended into your skin. lucy of course knew the basics about make up but she didn’t wear it a lot — in fact very rarely. the most makeup she wore was mascara other than that her makeup supply was very limited.

“makes me look more put together!” you shrug as she hummed, “you look gorgeous with and without out!” lucy whispered as she placed a gentle kiss to your neck, a grin appearing on your face like a child at christmas.

you carry on with your makeup as lucy does everything in her power to slow the process down by teasing you.

placing sloppy kisses to your sweet spot on your neck, sucking slightly on it every few seconds as you body tried to remain calm, your head had other plans.

“luce, please… you need to go and get ready” you squeaked out. however you weren’t sure if you were wanting her to stop and listen to you or if you were wanting her to carry on kissing you.

your breathing increasing with each kiss she placed on your body. seconds beginning to feel like hours as she removes her hands from your waist, lifting you so you were now sitting on the bathroom counter.

kicking the door shut with her foot, as she placed on hand on your lower thigh and the other moved up to your cheekbone and gently tucks the loose strand of your hair behind your ear.

you swore you could hear her pulse as she brings her lips to yours as you can feel the fire crackle under your skin. the same feeling you get in her tummy as you did when you and lucy had your first kiss appears once again.

if there was one feeling you could have for the rest of your life — this would be it.

you don’t let yourself think about how your going to explain to the rest of your teammates why the two of you are so late.

all you wanted to focus on right now was the way her hands slowly roamed your body, your body feeling flushed just at her touch.

the way her mouth tastes, the way your tongue somehow knows how to follow hers and the way your hands grip her neck to pull her closer into you.

burying your fingers into her hair, tugging gently at it as her hands find their way fumbling with the straps of your dress. feeling the smirk on her face as small whines fell from your lips as she nipped and tugged at your body.

“lucy! y/n!” georgia yells banging on the bathroom door startling both you and lucy as you jump away from each other a the sudden noise. “are yous’ in there” a thick milton keynes accent of leah williamson sung out as they both began to bang on the door at the lack of the answer.

“hang on!” lucy yelled back, while the two of them still banged on the door — probably just to be annoying.

lucy helped you down, smiling as she kissed you one last time before opening the door. both leah and georgia nearly falling over at the sudden moment of the door opening.

“how are the two of you not ready yet?” leah asked as her and georgia stood all dressed and ready while lucy opened her mouth to say something before being cut off by leah pulling a face of disgust, “you know what don’t answer that i don’t wanna know”

“can yous like hurry up, everyone’s waiting and im starvin” georgia complained as you stood their beginning more to wonder how they even got in when neither have a keycard for you door and for a good reason.

"how’d you even get in-" you began.

“okay cool- also lucy you’ve got lipstick on your face!” georgia cut you off before you even had a chance to get your sentence out, directing the last part to lucy as she pointed to your girlfriend. before the two left giggling, quickly leaving your room.

“do i really have lipstick on ma face?” lucy asked turning to you as you smile to yourself reaching to rub it off with your thumb.

“darling you need to get better at puttin’ makeup on!” lucy cheekily says as she watched you fix up your own lipstick.

“and someone needs to learn to keep their hands to their self!” you sass as a gasp comes from your girlfriend as your quick remark.

“don’t wear that dress next time.” lucy mumbled as you stood dumbfounded as she was literally the one who told you to wear the black dress.

“go and get ready, we’re already late!” you smile at lucy hitting her slightly in the shoulder as you pushed her out the bathroom.

#lucy bronze x reader #lucy bronze #woso community #woso #woso blurbs #woso imagine #woso x reader #barca femeni #barcelona femeni #barca women #barcelona women #leah williamson #georgia stanway #enwoso

386 notes · View notes

bigassmoonchild · 8 months

Note

i like to think ghost have a partner that expresses love by biting { totally not me i wouldnt even think of chomping} but hes so used to it that he doesnt have a reaction when his wife is in nibble mode

but

everyone else loses their complete shit thinkin that a random person just bit ghost { i also love the idea that ghost doesnt tell soap shit jus to fuck with him }

i absolutely adore this bc i definitely do this 💀 (i've had this in my drafts for a few days now, but just finally figured out how i wanted it to go)

🫶🫶

simon would sit in the mess hall, not just to show face but also to be with the rest of his squad. price had to push him to join, but now he came of his own choice. it was something he did, not too often, but often enough.

on this particular day, you had gotten back from a mission all but a few hours ago. simon had been gone for a few weeks prior to you leaving, so you hadn't seen him in nearly a month and a half.

you walked into the mess hall, simon could see you from where he was sitting. you grabbed your tray of food and looked around to find where you were going to sit. he saw you move towards your squad before spotting him, sitting in front of soap and gaz.

so you made your way over, shuffling between people who were standing around and having to take a few different routes to get to them. dropping your tray down, you sat next to simon.

soap went to snag some food off of your tray and you smacked his hand, giving him a face as you did so. the three of you were talking, about what simon wasn't entirely sure of. he was trying to look at you while not completely giving himself away.

god, he loved you. more than you'd possibly ever know. catching his eye, you gave him a slightly confused face and you could see his eyes slightly squint with a little smile.

smiling back, you dove back into your conversation with soap and gaz. '...didn't realize that was something he did,' you said as simon came back into the conversation.

soap gave a little laugh, rolling his eyes. 'oh, gaz is a real charmer. spilled his pint o' beer on a lady once in a bar. you remember that, right ghost?' and simon nodded, giving a little grunt as he did so.

he still watched you, the light shining in your eye and the color slowly returning to your face as everything began to go back to your normal. he knew how much you missed this during missions, and even with the bags under your eyes he still thought you were as beautiful as ever.

the conversation waned, soap and gaz beginning to argue a little. your knee pressed against his, allowing your legs to touch. the only bit of pda he would allow with other soldiers around. with his mask on.

even though gaz and price knew, he kept it a secret from the loud mouthed scot. he knew, as much as he (unwillingly) cared for soap, word would spread fast if he knew it.

and the two of you spoke often about possibly bringing him in on the secret. possibly even just coming out as a couple at the nearest milball.

as much as the conversations happened, that was two milballs ago. three years you had been together, and just six months ago he had popped you the question. he knew exactly where that ring lay, on a long chain sitting just on your sternum.

some nights, he would kiss it. long and hard as he prayed to whatever being would listen that the two of you returned safe from the mission you were next on. other times, he tugged on it to pull you in for kisses.

there would even be a few nights that he would just play with it, feeling the heat of the metal from where it would rest against your skin. he loved that you kept it so close to your heart, and kenw that once the two of you married you wedding band would sit just there.

his own would sit against his heart, as soon as he got it.

a sharp pain from his bicep pulled him from his thoughts, looking down at where you bit him. clenching your teeth a little harder, you finally released him.

'what the hell was that,' soap sputtered out. looking between you, then simon and gaz. gaz gave him a little shrug, looking away as you leaned for another bite.

simon pushed your head away from his arm. 'don't bite me, you little mosquito,' he huffed at you. you gave him a cheeky little smile, winking at him before digging back into your food.

soap gestured wildly. 'no, i want to know what's going on. what the hell. why the hell?'and you gave soap a little laugh.

pulling the chain from under your shirt, you dangled the ring and chain in front of him. 'technically, we are still planning the wedding,' and you grunted as soap kicked you.

'and why wasn't i told?' he hissed at the two of you. you gave a faint shrug, playing with some of the food on your plate. you faught like hell to tell soap, but respected simons decision.

'you've got a loud mouth,'

'i do not!' soap nearly shouted. 'i absolutely do not,' he then whispered. you laughed and tapped your knee against simons.

#simon riley x reader #ghost mw2 #simon ghost riley x reader #cod mw2 #task force 141 #modern warfare ii #call of duty x reader #call of duty #no use of y/n #simon riley #soap mw2 #gaz mw2 #fluff #engaged simon riley #engaged reader #simon being a simp

486 notes · View notes

moneymartin · 1 month

Text

・❥・- after the storm

summary: you meet kate at a bar after you get stood up on a date ♡

warnings: none rlly. more fluffy than smutty. also rlly awkward kate cuz shes nervy :( use of y/n if that counts???

rpf. dont read if ur uncomfy

a/n: this has been in my fucking drafts for a week. also thank god i revised cuz this thing sucked before i proofread it 😭 same like every story every divider is a skip. also sorry for ending it like that i jus like leaving it up to everyone’s imagination 😇

you sit quietly at a table, a drink in your hand and at least 4 empty beer bottles in front of you. drunk and somewhat confused after some stupid guy stood you up on a date here. at least 3 hours have passed since he was meant to come, but you couldn’t suck it up and leave the club without the embarrassment of coming in alone, and walking out alone. it was fucking embarrassing and that always made you wanna hurl. everything did now.

everyone was meant to find someone or do something with someone tonight but you were certainly checked off of that list. things haven’t gone your way in forever and this is probably the worst one. now you’re just drowning yourself in alcohol and digging a deep hole you probably won’t be able to get out of. scanning around for a way to get your butt out of here, or just find a waiter, you’re suddenly stopped when you make eye contact with a girl. she’s got the prettiest blue eyes you’ve ever seen, and she’s coming your way.

“hey,” she spits out and smiles, taking a seat in front of you. it makes you a little nervous and frankly, you’re quite scared. “i’m kate…” her hand extends outwards towards you, expectantly waiting for a handshake and an introduction back. the fear you felt when she sat down just a moment suddenly dissipates and is replaced with a feeling of relief when your hand meets hers. “y/n.” you slur out, breath slightly reeking of alcohol. it doesn’t reel her away but makes her grow a little bit worried.

“thats um.. a lotttt of beers.” kate laughs, hoping to bring up the mood and energy that surrounds you. you’re obviously not happy, but she’s trying to make it seem like whatever happened isn’t as bad as you think it is. “y’know, being all drink and alone in a club like this isn’t very safe,” she starts and shakes her head slightly. “especially when it’s a pretty girl like you.” your eyebrows raise at her slip in of a compliment, face flushing and your lips pursing. she’s already incredibly bold, but there’s a glint in her eyes that shows how shes really feeling about this interaction.

you notice that she’s slightly nervous and that her movements and small jitters make it known that she is incredibly awkward. when you don’t answer back to her compliment, she smiles weirdly with her teeth and looks around the club, then at your face again. theres a pause as you let out a breath and just stare. “i’m sorry, what?” your voice is raspy still, and the music is straight over your voice which makes it harder for her to hear you. but the way your eyebrows raise and your eyes nearly pop out of your head makes her put the pieces together about what you felt about her ‘boldness.’

“it was nothing! i didn’t mean that…” she laughs and rubs the back of her neck and then digs her nails into her arm. kate’s teeth grind together and she inhales a deep breath, trying to play it cool when she knows deep down she’s dug herself into a big stupid hole she can’t get out of. “i’m just saying it isn’t safe, y’know!! not a good idea to be alone.” her voice goes up an octave and her body tenses up when you lock eyes with hers. yikes. “i can take you home to like.. help you sober up?”

her proposal makes your face scrunch at the thought of it. a stranger you met not even 10 minutes ago offering to take you to your home so you can sober up. really? “you’re not some serial killer, right?!!! i really don’t wanna end up in a ditch tonight cause that’d make everything worse!!” you blurt out just a little bit louder than you should’ve. kate gets the sudden urge to just smack her hand right over your mouth after you two get looks from people inside. “oh, god, no! what the hell?! i’m just trying to help you. so, please let me.” she begs and grabs your hand, locking her fingers with yours to calm down the drunken nerves in your system.

“okay..” you sigh, realizing just how desperate she is to talk to you. that is what it is. she just wants to talk to you, and shes trying her absolute hardest to make it seem like shes just going to help you out. kate pulls you up from the chair and wraps her arms around your waist, steadying your drunk and wobbly body. “i got you, alright?”

your body sinks into the couch after you somehow managed to guide her to your place. it took a little longer than it should’ve. the club was only 5 minutes away from your place but the whole trip took about 20 minutes. different streets and different roads and different alleyways.

“how’d you end up alone in there anyways?” kate asks, dabbing the back of her hand against your face to feel for a fever. your face is flush and you feel the rush of embarrassment coming back when her question finally registers in your head. it was the one thing you didn’t wanna talk about with her tonight. not because it was bad, it was just the fact that it was incredibly embarrassing. “got stood up.”

her eyebrows scrunch at the reasoning you give her while a pit grows in your stomach due to the look on her face. she looks like she wants to leave all of a sudden but its quickly replaced with a soft smile when she sees how you feel talking about it. “things happen for a reason, no?” kate says and smirks. she has a point though. maybe you got stood up on that date because you were bound to find her? that was dumb to think about. but it might’ve been true.

“yeah, i guess.”

“guys come and go. its not like it’ll happen again too. you’re very pretty.”

“you think so?”

“i know so.”

kate’s bold statements and words make you wonder if she really does mean them. and for some reason, you’re hoping that she does. her hands are shaky against your face and she shifts around the space on the couch to keep you comfortable instead of herself. she’s putting your needs in front of her own needs. you take in a heavy breath, looking up at kate while she stares at you longingly. “there’s obviously a reason why you wanted to help me.” you giggle.

her jaw slacks at your accusation, her face suddenly becoming a deep red. “no, c’mon! t- thats not true!” kate stammers over her own words and turns her head to the side to hide her face from you. you reach out to grab her wrist and tug her down towards you. her eyes look like they’re about to pop out of her skull and shes got a nervous frown on her face.

the confidence she manages to build up always crumbles in just a matter of seconds after you say something back. she likes that, and it makes her nervous in such a good way. “oh yeah?” you question and slide your hands up to her shoulders. your fingers wrap around her hoodie neckline, gripping tightly. “yes!” you know that she’s lying. theres an obvious reason why she offered in the first and you know exactly what it is.

“then show me why you really wanted to help.”

#wcbb x you #kate martin x reader #wcbb x reader #wbb x reader #wbb x you #kate martin #this sucks too sorry #i cant

79 notes · View notes

lorelaiblair · 2 months

Text

It all started with a phone call. Wednesday swore that modern technology would be the downfall of humanity.

“Wednesday” The boy pleaded.

“Eugene” She countered.

“I haven’t seen you in months, and you’re coming to the city anyway” He explained, for nearly the tenth time.

“I can afford a hotel room”

“I am well aware” Eugene laughed “What kind of a person would I be if I let my sister sleep alone in a hotel, especially when I have an apartment with a guest room barely five miles away from your publisher”

“Don’t imply that I cannot handle myself”

“I know that you can, but that doesn’t mean that I don’t want you here with me”

“I would be there for quite a while, the editing process for this book is proving to be tedious”

“I’d love to have you, for as long as you want to stay”

“I will arrive Tuesday”

“Really?” Eugene asked, the excitement obvious in his voice. He was met with the dial tone, the conversation apparently over.

Two days later, he woke up to his alarm. He showered, brushed his teeth, and was sitting at the dining table eating breakfast when he realized something had changed. He went to make himself some coffee, and there was already half of a fresh pot.

Was someone in his apartment?

He was tired. He was too tired to care all that much. He poured himself a cup and sat back down.

It only took a couple moments for Wednesday to join him in the kitchen.

“Where do you keep your sewing kit?” She asked

“Junk drawer” He told her, pointing despite the fact that she already knew which one it was, despite knowing that she would be angry at its disarray considering she had been the one to organize it for him the last time. She pulled the kit out and tsked at him, before wandering back to her room.

Eugene took a sip of his warm drink before blinking in surprise.

“Wednesday?” He yelled

“Yes, Eugene?”

“When did you get here?”

“About two hours ago” She explained, he climbed out of his chair to walk down the hallway and stand in the doorway of her room. She was using his sewing kit to reattach one of Thing’s fingers.

“I would ask how you got in but” He laughed to himself “I’ll get a key made for you on my way home from work”

“Alright”

“What happened to Thing?”

“He fell out of the plane” Wednesday told him.

“What?” Eugene blanched. “What do you mean he fell out of the plane, is he okay?”

Thing wiggled his remaining fingers to tell the boy yes, he was fine.

“Just pulled a few stitches” Wednesday explained “My first meeting with the editor is later today, although I will probably be back before you are”

“Okay, I’ll see you tonight” Eugene said, turning to head out “Oh yeah, i’m off tomorrow and a few friends from nevermore are coming over for lunch”

“Eugene” She complained

“You don’t have to socialize, I swear. This door comes with a perfect little lock on it” He grinned, as if it could counter Wednesday’s death glare.

Eugene’s friends had arrived nearly twenty minutes ago, and Wednesday was facing a bit of a conundrum.

She had been up all night writing. Her editor left her with so many notes that she considered stabbing him in the eye with his own red ink pen, which had marked and marked all over Wednesday's first draft.

Not to mention her publisher wanted it all completed in less than a week.

She really had her work cut out for her. Wednesday was completely capable, she would get it done with time to spare, but what she really, really needed was another cup of coffee. Coffee. Coffee, her savior. Coffee, which was in the kitchen. Eugene and his group of very loud friends, sat in the dining room, nothing but a single door separating them.

She would send Thing to do it, but the last time she had asked him he had spilled scalding hot coffee all over himself. Now he refused to help her with the specific conquest.

She exited her room and stalked down the small hallway. Wednesday cursed herself, for knowing what she would be getting into when agreeing to spend the next few months with Eugene, and agreeing nonetheless. This was a torture of her own making.

As Wednesday scooped spoonfuls of coffee into a filter she could hear the people in the other room laughing. She turned the pot on and sat at the small table Eugene kept in his kitchen.

Wednesday’s publisher had gone on and on about how her book needed ‘character’, said that it wasn’t at all personable. She absolutely detested that. The book was full of character, she had been writing about Viper and her adventures for years now, and not once had a person mentioned a ‘lack of character’.

It was frustrating.

Wednesday knew that the publisher was onto something.

Wednesday had been writing Viper for years, and the stories she wrote were becoming almost predictable. She hated it. She absolutely despised it all.

She needed to change something, but she had no idea what that something was.

The door into the kitchen swung open, and Wednesday cursed herself once again. She had no energy for any of the ‘friends’ Eugene had invited over. It didn’t help that her eyes were assaulted the second the girl walked through the door.

Blonde hair with pink and blue ends, and an entire pink ensemble. Brilliant blue eyes, a shiny and slightly too sharp to be human smile.

“Uh, hi?” The bright girl asked, a sheepish smile on her pretty face.

Wednesday raised her eyebrows at the girl.

“Who are you?” She asked, turning to look back into the dinning room as if making sure she didn’t accidentally step into somebody else’s apartment. Wednesday leaned back in her chair, watching her.

The girl’s blue eyes met Wednesday’s again.

Wednesday Addams needed to change something, in her book and in her life, and she knew now what that thing was.

#wednesday 2022 #wednesday addams #enid sinclair #wednesday #wenclair #wednesday x enid #wednesday is soft for enid #enid x wednesday #wednesday netflix #wednesday and enid #wednesday fanfic #wednesday au #netflix wednesday #wednesday series #wednesday show #enid and wednesday #eniday #eugene ottinger

125 notes · View notes

cookiebelle · 10 months

Text

Me Fui de Vacaciones • Damian Priest x AFAB reader

Warnings • 2nd person pov (no use of y/n), reader is Afab but I did my best to be as inclusive and nondescript as possible

Smut (18+ MDNI), unprotected PIV sex, oral (m receiving), names (Gatita, baby, you get it), some extremely light kink (spanking, biting, choking, hair pulling), lil bit of Sir kink, size kink sort of, exactly two uses of the word “whore”, porn with an unnecessary amount of plot, tropes galore, idiots to lovers requires its own warning, bad Spanish translations probably.

Word Count • 6.2k words, I have no reasonable explanation for this.

A/N • This should go without saying, but I’m gonna say it anyway. This is a wrestling fic, featuring wrestlers. While wrestlers are indeed real people with real lives, they are also playing characters. The people mentioned in this fic are their characters, and in no way am I depicting the individuals who portray them.

Burning logs crackled. One. Two. Three beers became five. Your feet dug into soft, cool sand as you and your closest friends talked around a fire.

It was the beginning of a well deserved mini-vacation, and the five of you weren’t intending to waste a moment of it. So when you all arrived at the little beach cottage you had rented, even at nearly midnight, you were hell bent on getting the most of your time off. So the fire was built, drinks were passed around, and laughter carried across the beach.

Most people called your friends “The Judgment Day”. You just called them family, though. You had met Damian first, in 2020, the near end of his NXT career marking your beginning. He quickly became your mentor as you navigated the tribulations of what it meant to work for the company, a true friend among those who looked at you only as competition. Later, he introduced you to Rhea. Then the faction formed, and Finn joined the circle, then Dom. Your call up to the main roster occurred shortly after, during the draft. The celebration that ensued when you learned you would be working with the rest of the crew was legendary. These, truly, were your people.

And then there you were, a year later, feet in the sand. You played a light tune on your guitar as though it were the backing score to Bálor’s story, leaving the group captivated. Well, everyone but you. You were looking up at the stars, taking it all in, wondering how you could possibly be so lucky. You decided not to tempt fate by asking the universe that very question, but it seemed fate had its own ideas for this week.

“You good?”

Rhea’s voice pulled you from your daydream and all at once, everyone was looking at you. You realized, in your deep state of thought, your random plucking at the guitar had faded to nothing.

“So good…” you grinned, slurring slightly, at which the group chuckled and carried on with their conversations. Crisis averted. At least you thought. Damian’s gaze lingered on you when you looked back down at the frets of your guitar, but you didn’t seem to notice.

It was a drunken stumble back to the house, sometime around 3AM, everyone finally exhausted enough to end the day and refresh themselves for the next. Except you. As they all said their goodnights and retired to their respective rooms, you found yourself on the couch, unable to sleep and watching reruns of the same sitcoms you had seen a hundred times.

—————

“Hey… Hey you…”

You felt something… poking you?

“Hellooooo…”

You gasped and sat up, eyes wildly searching the room until you found Rhea standing above you. It was light outside, light enough that golden rays peeked through the curtains and illuminated her face. You glanced at the clock. 7am. Hadn’t you guys just gone to bed?

“We’re going to the gym. You coming?”

“I thought we were on vacation,” You groaned and laid back down, covering your face with a throw pillow as you realized how sore your back was. Why the hell did you sleep on the couch all night?

“Suit yourself. We’ll back in a couple hours.”

You rolled over, scrunched up but content as the footsteps left the house, got in the car, and drove away. Slowly, you dozed back off into that euphoric state of half sleep.

“Hey…”

Oh fuck. Damian. Your heart picked up and suddenly you were awake once more. You thought you had heard all of them leave, and yet…

“Hey, you awake?”

You remained rigidly still save for your breathing, even as you heard him approach. For whatever reason, pretending to still be asleep was your first and only instinct. It did you little good, however.

In one sudden motion, as if you weighed nothing at all, you were scooped up into his arms. Still, you pretended to sleep. Despite your heart racing. Despite how badly you wanted to lean into the safety and warmth of his chest. Despite the fire that sparked in your core every time you got close to him.

Yeah, you were down bad. The moment he got in the ring to spar with you that first time, you were a goner, and it only got worse as years went on. You had spent holidays together, traveled to countless cities and countries, bared your soul to him over late night gin and cigarettes. You saw him for what he was. When others saw a monster of a man, a Broken Angel as he was once called, you saw someone sensitive, fierce, and loyal. Even the flaws drew you closer, but you could focus on those another time.

You kept the feelings under the hat as best you could. The only time you let it slip was to Rhea, early on in your friendship, your eyes lingering too long on Damian as he walked away from the two of you. She promised to take the secret to her grave. That didn’t stop her from teasing you in private, though, or from dropping the subtlest of hints when you were all together. Hints Damian never seemed to get, or maybe he did. Who really knows?

Back in the present, he was carrying you… somewhere, that much you could glean with your eyes closed. And then you were placed somewhere soft. Already warm and slept in, like the comfiest hug. Wait… was this his bed? You breathed deeply and realized it was, regrettably, recognizing the scent of his hair left behind on the pillow.

He covered you with a blanket, pushing away some hair that had fallen in your face. It was a surprisingly tender gesture from someone like him, especially for “just a friend”, but that was something you had gotten used to. It was one of the many facets of who he was, showing his love with touch. He was always there for you with a hug when you needed it, or a rub to your shoulders after a good match, and he seemed to mess with your hair a lot, too. You thought nothing of it. That was just.. him.

You decided, as his hand drew away from your face, that now was as good a time as any to begin to stir. You slowly blinked your eyes open and looked up as he was still standing beside you, just turning to leave.

“Mmmm hello…” you mumbled, voice gravelly with sleep.

“Shit. Sorry. Didn’t mean to wake you up… you just looked uncomfortable and I was getting up anyway so I figured…” He seemed almost nervous, immediately pulling his hands away from you.

“No, it’s fine,” you cut him off, stretching for the first time in what felt like days, “thank you..”

“Okay, well.. you sleep. I’m gonna make breakfast..” he turned back to leave and you quickly grabbed onto his hand, tugging it backward.

“Too early for breakfast. It’s your bed. Come lay down…” your voice was barely above a whisper, but he heard every word.

It wasn’t as though you two hadn’t shared plenty of beds. Traveling on tour was like that. With Dom and Rhea paired off, and Finn preferring to be alone, you two often ended up in a room together, and thanks to Damian’s stature that meant sharing a single king bed. Of course, you didn’t mind. Not even as you laid awake all those nights, trying to quell that burning need you couldn’t seem to shake when you were so close yet so far from him. You wondered how he could sleep, how he couldn’t feel your nervous energy from across the bed. Maybe he could, and just paid it no mind.

This time was different, though. Charged. Like the energy you felt shooting through the fingertips that touched him was somehow a mutual exchange. Like if you pulled your hand from his right now, you would see the electricity connecting them. You couldn’t explain how or why, all you could do was tug on his hand as he tried to decline your invitation.

“There’s no way you’re not tired, come on…”

And, after a moment of your insistence, he reluctantly obliged.

There was a dip in the bed, and you hummed happily as a strong arm wrapped around you, hugging you close for a moment as he got situated. You rolled onto your side, facing away from him so you could hide your secret little smile. Strong arms wrapped around you again, to your surprise, and you shifted until you both were comfortable laying there in each other’s space.

You two always ended up like this, once you finally found yourself able to sleep. You would wake curled up against his massive frame, him holding you in a manner that could only be described as possessive. It was almost as though he was protecting you in your slumber; From what, you weren’t sure. Bad dreams? Aliens? You always played it off as though you two just enjoyed the closeness, drawn to each other in the unconscious. You’d vehemently defend to Rhea that it was strictly platonic. The butterflies in your throat disagreed.

It felt like every single cell in your body was vibrating. You thought there was no way that you could sleep, and yet you felt your eyelids droop as his warmth spread around you. Once again, you dozed, your body weightless despite being hyper aware of the fact that you were pressed up against him. His shallow, sleepy breaths puffed across the top of your head, but you would later learn he was also not sleeping.

No, he was in the same predicament as you. Pretending to sleep while his mind raced and the smell of your hair drew him further into this downward spiral. It was all innocent thoughts at first. Friendly. Looking forward to spending time with you and the others over the next few days. Then he opened his eyes, catching a glimpse of your peaceful, sleeping face and a switch flipped. Suddenly he was consumed by the thought of waking you up and taking you then and there, finally giving into the urge he felt every time he got close to you. Every time he watched you wrestle. Every time you smiled at him from across a room, or fell asleep on him during long flights, or gave his butt a pat as he walked out from Gorilla to the ramp. He valued your friendship more than that urge, though, and it’s stopped him every time he’s nearly gone through with indulging it.

Lost in your thoughts, you only barely registered the fact that he had scooted a little bit closer to you than before, hips flush with the curve of your ass. Something else pressed against you, something somewhat firm and insistent. You blushed, trying to muffle the faintest gasp at the realization of exactly what it was. He had to be sleeping… right? Would he do this if he wasn’t?

You didn’t know what to do, frozen still by the options before you. You could ignore it, pretend to keep sleeping and act as though nothing was happening. That was the safest option. You two could proceed as usual, protecting your friendship for the long run while you pined for him still. Or… you could give in and acknowledge it, say fuck it to all of the doubt and uncertainty.

Fuck it.

You moved to back yourself up further against him, making sure to slowly grind your hips and drag your ass against the clothed protrusion. You heard a low, barely audible noise from him, spurring you on as you arched your back slightly and once again pressed your ass into him.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing…” he whispered under his breath, not wanting to wake you if this was all just some kind of cruel joke the universe was playing on him. His hand went from holding you across your waist to slowly tracing a line down your side, stopping at your hip and squeezing gently. You hummed again, softly, leaning into his touch.

It burned where his fingertips made contact with your skin, feeling that same electric energy as before, stealing the breath from your lungs. It was now or never, you decided, no going back from here. A calculated risk, but you were always so bad at math. Slowly, you reached back, grabbing hold of his hip and using the new leverage to really grind against him. You heard a low rumbling, like thunder in his chest, fingers digging into your hip.

“Don’t tease me…” another barely audible growl of a whisper. You chuckled softly, putting on an air of confidence in spite of your hammering heart, moving just enough in his hold to turn your head and look innocently at him. God, he loved that look. He propped himself up on his elbow, looking you over with a glint in his eye you’d never seen before, something you couldn’t quite put your finger on.

“Who’s teasing?” You offered a smile over your shoulder.

“I mean it…” he brought you closer to him, his lips finding your bare shoulder. He placed a kiss on it, then bit down softly, eliciting the tiniest gasp from you. Another kiss, another bite, another low, sleepy whine from you as your hips begged for more friction. His hand on your hip pulled you back as he rocked slowly into you. God, why did he have to make this so good? It was bad enough that you were past some kind of point of no return, but every press of his hips to your behind only made it worse, forcing tiny moans out of you. Officially helpless to the way your body was reacting to his touch, you didn’t bother resisting it any longer. Your hand on his hip reached between the two of you, teasing along the waistband of his boxers before reaching in. Your hand slid tentatively down his pelvis, running over smooth, hot skin before finally wrapping around what you were looking for.

It was damn near as intimidating as he was. Long and thick and heavy, twitching slightly in your grasp as he grew harder. You couldn’t help but utter a quiet “Fuck”. His chest rumbled as you stroked him a few times, and you couldn’t help but groan with him, the slick heat of your core only growing more overwhelming with each glide of your palm. You felt lips on your neck now, doing the same as before. A kiss, a bite, then another soothing kiss as you mewled at the sensation, your walls clenching around nothing, absolutely begging for him. You’d be lucky if you made it out of this without him marking you, but would that really be lucky? You kept on with soft, slow strokes, breathless as he continued to focus on your neck.

“Are you sure we should do this…” he breathed in your ear, your movements slowing as you processed his question. He was giving you one last out, it seemed. One last opportunity to say “you’re right, let’s stop”, though you both knew you had already gone too far to come back from this. But, with no hesitation, you nodded.

It all happened so fast after that. In half a second you were flat on your back, eyes wide as you tried to choke out something clever or witty to say, completely failing. He wasn’t touching you yet, but nonetheless you were pinned, his massive frame caging yours entirely. Your eyes cut down to discover he’d slid his boxers off, hard cock hanging between his legs. Fuck, it looked even better than it felt. Your gaze wandered back up to his confident smirk. He knew what he was working with, clearly. Smug bastard.

“Don’t look at me in that tone of voice…” you couldn’t help but laugh, doing everything you could to look normal, ignoring the steady beating in your ears.

“Just couldn’t help but notice you admiring something…” he chuckled, then leaned back down to kiss your neck, and suddenly your mind was mush again except for him.

You were ripped from your thoughts as you found your top being pulled off and your breasts exposed, his mouth immediately attaching to one. He was all teeth and tongue, frantic and desperate, years of tension finally breaking the dam and rushing through his veins. You couldn’t take your eyes off him, writhing and gasping as he played you so expertly, somehow finding every little sensitive spot and knowing exactly how to wring the most pathetic little sounds from your throat. Had your nipples always been this sensitive? You couldn’t remember. In fact, this all felt so new, like it was your first time all over again. His intense focus turned up to you as he switched to your other breast, the eye contact enough to ruin you both. You broke it, certain you would come in an instant if you held his dark eyes any longer.

Damian let go of your nipple with a tug of his teeth, leaning up to finally kiss your lips, both hands holding your face. White heat burst behind your eyes as his tongue immediately assumed dominance over yours. You wrapped your arms around broad shoulders, moaning shamelessly into his mouth as tongues danced and one of his hands moved to firmly hold your jaw. He only broke the kiss to speak, lips just centimeters from yours.

“Pretty little thing… me estás matando…”

Your loss for words left you grinning stupidly in response. You, killing him? While you’ve lost all sense of chill, not even bothering to pretend to be casual about this? He kissed the smile off your face, biting and tugging on your bottom lip as he pulled away, leaving your lips to chase his as you whined with need. It was strange, the fact that you needed him. You’d had plenty of partners, plenty of good sex. Sure, you wanted them, but this felt like you’d surely die if you didn’t feel him inside you soon. Like your body would simply vaporize without his touch. Maybe this was how it was going to be from now on, feeling like something was distinctly missing when he wasn’t touching you.

Your flimsy cotton shorts were the next to go, his lips finding every inch of exposed skin down your abdomen and claiming it as his own. Eager hands glided down his shoulders and back, taking in the way each muscle flexed as he moved along your body.

His energy was impossible to place, manic but calm. He knew exactly what he was doing, but still moved with an urgency as if the two of you would be caught any moment. Which… was partially true. In a moment of clarity, the rest of the crew came to mind and your heart picked up at the realization that they would be back soon, and this would be over. Or worse.. they could find you two, passionately entangled. What would they say? What would HE say? You feared he would deny it, too ashamed to admit he felt anything for you, even just lust.

Your thoughts continued to race, eyes closing as you panicked. You tried to be discreet about it, but if anyone knew your cues, it was Damian. He moved back up to you, a strong yet delicate hand wrapping around your throat as he kissed you. Well, that was one way to knock out the intrusive thoughts.

“Look at me,” he squeezed ever so slightly as your eyes focused, his tone stern yet soft, “whatever you’re thinking about. Doesn’t matter right now. Tell me what does.” Another squeeze.

“You.”

“And what else…”

“… me?”

“Good girl.”

Another kiss, another squeeze, and he was gone. Back to leaving bite marks down your body. He came down to your panties and let out a silent, somewhat shaky breath. Finally. Finally he had you right where he always wanted you. It was almost overwhelming, but he didn’t let onto that. His fingers gently traced over black cotton, finding a damp spot along the seam of your cunt.

“Oh gatita,” he kept focus along that spot, shooting sparks through your entire body with how inexplicably sensitive you were, “is this all for me?”

All you could do was whimper in response, letting your head fall back to the pillow as your hips chased his fingers, begging for more. He granted you that extra friction, mouth falling open as he watched you shamelessly grind against his hand.

And then he pulled away, leaving you whining from the loss. In a blink, your panties were tossed to the floor and finally the two of you could take in the sight of one another. It took all of the self control he had not to split you open on his cock right there, but he resisted, instead kneeling between your open legs.

You looked up at him, breathing out a barely audible “please”. You nearly took him out right there, his composure faltering as he fully looked you over.

“Perfect,” he exhaled, readjusting his position and giving his straining cock a few lazy strokes, making sure you were watching. Oh, you were watching, nearly drooling at the sight.

His hand found your pussy again, gently swirling a thumb around your clit, eyes locked with yours and hand still slowly working his cock. He wanted to see every reaction, every little microexpression, he wanted it all. He had waited this long for you, years of picturing you in this exact moment. He wanted to savor everything.

You moaned through your bitten lip as he teased, not daring to look away from him. He had you captive, it seemed, frozen in place and begging for anything he could give you. Which is why you whined so pathetically when he pulled his hand away, once again.

He sucked your essence from his thumb, savoring your sweetness. You hummed at the sight, closing your eyes, only to feel his grip on your jaw a moment later to tilt your head up toward him.

“Look at me,” he commanded, his voice deeper, more serious. You didn’t dare disobey him, looking up like a deer in headlights. Something about that voice… you couldn’t quite place it. He growled lowly, bringing his hand back down to your cunt. He collected some of your juices on his finger, running it up and down your slick folds before slowly, agonizingly sliding it inside.

He still gripped your chin, daring you to look away as you whimpered at the sudden fullness. You had always admired his hands, giant and strong and rough, yet gentle. You’d wondered how they would feel in this exact scenario, often finding your mind wandering as your own smaller hand worked to your release in the late nights. It was beyond what you had imagined, so much more. His finger found a slow, steady pace, filling you perfectly and yet not enough all at once. You moved your hips with his rhythm, mouth slack in euphoria, eyes still trained to his.

“So fucking good for me, look how well you’re taking it,” he praised, letting go of your jaw to let you look down at where his finger was disappearing into your tight hole. Then, as you watched, he added another finger, wrenching a moan straight from your chest as your head fell back once more. Now the pace picked up, the thrusts of his hand stronger, more precise as he curled his fingers to find that sensitive little spot. You gasped and panted pathetically as he played you so expertly, looking back down at his hand only to fall back onto the pillow, overwhelmed by the sight.

It’s unfair, how he seemed to know you without knowing you. Without much effort at all from him, you found yourself closing in on climax, your panting gradually becoming uninhibited moans of “Please. Please. Please.”

“Please what, gatita?” He cooed, slowing the pace ever so slightly as he leaned over you.

“Please. Just. Fuck. Fuckfuckfuck. Just don’t stop.”

“Oh, don’t stop?” He slowed just a bit more, grinning down at you. You could only whine in response, hips moving sloppily now, trying to encourage him to fuck you faster. Harder. He obliged… for the moment. Your walls slowly grew tighter, your moans more heady and uncontrolled. You felt the coil tighten. Tighten. Tighten…

And then he slowed again. Painfully. Your orgasm held at bay, he couldn’t have appeared more smug, knowing exactly what he was doing. You looked up at him, flushed and desperate.

“Why’d you do that?” A whine, to which his response was simply to kiss you. Again, he picked up the pace, adding another finger, making sure you felt just how much he stretched you. Oh, you felt it. Your vision went blurry at the sensation, focusing on him and only him.

It didn’t take much to bring you to that edge again, the coil tightening even more, threatening to break with every rough pump of his fingers. He was hovering over you now, leaning down and biting on your shoulder, sucking a mark into it. Apparently, he didn’t think about the consequences of that… or maybe he didn’t care. Nevertheless, he bit again, smirking into your shoulder as you arched your back and rode his fingers, dramatically chasing your high. You were so, so close, every muscle in your body tense, hands scratching down his back.

“Come on, baby. Come for me.”

It hit like a brick to the face after that, overtaking you in every way as you moaned and gasped, holding onto him for dear life. He nuzzled his face into you, kissing and sucking marks down your chest to your abdomen, every press of his lips electric.

Everything felt blurry and yet razor sharp, every muscle in your body twitching in the aftershocks. You barely registered that he had kissed back up your body, hands on either side of your head as he waited above. His lips locked with yours the moment your eyes focused, your hands immediately twisting in his hair, holding him as close to you as you could.

You felt the weeping head of his cock prod at your folds, one of his hands guiding it to rub against your clit, still sensitive from your first orgasm. You mewled with anticipation, your hips grinding down against him.

“Patience…” he breathed against your lips, your hips stilling as he slowly slid inside. Just the head. A gasp from both of you. And then another inch. Fuck. And then another. And another. Until you felt all of him and all you could do was pull him in for another consuming kiss. He started with a slow pace, almost sweet, letting you get used to his size. It quickly grew intense, rough and fast, as he let himself fall into the demands of desire. Your hands grabbed at anything on him you could as he overwhelmed you with his force.

It really was unfair, the way he was fucking you. You didn’t stand a chance against him, not finding a single opportunity to gain the upper hand, left only to meet his thrusts with reckless abandon as you moaned with each moment he filled you. You liked it, though, being at his mercy. You trusted him, strangely. You could probably get used to this.

He’s stronger than you thought possible, his grip on your thighs surely bruising you as you writhed and arched your back at a particularly delicious sensation within you. You couldn’t help but close your eyes, completely lost in the rhythm and harshness of the snap of his hips. He bared his teeth as he fucked you harder. Faster. Tears pricking the corners of your eyes from the intensity. And then his hand was over your mouth, his eyes off you for the first time since this dance began. He was scanning outside the open window, watching a car come down the street, thinking it could be the rest of the group. That didn’t mean he stopped fucking you. In fact, it only got more intense.

“That’s right. Fucking take it.” he was back to looking down at you and your wide eyes, burying himself so deep inside you, you were sure he was ruining you entirely, “that’s it, baby. Tell me how good it feels.” Except he didn’t pull his hand from your mouth, smirking as you attempted to speak anyway, your mind too gone. That is.. until he slid himself fully inside, grinding his hips against yours. You moaned out loud, sure that the neighbors have heard you by now, your walls squeezing around him and feeling the drag as he pulled his cock out entirely.

“On your knees,” a simple order, and yet your brain was static. You blinked up at him before shaking away the fog and turning yourself over, wiggling your ass in his face just a little. His growl shook you, two strong hands grabbing hold of your ass and squeezing.

“Love this ass. Always loved this ass. Estuve soñando al respecto,” he kept squeezing, spreading you and groaning at the sight. You couldn’t help but smile at his reaction, giving it another shake in his face. Suddenly, you felt teeth on flesh, letting out a yelp that quickly became a satisfied sigh, your head dipping down past your shoulders. Somehow, you didn’t expect his hand to come crashing down on you, the slap against your ass ringing out in the empty house. You felt your eyes roll to the back of your head, too immersed in the moment to acknowledge anything but the way your back arched and your chest created the most depraved noise you’d ever heard.

“Oh, you like that, huh?” Another slap, you gripped at the bedsheets to keep yourself grounded, “you like being treated like a whore?”

“Yes, sir,” you whimpered involuntarily, nearly slapping your own hand over your mouth at the realization of what you’d said.

“What.. did you just call me?”

“Nothing…”

A ruthless slap, “Tell me.”

You sobbed at the impact, “sir.”

The growl in his chest shook you, and with little warning his cock was pressing to your folds once again, sliding in with ease and setting a brutal pace right off the bat. You dropped to your elbows and arched your back, eyes closing as your head once again dropped. Of course, he took advantage and leaned over you, one hand finding the back of your head and pressing you down into the bed, holding it there. He slapped your ass with the other, laughing when you moaned into the mattress. It left the prettiest pink handprint, he almost wished he could get a picture of it.

You couldn’t believe the way he was fucking you. Like— like a whore, just like he said. You’d think he’d be gentle with you, being your first time together, that he’d want to show you how worthy he was of your pussy. In a way, he was showing you that. He was showing you his worth by fucking you absolutely stupid, and you were loving it. So much that you weren’t far from another climax, feeling your walls tighten around him, dragging such a beautiful sound from him. His hand found your hair, grabbing a fistful and pulling your head off the bed. You cried out, steadying yourself on your hands. It was overwhelming, every sensation he subjected you to, to the point that you felt completely delirious with pleasure, all sense of control lost. You fucked yourself sloppily back on his cock, his fist pulling tighter on your hair. The tears pricked your eyes again, eyes whiting out.

“Ohhh fuck, are you coming? You filthy little—” he didn’t finish, groaning as your cunt rhythmically clenched around him, his own thrusts growing more erratic. You didn’t even hear him praising you with little ‘good girls’ and whispers of how good you feel, your head clouded with the sounds of your own depravity. You rode out your orgasm for what felt like hours, nearly collapsing as your body ceased quaking.

Your brain was working in half time, barely registering that he was still fucking you slowly, trying to bring you back to reality. You tried to speak, but the words were completely incoherent.

“Need a minute,” you finally mumbled, reaching back and grabbing his hand that rested on your hip. He obliged, pulling out and laying down beside you, pulling you into his arms. Your breath caught gradually, your mental faculties growing stronger by the second despite your throbbing cunt. You sighed contentedly, leaning up and kissing him for just a moment. You had your own ideas, now, and one in particular overtook your thoughts.

You kissed him again, grabbing hold of his cock, still slick with you. Your hand stroked him softly as you shifted down the bed, timidly tapping his leg as to ask him to open them. He did so, and you climbed between them, licking your lips as his cock bobbed in anticipation. You took him hungrily into your mouth, not bothering to tease, too eager to feel him.

Now it was your turn to show how unfair you could be, expertly taking him deep into your throat, holding there until you choked. Immediately, he was gone, head falling back on the pillow until he realized he would rather watch you. Your hand assisted your bobbing head, using your tongue to lap at every vein and ridge of his perfect dick. His groans and words of encouragement and yes gatitas only fueled you, giving everything you had to taking him. You almost wanted him to cum right there, to lose all composure and fill your mouth. He had other plans, however, pulling you by the hair off his cock and admiring the fucked out look on your face.

“So fucking pretty,” he mused, pulling you up to him and kissing you. It was all a ploy, of course, and you let him guide you to straddle him, your hips hovering just above his waiting cock. He ordered you to look at him, your brain already to fuck drunk disobey, eyes fixed on him as he lined himself up with your entrance.

“Go ahead, take it all,” he couldn’t help but grin, brow furrowing in pleasure as you did just that, your own face mirroring his. It was almost too much, almost. Getting your balance, you slowly began to bounce on his lap, leaning on his shoulders for leverage. From there it was an endurance test, the pleasure of riding him only tainted by the strain it put on your knees. Still, you continued, his hands finding your hips to help bounce you on his lap, mewling when his hand crashed down on your ass.

You loved having the power. Loved watching his face twist in pleasure as you grinded your hips down onto his. … and you loved that it took little effort for him to suddenly flip you onto your back once more, placing your legs up around his shoulders as he sunk back into you. Every thrust was slow now. Powerful. So much so that each one knocked you back into the wall. It didn’t matter, you were too delirious by the way he was abusing that little spot inside you, seeing stars as you looked up at his concentrated face.

It was close, again, a climax brewing in your core that nearly overtook you the moment you felt it. Your sighs and moans became whines, hands gripped the sheets below you as he just continued with each knock of his hips to yours, folding you up as he leaned forward and somehow sunk impossibly deeper inside you. You pleaded to him, begged him, did everything you could to encourage him to keep going, please. Just another minute. ‘I’m so close’. But he didn’t even have time to stop, the wave crashing over you as the last ‘please’ left your lips and all you could hear was ringing in your ears and the sound of him grunting through each perfect squeeze of your walls around him.

And suddenly you heard something new. A breathy sort of noise intermixed with ‘Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.’ as his thrusts grew less calculated. Almost sloppy. His hips jerking with every thrust until he couldn’t stall any longer.

“Come on, Papí. Come for me…” you breathed, certain you were tearing the sheets at this point while your cunt pulsed around him, still coming yourself.

Papí. That was all it took for him to fill you, painting your walls as his fingernails dug crescents into your thighs. You laid there, chest heaving as the two of you shared a blissful moment, eyes locked in the realization of what had just happened. And then, as if to dispel the little voice of worry in the back of your mind, he let your legs down gently and climbed up beside you, taking your face into his hands and kissing you. It wasn’t a particularly passionate kiss, but it was perfect for that moment. Perfect enough to ease that budding anxiety.

“We should do that again…” he whispered into your ear, breaking the tension in the air as you burst into a laugh.

“I was thinking the very same thing.”

——

Friends who asked to be tagged: @melisabesurviving @bbygirlnessa18 @missfamilyjeweles @mzv11 @southerngirl41 @thealliasylum @romanreignkisser

#damian priest #damian priest x reader #damian priest smut #damian priest fanfiction #punishment martinez

398 notes · View notes

heartthrobin · 10 months

Text

making merry, oh my little fairy (2)

sam winchester x fairy!reader

wc: 5.3k

warnings: soulmate!au (partners share scars), fem!reader, implied age gap (reader is early 20's), hella pining, tooth-rotting fluff, destiel is canon, town being mean to reader, some shaky police jargon, references to thick reader (everyone cheered) but can be ignored, dean being dean, canon-typical warnings (child kidnapping, violence ect.)

an: part 2 of my little fairy series! it's been sitting in my drafts for weeks and part 1 was pretty unpopular so i've been hesitant to post it but then i realized i write for myself and not for recognition! so enjoyyyyy. remember to comment and repost to support your favourite writers :)

summary: you flew around Sam's mind with your pretty little wings all night and all day, it doesn't help that you're popping up around every corner of this case. he's trying not to think about it.

part one part three part four

They'd sat in the car parked out front maybe longer than they should have. Sam noticed you peak through the curtain at the twenty minute mark, he only noticed because he could feel your curious gaze.

It disturbed him enough to allow Dean to fly down the neighbourhood road noisily at too many miles an hour.

Naturally, sleep became a stranger.

Dean was long passed out on the questionably lumpy motel bed and Sam was still at the desk. The white light off his laptop made his eyes itch.

A dryad is a tree nymph, commonly inhabiting oak trees, and generally born into the form of beautiful women. Many dryads were considered to be originally human or children of the nature Gods and it is widely believed that they take on the physical characteristics of the trees they protect.

Your eyes returned to him again, if not for the hundredth time that day. The way the greenery reflected off of them at him. The strength of your legs, how they were wide and grounding like the tree that engulfed your house. Your movements, your walk, how you floated like how the leaves shivered in the forest beyond your garden walls.

Sam had given considerable thought to his soulmate, as most people did.

He was turning thirty-one in a few months time and it had occurred to him that maybe you were on the other side of the world. Maybe you were dead. But people had warned him that he'd know if that were true. He'd feel it, like a gaping wound in his soul.

Castiel had appeared to Dean in a flash of light. In a heroic swoop of love, and Sam thought maybe that could happen to him too.

His thumb was warm where it ran over the scar down his arm.

He wondered if you thought the same.

If you dreamed of his arrival the way he'd dreamed of yours.

It was a silly thing, to dream of meeting your true love. Far too trivial in the life of someone like Sam Winchester when the fate of the world, of good versus evil and heaven versus hell was always in the palm of his hand.

But your figure was burned into his corneas like a blinding torch.

It scared him. Not an easy feat for the man who'd seen it all.

Sam had asked Dean a few years back.

Can someone live without their soulmate?

Dean had shrugged. "Sure, plenty of people do."

Sam had sunk back another sip of his beer at the time, they were somewhere in Florida.

"What if they'd already met them? Can they decide that they don't want to be with them?"

Dean chuckled at that. "I doubt that works out very often."

It was already long after Dean had met Castiel. Long after he'd survived his "my soulmate is an angel and a man what the fuck--" stage.

"What makes you say that? I'm sure some people have a strong enough willpower."

Dean had answered him by referencing some movie, one that Sam knew he loved and it took a bit of pestering for Dean to admit he knew the quote by heart.

He'd blushed nearly red and shrugged, accompanying it by another long slug of his beer.

"It's like at the end of the movie--" When Harry Met Sally, specifically, "When they're at that New Years party and Billy Crystal goes up to Meg Ryan and gives that whole speech, and he says that line."

Sam was grinning by then. "What line?"

Like he hadn't seen the movie enough times to know.

"You know, he when says ... when you realise you want to spend the rest of your life with somebody, you want the rest of your life to start as soon as possible."

Sam had long made peace with the fact that even if you did ever come around, that it would be better to leave you be. To leave you in the safety of a life different to his own.

At least he had.

In the slim hours since leaving your doorstep he'd found himself choking over the thought of never seeing you again. Of his eyes never laying again on your face that gazed so happily up into his own, like you felt his warmth in a cold winter.

He was plagued, possessed, by the thought of never knowing more.

Never knowing the way you liked your tea, how you looked first thing in the morning, or worse, how your lips would feel slow and warm against his own.

He wanted to know your favourite song, and your worst fear. He wanted to know where you came from, how you found Fernglade, Washington. What's your favourite book, do you like to read? Would you like it if he read to you instead? Maybe you would, you'd be tucked against his side in bed and he'd tell you about his favourites. His favourite movies and the way he drinks his coffee and the shampoo he used. Maybe you'd play with his hair, braiding little flowers into the ends--

Sam groaned. His face fell into his hands.

This wasn't supposed to be happening. Not now.

But he supposed there would never be an adequate time for your arrival.

And god, you weren't even human.

Cross species soulmates weren't impossible - improbable, sure (about as much as being hit by lightening) - but not impossible.

It was only Sam's luck, the Winchester's luck, that they'd both been struck.

Castiel was an angel, but the concept seemed to fade off Dean quickly at the time.

Dean himself had been little help on the matter during the blurry drive back to the motel. "Hey. I mean, all things considered, fairy sex must be crazy."

Sam closed the tab on Dryads: A Modern Day Delve into Greek Mythology. Another page blinked up at him.

When the sun was still setting and Dean was still seated across from him, he had managed to do some work.

It distracted him, barely, but he managed to somewhat narrow the list of potential suspects.

The filters helped. Creatures that steal children. Creatures that live in the woods.

In all the webpages and in some text from John's journal he'd found a common thread. A thinly veiled one, but a lead regardless.

Goblins are generally found living in communities in burrows of forests across Western America. They are known to be mischievous and malignant spirits which often feed on small animals or easy prey and hunt during the warmer months before hibernating in Winter.

Children are easy prey, Sam thought.

Some subspecies were believed to be able to shift into the form of naughty children and sneak into nearby villages to prey on young humans.

It was the last thing his eyes ran over before he slipped the laptop shut. He crawled to the bed, wishing more than anything that his mind would cut him a break, before sliding under the sheets: seeking respite from the crisp autumn Washington

"Rise and shine, Sammy."

The hangers reeled noisily against the rod where Dean had ripped open the curtains and the stark light brought Sam to gasping consciousness.

Sam pulled the pillow up over his face, grumbling into it.

He made out the sound of Dean setting a coffee mug on the side table.

"What time did you get to sleep?"

Answered by another indiscernible whine, Dean sunk into the chair at the tiny table in the room. "Fine, fine ... but did you find anything helpful? Besides fairy porn probably."

It earned him a well-aimed smack in the face with a pillow.

Dean laughed jovially, "Okay, okay."

Sam rose up into a sitting position with a moan. He ran a hand over his face, the other grappling for the already cooling coffee mug on the table.

"Goblins." He muttered around the rim.

Dean paused his own sip, face falling into incredulity.

"Did you just say "goblins"?"

Sam nodded. He didn't elaborate.

"Listen, I know it's a conversation you probably don't wanna have ... but are you sure we're ruling out your little garden fairy from this equation? I mean, it really doesn't look good for her--"

"You're right. I don't want to have this conversation."

Dean shrugged. He fiddled with the coffee mug against his hand.

"It's not her." Sam added quietly.

Nodding slowly, Dean watched his brother with tentative eyes. "Have you thought about that? What you're gonna do?"

Sam rose from the bed, stripping off his shirt. "I don't know man. I don't even think she knows."

It had been a thought that occurred to him at some point in the previous night, that you didn't know. That it was probably selfish to keep it to himself.

"Right, well anyway," Dean reached into the tupperware you'd gifted them the previous afternoon. He'd already cleared out his own and was starting on a pastry from Sam's box. "I was thinking we should go speak to the third vic's mom. Kelly Williams. We haven't spoken to them yet and maybe they can tell us more."

Sam nodded. "Sure. You got an address?"

"No, but she's working a stall at..." Dean picked up a leaflet from the table that Sam assumed he'd found on his coffee run before he was up, "The Fernglade Sunday Market. We can find her there."

"Fine."

He disappeared into the bathroom, Dean heard the shower turn on.

"And you can tell me about this goblins story on the way there!" He called after him.

The door slammed shut.

"So you think goblins are coming into town and stealing kids out their back yards?"

The morning was warm and the market made it more so. It was out on a farm a couple roads down from the boys' motel.

There were little set-up stalls as far as he could see over lush green grass, selling cakes and jewellery and home-made soaps. Couples strolled hand-in-hand and children chased their parent's ankles.

Sam shrugged. "I mean yeah, it makes sense. Dad mentioned about the trees, Y/n mentioned about the forest too."

Dean nodded, his eyes rolling over the scenery. "Sure, but goblins? I've never heard of that anywhere, I mean, how do you even kill it?"

"Them." Sam corrected. "They live in groups."

Dean sighed. "Well that's gonna be fun."

Somewhere down the row, a man was singing behind a set up microphone with a guitar in his lap. A small crowd had formed to watch him.

Sam's stomach had begun churning with that feeling that made his organs feel like jelly again. He shrugged against the collar of his shirt.

"Right, well, there's Kelly Williams' stall." Dean glanced again down at the pamphlet, "Rings and Things ... how creative--"

But Sam's eyes had found on another stall. One further down from Kelly Williams', a little set-up of vases and stain glass sculptures. Rather ... they found the woman standing in front of it.

Of course it was you.

Standing against the breeze in another, unsurprisingly, light green dress. It was ruffled and shimmering and glittery and short. It made Sam's airways tighten to a shut.

You seemed intent on avoiding wearing anything that draped any further than just over the curve of your ass, and Sam prayed to anyone listening that it would stay that way.

"Sammy?"

Dean's face shrunk in confusion, he followed his brother's line of sight. He began to laugh, clearly finding you, and jostled Sam with a hand on his shoulder. "Well, isn't this just your luck."

Sam was sucking in deep breaths again. Dean shoved him in the side.

"Go talk to her, I'll speak to Mrs Williams."

Jumping back into semi-consciousness, Sam shook his head, "No, no, it's fine. We'll go--"

"Stop being a baby, Sam." Dean shrugged him off. "You're gonna have to talk to her eventually. And I hope you do a better job than you did yesterday, because that was a train-wreck."

"Thanks."

But Dean's figure was already retreating.

"Asshole." Sam muttered under his breath.

Eyes found you again, they strained against the sunlight. He could make out your face from where he stood: it was twisting, falling into a creased brow that Sam didn't like the look of.

His legs began moving before he had chance to instruct them and it only took a couple paces of his long structure to find your side, heart thumping violently in his ears.

Your eyes lifted from the table, there was an elderly lady sitting in the shade of the cover and looking unimpressed.

"Sam." You smiled up at him and he swore in that second he could listen to you saying his name forever on repeat and never grow bored. "What a pleasant surprise."

"Hey." He sighed, it was louder than he anticipated and he could feel his cheeks growing warmer. "W-What are you doing here?"

You stuttered, "Well, I was just looking at this cute little crocodile--"

His eyes found where your hand was motioning over the woman's table. He was unsurprised to find it littered with stained-glass sculptures of animals. Lions and fish and elephants among others.

But the woman interrupted before you could find the end of your sentence.

"I don't sell to kidnappers."

Her elderly face was curled up in disgust. Sam was taken aback by her directness.

He was more taken aback by your polite smile at her.

"That's fine. I'll be on my way." You nodded kindly, looking back up to Sam. "Wanna take a walk?"

Sam's bones had begun aching with fury in the small seconds since he'd arrived. His brow-bone was heavy set against his eyes.

He glanced over at the crocodile you'd referenced. It was about the size of a shoebox, glassy in bottle green tones and grinning a mouthful of sharp teeth up at him. He could already see it sitting happily on a spot between your books and photo frames, maybe up on the mantle above your fireplace.

Brushing softly against your elbow with his hand, a movement that sent a stone cold shiver up his whole body, he shook his head. "Just one sec--"

He turned to the woman, sticking his finger in the direction of the lifeless creature.

"I'd like to buy that crocodile please."

"Oh, Sam, you don't have to--"

But the woman was unmoved, "No. I'm not selling anything to anyone associated with her."

She stuck a shaking finger in your direction and Sam suddenly wanted to rip the stall to pieces.

"We should just go..." Your voice was small and he fought hard against pulling your frame into his side.

Instead, he reached into his jacket pocket for his FBI identification: flipping it out into the daylight for the woman to see. Her eyes widened behind thinly framed spectacles.

"I said I'd like to buy that crocodile." His voice was stern, heavy laden with his trembling aggravation. "How much is it?"

The woman's face flickered between emotions, before settling on vexation. "Forty dollars." She mumbled.

"I'm sorry?"

"Forty dollars." She replied more clearly, face turning red in embarrassment.

Sam slipped away his badge and dug for his wallet in his pocket, he flipped between the notes and handed her two twenty dollar bills. The woman was quiet while she wrapped the creature, avoiding your and Sam's eyes in the process.

She handed it over with a scathing, "Get away from my stall."

"With pleasure." He turned to you, your face was a cherry red shade. "I'll take you up on that walk."

You stepped away, offering a small sheepish "thanks" to the woman scowling at your and Sam's retreating figures.

"Here." He handed you the crocodile gently, and you took it with tentative hands. "Get a lot of that?"

But you shrugged off his question, grabbing for your purse. "You really didn't need to do this, Sam. Let me just pay you--"

Sam stopped, taking your forearm into his hand - the tingle it sent up his body again didn't go amiss - and he huffed. "Please, please. Don't. It's a gift."

The sun was shining off your dress and it made your face seem lighter. "Sam, really, I can't ask you to--"

"Please?"

You paused, lashes blinking carefully up at him and god he could really kiss you right there--

"Are you sure?"

"I'm sure."

Smiling again, easing the tightness in Sam's chest, you nodded. "Fine."

You held the crocodile up to your face, "What are we gonna name him?"

"We?" Sam laughed and you laughed back at him.

"Sure, he's ours now." You tucked it under your arm again.

Ours. He was fragmentally taken away with the thought of something belonging to them, to us. A house, a couch, a dog (or a fox if that's what you wanted)--

"Anyways, where's the other one?"

Sam was brought back to the conversation.

"Oh, uh, Dean?" his eyes grazed over the stalls, pointing over to where Dean was talking with the tall Kelly Williams behind a tray of seashell necklaces. "Talking to one of the victims."

"Right, I almost forgot." You fiddled with your bag over your shoulder. "He decided whether he's killing me yet?"

His mouth tilted teasingly. "What makes you think that I've decided I'm not here to kill you?"

You shrugged, teeth flashing in a gut-wrenchingly beautiful smile. "Well, you bought me this, and ... you don't seem the type."

"The type?"

"Nah, you're too sweet on me already."

Sam's stomach did a somersault in his chest. "I--"

"Besides, you couldn't do it here. Too much blood, too many witnesses ..."

Sam's hair flicked over his shoulder where he tossed his head back to laugh. "Right. You've thought about the logistics already."

"Sure have." You nodded. "Any headway on the kids?"

"Some." He shrugged. "There's this fairy--"

"Dryad."

"--living in this petting zoo in this cottage on the outskirts of town..."

"Fine." You conceded. "I won't ask."

"No, but we have--"

"Ah, look at you two. Getting along like a house on fire."

Sam hadn't noticed his brother's approaching footsteps. Dean clapped a jolly hand over his brother's arm.

You smiled in greeting. "Good morning Dean."

He nodded. "'Morning Tinkerbell."

"Dean."

Chuckling you nodded. "Good one. Haven't heard that before."

The sun was hot on Sam's shoulders, Dean was making it hotter with his conspicuous side eye.

"What's that you got there?" He motioned over the figure under your arm.

You lifted it up proudly, "It's my crocodile. Sam got it for me. The lady wouldn't sell it to me."

"Oh, Sam got it for you, huh?" Dean smirked, relishing in the admission.

"Yep."

The glitter in your eye was making Sam's knees buckle.

"W-We should get going ..." He shifted from his one leg to the other. "Work to do ... and stuff."

"Right," you agreed, fixing the strap over your shoulder again. "I should also head home, not very welcome 'round here anyways."

Confusion glazed briefly over Dean's face but he said nothing on it.

"Yeah, stuff to do." He nodded.

You began your walk past them, finding Sam's gaze. "Thanks again, Sam. I'll see you boys around."

His eyes followed you where your crystals were clinking around your neck. "Yeah. No problem."

Barely out of your earshot, Dean turned to Sam. "A crocodile, huh?"

"Shut up."

It wasn't another two days before Sam saw you again.

The boys dove head first back into research, Mrs Kelly Washington hadn't much more to add beyond the fact that she heard another child's voice in the moments before her daughter's disappearance.

"I mean, there was some mention in the lore about goblins being able to turn into kids. Naughty ones at that."

Dean sighed over his bar-top lunch. He took another swig of beer.

"Okay, so what, these ... goblins are coming into town as children and grabbing the kids from their yards? Maybe they'd met somewhere before then, at school or the park?"

Sam shifted the salad around his plate, bored. "Yeah, maybe."

There was a depressingly thin amount of information in John's journal on goblins and the website lore was too broad to even begin sifting through it before another child was taken.

"Well we know that eight kids are taken each time, right?"

Nodding, Sam took an unenthusiastic bite of tomato.

"That means there's still two kids to be taken. I mean, there's only been six victims and autumn is two weeks away from ending, if the story is true that they hunt before winter."

The boy's didn't have to wait long. They were less than an hour clear of the dilapidated bar they'd stopped in for lunch when the call came over the police monitor in the car.

"Units, this is dispatch. We have a suspected 134 at 98 Calvary, requesting assistance."

Code 134. Kidnapping.

Dean found Sam's eye across the front seat before taking a screeching turn into the next street.

Cavalry road was just a few streets down and the scene was as they'd expected. Burning red and blue cop cars littered the street and Dean pulled the Impala into a space between them.

There was a scuffle of officers, in the corner of the driveway a man holding a sobbing woman to his chest. The parents.

Dean and Sam flashed their badges at the nearest deputy.

"What's the situation?"

The officer huffed, tightening his grip on either side of his belt. "We think the kid was taken, Frankie Moore. Disappeared about two hours ago, the parents only called in the last twenty minutes. They thought he'd just run off."

Dean nodded and Sam watched over the scene around him.

"Any witnesses?"

The cop shook his head, Taylor, his badge read. "None. Right out the backyard, just like the others."

"Did the parents see anything, hear anything?" Sam pressed.

"Not from what we can gather from them right now, they're pretty out of shape." Taylor motioned back to where the Mrs Moore was desperately pushing out sentencing between racking sobs. "But we've got a suspect, they're out fetching them right now."

Dean glanced over the officer, "A suspect?"

Sam's hands were starting to itch. He twisted them against his the cuffs of his sleeve.

"Yeah, neighbour saw them out in the forest about an hour ago. Called it into dispatch. They never took it seriously until this call came in."

Somewhere behind them a short siren yelped from one of the cars.

"Did they have the kid or what?" Dean's face was laden with confusion, the story twisting around his brain.

"No, but they've been taken in on suspicion. Talk of the town and such." Taylor responded and Sam's heart sunk to his knees.

There was a click over the officer's radio. "Suspect is in custody."

He pulled it closer to his mouth, "Copy that."

Sam tugged up on the end of his sleeve, revealing his wrists in the afternoon light. They were turning a pinkish red. Handcuffs.

"Dean."

Dean's back stiffened at his brother's tone, eyes finding his wrists. He sighed. "You've got to be kidding me."

Sam's brain was turning muddy. "The suspect, is she a woman?"

Taylor nodded. "As far as I know, yes."

There was nothing else said.

Sam fled the scene as if the perpetrator himself. He flew into the passenger's seat with the force of an attacking bear.

Dean chased after him, slotting the key into the ignition: setting the car alight.

"Sam, I know what you're thinking--"

Houses flew past the car, streets and pedestrians, but Sam had no space to consider them.

"You don't know what I'm thinking."

But Dean was persistent, knuckles white around the wheel. "She's your ... your soulmate, I get that, but our leads are thin. Have you considered that she could really be doing this?"

The station came into view at the end of the road. Lights from the cars were flashing in Sam's eyes. His head spun.

"She's not a monster, Dean."

"But she is, Sam! She is! She's not a human."

Dean pushed down on the brake in front of the sheriff's station and Sam was out the car before it had fully pulled to a stop.

He threw the doors open. Officers were flocking around like seagulls over an abandoned hot dog.

Sam grabbed the arm of the nearest one, firm in his grip.

"The suspect, where is she?"

"Uh, they've just moved her to--"

The doors swung open again behind him and the rumbling of the station was overpowered by a loud low whine. It was followed by an equally distressed yelp.

Sam turned to find a row of officers, leading one after the other like ducks, each with a rattling metal cage of a different animal. Your animals.

Goose was yipping wildly in the confines of the box. A woman holding Lydia followed him. They come in procession: the rabbits, the ferrets, the ducks, the budgies.

"What the fuck!" An officer close to the door jumped out the way where Lydia hissed angrily at him from between the bars.

"No, please!"

Sam spun on his heel. His hands felt heavy with helplessness. It was your voice, echoing across the station and reverberating in his brain.

"Please, just leave them! They're not gonna hurt anyone. I haven't done anything--"

His feet chased after the sound. Sam found a long corridor near the back of the room, there were two officers tugging on either of your arms. Your eyes were bouncing wildly between each of the officers where they disappeared into the evidence room with your pets.

Your gaze found his own. "Sam!"

"Y/n." He was bounding down the corridor, long stretches of leg, but the officers were adamant in their grip.

"Sam, I promise I didn't-- it wasn't me. I swear--"

There was a loud huff and a heave and you stumbled backwards into a closed holding cell. Your hands wrapped between the bars.

"I know," Sam was breathless. "I know you didn't--"

Suddenly there was hands on his chest. "Sir, you need to get out of here."

"I need to speak with her--"

"Sir you can't do that. You need to speak to the sheriff."

Sam's chest was rumbling with a frenzied desperation. He couldn't pull his eyes off the fragments of your figure behind the bars.

The officers shoved him again. "Sir--"

He ripped himself off their grip, hair flushed back against his reddening face and he turned back down the corridor.

Dean was already at the sheriff's desk.

"--suspicious behaviour--"

"What the hell is going on?" Sam's voice rumbled across the room. "On what basis are you holding her?"

The sheriff was a small man and he looked smaller under Sam's furious stature.

"It's like I was telling your partner here, agent," He was patting a handkerchief over his balding head. "Y/n Y/l/n is being held on the basis of suspicious activity."

"What exactly is your definition of suspicious activity?"

The sheriff shrugged, "Well we got a call in of her roaming around the forest--"

Sam could feel his fists tightening at his sides, "What are people not allowed to go into the forest in this town or does that make them all kidnappers? You have no evidence--"

"Sammy, calm down." Dean's hand found Sam's chest but he shrugged him off.

"Release her. Right now."

But the sheriff shook his head. "Unfortunately, not even FBI have the power to do that. State's laws say she can be detained for 12 hours pending investigative procedures."

"Investigative procedures--?"

By then, Dean had him by the arm. "Okay, okay. Let's go cool off--"

He tugged Sam towards the door, surprising both himself and Dean by allowing him to do so successfully.

The cool dusk air rushed over his face. Sam took a deep breath.

"They have no evidence, Dean--"

"I get that, but you need to calm down. You're not helping the situation by threatening the sheriff."

An officer passed them with another cage. Three hedgehogs.

Sam ran a hand over his face. He took a deep breath.

"You don't even believe she's innocent, Dean."

There was quiet for a long moment.

Sam fell into a bench bolted against the side of the building. His hands found his face again. After a moment, Dean crouched into the spot beside him.

"Look." He sighed. "If you believe her, I believe you. Alright?"

Sam's eyes were watching his shoes. He nodded, only half believing his brother's claim.

They sat like that for nearly an hour with evening settling over Fernglade around them and the autumn crisp seeping into their suits.

After a long resounding silence, one that had stretched on past Dean's wide yawn, Dean rose to his feet.

"Sammy, we should go home. Get some headway on this goblins angle."

At that, Sam shook his head. "I'm gonna stay."

"What, until she's out?"

"Yeah."

Dean's eyes were dripping in pity and it made Sam's blood boil.

"That's--" he raised his watch into his eyeline, "She's still got another ten hours. It's only six o' clock now."

Sam nodded. "Yeah."

"Sam--"

"Dean."

Another cold silence.

Sam pressed his hair back with a wide hand, conceding. "Look, I'm sorry. But I'm gonna stay. You head back to the motel, do some work and get some sleep. I'll be fine."

Dean considered him, but he made no further argument and Sam thought momentarily it was maybe because he knew he couldn't budge him in the same argument with Cas.

"Alright. Fine." Dean nodded, tugging his jacket closer against the cold. "I'll see you in the morning."

Sam watched his brother's retreating figure all the way until the Impala had disappeared down the next street before going to stand.

The doors swung open with a whine, the station had cooled to a quieter buzz than when he'd first burst in. The sheriff had disappeared into an office off in the corner of the room.

Finding the nearest officer, Johnson, behind a short wooden desk, Sam approached him.

Officer Johnson glanced warily up at him from the papers he'd been filling out. He'd probably been witness to his first outburst.

"Uhm," Sam cooled his voice to a deferential timber. "The animals at the back, what's gonna happen to them?"

The officer set his pen down, "Well I'm doing the paperwork on them now. They'll be released if and when she does."

"If?"

He shrugged, "Yeah, if they don't find anything they'll let her go. Only got twelve hours."

Sam shifted his weight, running his eyes over the station. Somehow it was colder inside than the bench he'd just abandoned.

"Right."

The image returned to him again of your tiny green dress, the satin sleeves that reached down over your arms - he wondered for a moment if you wore them to cover all his scars - and the shiny ends that left your legs a prize for the bite of the freezing air that nipped at him even through all his layers.

He dug his hands into his coat pocket, pulling out his badge and his wallet and his phone to slip them into his pant pockets. Then he shrugged out the jacket.

Sam held it out to the officer. "Would you mind giving this to her?"

The officer took it with tentative hands, he gave it a glance over but made no move to stand.

"There's nothing in it." Sam huffed. "It's freezing in here, and unless you want her to die of hypothermia before morning, I suggest you do what I've asked."

He was considering it, Sam could tell by how his eyes flickered over the office door behind which the sheriff was hiding, but eventually elected to stand.

"Fine."

comment and repost if you enjoyed <3

taglist:

@firstsnowdrop @writerofthewinds @aria1245 @nyx22-blogs @lucysaloser @britishscum @pookiesnatcher @music-keep-me-sane @cryptid-with-a-cane @sammys-concubine @i-live-for-fantasy @grimbunnie @crystalreedwifey @haileycannotcometothephonern @i-cant-write-for-shit @did-someone-change-my-name @1313ek @chlorine11 @ch33ze00 @random-fandom-gurl @melancholicandmessy @harley-quinns-girlfriend @cardigan-ns @charliethealpaccaso @crystalandphoebewifey @nonbinarycryptic @multitargaryen @darylsleathervest @aquatic-bread @ferrersbiggestfan @miles-stargirl @secretsuitcasegooplawyer

#sam winchester x reader #sam winchester fanfiction #sam winchester x you #sam winchester imagine #sam winchester #sam winchester x female reader #sam winchester drabble #supernatural #supernatural fanfiction #dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester x you

238 notes · View notes

pervertedreams · 1 year

Note

Eddie who finds the reader reading soo hot and eats her out while reading

it’s crazy cause i have an idea just like this in my drafts so i mind as well explore on it. and ty for the ask i love when y’all send them in, gives me something to write abt !! ♡

mdi

it toasty and warm in your beloved bedroom, the temperature is just right for the biting winter breeze that abuses the outside, you’re sat cozy on your heavily decorated bed, fluffy pillows giving you cushion against the hard wall. the few candles you lit flicker and bounce around the room, giving it the perfect yellow sim setting.

you rented out a book a few weeks ago, coming to the brutal realization that you’ll have to return it soon and what better time to read it than now. it’s too cold to do anything right now anyways. so you finally got around to reading the book you had been putting off for days, fully engulfed in the pages, the chapters, characters, the storyline. half way through reading it you’re surprised it took you this long to get it it, it’s was really good.

you glasses sit at the bridge of you nose as your eyes scan each line, a vague visual going along with it in your head. you were so submerged in your reading that you didn’t realize eddie standing at the doorway. the only reason why you noticed him was to push your glasses up your nose, and his tall shadow nearly made you jump out of your skin. your book nearly falling out of your grip, free hand clutched at your beating chest.

“whatcha up too four eyes.” normally you’d give a potty chuckle to his corny remark, but you’re still focusing on regulating your breath and slowing down your heart beat. “jesus eddie, how long have you been standing there.” it’s wasn’t a necessarily a question to be answered, not that he could properly answer it cause he’d been standing there for quite some time, ogling at you.

he had just finished tidying up the kitchen after an atrocious attempt at making dinner, which despite the gruesome mess it came out quite delish. his plan was to shower and drift to sleep with you in your comfy bedroom, but those plans quickly shifted when he caught you in somewhat of a vulnerable moment. you had been reading the book you had been talking about all day, all week to be honest. and you finally got around to it. hair pushed back behind your shoulder, bringing his focus to your collarbones. reading glasses sitting comfortably on your nose as your eyes flicker back and forth between the lines on the pages. he wondered his eyes to the cover of the book and realized… it was an erotic story. and his dick nearly jumps when he scans down a little further and sees that your legs are completely bare, subtly squeezing together with excitement. your feet are bare too, daintily painted toes rubbing against each other out of habit. it was hot, you were hot. and a little voice in his head is telling him how embarrassing it is to get hard over the sight of you reading, but at the same time he’s turned on by anything you do. he is your boyfriend after all.

you wedge your finger on the last page you were reading, shutting the book around your finger and holding it to your chest when eddie gets closer. he’s climbing on the bed, the weight he’s putting on his knee creating a small dip in the mattress and creek of the box spring.

“whatcha reading?” he doesn’t even try fighting off the smug grin on his face, and you snatch your book closer when he tries thumbing at it.

“it’s nothing, just the book i been telling you about.” you mumble, a silence falls between the two of you and your glare at each other, he’s mindlessly tracing circles into your inner thigh. you both know you’re lying, but he decides to leave it alone to an extent.

“the book you told me about hm?” his tone is mocking but slightly slurred, now placing a kiss where he was just rubbing. your legs twitch open wider from his touch and he can literally smell you. and again— he doesn’t fight the smile that grows across his face. he watches as you swallow, and something about you looking down at him makes his hips buck into the bed.

your breath is shaky when you speak, “you never told me how long you were watching.” you tried flipping the script on him, and thankfully it works.

the vibration of his chuckle against your flesh makes you clench. he kisses up your thighs more, a few nips and bites here and there. “for a couple of minutes if i’m honest.” he repositions himself between your legs, getting another desperate hump into the mattress as he readjusts. “you looks sexy under this light, reading your little book.”

he places his chin aright above your abdomen, pulling his neck back to place a kiss directly over your panty-clad clit. your hips instinctively buck, a small whine exacting your lips. he’s looking up at your with those doe eyes like he always does, “can you read some for me, baby?” his hands smoothing up and down the sides of your hips, waiting for an answer. his plead seems to get taken into consideration when you’re slowly opening the book. the cold bite of his rings against your skin make you wince when he happily grips your hips, hooking his fingers along the sides of your panties so he can yanks them down.

he wasted no time in latching onto your clit the moment you start reading. stumbling and skipping over words, certain words dying on your tongue and morphing into a whine or a moan, and because eddie is naturally a menace he’s telling you to, “c’mon baby, read it again for me. i couldn’t understand you.” faux look of worry and concern plastered on his shit-eating face.

sorry i don’t too tired to write detailed smut. but i love a good build up so i hope you enjoyed ! and asks are ALWAYS opened pls don’t be afraid to send in a hc or concept or whatever you want me to elaborate on.

#answered┆ ➵ ✩ ◛ °#eddie munson #stranger things #eddie munson smut #eddie munson concept #eddie munson stranger things #eddie munson x fem reader #eddie munson x black!reader

546 notes · View notes

honeytae · 1 year

Text

8:36pm

hello lovies! i found a very old version of this in my drafts and decided to revamp it, so here’s some good old namjoon comfort. reader is seriously going through it, but joonie is the sweetest boyfriend ever!

word count, genre: 900+, angst/fluff

trigger warning - this drabble deals with themes of depression and anxiety

You were halfway between consciousness when the chime of your doorbell sat you up straight. Rubbing at your eyes, you stretched your legs, rolling your eyes as the doorbell rang out again.

Huffing, you stood from the couch and made your way to the front door, socked feet dragging along the floors of your foyer.

Realization dawned upon you as you tugged on the door handle, the tightness in your chest easing a bit at the memory of the soup you’d ordered an hour ago.

“Thank you,” you murmured to the delivery person standing in your doorway, trading the tip in your hand with the paper bag in theirs.

You had nearly forgotten you’d ordered anything.

Lately things had been off. You couldn’t quite place your finger on it, but your energy levels were all out of wack, your head felt heavy all of the time, and you were much too sedentary for typical comfort.

You got like this sometimes. It had happened enough that you knew you’d find the light again. That didn’t make you feel any less uneasy, though.

Heaving a sigh, you made your way to your living room. The shades were closed, just as they’d been for the last week. There wasn’t any reason to open them and let daylight blind you. You were also actively avoiding the fact that everyone else was out there living their lives while you sunk deeper and deeper into your funk.

You set the bag of food down on the coffee table with a sad crumpling noise, settling back into the couch cushions and watching as if it would suddenly unpack itself.

You aren’t sure when you fell back asleep, but you wake to the smell of noodles and a gentle weight on your forearm.

Blinking your bleary eyes open, you can just barely make out the sight of your boyfriend leaning over you, a gorgeous smile pulling at his lips.

“Hi, sleepyhead,” he crooned as you slipped further out of slumber, the cushions below you shifting as he lowered himself beside you.

“Hey,” you spoke around a yawn, “I didn’t know you were coming over tonight,” you shifted closer to him, nuzzling into his side as he threw an arm around you.

“Hm, me neither. Finished up a little early,” he paused to pucker his lips against the top of your head, “and I missed you,” he spoke into your hair.

Shifting your gaze up to him, he leaned back to accommodate you, brown eyes glittering back at you being one of the only light sources in the dark room.

“I missed you too,” you sighed, meeting his soft lips in a chaste kiss, reaching up to soothingly scratch at his scalp.

He hummed against your lips, his touch leaving you for a moment as he leaned over to the coffee table. It was only then that you realized he had heated up your food from earlier, a steady lump swelling in your throat as he took a cup in his hand and guided it into your own.

You thanked him with a shy smile, faltering a bit when you saw the concern tainting his eyes.

“You’re worrying,” you squinted at him, watching triumphantly as his lips twitched just the slightest in response to your accusation.

It’s not necessarily that you’re trying to hide your struggles from Namjoon. You’d been with him long enough that you could read each other super easily, so there was no doubt in your mind that he knew you were in a major slump. You just never wanted to be the reason for Namjoon’s stress, reaching out to poke his cheek until you were met with that dimple you loved oh so dearly.

“Of course I am,” he started, causing you to raise your eyebrows as you anxiously stirred the spoon in the soup, giving him your full attention as he laid a palm on your thigh.

“I just,” he blinked, pausing for a moment, “I want to help you so bad. No matter what you’re telling yourself, your problems are my problems, baby,” he sighed, fingers massaging into the back of your neck at the first glimpses of tears gathering along your waterline.

“We can talk all night - hell, all week if you need to, okay?” he murmured, his soft tone eliciting more hot tears to run down your cheeks. They were immediately intercepted by Namjoon’s thumbs, your trembling lips soothed by soft puckers of his own.

“But please,” he pouted, his hand leaving your thigh to wrap around yours holding the warm cup of food, “please eat your soup,” his plea making you chuckle as you filled the spoon full of broth again.

Namjoon watched fondly as you guided the spoonful into your mouth, gently sliding his hands beneath your thighs to shift you sideways onto his lap.

“Okay?” He asked, tilting his head as he looked into your glassy eyes for confirmation.

You nodded, sniffling as you spooned the soup into your mouth. It was warm, comforting, just like your boyfriend.

“Okay,” you agreed, letting out a deep exhale as he wrapped his arms around your torso to hug you to him, laying his head on your shoulder as you continued to eat.

“Thanks for being my rock,” you swallowed the salty broth, watching Namjoon’s fingers fiddle with the hem of your shorts.

“You’re your own rock,” he affirmed, “I’m just the rainwater that washes away the dirt and grime.”

You snorted at the dorky sentiment, tilting your head to watch as his eyes crinkled in laughter at himself. You dropped your forehead on his shoulder, smiling at the sound of his healing giggles. You pressed your cheek to his shoulder, exhaling as he rubbed the warmth of his palm up and down your spine.

“Well, thanks for being my rainwater, then.”

#bts x reader #bts fanfction #bts fluff #bts angst #kim namjoon x reader #kim namjoon fanfic #kim namjoon fluff #kim namjoon angst #namjoon x reader #namjoon fanfiction #namjoon fluff #namjoon angst

273 notes · View notes

the-traveling-poet · 5 months

Text

✼ °° ❅ ҉ ❅ ✼ °° ❅ ҉ ❅ ✼ °° ✼ °° ❅ ҉ ❅ ✼ °° ❅ ҉ ❅ ✼

Since today is Levi Ackerman’s birthday, (and Christmas too I guess) here’s a festive little idea I’ve had stuck in my head :)

taglist: @21aurora @deepzombieyouth @braunsbabe

✼ °° ❅ ҉ ❅ ✼ °° ❅ ҉ ❅ ✼ °° ✼ °° ❅ ҉ ❅ ✼ °° ❅ ҉ ❅ ✼

A bitter chill hung in the air throughout the halls, drafting in through HQ’s main doors opening and closing as people came and went as they pleased.

Wreaths hung outside office doors, and the occasional branch of mistletoe hung in various hall way arches in joking fashion. The hearth sat in the far corner of the mess hall had even been lit, warming those who stopped by’s hands from the winter chill.

Since it was the holiday weekend, Commander Erwin had called for a break through the next couple of days, just after training had ended earlier that same day around noon.

Everyone had been relieved for this time off to either return home to their families, or relax around HQ with minimal duties to entertain.

Yourself and several of the veterans in the Survey Corps had chosen to stay at base, keeping one another company in place of the families you either did not have, or had lost. But for some, neither scenario was the case.

Watching Captain Levi roam the nearly empty halls with his ever present blank expression, you soon understood he’d never had a family to lose, much less return to. So he had always opted to take vacation in the Survey Corps dorms.

Though, despite this bleak reality no doubt weighing on his conscience, his demeanor had considerably changed over the past week. Today especially had been exceptionally awkward around your boyfriend.

He’d made brief mention of his lack of family to you as you both grew closer over the months, and had officially began a relationship. You were both still new to romance, stumbling blindly over your ever growing emotions. Levi most especially. But regardless, this new chapter in your life, however new it was, had been a blessing you could have only hoped for.

With one last close inspection, you finished tidying up you recently neglected office and decided to search for Levi. After all, wasn’t it apart of your responsibility to check in with him when he wasn’t acting well?

After searching high and low for him, you hadn’t come across Levi anywhere he usually frequented on down time. You’d nearly decided to postpone your search, till a flicker of color caught your eye behind the mess hall’s windows.

Currently, Levi stood out among the training grounds, doing nothing more than observing his surroundings and watching the sky. Finding this behavior odd, as it was seldomly shown by the raven, you hesitantly left the hall and approached him, standing a respectable distance away.

“Levi,” You greeted softly.

“Y/N,” He curtly responded, his eyes never leaving the thick cover of clouds blocking out the sun. You searched his side profile for any indications as to what he might have felt, but you’d sooner see emotion shown on Wall Maria’s smooth surface before your fellow Captain’s.

Chewing at your lip and awkwardly shuffling your feet through the frost covered grass, you decided to broach the subject lightly.

“So…Are you hiding out here to avoid Hange again?”

Scoffing lightly, he shook his head.

“Partially. I just stepped out for some air. Needed to think, I guess.”

Frowning, your eyes left his face a moment as you realized what might have gotten him in a funk.

“You mentioned before, but never went into detail; you lost your mother around this time, right? Is that what’s going through your mind this week?”

You spoke softly and slowly, trying your hardest to ease into the topic carefully for his sake. Finally, he turned to fully face you, his steely eyes searching your face before he seemed to decide what he wanted to say.

“I did, yes. And you’re right, it has been. Never really cared for winter after she died, nor cared celebrating the one shitty day out of the year that makes me older.”

Slowly, you reached out for his fingers, finding them near freezing to the touch. He had to have been standing out here awhile, you thought, as you looked over his pink tinted ears and nose. Showing him a bittersweet smile, you began to gently rub some heat back into his hand with your own.

“Well, maybe think of it this way; your mother would be proud to see who you’ve become, and how hard you fought to escape the underground. She chose to love you for the time that she had, and she still does wherever she is. She’d be sad to see you freezing your ass off out here second guessing yourself.”

Whether it was the cold or the words you sincerely spoke, you couldn’t quite tell, but the light pink hue spreading across his cheeks was a color that you found suited him nicely. With a wider smile, you took his other hand into both of yours to repeat the process of warming them back up.

“And as for your birthday, well, I think your life is worth celebrating at the very least once a year. You’ve survived again and again, despite whatever odds you face each new year. And you’ve managed to put up with me more the past few weeks, so that’s a feat all in its own.”

To your surprise, a soft chuckle met the end of your speech. The corner of Levi’s lips were slightly upturned and the color in his cheeks had yet to fade.

Another first for you, was seeing the thin watery line cresting his eyes as he partially turned away, glancing one last time up at the sky before looking back at you and gripping your hands with both of his.

“Thanks, Y/N,” he all but whispered, swallowing back any more emotion from slipping out.

Shaking your head with a bemused grin, you squeezed his hands and daringly reached in to place a soft kiss on his cheek.

“Of course, I’m here for you. Always.”

With a gentle tug at his hands, you began to lead him away from the spot he hadn’t moved from in god knows how long.

“Now, let’s get you back inside. Maybe we could sit by the fire in the mess hall? Last I checked it wasn’t occupied, so we can have the space to ourselves for a bit.”

He merely nodded his head with an approving hum, holding on tighter to your hand as you led the way.

“Good, we’ll also grab some tea to cheer you up! And while we’re at it, we can talk about you at least letting me celebrate this birthday with you? Please?

Your eager prompting was met with the faint sound of him clicking his tongue in mock annoyance as he followed closely after you.

“I guess I can tolerate that. But no sappy bullshit, you hear? I don’t want this to be any kind of big deal.”

“So I cant tell Hange or Erwin?”

“You especially cannot tell them. I just…Want this to be between you and me.” Levi mumbled, avoiding the awestruck look you shot him over your shoulder, and the playful cooing that followed. Seeing his embarrassed scowl, you ceased your innocent teasing.

“Okay, okay, no sappy bullshit. But you never know, you might like it. Can’t say you don’t like something till you’ve tried it, you know?”

While you rambled on about how you would spoil him into enjoying a birthday for once, he listened in silence with a warm smile aimed at your back. Who knew, maybe he would enjoy this year’s celebrations after all, now that he had you to celebrate with.

As the two of you walked hand in hand back across the training field towards the base, snow startled to lazily float down from the heavens and fill the indents Levi’s shoes had set against the frosty grass only moment before as dusk fell over the land.

Perhaps it was nature’s way of accepting Levi finally leaving the baggage of his troubled thoughts in the past where they now belonged, you idly thought as you peered out from under the blanket you shared with your lover towards the window to watch the snowflakes fall some time later.

But here in this moment, resting your head on his shoulder by the fire with a warm mug of tea perched in your lap, you knew you’d always come to his aid if the snow didn’t brush the woes away.

#happy birthday levi #lynn’s drabbles #attack on titan #levi ackerman #levi ackerman drabbles #snk #aot #aot fluff #snk fluff #levi ackerman x you #levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman drabble #levi ackerman fluff #levi fluff #levi x y/n #levi x reader #levi x you #happy birthday levi ackerman

90 notes · View notes

hamburgerhelpersotherhand · 2 months

Note

Hellooo I LOVE your writing and was wondering if you could do another part of 'Papier' the story with Joe Goldberg 🥹 Thank you and Have a wonderful day!

Of course!

I’ve since finished the new season entirely and found it just fine. I heard quite a few unfavourable things before going into it, but I actually didn’t feel pulled in that same direction… it wasn’t that bad.

Warnings: power imbalance, Joe being a creep.

My eyes skim the pages, all different, all beginnings, unused introductions that didn't quite make the cut. You're good at this, at writing and adding... but you never quite rid yourself of the past. You tuck it away for later; perhaps a better thought will emerge from stirring the mind with old prose or, maybe, you have a fear of losing things.

I glance over the paper and look at you, sitting on the chaise in front of my desk, in my office, legs crossed and hands resting atop your knee. Your bag is by your feet. I smile and lower the draft.

"These are good," I say. "but you've given me better."

You nearly deflate at my words, chewing on the inside of your cheek as your eyes burn holes into the back of your paper. It's not what you had handed in for your midterm, but it is an older copy for us to look through.

I blink, tucking in my top lip for a moment as I think.

"What's up?" I ask.

Your eyes flick up to mine.

“What?”

I move back and sit on my desk, discarding the papers by my side to give you my full attention.

“You seem to have something on your mind,” I point out.

“I just…” You pinch your lips momentarily, timidly moving your eyes somewhere along my desk. “I feel like I’m moving backwards.”

“Would you like to unpack this feeling?”

“I don’t see how it’ll make a difference.”

At that, I smile.

“Sometimes talking things through can help. What are you worried about?”

You look away for a moment, pensive. You’re thinking of what to say, or perhaps you’re searching for a way to say it.

“Failure.” You admit plainly.

“Do you think you’re failing?” I then ask, and you shift in your seat.

“Yes, and I want to do something about it. Anything.”

I bite the inside of my cheek.

After a moment’s silence, I push myself off my desk and take a step to you. Your eyes look up into mine as I approach.

Once your chin lifts, and I’m intimately close to your sitting form, I speak the question I had been dying to ask since your ass sat down in my office.

“Would you like me to give you some options?”

You gulp, the action drawing my eyes for a split moment. I grind my teeth, wondering loosely if this had been how Beck’s professors felt about her.

“What are my options?” You whisp, unsure of what you’re truly asking from me.

My hand rises, and I pretend to catch lint off your shoulder. I flick it away with a broadening smile. My fingers follow the knit of your sweater, then, languidly stroking my way down to your collarbone.

“When I’m not holding a class, I’m frequently in my office. The first option is simple: we meet here, five days a week.”

Your eyes swirl with fear. “I can’t do that, I’m full-time. I don’t have availabilities every day.”

“If the frequency of our sessions is going to be a problem, the other option will have to include longer sessions.”

Watching your face contort uncomfortably as you think over your dilemma has me giddy with excitement.

“Are you alright with studying late?” I ask.

You shift in your seat. No. You’re not okay with it. What will become of the little social life you’ve managed to maintain? The small amount of me-time you’re going to lose?

You nod and my hand finds your shoulder again, giving you a reassuring squeeze as you tense below my fingers.

“I can do nights, but my office can’t stay open past a certain time. I hope you understand that. I’ll gladly accept you into my home, if you’re willing to try. Two nights a week, maybe? How does that sound?”

“What nights?” You ask.

“Tuesday and Thursday.” I respond, watching you closely.

“I can do that.” Your voice is small as you speak, you’ve shrunk. Defeated. You don’t want to accept my terms, but you know you have to.

I pull my hand away, turn, and scratch at my beard with a pleasant hum. My hands ache with the need to touch you, to touch myself, but I reach for pen and paper instead, scribbling down my address.

#joe goldberg x reader #yandere x reader #joe goldberg #you imagine #netflix you #yandere #x reader

43 notes · View notes

reve-writes · 9 months

Text

—fault line; leon kennedy.

ʚ leon kennedy x reader | resident evil | 2,5k words. ʚ in which you and leon were both agents working for different countries, with a little bit of shared history. ʚ set in re4 but non canon compliant; reader is implied to be working for a foreign government but not specified which; reader and leon have a history of a physical relationship. ʚ a/n — this took me so long to write and im not too proud of it anyway. it sat in my drafts for probably two weeks-ish purely bc ive been watching atla and abandoning tumblr. enjoy reading anyway.

Nearly two years had passed, and you remained missing the warmth of his bed and the crinkle of his sheets. Nearly two years, and it was the first time you had seen him. Leon Kennedy stood in front of you, the set of his shoulders were stiff as he exhaled, eyes cold blues, studying you.

All around you was foreign: foreign land beneath your boots, foreign houses with stone buildings and weathered red roofs separated by rivers and mountains. Leon was the only reprieve—something familiar, bringing with him a false sense of security which you clung onto like a starved man.

"Can't you leave me alone?" Bitterness spilt out of his lips. Your eyes flit to look at anything else but him: the dried mud on your boots, the rundown docks beneath them, the opaque water of the lake.

"I did not come here for you." This was true, at least. You had set foot in the rural village for answers—not voluntarily, though. This was your livelihood.

"Of course not," he drawled. "You'd have to care first."

Enough time had passed for the dull throb in your chest to cease, but it was hammering down on all of your senses. You tried to reign your thoughts in to no avail. They galloped out of control, reminding you of the months—seven—leading up to Operation Javier.

At the time, Leon was early in his career as an agent. Lonely, easily taken by someone he had met on an outing once. You. He hadn't suspected that you could be a foreign intelligencer, tasked to unearth the secrets buried with the destruction of Raccoon City. Leon was supposed to be your impossible task—surely someone who survived that night and was made a special agent wouldn't be so trusting, his life so easily infiltrated.

You had underestimated his loneliness.

He hadn't handfed you the information you siphoned back to your handler, but he practically gave you free access. They had been gathered from eavesdropping his calls from the other room, going over his correspondences while he slept next to you. Until he was sent to South America and you followed, discreetly, of course.

This time, you overestimated your stealth.

He found you out, unravelling your motivations and deception, witnessed by the Amazon rainforest during that very mission. You had escaped before he could turn you in to be interrogated, not caring to find out what they would do to foreign spies, nor could you stand the look in his eyes.

The blues, formerly jewel-like, now fractured. You didn't take into account your own isolation, too, when you took this mission, because somewhere along the way, Leon had stopped being a mark. He had left a mark on you himself, in a way.

"I should go," you said, strangely self-conscious. It was an odd feeling; your presence being so unwanted.

"Why are you here?"

"Your president's daughter being taken was a point of interest, but I have my own reasons." A sample of whatever is infecting people here. Half-truths and lying by omission came naturally to you. You couldn't remember a time when they did not.

"I suggest you don't meddle," he said curtly and stalked off. You opened your mouth, wanting to say everything and nothing at once. Settling for the latter, you turned away from the docks.

Was he insane?

You weren't proud to say that you had been keeping an eye on Leon. Your days in the rural village had been isolating and left you parched for any semblance of companionship. He was either a mirage or an oasis, you hadn't decided which just yet.

After the gross-looking humongous lake monster was defeated, Leon had slumped and lain on his back. At first, you assumed he was merely catching his breath, but he stayed there, unmoving. He was out cold, floating in a strange lake with strange residents all around.

He would be fine, right? It wasn't as if your help would be welcome anyway, right?

You exhaled before paddling a smaller boat towards his, half cursing yourself. There was your handler's voice in your head, mocking you, asking if you were really attached to this American agent and what it was that was so special about him.

Ah, Viper. You aren't actually saving him, are you? Leave the American. Focus on the task at hand.

The boat rocked under you as you stepped over into his. Maybe you could both be the monster's meal together now. Maybe it wasn't actually dead. Maybe it had a bigger, more evil twin swimming underneath the murky surface. You placed two fingers onto his neck, by his Adam's apple and slumped back in relief when you found the pulse.

When he woke up, you were sitting on one side of the boat, knees tucked towards your chest, half asleep yourself. You had moved the boat closer to shore, where it floated near the rocky lakeside. You could've stepped off and left—should have, but something, most likely stupidity, compelled you to stay.

He was startled, understandably so, consciousness still barely registering what was happening.

"You've been out for two hours," you said nonchalantly. "You just... passed out."

"And you've been, what, just staring at me?" His biting sarcasm had returned, but something seemed off. He was staring at his hand as if it wasn't his, turning it this way and that way, flexing and clenching his fingers. His hair moved as he tilted his head, grazing his cheek.

"I don't need to stare, I know what you look like," you replied. "You're welcome for making sure you didn't die."

He scoffed. "You certainly have your motives. That's what you do, isn't it? Pretend to care for what's best for everyone. When in reality, they suit your agenda and yours only."

You wanted to smack him across the head.

"What could be my agenda, Kennedy? Huh? What use could I possibly have you for?"

"A lot, apparently." He shot you a glare. "Did they promote you after Operation Javier? You're welcome."

"They did," you admitted, something akin to shame filled your stomach, but you pressed on. The first ever sample of the T-virus that your country had was courtesy to you. It wasn't even part of your mission. Your original mission had been to dig up information on Leon Kennedy and whatever biological disaster his country found itself in. "I'm paid double what I'm used to. I'm practically a national hero to my colleagues."

"Do you want me to shake your hand?"

"No, Leon! I want you to—I want—" You trailed off, surprised at the emotional reaction you were having. You cleared your throat, schooling your expression. "It doesn't matter. For whatever it is worth, I am sorry. You didn't deserve that."

He stood up and stepped over the side of the boat, boots sinking in the water that reached all the way to his knees. "Like you said, it doesn't matter."

He walked a couple of steps before turning to look at you over his shoulder. "No offense, but I hope we never see each other again."

"I think you're infected."

You had gotten the jump on him. It somewhat amused you, despite the grim castle you were in and the grimmer news you delivered.

"But you already know that."

He looked at you as if you were a petulant child who would not leave him alone. "I had my suspicions."

You followed him down the maze-like halls. "The damsel-in-distress is infected as well, but you knew that, too."

"What do you want, ___?" He said your name like it was a curse. You only shrugged in return.

"Answers, mostly," you said. "Who's doing this and why. That is what I was sent to do."

"What do you want from me?"

The two of you were speaking in hushed tones, trying not to alert the many infected residents of the old castle. Leon looked irritated, taking big strides across the carpeted floor.

"I'm wondering the same thing."

Leon halted in his tracks at your wistful tone, watching you with the intensity of a man witnessing a once-in-a-lifetime comet. As if he was trying to take all of you in before you disappeared for good. You were oblivious to this, stuck in your own head, trying to answer the question he had asked.

Leon broke himself out of the spell. "I don't have time for this."

As soon as he said that, you heard the mumbling of hostiles, just around the corner. Without thinking twice, you pushed Leon into an unlocked door in the hallway, closing the door behind you. Leon let out a startled noise and you placed a hand over his mouth, pushing him back against the wall.

It was a tight fit.

Dark, as well.

The only illumination you had came from the dim hallway, through the slit under the door. Leon's gloved hands found their way to your waist where they squeezed, like it was something he had done countless times before—it was. Your free hand clutched his shoulder as the voices approached your hiding space, hearts pumping anxiously for a long while even after the steps started to recede.

You both let out relieved sighs.

One of his hands slid up your arm to gently remove the hand covering the bottom half of his face. You swallowed. The immediate danger had passed, but proximity to him carried another type of danger in itself.

He breathed out your name, the sound so familiar to your ears and it made you lean into his touch. This was familiar—all of it was familiar. The way your heart roared at the warmth of him, your skin burned at the slightest touch.

"I shouldn't be wanting to kiss you right now."

His chest rose with a sharp intake of breath. Softly, as if speaking anything above whispers might shatter the moment, he said, "No."

Yet his grip tightened and he pressed you closer towards him. His free hand found the side of your face, thumb tracing your cheekbone. You had already stopped thinking straight. Without being able to see him clearly, you leaned forward, feeling his breath over you.

"This is a bad idea." You tried being the voice of reason, even as your eyes fluttered close and his nose nudged yours.

"You tend to have a lot of those."

Even as he said that, you could feel his lips brushing against yours. Your hand found the nape of his neck, fingers slotting through his hair. Chest-to-chest, you could feel how rapidly his heart was beating as he could feel yours.

You cursed under your breath, before finally pressing your lips against his. He immediately responded by tracing his tongue across your lips impatiently and you opened your mouth, tasting him again. His kiss was bruising, all tongue and teeth and eagerness. He pushed you back until you hit the wall behind you.

Like a drunken man, he said, "I missed you."

"I know," you said, tugging at his hair. "I missed you, too."

He abruptly stopped, shrinking away from you as if you were a scalding thing, burning him. His hand felt around the door, before finding the handle and pushing the door open. He took a deep breath as light filtered back in through his vision.

"Leon—"

"You should go."

He shook his head, swiping his palm over his face as if chiding himself. You reached towards him, but decided against it last minute, dropping your hand to your side. This was a mistake. All of it.

"Take care of yourself."

"I'm sorry about your friend."

Leon didn't jump this time, as if he had already expected you to appear uninvited. He was sitting on the floor, leaning on the rickety metal bed where the damsel in distress—Ashley Graham—was currently unconscious on.

"He shouldn't have died."

He closed his eyes, tilting his head back. There was something broken in him. His shoulders were slumped with weariness, clothes and skin dusted with blood and grime.

"Can I sit?"

"Why won't you leave me alone?" There was no malice in his voice, or any sign of annoyance. If anything, it was exasperation.

You leaned against the doorway. Tentatively, you spoke. "When you asked me what I wanted from you. I think I know now."

He opened his eyes and sat straighter to look at you, nodding for you to go on.

"I kept thinking about it and I don't think everything I did, I did for the mission." You crossed your arms over your chest, looking at the floor. "I thought I was doing it all for the country. My country. I came to realise I'm not that much of a nationalist after all."

He scoffed. "Would you fault me if I didn't believe you?"

"Not at all. I expect you to be at least a little doubtful. Still, I wanted to say it: if we had met in another world—where you were just you and I was just me—I think we could have had it all. No duties or missions or political unrest. We could have made it."

You swallowed. Never had you thought a truth so bitter and sad could spill out of your mouth.

Leon laughed—a joyless, brief sound that tugged at your heart. "What are you trying to say, ___?"

"I'm sorry that I'm not just me," you replied, wringing your hand with anxiety. "I wish I was."

"Why not?" He stood up and approached you, each step relighting the suffocated embers in the ashes of your past. "You said it yourself, you aren't much of a nationalist anyway."

"The same reasons you can't quit being an agent." You let out a sigh, noticing the blue-black veins pulsing all over his forearm. "You have to get the cure soon, Leon. Your friend was telling the truth, that's all I know. I wish I could have helped more—they're sending someone to get me out soon, and I suggest you do, too."

"I'm not planning to die here."

"Your plans have a penchant for going awry."

For the first time in a really long time, he grinned at you. It felt as if everything in the world would go as it should, that nothing could ever go wrong. Like ice over a burn, a hot drink on the coldest day. What a smile to have.

Ashley stirred behind him.

"I'll be off, then," you said. "Be careful. I wish I'd seen you again sooner."

"Then come see me after we get out of here."

You shook your head. "I'm rubbing off on you. You're having horrible ideas."

"Leon?"

He turned around to find Ashley rubbing her eyes and waking up. When he turned back to say his goodbyes to you, you were already gone.

[ ]

#leon s kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x reader #—ki writes 🍯

121 notes · View notes