#and also in English which he was shaky in | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

cherrylovelycherry · 3 months

Note

Hi! I wanted to say that I really love your writing, I spent hours binge reading without even noticing! I also love how creative your "menu" is. I wanted to ask if you take requests? If so, could I request a Boothill x Fem reader souffle? It can be any kind of plot or without plot at all. I just really like your writing and would like to see one of Boothill. Thank you so much for your time -anon

.note. hihi anon! aww it's nice that you like my writing, thanks! (ㅅ´ ˘ `) this took me a while, uni is being hard on me. sorry if there are any spelling mistakes, english is not my first language. anyway, i'm kicking my feet as i write this. i have the hc that boothill is sweet and gentle when it comes to intimacy, the complete opposite of his appearance, so yeah. hope you like it! ദ്ദി (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶)~✧

𓂅new order. "soufflé and a éclair au chocolat."

You know what they say — save a horse, ride a cowboy!

pairing. Boothill x fem!reader cw/genre. nsfw, fluff, cunnilingus, blowjob, some praise kink, first time, mdni synopsis. you ended up fucking a cowboy full menu

You're were with Boothill this afternoon, as he was willing to give you lessons on horse riding after he realised how incredibly inexperienced you were.

You were lucky he taught you, though you assumed it would be his way of repaying the favors you did him, fixing and improving his robotic body countless times.

The countryside is just outside of the busy city, so, as somone who lived in the city, being with Boothill in the countryside was very different.

After an hour or two, you started to grow tired and Boothill noticed it. He offered for you to come to his house, or so you thought, since that was where he was staying for a while, instead of walking all the way back home in such a tired state. You nodded, exhuasted, just wanting to lay your head on a pillow.

As Boothill walks with you check your phone, and there's a message from your roommate asking where you were. You quickly text that you're staying at Boothill's for the night.

Another message appears, and when you open it, it says;

"You're staying with Boothill for the night?? OMG, you know what they say — save a horse, ride a cowboyyy!"

You felt the heat rise to your face almost instantly as you read the message. Which caused curiosity in him, approaching where you were.

"Hey, you ok? You're turning red, darlin'."

As if trying to see what the message was about, you moved your head to the side. Which ended up being for the fun of it as you quickly put your phone away.

The evening sun was already peeking out, being chased by the darkness of the night.

With somewhat quick steps, it managed to set before you, curiosity etched across his features, Boothill reached out to touch your cheek. "Seriously, you look like a ripe tomato. Did somethin' happen?"

Your heart skipped a beat as his fingers slowly touched your cheek. You took a shaky breath as his hand continued to touch your face.

You quickly looked away, trying to avoid his gaze.

"I'm fine, just tired. That's all," you said quietly, trying to sound convincing.

The feeling of his hand on your skin sent chills down your spine, reminding you of the message your roommate sent.

You let go of his grip, as you both continued walking.

Was it possible that…he was thinking the same thing?

You shook your head slightly at the thought.

"Just my stupid roommate making a dumb joke." You tried to laugh it off, but even you could hear how forced it sounded.

Boothill continued to watch you intently, his eyes lingering on your face for a moment longer before he spoke.

"Darlin', I can tell when you're lyin'. You're makin' it kinda obvious," he said, a hint of amusement in his voice.

"Hah, right, whatever you say." You scratched your cheek with your hand, hurrying your pace.

He merely laughed lightly at your response.

You both walked towards where Boothill was staying, it was a somewhat remote house, but it was in the city.

The house was somewhat large, the owner of which was a grandmother, who Boothill had once saved. She was extremely sweet to let him stay there if he needed it.

As you arrived at the house, you noticed how the sky had darkened even more, the stars slowly appearing as the night settled in.

As you both reached the house, Boothill unlocked the front door. It creaked open, and he stepped back to let you walk in first.

With a muttered "thank you", you entered the house. It was cozy and comfortable, a warm place that seemed to radiate with a hint of nostalgia.

Boothill closed the door behind him and led you into the living room.

"Make yourself at home darlin' I'll go and let her know I've brought you with me," he said before disappearing into the hallway.

You took a seat on the couch in the living room, and as soon as your butt met the cushion, you felt your phone vibrate.

Another message… probably from your roommate.

You fished your phone out of your pocket and quickly unlocked it, curiosity getting the better of you.

Sure enough, it was another message from your roommate, still riding the horse/cowboy joke.

This time, she sent a gif of a cowboy riding a horse, with the message; "Yee-haw! Ride that cowboy, babe! 😉"

You couldn't help but sigh, feeling a mixture of annoyance and embarrassment. And even some amusement at the gif she sent. Your roommate was way too invested in your supposed "crush" on Boothill.

You groaned inwardly Great. It was never going to end. Your roommate was going to make this into a running joke for months, maybe even until the end of time.

Your irritation was interrupted as you heard footsteps approaching from the hallway.

Boothill appeared a moment later, walking back into the living room. He took a seat on the opposite side of the couch, still maintaining a respectable distance from you.

"She's just glad I'm finally bringin' someone here," he chuckled, referring to the house's owner.

He leaned back into the couch, his eyes still fixed on your form. There was a small smile on his face.

You shifted in your seat, feeling a mix of embarrassment and warmth at his words.

"Yeah, well, I'm sure she's had to deal with your antics for a while now," you quipped, trying to sound lighthearted.

Boothill let out a mocking gasp, placing a hand over his chest in mock offense.

"Excuse me? Are you implyin' that I'm a troublesome guest? Me? A perfect gentleman?"

You rolled your eyes, a small smile tugging at the corners of your mouth.

"Oh yes, the perfect gentleman," you said, sarcasm dripping from your tone.

He feigned an expression of innocence.

"I'll have you know, I am a model guest. I make sure to clean up after myself, respect the property, and always ask for permission before snackin' on somethin'."

You couldn't help but laugh at his attempts to defend himself.

"Right, because asking for permission to raid the fridge is the epitome of good manners," you teased, raising an eyebrow. "And let's not forget the time you accidentally broke a vase and tried to mend it with duct tape."

He fakely frowned a little.

"Hey, I still stand by that duct tape solution. It looked pretty darn good once I was done with it," he chuckled, a hint of guilt in his voice.

You shook your head, still amused.

"You're lucky the house's owner has a soft spot for you. Otherwise she wouldn't let you stay here any longer."

He shrugged, a cheeky grin spreading across his face.

"What can I say? I'm irresistibly charmin'."

He stretched lazily, his metal arms extending with a soft whir.

"But seriously, she knows I ain't cause no real trouble. And besides, I keep the spiders away for her," he added with a wink.

You snickered. "Ah, yes, the dutiful bodyguard against the eight-legged critters. She must be so thankful for your bravery."

He laughed, clearly enjoying the playful banter.

"You laugh now, but when you have a spider the size of your hand crawlin' up your leg, you'll be beggin' for my services," he teased.

"Please, like I'd ever let it come to that," you retorted. "I'd fight that spider off with a rolled-up newspaper if I had to."

He chuckled again. "Oh, I don't doubt that for a second darlin'. You ain't afraid of much, are you?"

The lighthearted atmosphere was refreshing, and you found yourself enjoying the exchange.

"Heh, I guess not."

You put a lock of your hair behind your ear, while Boothill turned on the medium-sized television in the room. The fireplace made the cold outside not felt at all.

The soft glow of the television filled the room, casting shadows on the walls.

Boothill grabbed the remote and started flicking through the channels, looking for something to watch.

"Anythin' ya want to watch?" he asked, not taking his eyes off the TV.

You tilted your head, pretending to think for a moment before answering.

"How about a cowboy movie?" you suggested, a teasing tone in your voice.

"Hah! A good one then."

As you glanced at Boothill, you noticed the way the light reflected in his eyes, their artificial luminescence dancing with the flicker of the screen.

"You hungry? I can whip somethin' up for ya in the kitchen," he offered, his voice still carrying a hint of humor.

You considered his offer.

"Nah, I'm alright," you replied, your attention half-focused on the TV.

The more time passed, the more interesting the movie became. You both let out one or another comment about this. Until you and him were silent.

He leaned back against the couch, his metal arm resting along the back. Despite his mechanical parts, he still managed to exude a sense of comfortable familiarity.

His gaze flicked away from the television, locking onto yours.

"You okay, darlin'? You're a little quieter than usual."

You were caught off guard for a moment, surprised by his perceptive question.

"Yeah, I'm fine," you answered, a little too quickly. Lie, you were falling asleep.

The truth was, you were fighting the urge to yawn.

"I'm just a lil tired ," you added, trying to sound nonchalant. Another lie, your whole body hurt from the physical exercise you were doing earlier in the field with Boothill.

He raised an eyebrow, a hint of skepticism in his gaze.

"Uh-huh, 'a little tired,' ya say," he said, clearly not buying your act.

He leaned forward a bit, studying your face.

"Your eyes are heavy, and you're yawnin' more than a kitten."

He thought for a second before placing a cushion from the couch, which they were sitting on, over his legs.

"Here." He said, patting the cushion a few times, so you could lay your head there.

"Are you calling me a tired kitten?" you protested, unable to stop a small yawn from escaping your lips as you spoke, proving his point.

Your eyes widened slightly as he patted the cushion on his lap, offering it to you like some kind of makeshift pillow.

Your heart skipped a beat, the situation feeling suddenly more intimate.

But your body yearned for rest, your tired muscles calling out for a moment of peace.

He smirked, clearly amused by your tired protest.

"I dunno, if the shoe fits…" he joked, his gaze still fixed on you.

As you hesitated, hesitating to accept the offer, your tired body won out over your embarrassment.

With a defeated sigh, you slowly leaned down, resting your head on the pillow of the cushion, now laying across his lap.

Your heartbeat quickened as you felt the firm but gentle support of his thighs beneath you.

He chuckled softly as he noticed your hesitation, but allowed you to lean down and rest your head on his lap.

"There you go, darlin'," he murmured as you settled into the makeshift pillow.

A small, satisfied smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. Boothill remained silent for a moment, observing your tired state.

"Comfy?" he asked finally, his voice a low rumble.

"Mhm." You let out an affirmation towards his words.

You closed your eyes, surrendering to the exhaustion that tugged at your eyelids.

The sound of the movie in the background faded away, replaced by the steady rhythm of his breathing.

For a moment, there was a silence between you, but it wasn't uncomfortable.

Instead, it felt soothing.

He watched you closely as you let your guard down, your eyes slowly drifting closed.

With each breath you took, your body seemed to relax further, almost melting into his lap.

Boothill's metal fingers gently traced the outline of your hair, almost on instinct, as if seeking to provide some kind of comfort.

A soft, almost silent chuckle passed his lips as he noticed your tired state.

You felt your body relax as tension drained from your muscles, the weight of the day's physicality finally catching up to you.

Boothill seemed content to remain silent, allowing you to rest in comfortable respite.

Your mind started to wander, thoughts blending together seamlessly. You felt strangely at peace in this position - head resting on his lap, his metal fingers brushing against your hair, the sounds of the movie like a distant hum.

You felt utterly at ease, your tired body finally getting the rest it desperately craved.

Boothill's presence was both comforting and grounding, his touch a constant reminder of his attentiveness towards you.

Your thoughts gradually faded into weary tiredness, your mind struggling to stay awake longer.

You found yourself drifting on the edge of sleep.

He continued idly running his metal fingers through your hair, a soothing rhythm that seemed almost designed to lull you deeper into relaxation.

As your breathing slowed, growing more rhythmic and steady, he could tell that you were moments away from drifting off to sleep.

His eyes never left your face, taking in your relaxed expression and the soft curves of your features.

A small smile tugged at the corners of his lips. There was a certain satisfaction in seeing you at peace, especially after a long day.

You felt his fingers running through your hair once more before you fell completely asleep.

Your mind slowly slipped away from consciousness, and the world around you faded into a drowsy haze.

You don't know how much time passed, but you slowly opened your eyes, keeping them half-lidded.

You weren't touching the couch and you felt like they were grabbing you.

Oh, you were being carried.

Keeping your eyes the same way, you looked up, watching as he was carrying you up the stairs.

You felt like in those princess stories in which the prince carefully carries the princess.

As he carried you up the stairs, his grip firm and gentle around you, he took note of your half-lidded eyes slowly fluttering open.

He chuckled softly as he caught your gaze, realizing you were half-awake.

"Hey there, sleepyhead," he teased quietly, his voice barely above a whisper.

He continued up the stairs, navigating carefully to not accidentally hit your head or anything else.

"Go back to sleep, dear"

He was taking you to a spare room so that you could sleep more comfortably.

Even in your semi-asleep state, you heard the soft rumble of his voice, the sound soothing your tired mind.

A small, sleepy smile tugged at the corners of your lips as you heard him call you "sleepyhead." It was a nickname you hadn't heard from him before.

He carried you gently upstairs, the sound of his footsteps on the hardwood floor blending with the silence of the house. You kept your eyes half-open, still disoriented and groggy.

"Mmph…" you managed to mumble in response, your drowsy brain struggling to form coherent words.

He chuckled at your sleepy attempt at a response, finding your disoriented state endlessly endearing.

"Shhh," he whispered, his metal fingers gently brushing a strand of hair away from your face.

"You're barely awake, darlin'. Just go back to sleep, we're almost in the guest room."

The soft hallway lights cast long shadows ahead of him, dancing softly against the walls as he continued on.

Finally reaching the spare room, he carefully pushed the door open and stepped inside.

Gently, he laid you down on the bed, tucking the blankets around you like he was handling a delicate artifact.

As you were gently lowered onto the bed, the soft sheets and blankets wrapping around you like a comforting embrace, your body automatically snuggled into their embrace.

A small, satisfied sigh escaped your lips as your tired muscles sink against the mattress.

The cool sheets felt soothing against your skin as you slowly settled into the bed, still in a half-asleep state.

You felt his touch once more as he carefully adjusted the blankets, ensuring you were tucked in properly.

"There we go," he murmured, his voice low and almost soothing.

As you were laid on the soft mattress, the blankets wrapping around you like a cosy cocoon, you felt the exhaustion fully taking over again.

Your tired mind was too drowsy to think clearly, your eyelids feeling heavy once more.

You vaguely registered his movements around you as he seemed to be adjusting something near the bed.

"…Boothill?" you mumbled his name, your voice still thick with sleepiness.

He paused, looking down at you with a hint of surprise at the sound of his name.

"Yeah, darlin'?" he replied quietly, his voice a gentle rumble.

He finished adjusting the blanket, ensuring you were completely covered and tucked in.

He then leaned closer to the bed, his eyes studying your sleepy face for a moment, before a soft smile tugged at the corner of his lips.

"You need somethin', or are you just makin' sure I'm still here?" he teased gently.

Your sleepy brain struggled to form coherent thoughts, the drowsiness making it difficult to string words together.

"Mmph… jus' makin' sure…" you mumbled, your voice barely audible.

You felt strangely vulnerable in this half-asleep state, the tiredness leaving you without the usual guard you had up.

The room was quiet, the only sound being the soft rustling of the blankets as you shifted slightly, trying to get comfortable.

You could feel his presence close to the bed, his eyes still fixed on you.

Literally the idea of what you were going to try to say left you. So you frowned, keeping your eyes closed.

Until you managed to remember something, "The girl who is with you will be…very, veeery luckyy,"

He raised an eyebrow at your drowsy mumble, his grin widening slightly.

"Is that so?" he murmured, his voice soft and amused.

When you mentioned the hypothetical luck of his future girlfriend, his gaze softened, a hint of something unreadable in his expression.

He chuckled lightly, shaking his head slightly. "You're still dreamin', darlin'."

He reached out, his metal fingertips lightly running through your hair once more, a soothing gesture.

He stood silently nearby, watching you as you fought against the fog of sleep.

As you mumbled something about the girl he might date, his expression softened even further. He couldn't help but find your sleepy ramblings both amusing and endearing.

You hummed with pleasure as you felt his metal fingertips gently run through your hair once more, the sensation sending a soothing wave through your tired body.

Your eyes remained closed, too heavy to open, and yet some part of your tired mind stubbornly held on to consciousness.

"Mm…not dreamin'…jus' sayin'…" you protested, your words slurring together slightly.

Your mouth attempted to form more words, but fatigue weighed heavily on your tongue, making it difficult to speak clearly.

"Lucky…" you mumbled once more, the word sounding more like a sigh than anything else.

He chuckled softly beside you, his voice filled with a mixture of amusement and something else you couldn't quite place.

"…Darlin', you're not exactly makin' sense," he teased, his tone warm and affectionate.

He continued to run his mechanical fingers through your hair, the soothing motion seemed to melt away any tension still lingering in your body.

As you mumbled about luck and being lucky, he chuckled again, the sound low and gentle.

Your words came out alone, almost like a yawn that couldn't be stopped. "C'mere…" You said, as you looked at him, you opened your eyes a little this time.

His hand paused in your hair, caught off guard by your request.

He looked at you, your half-open eyes peering up at him through the haze of sleep.

A mix of surprise and amusement played across his face. "You want me to come closer?" he asked, a hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

He stood there for a moment, as if trying to decipher your sleepy request, before moving closer to the bed.

“Mhm,” You blurted out, affirming his words.

His eyes scanned your face, taking in your half-open eyes and the sleepy smile on your lips.

"You're a bossy little thing, even when you're half-asleep," he said with a soft chuckle, shaking his head slightly.

He sat down on the edge of the bed, the mattress dipping slightly under his weight.

He leaned over slightly, his metal hand still resting on your hair, gently smoothing out the messy strands.

By the time he got close enough, your body acted on its own.

"Lucky.." You murmured as you grabbed his face with both hands and placed your lips on top of his, quickly but softly.

Caught off guard by your unexpected move, his eyes widened slightly when he felt the softness of your lips against his. For a moment, he froze, his brain trying to comprehend what was happening.

But it didn't take long for him to respond. His hand on your hair slid down to your cheek, the coolness of his metal fingers contrasting with the warmth of your skin.

He returned the kiss, his lips moving against yours with a gentleness that contradicted his cybernetic appearance.

After a few seconds, he pulled away slightly, "Darlin', you're gonna be the death of me…" he murmured

As you felt his response, his cool fingers contrasting with the warmth of your skin, you couldn't help but feel a sense of satisfaction.

You leaned into his touch, your eyes still closed, a small smile playing at the corners of your lips.

Your tired mind was still in a sleepy haze, but the kiss seemed to awaken a different kind of energy within you. You let out a sleepy giggle at his words, your eyes still half-lidded.

“You’re a little too cheeky when you’re sleepy," he admonished, a hint of amusement in his tone. "You're gonna give a cowboy a heart attack."

It was a nice way to put it since he physically had no heart.

His eyes tracing the curve of your smile on your lips. Your tiredness seemed to fuel a playful energy within you, making you even more endearing in his eyes.

He shifted his position slightly, his body now facing you fully, one knee on the bed. His metal hand cupped your chin, tilting your face up towards him as he leaned in slightly.

"And here I am, trying to be all gentlemanly and let you get some sleep," he teased, his voice low and full of mock reproach.

A sly smile tugged at the corners of your lips, the drowsy state making you even more cheeky than usual. Besides, despite being tired, your consciousness was more exact. You were leaving the state of drowsiness.

"Gentlemanly, huh?" you mumbled, your words still slightly slurred by sleepiness.

You pushed yourself up on one elbow, leaning towards him as much as your tired body would allow. "That's cute," You commented, your other hand reaching out to touch his chest.

You chuckled softly, "Besides, whose fault is it for being so irresistibly kissable?" you retorted.

You liked to see how his face turned slightly red, being visible only by the night light that came through the window.

You were enjoying the unexpected turn of events, the boundaries between friendship and something else starting to blur.

His eyes widened slightly at your words, the compliment catching him off guard.

He watched intently as you leaned forward, your touch against his chest igniting a spark under his metal skin.

Thanks to you, who had been able to connect and 'create' new nerves that would be connected to his robotic parts, managing to have at least a slight sensation of touch in his body.

His eyes flicked down to your hand before returning to meet your gaze, his expression a mix of amusement and something else he couldn't quite hide.

Your words had found their mark, and he couldn't deny the reaction they provoked. Despite his usual confidence, there was something about your sleepy flirtations that had him uncharacteristically flustered.

He swallowed hard, trying to maintain his usual cool demeanor, but a hint of a blush betrayed his reaction.

He leaned in closer, his body nearly hovering over yours as you leaned up on your elbow. His metal hand moved from your chin to the back of your neck, his fingers tracing circles on your skin.

Your senses seemed hyper-aware in this exhausted state, and the feeling of his metal fingers tracing circles on the back of your neck sent a shiver down your spine.

The way he loomed over you, his body hovering just above yours, made your heartbeat quicken. There was a sudden tension in the air, a subtle shift in the dynamics of your relationship.

You looked up at him, your eyes no longer had that flash of tiredness.

He could see the change in your eyes, the drowsiness slowly giving way to a sharper focus. A silent understanding seemed to pass between you both; the tiredness had faded, replaced by a different kind of awareness.

He leaned in even closer, his face now only inches away from yours. His eyes held a mixture of curiosity and barely concealed desire, studying your features as if seeing you in a new light.

The air thick with an unspoken tension. Your skin tingled where his metal fingers touched your neck, a mix of cool certainty and unexpected delicacy.

"You're awake now, aren't you?" he murmured, his voice lower than usual, hinting at the effect you were having on him.

His fingers continued their gentle dance along the back of your neck. He seemed to be wrestling with something, caught between his customary charm and the unfamiliar surge of vulnerability.

Your lips parted slightly, the proximity making it difficult to focus on anything but him.

His eyes were searching yours, studying every detail as if trying to memorize each inch of your face. His gaze remained fixed on you, watching how your eyes responded to his closeness.

But, oh, he was holding back, there was an evident hunger within him.

A hunger he never thought he wanted, specifically from you.

He saw your reaction, the slight intake of breath, the way your lips parted slightly.

His mind was hazy with a million thoughts, all centered on you and how much he wanted to close the remaining space between you.

His metal fingers moved up from your neck, tracing a path along your jawline before gently brushing against your bottom lip.

"Tell me to stop," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

Your breath hitched slightly at his touch, the feeling of his metal fingers on your lip setting your nerves alight.

His voice was soft but laced with a barely restrained intensity. He was struggling with his own desires, trying to hold back but also aching for more.

You hesitated for a moment, caught between wanting to give in to the budding intimacy and fearing the consequences.

Your eyes met his, searching his gaze for any hint of insecurity or doubt. But the desire in his eyes made it clear that this was not a whim or a passing fancy for him.

"But I don't want you to stop," You responded also quietly. Your eyes left his for a moment, looking down at his lips.

Your words were like music to his ears, banishing the last remnants of his hesitation.

His breath hitched slightly as your eyes drifted to his lips, the silent desire in your gaze mirroring his own.

His hand shifted, moving to cradle your face, his thumb resting just under your chin, tilting your face up to meet his gaze.

"Are you sure?" he asked, his voice a low rumble.

And, with just a nod from you, he couldn't help it anymore.

Being careful not to hurt you, he somewhat carelessly brought his lips to yours, pressing them with need.

Your confirmation was all he needed.

The moment your heads met, there was an explosion of sensation. He deepened the kiss, his other hand gripping your waist, drawing you closer to him. His body pressed against yours, the coolness of his metal chest contrasting with the warmth of your skin.

His tongue eagerly explored your lips, seeking access to your mouth, a silent plea for more, for more of you.

There was a certain urgency in his actions, a hunger you could practically taste in the way he held you, the way his tongue moved against yours.

As his tongue sought entry into your mouth, you didn't hesitate to respond in kind.

Your fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him even closer, needing to feel more of him against you.

His hands roamed restlessly over your body, as if trying to memorize every inch of your skin through your clothes. He needed to feel every part of you, as if the physical contact could quench the hunger burning within him.

The kiss grew more urgent, more demanding. His cool metal fingers gripped your waist, holding you tightly as he pressed you further into the mattress.

His tongue danced with yours, a silent battle for control, each movement charged with raw desire. There was a hint of something wild in his demeanor, the usually controlled cowboy succumbing to his most primal instincts.

He groaned softly into the kiss as your hands tangled in his hair, the feeling both pleasurable and arousing.

Your body responded eagerly to his touch, arching against him in a silent plea for more.

His hands explored your body, tracing the contour of your curves, the cool metal of his fingers leaving goosebumps in their wake.

He broke the kiss, his lips moving to your neck, leaving a trail of kisses and gentle nibbles along your sensitive skin.

"You drive me crazy," he murmured against your neck, his voice hoarse with desire.

A gasp escaped your lips as he moved from your mouth to your neck, his teeth grazing against the sensitive skin.

Heat pooled in your core, his words and actions igniting a fire within you.

Your fingers gently tugged at his hair, a silent signal urging him on. A soft moan escaped from your throat as he bit down lightly on a particularly sensitive spot.

"You have… no idea," you managed to gasp out, your voice shaky with need.

He hummed against your skin, the sound vibrating along your sensitive skin.

Your gasps and slight moans only fueled his desire, the sound of your voice shivering with need causing a shiver to run down his system.

His hands roamed over your body, tracing every curve, as if mapping out a territory he now desperately wished to claim as his own.

He smirked slightly against your neck, his lips leaving a trail of kisses that were slowly moving down to your collarbone.

"Oh, I think I have a pretty good idea," he retorted, his voice carrying a low, sultry tone.

His hands moved lower, resting on your hips, gently guiding your body against his.

His smirk against your neck sent a shiver down your spine. You could feel the heat of your desire growing with each passing moment.

His hands roaming over your body and his lips tracing a path down your collarbone added fuel to the flame.

You tilted your head back, giving him better access to your neck. Your fingers tangled in his hair, pulling slightly as he continued his assault on your skin.

"Boothill…" you whispered, his name sounding like a prayer tumbling off your lips.

Your whispered plea, his name falling from your lips like a litany, sent a shock through his system.

He paused his ministrations for a moment, lifting his head to look at you.

Your eyes were half-lidded, your cheeks flushed, and your hair slightly disheveled. You looked utterly captivating in that moment, your desire for him written all over your face.

His hands left your body, this time heading to your shirt.

I was about to roll it up until his brain made him stop for a moment.

"Do you want…to do it?" He dared to ask you, seeking your consent. His eyes boring into yours gently.

You met his eyes, seeing the mixture of desire and restraint in his gaze.

Your breath still slightly ragged, you nodded slowly.

"Yes," you replied, your voice barely above a whisper. "I want this. I want you."

As he pulled your shirt off, his hands skimmed over your skin, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake.

He paused for a moment, taking in the sight of you, partially undressed before him.

"You're beautiful," he murmured, his eyes roaming over your body, his gaze filled with a mixture of desire and admiration.

His words, a simple compliment carrying more weight than usual, caused your heart to skip a beat.

His eyes trailed over your body, taking in every detail as if you were a masterpiece hanging in a gallery.

The way he looked at you, with a mixture of desire and admiration, made you feel both vulnerable and powerful at the same time.

His eyes were fixed on you, taking in every inch of your exposed skin.

"You're perfect," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion.

He leaned down, his lips finding your neck, his mouth leaving a trail of kisses along your collarbone and down your chest. Finding your bra very annoying.

The combination of his touch, his kisses, and his words made you feel like you were slowly unraveling.

His mouth trailing along your skin was driving you insane with need and desire.

His lips trailed down your neck and down your chest until they reached the barrier of your bra. He paused for a moment, his hands gently tracing the edge.

"Can I?" he asked quietly, his fingertips brushing against the fabric.

The way he was handling you, with a mixture of reverence and desire, made you feel both cherished and desired.

His lips returned to your neck, leaving soft, teasing kisses as he waited for your response.

As his fingertips traced the edge of your bra, your heart pounded in anticipation, your body aching for more of his touch.

His request, whispered in a soft, hoarse voice, set your nerves on fire.

You nodded, your voice barely above a whisper, "Yes,"

He didn't need further coaxing. His hands quickly unclasped your bra, freeing your chest from its confinement.

His lips continued their journey, leaving a trail of kisses down your newly bared skin. He seemed to savor every inch of you, as if unable to get enough.

The feeling of his lips on your bare skin was nothing short of maddening.

His hands, now free from the barrier of your bra, roamed freely over your torso, as if he were mapping a new territory.

His hands instinctively went to your breasts, massaging them slowly and gently, touching the tips of your breasts. Causing you to flinch at the coolness of his fingers.

Without further ado, his mouth moved to one of your breasts, his other hand touching the other.

He sucked and nibbled gently, drawing a gasp from your lips.

His mouth on your sensitive skin sent a shiver down your spine, your breath catching as his tongue flicked against one of your nipples.

Your hands tangled in his hair, holding him close, your fingers clenching tightly as he continued his ministrations.

You gasped, arching your back towards him, silently pleading for more of his touch.

His hands continued to explore your body, his touch firm yet gentle, as if trying to memorize every contour.

His fingers traced circles over your hip bone, then moved lower, slipping under the waistband of your pants.

This time he didn't ask, he raised his head and looked at you, with those eyes full of pleading.

Oh, that look you never thought you'd see in him.

The look in his eyes was one you never thought you'd notice coming from him.

It was a silent plea, a silent "Let me take care of you."

Hearing your gasps and slight moans, he wondered why it had taken him so long to cross this line with you.

You could feel the desire growing inside you, a burning need for more contact, more of him.

You raised your hips, silently giving him permission to remove your pants, your breath coming in ragged gasps.

Slowly, he slid your pants down along with underwear in one go, his hands skimming over your skin, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. You could feel his eyes on you, taking in every inch of your exposed body.

He ran his hands gently down your thighs.

Now you were completely naked in front of him, your body on display, vulnerable and exposed.

His gaze roamed over your body, taking in the sight of you in all your glory.

In his eyes you were the most perfect thing that could exist, a goddess, an angel come down from the heavens.

"Beautiful," he whispered, his voice filled with reverence and desire.

He leaned down again, pressing his lips against your stomach, leaving a trail of kisses. Then, he pressed light kisses on your legs, moving closer and closer to where you needed him the most.

Your body was aflame with desire, every touch of his sending your senses into overdrive.

Your legs opened slightly, inviting him closer, silently pleading for more of his touch.

His lips moved over your skin, his kisses growing more insistent as he made his way to the inner part of your thighs.

"Please," you managed to gasp out, desperate for him to touch you where you needed him most.

He chuckled softly against your skin, enjoying the fact that he had you completely at his mercy.

His chuckling set your blood boiling, your body arching towards him in a silent plea.

He knew what you wanted, what you needed, and he was enjoying every second of it.

"Patience, darlin'," he drawled, his lips trailing along the sensitive skin of your inner thighs.

He was taking his time, teasing you, drawing out the pleasure, and driving you insane in the process.

He continued his assault on your inner thighs, leaving gentle bites and kisses, slowly moving closer to your center.

His hands were now firmly gripping your hips, holding you in place, preventing you from bucking up against him in a plea for more contact.

Until after that little torture of his, his lips hovered over your aching center, kissing above your lips, softly and gently.

You were a wreck.

Your body ached for more contact, more of him, and he was purposely taking his time.

Instead, he began to trace small, feather light kisses around your aching core, his lips moving slowly but purposefully, avoiding the place you wanted them most.

You gasped again, barely managing to hold back a whine in protest.

"Please," you repeated, your voice a desperate plea, "Please, Boothill."

He chuckled against your skin again, enjoying the way your body responded to his every touch.

When he finally moved his lips to your center, his tongue lightly flicking against your sensitive bud, you gasped loudly, a shiver running down your spine.

His tongue started to explore your most sensitive parts, flicking and swirling gently, sending waves of pleasure through your body.

Your head fell back against the pillows, your eyes closing as you surrendered to the sensations he was creating.

His tongue's teasing touch against your center sent sparks of pleasure through your body, your breath caught in your throat.

Your hands tangled in his hair again, pulling slightly as he continued to explore you. "So beautiful and sweet," he murmured against your skin, the vibration of his voice adding to the sensations he was causing.

He wrapped his lips around your clit, gently sucking and nibbling, driving you even further into frenzy.

Then, his fingers entered the equation, slowly slipping inside you while his mouth continued to work its magic.

Your body trembled, the combined sensations overwhelming your senses.

You were at his mercy, your body completely under his control, writhing and gasping under his expert ministrations.

His fingers moved inside you, curling and stroking, while his tongue continued to flick against your sensitive bud.

The sensations were quickly building toward a climax, your breath coming in quick gasps as you tried to hold back.

"Boothill.. I can't.. too much.." you managed to gasp out, your body arching off the bed.

He seemed to know exactly how to push your buttons, his mouth and fingers working in perfect harmony to elicit the most intense reactions from you.

You couldn't think straight, his touch sending you into a state of ecstasy that was almost overwhelming.

Your body was caught in a tempest of pleasure, every touch of his tongue and fingers driving you closer to the brink.

His fingers curled inside you, hitting a particularly sensitive spot that made your breathing grow ragged.

It looked like he was licking and eating a candy.

Your fingers gripped in his hair, tugging slightly as the pleasure built within you.

"Oh god," you breathed, your voice a ragged gasp, "Please, I-"

Then, suddenly, he stopped, drawing back just as you were about to reach your climax.

You let out a gasp of frustration, your body aching for release.

"Not yet, darlin'," he murmured against your skin, his lips leaving a trail of kisses along your inner thigh.

At the lack of his lips and tongue on your clitoris, you felt a slight breeze that made you shiver. Not to mention how you felt it pulsating.

His free hand gently massaged your hip, as if trying to reassure you.

Your body was taut like a bowstring, the sudden lack of stimulation leaving you feeling empty and needy.

He slid his fingers out of you, stretching them a little, watching as your juices covered them completely, almost spilling out.

He let out a light chuckle, before bringing his fingers to his mouth, drinking in your delicacy.

Your view, which was clouded with ecstasy, focusing on the scene of him sucking on his fingers, was completely provocative.

It was all too obvious that he was more than needy.

Your breathing grew ragged as you watched him suck on his fingers, your eyes wide.

The sight of him enjoying the taste of you was almost too much to bear.

"You taste so good, darlin'," he murmured, his voice thick with desire, "I could do this all night."

When his eyes met yours, that's when you realised.

You had been so focused on your release that you hadn't realised how much he wanted this.

His face flushed, his lips moist.

Oh, he looked so damn needy.

He looked completely undone, like he was restraining himself from taking you right there on the spot.

He was tense, as if he was holding himself back.

Your skin thrumed under his hot gaze, and you could see the way his body reacted to the sight of you sprawled out before him.

It was the cutest thing to see him like that.

You rose slightly from the bed, pushing his chest back now, almost to where you were lying before.

You knew it was now your turn to make him feel good. More than he was.

As you gently pushed him back, reversing your positions, he let out a low growl, but he didn't protest.

He leaned against the wall, watching you with a mixture of curiosity and desire.

He looked absolutely wrecked.

His hair disheveled from your hands, his face flushed, his body thruming with need.

All that for you.

You straddled his hips, sitting on top of him and relishing the position of power you suddenly found yourself in.

Your hands roamed over his chest and bare torso, feeling the firm metal muscles. You could feel the heat radiating off him. His systems were beginning to overheat.

You leaned down, peppering kisses along his neck and jawline, enjoying the way he responded to your touch.

He leaned his head back against the wall, exposing more of his neck to your touch, a low, guttural groan escaping from his throat as your lips and tongue traced a path along his sensitive skin.

His hands gripped your hips, his fingers digging into your skin as you kissed along his neck and jaw.

He let out a low moan when you nibbled on his earlobe.

He was coming to terms with the new sensation of being underneath you.

He was used to taking charge in many situations, but something about letting you take the lead seemed different.

He liked it.

He needed it.

His moans and groans were music to your ears, showing you how much he was enjoying your touches.

His breath was becoming ragged, and his hands held onto your hips tightly, as if anchoring himself.

"Darlin'," he gasped out, his eyes half-lidded as he looked at you.

Your hands began to wander lower, tracing the line of his abdomen and feeling the metal muscles twitch under your touch.

As your hands reached the waistband of his pants, you paused and looked up at him.

"Can I?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

He nodded eagerly, his eyes dark with desire.

He was more than willing to let you continue.

His eyes were dark with desire, his breath coming in short, ragged gasps, and his body was taut with tension.

"Yes," he managed to say, his voice thick with need, "Please."

You tugged on the waistband of his trousers, and he lifted his hips to help you pull them down.

He was begging you, and he didn't care.

As you slid them down his legs, you couldn't help but notice the evidence of his arousal straining against his boxers.

Oh, you forgot that could happen.

You remember that at his request, you made a modification to his robotic body.

Specifically a synthetic limb.

It was one of your best modifications as it was also connected to the nerves that you also gave him. Not to say that his blue blood would help bring it to life when he had to go into action.

You didn't really think you could test if it really worked.

Would you be the first to see if it worked properly? You didn't know.

You hadn't really thought much about it before. After all, it was just a standard modification that you had done. But now, as you saw the physical evidence of his arousal, you couldn't help but wonder if it would work as intended.

Your thoughts were quickly interrupted when he groaned loudly, drawing your attention back to him.

You had started touching his length over his underwear without even realising it.

With just the touch of you, you were surprised to feel the slight warmth that came from it.

He inhaled sharply at the touch, his body tensing even more.

"Please," he repeated, his voice hoarse, "I need you. I need you so bad."

You smiled at their pleas, apparently it was a very good idea to amplify the sensitivity around the area.

He was already a mess, and you had barely touched him yet.

His gasps and moans filled the room, and his eyes were dark with desire.

You could see how badly he needed you, how much he wanted you.

He was begging you, pleading with you to touch him more.

You looked down at the noticeable bulge in his boxers and then back up at his face.

"You're so beautiful," you murmured, "So needy."

He let out another gasp, his body arching towards you as you continued to touch him through the fabric.

After a while of appreciating the good view you had, you pulled down his underwear, revealing his length.

His breath hitched as you pulled his underwear down, exposing him to your view.

He felt so vulnerable, so exposed, but he didn't care.

"Oh god," you blurted out at the sight of his limb.

At first glance you could tell it was working properly.

You were kind of proud of it.

He shuddered at your words, the sensation of your eyes on him enough to make his body shiver.

He was so sensitive, so receptive to your every touch, and it was all thanks to your modifications.

You moved down towards his arousal, cupping it with your hands and releasing light kisses that went from base to tip.

He let out a guttural moan as you kissed him, the sensation sending waves of pleasure through his body.

Your touch was light and teasing, driving him wild with need.

"Oh, sweetheart, that's so good," he gasped out, his body arching towards you as you continued to touch and tease him.

He was putty in your hands, completely at your mercy.

He had never felt this way before, completely surrendered to another person.

And he loved every second of it.

He looked down at you, his gaze full of desire and need.

Without waiting too long, you licked his tip, without taking your eyes off his face.

You were beginning to like the way he was moving beneath you.

He groaned loudly at the feeling of your tongue on his tip, his body arching slightly off the bed.

He couldn't believe the feelings you were invoking in him.

He felt like he was on fire.

He needed more your mouth, more of your touch, more of you.

He reached down, tangling his fingers in your hair, trying to hold himself.

To that, you smiled.

And, without further delay, you shoved as much of his length as you could into your mouth.

His entire body trembled as you took him into your mouth.

He could barely believe how good it felt, how good you felt.

"Oh god," he gasped out, his grip on your hair tightening.

He was completely lost in the sensations you were giving him, unable to think clearly.

He felt like he was on the brink of explosion, barely holding on.

Your mouth felt like heaven against him.

You continued, lowering and raising your head, while also moving your hands up and down his length.

You looked up at him from time to time, just to watch him come completely undone.

His face was flushed, his eyes half-lidded, his mouth open and panting.

His breathing was ragged, and he was making little gasps and moans that sounded like a mixture of your name and incoherent praise.

He was a mess, and it was all your doing.

He was completely under your control, and he loved every second of it.

His breaths were coming in short, ragged gasps, and he was clinging onto you like a lifeline.

His body was trembling, his systems threatening to overheat.

"I'm close," he gasped out, his grip on your hair tightening even more.

He was teetering on the edge, completely at your mercy.

"Please," he panted, "Please don't stop."

You loved the way he was begging you, the way he was completely at your mercy.

You didn't stop, if anything you increased the pace, determined to push him over the edge.

His grip on you grew tighter as he got closer and closer to the brink.

"Oh, swetheart," he groaned, his voice thick with need, "I can't- I'm gonna-"

And, before I reached my limit, your movements stopped, ceasing to suck his length.

You laughed lightly, catching your breath for a moment as you watched him frown in frustration.

He stared at you, his body still shaking with need, his breathing ragged.

He looked completely wrecked, and he was not happy that you had stopped.

"Why'd you stop?" he gasped out, his voice full of frustration and need.

He was so close, so damn close.

He needed you.

But you just smiled at him, enjoying the way he was squirming beneath you.

You smiled as you stood up a little, stretching your back.

"Patience, sweetheart." You somewhat mockingly repeated his words he gave you moments before.

He groaned in frustration, his body still thrumming and begging for release.

He wanted you, he needed you desperately.

How could you be so cruel?

He watched as you stood there in front of him, your smirk making him even more frustrated.

"You're a tease," he grumbled, his voice rough with need.

You positioned yourself on his lap, without sitting down.

With one of your hands you cupped his cheek, as you placed a soft kiss on his lips.

"You were a good boy."

His breath hitched as you cupped his cheek, and he leaned into your touch, despite his frustration.

Your words made him shiver, the praise stirring something in him.

"I was," he murmured, his voice slightly pouty.

He was still needy, still on edge, but he loved the way you were handling him.

He wrapped his arms around your waist, holding you close, as he nuzzled your neck, breathing in your scent.

"Can I have my reward now?" he murmured against your skin.

"Heh, of course you do." You said, as with one of your free hands you grabbed his length, positioning the tip at your entrance.

He gasped at the feel of your hand on him, and he held onto you tighter.

He was so sensitive, every touch sending sparks through his senses.

"You're so perfect…," he whispered, his breath hot on your skin.

As he felt you position him at your entrance, he felt a shiver of anticipation. He needed you, he needed to be inside you.

He was on the brink of losing his mind from desire and need.

"Please," he pleaded, "Please don't make me wait any longer."

You smiled, as you slowly tried to make his length spill inside you.

Which in itself was difficult and painful for you, as this was your first time.

He could feel how tight you were, and he felt a pang of desire mixed with guilt.

As you tried to take him in, he noticed your slight discomfort, and he immediately stopped you.

He looked up at you, concern in his gaze, and he gently lifted you off him.

"Sweetheart, are you alright? You're hurtin'," he asked, his voice filled with worry.

He was still needy and desperate, but he didn't want to hurt you.

He cupped your cheek, his thumb gently stroking your skin, as he watched you intently.

You tried to hide your discomfort, but he saw right through it.

His concern and tenderness made you feel warm all over.

"I'm fine," you said, trying to downplay the pain you were feeling.

"I just need a moment to adjust," you added, a slight tremble in your voice.

He looked at you for a moment, his eyes searching yours, looking for any signs of discomfort.

He gently caressed your leg, his fingers tracing light circles on your skin.

"We can do it slowly, without pressure, my dear" he said, his voice gentle.

Your body relaxed at his words, grateful for his understanding and patience. He placed a gentle kiss on your forehead.

He took his time, gently guiding himself inside you once again, with great care.

He was still sensitive, craving your touch, but his main priority was ensuring that you were comfortable.

He slowly pushed himself in, his eyes locked on your face, watching for any sign of discomfort.

He could see the mixture of pain and pleasure on your face, the way you chewed your lips, trying to hide your discomfort.

He continued to move slowly and gently, giving you time to adjust to the new sensation. You took deep breaths, trying to relax and get used to the feeling.

It was slow, and it hurt, but having him be attentive and considerate, made you feel safe.

As he gently slid further in, the pain began to subside, replaced by an unfamiliar but not unpleasant feeling. He stopped once he was fully inside you, pausing for a moment.

He leaned in, placing gentle kisses on your face, trying to soothe you.

"Are you all right?" he asked, his voice tender and worried, his gaze fixed on you.

You looked up at him, meeting his gaze, and gave him a small nod to let him know it was ok to continue.

His gentle and patient manner was making your heart flutter, and the way he watched you with such care made you feel even more connected to him.

"Y'know, sweetheart? This is my first time too." He said, still not moving.

He tucked one of your hairs behind your ear. As he placed several kisses on your cheeks in an affectionate way.

You blinked in surprise at his words, not expecting that revelation.

You really thought he would have done this many times by now because of the way he behaved, you were wrong apparently.

The realization that this was his first time too, and that he was just as nervous and uncertain, added a new layer of intimacy to the moment.

You reached up, cupping his cheek, and gave him a gentle smile.

"I didn't know." you said, your voice soft, "You're being so kind and patient with me."

Then you reached up, running a hand through his hair, feeling its texture and smoothness between your fingers.

He nuzzled into your touch, closing his eyes and enjoying the sensation.

He felt a little vulnerable admitting that it was his first time too, worried you might think less of him. But the way you smiled at him, the warm touch of your hand on his cheek, made any anxiety melt away.

He leaned into your touch, enjoying the feeling of your fingers combing through his hair. It was soothing and grounding, helping to steady his racing thoughts and nerves.

He gently began to move again, slowly and carefully, still watchful of your reaction.

He watched as you ran your hands through his hair, his eyes fluttering closed for a moment.

"Besides, I wanna make sure you're enjoying this just as much as I am." He whispered, his breath warm on your skin.

You shivered as he began to move again, the gentle friction sending small tremors through your body.

The way he was moving inside you was still a bit uncomfortable, but the pain was beginning to fade and be replaced by a different kind of sensation.

You closed your eyes, letting yourself get lost in the sensations you were feeling. He was being so considerate, taking his time and making sure you were comfortable.

His words made you smile, and you opened your eyes to meet his gaze.

"I am enjoying it," you replied, "more than I ever imagined it could be."

Your hand continued to run through his hair, and you pulled him closer, pressing your forehead against his.

His heart skipped a beat as you pulled him closer, a warmth spreading through his chest.

He was relieved and happy to hear that you were enjoying it. All he wanted was for you to feel good and safe with him.

He continued to move gently, trying to find a pace that was pleasurable for both of you.

He relished in the feeling of your hand in his hair, and he loved the way your body felt against his own.

"You're so beautiful, sweetheart," he murmured, his voice thick with desire, "I could lose myself in you forever."

He leaned in, kissing your neck and collarbone. He opened his mouth to bite your neck, leaving a mark much more noticeable than the others he had left on your thighs.

The feeling of his mouth on your neck sent a shiver down your spine, and you let out a soft gasp as he bit down.

You could feel his teeth sinking into your skin, and you knew it would leave a mark, a reminder of this moment.

You tilted your head back, giving him more access to your neck, silently encouraging him.

The sensation was a mixture of pleasure and pain, but you didn't mind. It felt possessive.

Claiming. You wanted him to claim you, to make sure that everyone knew that you were his.

You arched your back, pressing closer against him, encouraging him to continue.

"Please," you murmured, your voice low and wanton. "Don't stop."

He was sensitive, and the feel of you around him was almost overbearing.

He felt your body arch against his, your voice low and pleading, and it made him shiver with desire.

He loved the way you reacted to his touch, the way you leaned into him and asked for more.

Hearing the words "Don't stop" spill from your lips was like music to his ears.

He continued his assault on your neck, his mouth moving to new spots, nibbling and biting and sucking, marking you as his own.

Instinctively he moved his hand to one of your breasts, pulling the tip and massaging it.

He began to move a little faster, a little deeper, his pleasure increasing. He groaned against your skin.

The feel of his hand on your breast sent ripples of pleasure through your body, your breath catching in your throat as he teased and played with your nipple.

The combination of his mouth on your neck and his hand on your breast was almost overwhelming. You let out a soft moan, arching your back in response.

As he began to move faster and deeper, you felt a wave of sensations wash over you. The pain had faded, replaced by a pleasure unlike anything you had ever experienced.

You could feel him beginning to lose himself.

Unconsciously, your hand moved down to your clit, touching yourself as you moved your hips slightly with his every movement.

That increased the pleasure you felt, making your inner walls clench at his length.

He looked down at you, his gaze filled with a mixture of desire and awe.

He was lost in you, drowning in your scent, your touch, the way you moved against him, the sounds you made. He couldn't get enough of you.

As he watched you touch yourself, his breath caught in his throat. Seeing you give yourself pleasure while he was inside you was an image he was sure to never forget.

He groaned, unable to keep his own pleasure contained.

"You're so perfect, sweetheart," he gasped out, his words interrupted by his ragged breaths.

He kept moving, faster and deeper, his mouth never leaving your neck. Every gasp and moan that escaped your lips only spurred him on.

Every movement, every touch, every breath felt like a shock to your body.

You were lost in the sensations, your mind unable to form coherent thoughts.

"Please," you panted, "Please, I need you-"

You weren't sure how much more you could take, the pleasure was almost too much to bear.

The combination of his words, his touch, and his movements were making it hard for you to think straight.

Your mind was swirling with sensation, and you couldn't focus on anything but the feel of him inside you, and the pleasure he was bringing you.

One of your hands grabbed onto his hair, the other one still rubbing your clit. A constant stream of soft moans and gasps was falling from your lips.

He walked away from your neck, having left countless marks all over the area.

His face could not have been redder at that moment.

The sight of him with narrowed eyes, tilting his head back and mouth open, trying to formulate sentences and words that would not come out, being replaced with incoherent sounds.

It was simply a delight for you.

He tried to form a coherent sentence, but the words were escaping him. His mind was consumed with desire, his body on the brink of ecstasy.

You knew he was entering his climax, as his movements became somewhat erratic and slightly sloppy.

And, him doing so, hit your g-spot.

He was losing control, his body moving on its own, driven by pure animalistic need. He wanted to hold on, to make this moment last, but he knew he was reaching his limit.

He leaned down, his forehead resting against yours, his breath coming in ragged gasps.

He looked at you, trying to steady his breathing and speak. But all that came out were ragged gasps and incoherent sounds.

"I wanna-" he pleaded.

For that, your eyes were full of tears of pleasure.

You could feel him reaching his limit, the way his breathing was growing more labored and uneven.

The way he was trying to speak, but unable to form words, only adding to the intensity of the moment.

You were lost in the sensations, your body on fire. Each movement, each gasp from him was driving you closer and closer to the edge.

"Please," he pleaded once again, his voice ragged and needy, "can I…?"

His words trailed off, but you knew what he was asking for. And you were more than willing to give it to him.

You could see the desperation in his eyes. He wanted, no - needed to release.

He was on the edge, and you were right there with him.

You could feel him getting close, his movements becoming more uncoordinated, his breaths coming in short gasps.

"Please," you whispered, your voice trembling.

You were so close yourself, teetering on the brink of ecstasy. You could feel it building deep inside, like a coil winding tighter and tighter.

He turned his lips to yours, both of you stifling your moans and groans.

He moved his lips against yours, his tongue tracing your lips, seeking entry into your mouth.

You parted your lips, allowing him in. The kiss was messy and needy, both of you clinging to each other in search of more contact.

He let out a low moan against your mouth. He tried to hold back, to draw out the moment a little longer, but he was too far gone.

He looked into your eyes, his gaze pleading.

"I'm gonna-" he gasped out, his voice strained.

But he couldn't finish the sentence. He was completely lost in the sensation, the pleasure almost overwhelming him.

He buried his face into your neck, his body shivering against yours, as he held on to you tightly.

"I'm gonna-" he repeated, his voice barely above a whisper.

You could feel him on the edge, his breaths coming in ragged gasps. He was close, and so were you.

"Me too," you breathed out, your voice trembling with need, "I'm so close. Please-"

You gripped onto him.

He moved his lips to your ear, his warm breath tickling your skin.

And so, giving a few more deep penetrations, he reached his release. At the same time as you, as he pressed hard on your sweet spot, he made you come without hesitation.

As the waves of pleasure washed over him, he shuddered against you.

He let out a guttural moan, his body tensing up, as he released himself deep inside you.

He held onto you tightly, as he rode out the waves of pleasure. His eyes were closed, his breathing labored.

He tried to speak, to form words, but the only sound that came out were unintelligible gasps and moans.

For a few moments, you both were lost in the intensity of the moment. All that could be heard was the sound of your erratic breaths.

He collapsed against you, his body trembling from the aftershocks of pleasure. His forehead rested against your shoulder, his breaths ragged and heavy.

He wrapped his arms around you, holding you close, as if afraid to let go. He buried his face into your neck, inhaling your scent.

For a few moments, neither of you spoke. You both laid there, your bodies tangled together, simply enjoying the afterglow.

His breathing slowly returned to normal, his body relaxed against yours.

He lifted his head from your neck, looking down at you.

"You're so amazing," he murmured, his voice husky.

He cupped your face, rubbing his thumb against your cheek. His eyes were soft and filled with tenderness.

"That was…" he trailed off, unable to find the words.

He let out a low chuckle.

"There are no words to describe how incredible that was."

You let out a shaky breath, a sated smile on your face.

You smiled weakly, still feeling a little boneless from the intense pleasure.

"Yeah," you agreed.

But you couldn't find the words either.

"Intense" was an understatement.

You turned your face into his hand, nuzzling into his palm, enjoying the feel of his cold skin against yours.

"I felt the same way," you replied, your voice soft and gentle.

He leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead.

"You're perfect," he murmured, his lips brushing against your skin. "Absolutely perfect."

He shifted slightly, pulling out of you with a soft groan.

He gently placed you on the bed as he leaned further back on the bed, no longer sitting up.

He pulled one of the blankets off the bed and placed it over his body, then took you in his arms, placing you on top of him, making it slightly more comfortable for you than just being pressed against his metal body.

He pressed you against his chest, your head resting on his shoulder.

For a few moments, you both lay there in silence, enjoying the closeness and the feel of each other's bodies.

His arms cradled you spectacularly, in an attempt to make your body try to unwind from the previous physical activity. Then he ran his fingers through your hair, his touch soft and soothing.

"I didn't hurt you, did I?" he asked, his voice laced with concern.

You lay on top of him, your head resting on his shoulder, feeling the steady rise and fall of his chest as he breathed.

His fingers were gentle as they threaded through your hair.

When he spoke, you could hear the concern in his voice.

You shook your head, lifting your face to look up at him.

"No, you didn't hurt me," you assured him. "You were perfect."

You shifted slightly, snuggling deeper against him.

"Now I'm just very tired.."

He chuckled softly, hearing you say that you were tired.

He continued running his fingers through your hair, rubbing soothing circles on your scalp.

"Exhausted, huh? I take that as a compliment."

He smiled, feeling a sense of pride that he had managed to tire you out so thoroughly.

He gently shifted under you, making himself more comfortable beneath you.

"You can sleep, sweetheart. I'll be right here."

He covered you with the blanket you were on top of, making sure you didn't get cold.

You melted into his touch, the feel of his fingers in your hair soothing and relaxing.

You let out a soft laugh, a little delirious from the lack of energy.

You snuggled against him, feeling more relaxed than ever before.

His touch was soothing, his fingers in your hair creating tingles on your scalp.

You let out a small sigh, feeling the exhaustion start to wash over you.

"Thanks," you murmured, your eyes drifting shut as you nuzzled against his chest.

He chuckled again as he felt you relax against him, your body sinking into his embrace.

He continued to lightly massage your scalp, knowing that it would help you fall asleep faster.

He felt your breath start to slow, your body growing heavier in his arms.

He pressed a gentle kiss to the top of your head, feeling a sense of contentment wash over him.

"Sleep, sweetheart," he whispered.

Your eyes opened slowly, getting a little used to the light coming through the window.

Attempting to stretch out, you felt trapped.

You looked up, seeing Boothill lying there. His eyes were closed.

Perhaps he was recharging his battery, you looked down again.

As your eyes cleared, you saw your legs and torso almost uncovered, which caused you to wake up completely.

You felt an incredible heaviness throughout your body, as if every bone and joint ached.

Mentally recoiling in an attempt to remember why, your eyes opened wide.

You'd had sex with him, in someone else's house, out loud. Your face turned red, "what a shame," you thought.

You sighed, leaning your head back on his chest.

Oh, but before you could try to get any more sleep, your hand reached as far as it could to your trousers, which were at one end of the bed.

When you managed to reach them, you pulled out your phone, going straight into the chat with your roommate.

You deleted the incomplete message you didn't get to send yesterday, typed in a new one and then proceeded to send it.

It read; "I rode a cowboy".

The chat almost immediately began to fill up with messages, none of which you read, proceeding to toss your phone to the side, closing your eyes again.

©cherrylovelycherry do not repost, copy, translate, modify

585 notes · View notes

coffee-and-tea-time · 3 months

Note

Hey, I know the vote isn't done yet but I was wondering what our first interactions would be like with them all?

We can certainly arrange that!! Ask related to this post!

*Internally kicking his feet like a little girl seeing so many interactions with our post* ( • ᴗ • )

although maybe it’s a little short since we would rather leave more context for the actual posts - Tea

I read wrong a comment and thought they were requesting a shop owner when in truth they were talking about the seller, now the shop has an extra character *look into the abyss in poor reading comprehension*

In my defense, google said 'shopkeeper' was an equivalent to shop owner *disappointed of herself in non-native english speaker* but oh well, the more the merrier (ʃƪ＾3＾）～♡- coffee

ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗᕕ( ᐕ )ᕗ ↔ ♪⁽⁽٩( ᐖ )۶⁾⁾ ₍₍٩( ᐛ )۶₎₎♪ ⬅ representation of the twins receiving incentives to post

Word count: 2k

tw: yandere behavior, nonhuman yanderes, human yanderes, delusional, RIP self-preservation, written in you/yours, willing reader

-`♡´- Dizie -`♡´-

You walk into your house, still submerged in your own thoughts as you walk through the door.

"Uh, maybe I should arrange something to welcome Dizie when he arrives? I hope I don't come off as awkward..."

But... Why is your place so dark?

You hear the door being slammed shut and as you attempt to turn towards it, a hand snakes over your mouth with a delicate yet firm touch as another coils around your waist from behind.

"You were worried about my first impression of you? That's… really cute"

The voice of a man purrs near your ear and then you feel his face gently nuzzling with the top of your head like an affectionate cat, a rather deadly one.

"I took the liberty of checking around your home, you know, to make sure everything is like it's supposed to be, to make sure nobody else is lurking around… I'm so glad that isn't the case, you're all mine to cherish… only mine"

You feel his nuzzling being replaced by a soft kiss on the top of your head, as the slender hand covering your mouth moves to gently hold your face while his thumb gently rubs your cheek.

[Clarification: Dizie is NOT stuck in his past or still in love with the last “darling” he was bought by. He doesn't see the reader as a replacement of any sort. We want to get that out of the way from the get go, he's just traumatized (as he probably should be ngl) - the twins]

-`♡´- Gabriel -`♡´-

Tossing your keys onto your couch cushion you let out a soft sigh, the walk back home was rather awkward, well, as awkward as can be with a man following behind like a lost puppy, his eyes practically piercing the back of your head. You wondered why he kept walking behind you but brushed the thought out quickly as you felt him let out a veery faint sigh of awe while glancing around your home.

“it smells just like you-”

The man whispered to himself, his words quiet yet the silence of you both being alone allowed you to hear him very clearly. flattering, but also a little unnerving.

How did he manage to smell you when he was walking like a meter away from you?

His hands fidgeted as you glanced back at him, his eyes landing on your form still basking in the sight like you were some sort of divine entity before him.

“This must be Gabriel then”

you thought, connecting your choice with the man that just randomly started following you which you didn't have the heart to scare away.

When the seller said he was a worshiper… he wasn't exaggerating.

Shakily, he reaches for one of your hands, clasping it tenderly with both his hands, completely engulfing yours with the warmth of his nervous fidgeting. His cheeks blaze red by the mere idea of touching your skin.

He leans down, pressing his forehead to the back of your hand, taking a shaky breath, then looking up to meet your gaze with pure adoration.

“I'm so incredibly thankful to be in your presence, darling. I'm so glad you chose me…”

(A person called him and Grier 'pathetic little mew mews' and now that lives rent free on my head; if you read this, I love your energy - coffee)

-`♡´- Oliver -`♡´-

This man is eager, that's for sure. There's no denying it as he practically drags you with him to his bakery as soon as your finger grazed his name on that paper.

You couldn't say a thing though, that wide smile on his face was just as sweet as the scent that wafted through the air as you entered the shop with the jingle of the welcome bell.

You were ordered to sit back and enjoy a cup of coffee with some butter cookies for the wait. He wanted to make something special, he said, quickly diving into the kitchen without saying another word.

You took a small bite of the cookie thinking perhaps there was something in it, but if you were his darling now then it shouldn't be anything harmful, should it? The cookie was… just any normal cookie, it was delicious even, buttery and crumbly, mixing perfectly with the rich flavor of the coffee.

Your mind drifted to the man’s appearance as he gave you constant glances, peeking from the kitchen a little too often, it was adorable in a way, like he was checking if you were still there. There was no need to check though, he had locked the entrance as soon as you walked in and you had totally noticed. You weren't going anywhere.

A few minutes later he peeked again, though this time with a tray in his hands, he approached and placed it in front of you, a delicious slice of cheesecake greeting you. He smiled proudly as he saw your mouth water and as you eyes scanned the delicious treat you couldn't help but notice the fresh cut on his finger already bandaged up yet still bleeding a bit through the gauze… how deep was the cut? The blood was so red it didn't look like a superficial wound.

“I'm just a bit nervous, Dear, i wanted to cut it perfectly for you… my hand must have slipped”

He reassured you, dismissing the severity of it but quickly hiding the cut from you. His sheepish smile though made you forget about it for a hot minute- how was this bulky man such a sweetheart?

Your fork soon dug into the creamy goodness of the cheesecake, the raspberry sauce that sat on top dripping a bit, its rich red color almost resembling that of his blood. What a passionate baker…

(...I love him, okay? -Tea)

-`♡´- singer -`♡´-

The door of the car is opened before you get the chance to even lift a finger and you are greeted by the angelic face of a man, worthy of praise and worship, smiling down at you and offering his hand as to help you get out of the car

"Hi~, welcome welcome, how are you feeling on such a joyful day as today? I hope that you are as thrilled as I am"

He says with a charming smile, holding your hand delicately for you to exit the car then guides you into his house, his eyes ogling you like a three course meal.

"Would you like something to drink? A water perhaps? I don't really have much sugary drinks since i take care of my vocal cords, but if that's what you'd like then I'll absolutely find a way to get it for you"

"Oh, I'm really fine, don't wor-"

His step falters before stopping dead in his tracks, his smile softening in… awe? He shuffles closer as your voice trails off by the sudden action.

"Oh, Honey, I'm so sorry to interrupt your words, I just couldn't help but get closer… you speak so softly, I'd wish to hear you more clearly"

He puts his hand on your shoulder reassuringly, though it quickly moves up to your neck, his thumb caressing your throat.

"You shouldn't overthink too much, your duty here is being happy with me, and when I'm not around, feel free to enjoy your free time as you wish; my only condition here is you take care of yourself and… to not look at anyone else in the eye for too long… but well, you should’ve already expected that, you signed for it, honey"

-`♡´- Myotis -`��´-

You feel your heart on your throat as the butler opens the door for you, as you make your way inside, you feel like you walked straight into a historical movie of some sort, if the outside looked already out of a gothic fairytale, you can't find the words to describe how impressive the inside is.

"I'm glad you seem to like the place, Amore, that makes things easier for both of us. I hope you can forgive my eagerness to meet you"

You can't help but get surprised when you notice him right beside you, speaking to you dearly as he grabs your hand as if it was made of glass to softly kiss the back before giving you a smile.

"Fear not, you can always indulge yourself and wander around to enjoy the mansion, but I rather that the precious focus of your gaze be on me, I’d be delighted to spend as much time with you as possible, don't you think so?"

-`♡´- Lior -`♡´

You enter your home excited, wondering if you should get some fairy lights and stuff for the yandere you chose when a rustling in the distance disturbs your thoughts, grounding you back to reality.

You make your way in the direction of the noise and find yourself standing in front of your bedroom window where the poor moth boy flutters his wings trying to squeeze past the small gap, half of his body still hanging outside the window. This must be Lior.

"I-I'm sorry, I didn't want to disturb you, I just thought I would be able to fit in the open gap"

You truly can't help but giggle at the situation, okay, he is really cute for a yandere, the seller sure speaks the truth.

He grumbles uncomfortably, wiggling his way inside your home. His satchel almost falling out the window, but he manages to grab it mid air. Fast reflexes, that's a plus.

"I brought a present with me!"

He sighed out in relief while holding his satchel. With some effort due to his limited movement, he is quick to lift his bag and rummage through it, proudly lifting in the air a big cinnamon scented candle.

“Some light for my daylight! I-I thought you'd like it, though I'm not allowed to use candles… I always burn myself with the wax”

(he's my baby and i love him, thank you very much. -tea)

-`♡´- Tarak -`♡´

"Huh, what a gorgeous being…for a human… I will accept your proposal"

The dragon says in a low husky voice, gazing at you with a smirk, his hand gently lifting your chin so that your eyes meet his.

"You were the one that got chosen, not the other way around"

The seller quickly remarks, the humanoid dragon clicking his tongue in response.

“Same difference... the order of the factors does not alter the product after all, we are united either way”

Even if the humanoid acts roughly with the seller, Tarak gently puts your hand on his arm and holds it there as he walks outside of the store with you. What a gentleman.

"You are going to love the forest, of course, my cave is most enchanting, but I did in fact go out of my way and make a cabin next to it, everything is already taken cared of, I know not every species has the resilience to prosper in my environment, but, well, your ancestors used to live in caves... so maybe you can manage"

“Is my home not an option from the beginning?”

You say a little nervous, not sure if you can actually survive in a forest without being eaten alive by the wildlife, although you must admit that is kind of a silly thought if you think of the power of a dragon like him.

He looked like he was about to protest your request, but just your scent in the air was all he needed to sense your feelings and give you a look as he relaxed his shoulder in defeat.

"... alright, I'll indulge you, we have a lot of time in our hands to adjust to the changes around us anyways, I'll stay at your home until you are comfortable enough to come to mine, I will make sure to adorn it in any way you please for when that time comes"

He gently messes with your hair as a way to reassure you before he resumes walking, following you to your home.

-`♡´- Grier -`♡´

The seller goes down the wooden ladder after taking the tape off the camera lense and signs for you to come closer to it.

"The cameras here don't have sound but showing you to him should be enough of a clue all by itself"

You freeze as the security camera focuses on you, standing there, you wave awkwardly and the camera starts moving side to side abruptly before freezing, like the person behind it moved away from it.

"Well, either he fainted or he is coming right away!"

The seller says in a cheerful voice as he goes to cover the camera lense again with a strip of tape. A couple of minutes pass before you hear the screeching stop of a car parking in front of the shop hurriedly, soon followed by a panting man who barges inside like his life depended on it.

“I’m here! I'm here!!”

He says almost tripping on his own feet as he shoves in your face a bouquet of your favorite flowers.

"Oh, those are my favorites! Thank you"

"I-I know, don't worry, I made sure to do a quick background check on your medical history so I don't trigger any allergies, I promise I will gather more information tonight! Don't worry"

-`♡´- The seller -`♡´

"I already told you, I'm not a yandere"

"How did you know I don't go out?"

"You're practically chronically online! It's just a lucky guess"

"My screen time is something even weirder for you to know!"

"..."

"... don't tell management"

[Clarification: yes, the seller’s is shorter, that's because as far as we can tell, he's most likely to win first place in the survey so we are saving up most of his character and interactions for his main post (⁠｡⁠•̀⁠ᴗ⁠-⁠)⁠✧ - the twins]

-`♡´- …owner? -`♡´

…???

"Oh, that's an interesting turn of events, so many options yet the button you press is not even part of the survey..? How experimental”

The owner let out a rich laugh as he spoke his usual nonsense to catch your attention through the speakers of the shop.

"Ah yes, 'nonsense'. What a disappointing excuse.."

The owner argued with himself under his breath before he sights.

"Want something to drink?"

*Ejem* little clarification (it's the third one now in this post, get a grip. - tea to himself), characters that aren't in this survey have already been requested in asks or comments or, well, won the first survey. we haven't forgotten about them, we are already working on their posts 💚 - tea

Don't forget! If you like something specific, you can ask freely! As I said before, we love interactions! (Attentions seekers? More like validation seekers lol) - coffee

sorry for any misspellings or weird sentence structure ❣

Divider by tea ✌️ (i know I'm amazing/j)

329 notes · View notes

sansaorgana · 5 months

Note

I had an idea earlier about buck x reader, where after buck and the other 2 escaped and left bucky behind in part 9, they stumble upon a house near the forest (after the german kid soliders attacked them).

The reader lives there and she basically helps them hiding for a bit and also returning to the english base. She is against the war (which is the reason she helps them) and maybe a little angst where buck needs to protect her at the base bc she is still a german citizen.

What do you think?

hi! thank you for your request! 💞 honestly, I think it's the first 100% angst piece I have written for Buck because even the ones with sad events that I have posted so far had happy endings... but not this one 😅 since I have already written a similar fic and didn't want to repeat the same ending... I couldn't think of anything else how they could have their happily ever after 😪 I hope you can forgive me 💔

I had to currently close the requests because I got so many so I'm working on them atm 🙏🏻

In the heart of the enemy’s territory, he felt like a chased wild animal. Even though he was still human enough not to pull a trigger at a brainwashed German kid, Buck Cleven felt like a prey with nothing but survival on his mind. The forest was dark, muddy and unfriendly. A never ending maze with predators hiding all around. A thought of his dead friend and a thought of Bucky left behind were what kept him sane. The sun was going down slowly and he had no idea where to go. His other friend, Bill, was right behind him.

“Buck,” he hissed and waved his hand to make them both freeze in place. “There’s a house,” he pointed at the dark and old building by the country road behind the trees. “We’re close to town.”

“The lights are off. Maybe it’s inhabited,” Buck pointed out. “If it’s the case, we can find some supplies there.”

“Shall I go and check?” Bill asked.

“No, I will go,” Buck nodded and clutched on the gun in his hand hidden under the coat.

He walked carefully and slowly, making sure not to make too much noise, with his back hunched and breath steady. His blue eyes scanned the garden behind the house. It had herbs growing there but it was messy and the windows were dirty. Everything looked as if it was abandoned.

Encouraged by the looks of it, Buck walked to the front of the house and tried to push the door open but they were locked. However, the door was wooden and old, all it took was another, stronger push to open them wide with a loud squeak that made him wince.

He waited for a while to make sure there were no footsteps approaching him but when he heard nothing but silence, he entered the house and walked around curiously as the last rays of the sun going down lit the walls and the pictures hung on them. There were mostly family portraits and religious images – everything cosy and very cottage-like. There was only one portrait of a young soldier in a Wehrmacht uniform but his face was so friendly and sad that Buck didn’t even feel any hatred looking at it.

Focused on the picture, he lost his focus for a while. And then he heard a small noise and turned around with widened eyes as he spotted a young, scared woman in the corner of the room. She had a gun, too. Her hands were shaking and her pupils were huge out of fear but she was pointing the gun at him. He didn’t know if he should raise his hands and give up or point the gun at her in return – it was very doubtful she would actually pull the trigger.

He trusted no one. When he took a small step ahead to test her, she startled but she didn’t unload the pistol. So he pointed his own weapon at her and in that moment she dropped her gun and lifted her hands up while sobbing.

“P-Please, no,” she pleaded in English. “Please, don’t kill me,” her whispers were broken and shaky and Buck felt bad for her. Did she live in that house?

“Do you live here alone?” He asked, trying not to sound too nice. She nodded. “How so?”

“I lived here with my brother and my papa,” she explained and pointed her finger at the portrait on the wall carefully. “They took my brother away. In the beginning of the war. He didn’t come back. My papa, he was old now. But they took him too a few weeks ago. Because they need more men,” she was looking for the right words with her limited vocabulary.

“How do you know English?” Buck raised an eyebrow at her.

“Papa taught us. He was a soldier in the last war. He met the English and the Americans. He was a captive,” she explained and sniffled her tears. “Please, don’t kill me,” she begged once more and Buck felt stupid for still pointing his gun at her. He lowered his hand and she sighed out of relief.

“Do you need help?” He asked. Something about her and the state of this house made him forget about his own tragic situation at the moment. She was a young woman left alone in the middle of nowhere in a country that was on the verge of losing the war. It was not safe for her and she looked weakened as if she had not had any proper meal in a long while.

“Do you?” She asked.

“Me and my friend… He’s inside the forest… We ran away from the camp, too. We are American pilots. We need to get to the American soldiers. Do you know where we can find them?” Buck asked.

“They are in town,” the girl nodded. “I can take you to them tomorrow,” she offered.

“Why not now?”

“Because it’s dark already. And you need rest,” she pointed out. Buck squinted his eyes at her. “I don’t have a phone here. And German police are not here anymore. You are safe,” she assured him. “Tell your friend to come here,” the girl crouched down and picked up her gun again. Buck clutched on his but she hid hers into the pocket of her patched dress. “It’s not loaded,” she revealed to him with a sad smile. “I lost all my bullets two weeks ago when a few strange men came here and I had to scare them off.”

Buck nodded and slowly walked out of the house. He still was not sure if she was trustworthy but he craved nothing but rest. He came back for Bill and told him about the situation they had found themselves in.

“I’m not sure, Buck,” he shook his head. “Listen, what if I go there and scare her, steal some food and we run to that town on our own?” He proposed.

Buck understood where his friend was coming from. And he did not judge him. However, he did not agree to his plan.

“No,” he only said. “It’s just a girl.”

“They’re all just girls and boys. Like the kids back there in the forest,” Bill reminded him.

“I know. But she’s not like them.”

“How do you know that?” Bill requested an explanation.

“I just know,” was all Buck could say as he nodded at his friend to follow him.

Reluctantly, Bill went to the house after Buck. The girl was sitting by the round kitchen table and lighting a few candles. She looked up, giving them a doe-eyed look.

“I don’t have electricity here anymore,” she confessed. “But the candles are fine,” she added. “Here, I collected some of my brother’s and papa’s clothes for you to change. When I take you to town tomorrow, I don’t want anyone to know who you are. In the forest… There are a lot of people you can’t trust,” she explained.

“And you?” Bill asked, still not convinced. “Why can we trust you?”

“You have to,” she looked at him and then she turned around to point at the kitchen cabinet. “I don’t have much food left. And the fridge doesn’t work without electricity. I have some cans and a few wild berries I picked in the forest. Some cheese they gave me in town out of mercy.”

“We don’t want to eat your food,” Buck assured her. “Only a little bit.”

“I’m hungry,” Bill added and Buck shot him an unpleasant glance.

“So is she. And the food is hers. She doesn’t have to help us, you know?”

Bill went silent and took a pile of clothes to the living room where he began to change. Buck was left alone with the girl in the kitchen. She was looking down nervously, focusing on his hands to avoid his eyes.

“And what is your name?” He asked her out of courtesy.

“It’s (Y/N),” she whispered. “And yours?”

“I’m Major Gale Cleven,” he reached his hand out and she hesitantly shook it. She also dared to look up and meet his gaze. Buck felt his heart skipping a beat at the sight of how sad and broken those young eyes were.

Back where he was from, young girls were not affected by the war like this. Sure, they were worried about their husbands, fathers and brothers. But they were still drinking coke, danced at the parties, whined at the shortage of nylon and drew the lines on their calves to imitate the tights. They were slowly getting used to wearing jeans as they overtook the factories, they were poster girls and had their hair done up in victory rolls. They were marking the letters with red and pink lipsticks and perfumes. And this young girl in front of him already had the eyes of a very old and wise woman. It shouldn’t be like this.

“Major Gale Cleven,” she repeated. “Sounds like from a movie.”

He was just Buck. Nothing special at all. He was not even from Hollywood or New York. But to her he was already unrealistic enough. She batted her eyelashes and looked away, shyly.

“Not really,” Buck tried to convince her and she gave him a sad smile.

Bill came back in new clothes. It was Buck’s turn now but he was afraid of leaving (Y/N) alone with his friend, so he kept staring at them awkwardly.

“Go,” Bill rolled his eyes. “I won’t hurt her,” he promised.

So Buck grabbed a pile of clothes preparead for him and went to the living room to change as fast as possible. When he came back to the kitchen, Bill was already eating some canned food with a slice of cheese and a few wild berries. A similar meal was waiting for Buck, too. (Y/N) was sitting by the table but she had no food in front of her.

“And you?” He asked her as he sat down.

“I already ate,” she told him but he had a feeling she lied so he pretended to be full already after eating a half of the plate. He offered her the rest and she eagerly took it from him as her eyes sparkled. It was probably her first “proper” meal on that day.

After they ate, (Y/N) showed them to their rooms. One belonged to her father and it was downstairs. Upstairs there were two tiny bedrooms. One was hers and one was her brother’s. She wanted Buck to sleep in it. She didn’t have to say it out loud but he knew that she trusted him more than she trusted his friend. Bill was not complaining because the room downstairs was bigger and had a nicer bed.

When Bill was already in the bedroom given to him, (Y/N) was helping Buck to put the sheets on. He was insisting there was no need but she tried her best to be a good host even in such gruesome circumstances.

“When I do this… It’s a bit like… It’s still normal, you know?” She tried to explain the best she could. He nodded at her. He understood. “There you go,” she fixed the sheets for the last time and looked down proudly at the made up bed.

“Thank you,” Buck nodded and sat on the edge of the bed. He looked up at the poster on her brother’s wall. It was very old and the colours were faded away now but he could recognise it. It was a movie poster of Charlie Chaplin’s movie City Lights.

“My brother liked Charlie Chaplin,” (Y/N) smiled. “And the films. Especially American ones. He didn’t get to see many but he liked the posters,” she explained. “When he was able to see a film, he would come back home and tell me everything about it.”

“I hope he’s alright,” Buck tried to cheer her up.

“He died,” she explained and he felt a stinging pain in his heart.

“You only said he hadn’t come back…”

“They sent us a medal and all. He’s dead,” she explained. “But papa threw the medal away. It’s in the river now.”

“Why?”

“Because he didn’t like Hitler. And my brother didn’t like him either,” she nodded. “I wish he was here, my brother. He would like you,” she added before finally approaching the door to leave him alone for the night. “Good night,” she walked away and closed the door quietly.

Buck was exhausted but he couldn’t sleep that night. He couldn’t stop thinking about the girl. What would happen tomorrow? She would take them to town, drop them off with the Americans and then what? She would just go back here? To that awful house in the middle of nowhere where she was starving and not safe? He hated to even think of such a possibility.

The walk to town was stressful and everyone kept giving them funny and suspicious looks. However, (Y/N)’s poker face and determination managed to take them to the town centre safely. It looked awful and empty – like a ghost town. She pointed at one of the soldiers patrolling the street and told them he was an American.

“Go to him,” she only said and turned around to walk away but Buck grabbed her by the sleeve of her coat and Bill hissed at him. Buck didn’t listen to that.

“What about you?” Buck asked her and her eyes widened.

“What do you mean? I don’t want him to see me,” she explained.

“You’re just going back home now?”

“Yes,” she nodded.

“No,” Buck shook his head. “You’re coming with us.”

“What are you doing, Gale?” Bill asked, irritated.

“She deserves a warm meal at least,” Buck insisted and kept a tight grip on (Y/N)’s sleeve as they all approached the suspicious soldier.

They lifted their hands up and explained who they were. Their accents and believable numbers of their units made the patrolling soldier less hostile. But then he laid his eyes on the girl.

“And her?” He asked.

“She’s with us. She helped us,” Buck told him.

“I know her. She lives in this town,” the soldier squinted his eyes at (Y/N) and she took a deep breath in. “She’s German.”

“Yes, she helped us last night. We wouldn’t be here if it was not for her,” Buck repeated. “Listen, I just want her to eat something warm, alright?”

The soldier called for a few other men who came quickly after and had a short and quiet discussion. Eventually they nodded their heads at them and led them inside of a building full of soldiers. They all looked up curiously and suspiciously.

Bill left Buck’s side quickly to talk to the men stationed there. But Buck didn’t leave (Y/N)’s side as he felt he had to look after her in this place. They were given a proper, warm meal and they sat by the table in the corner. She was eating fast and with shaky hands like a starving child given food after a long while. Buck’s heart broke and he reached his hand out to hold one of her cold ones. She looked up, scared, and he smiled softly.

“Slow down,” he only whispered.

“The women here are nothing special,” one of the men sitting by the table nearby commented. “You should have seen the French ones,” he whistled.

Buck didn’t react to that as his jaw clenched. (Y/N) ignored that comment, too, but her eyes were saddened.

When she was done with her meal, Buck approached the man in charge of the unit and asked if they could give her a few cans of food and some other supplies. The man did not want to agree.

“We’re short on them ourselves, Major Cleven,” he explained.

“Yes, sir, I understand, sir. But she lives alone in the middle of nowhere. Her brother is dead, her father most likely, too. She helped us. She’s a good woman, sir,” Buck tried to convince him.

“There is no doubt about that, son. I’m sorry. She’s not the first and not the last good woman suffering in this war.”

Buck felt defeated and helpless when he approached (Y/N) who was already preparing to leave.

“I’m sorry. I couldn’t convince him to give you supplies,” he admitted, ashamed of himself.

“It’s fine. I’ll be fine,” she tried to assure him and squeezed his arm. “You’re a good man,” she added. “Thank you for the meal… And the kindness.”

“I should be the one thanking you more,” he couldn’t help himself and he fixed her ruffled hair. Everything about her was screaming inside of him to help her, to take care of her. But he couldn’t and it was killing him. “I will never forget you, German girl.”

“And I will never forget you, Major Cleven,” she smiled and he could only watch her walk away, approaching the small road leading back to the forest.

If Bill hadn’t been there with him, he would have started thinking that she was nothing but a forest fairy he had imagined. After all he was in a land of fairytales.

MASTERLIST || BUCK MASTERLIST

#sansaorgana: Answered #rougegenshin #*buck #lilysfiction #gale cleven x reader #austin butler x reader

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sinofwriting · 11 months

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Figlia Mia - Charles Leclerc

Words: 6,231 Summary: When she had met Charles Leclerc for the first time in 2017, she watched as her grandfather gave him the impossible task of restoring Ferrari’s greatness and her the task of making sure he does so. Note(s): This was a lot of fun to write. I got to do a lot of digging into Ferrari’s history in motorsports and F1, and make sure that the changes I made to the history of Ferrari made some sense. I also got to reignite my love for stats and things. I spent a lot of time looking at different circuit stats (which will be relevant in the second part of this fic) and just driver stats. Used a translator for the Italian but not google translate. Also, I shouldn’t have to say this but: How I write the drivers in these fics is not based on my feelings for them, it is just what I need them to be. So, please don’t send me hate because your favorite driver says or acts or is regarded in a certain way. Thanks! Hope you like this!

Masterlist | Support Me! | Part Two

Figlia mia - my daughter stella - star

2017

She eyes her grandfather wearily. He had called her home early from her classes and she had rushed home to Maranello.

“Nonno, what is the matter?” His gaze turns to her and he smiles, the solemn look on his face gone as he sees her. “My stella. You are back home.” His accent is thick as it wraps around the English words, always willing to indulge her. She sighs, leaning down to hug him. “You called me back. Did something happen?” He shakes his head, patting her hand when she straightens. “No, I have a meeting that I want you to attend with me.” She frowns. “It is late in the season for a meeting. Did Vettel or Räikkönen break contract?” “No. It’s for the team, but more of a future prospect.” Her frown deepens. “If it’s Hamilton, he won’t leave Mercedes and you shouldn’t entertain him, Nonno. You only have so much energy.” “I don’t want to take him from Mercedes. He wouldn’t be able to win with us anyways.” He groans as he thinks of how long it’s been since his team has won, and has achieved the greatness they are supposed to. “I just want your opinion, they should be here any minute.”

An uneasiness sits heavy in her stomach at how cryptic he’s being with her, something he never is, but she sits in the chair beside him. Taking his hand in both of hers and breathing a sigh of relief at the strongness still in his hands, no shakiness to be found. He was in good health, she reminded herself as they waited. He hadn’t even had a cold for three years, but still her mind worries.

“Mr. Enzo, Stella, your guests have arrived.” Anita’s voice says through the intercom. He presses the button to talk. “Please have Andrea get them and bring them back and tell him to stay as well.” “Andrea is here?” He hums, “I asked him to come. I have an idea.” She doesn’t say anything else to that and keeps quiet as she waits for whoever to arrive.

There’s a slight relief in it not being either Vettel or Räikkönen, she wasn’t keen to meet them for the first time right now, not when she had rushed home. She also didn’t want her grandfather meeting them now for the first time, so late in the year where he could catch an illness.

A knock sounds on the wooden door and she turns her head to look at it. Releasing her grandfather's hand from hers and moving to stand behind his chair. Her normal position in such meetings.

“Enter.” He calls and the door opens. “Signor.” Andrea greets, as he steps into the room, two, or rather one man and one boy following behind him with wide eyes. “I have your guests.” “Please sit, the three of you.” He tells them and they all quickly do.

Her eyes narrow as she recognises the familiar face of the man who is currently running the Ferrari Driver Academy and the just familiar face of the current F2 champion. The sight makes her want to lean down, to question why a F2 driver of all people is being allowed to meet her grandfather. A luxury he hasn’t afforded a single F1 driver since her father died other than Michael Schumacher. And even then he had won a championship first with them. But such a thing isn’t not her place, especially in front of guests, so she keeps quiet as her grandfather does as well, clearly waiting them out, letting the tension in the room build.

“Charles Leclerc.” Her grandfather says and the boy practically jumps. “You started winning in karting before you were even ten in 2005 and never stopped. A second place in Alps, then fourth in the European F3.” She watches as he winces at the reminder of what he clearly views as failures. “But you won your first year of GP3 and now have won F2. Truly impressive.” His eyes are still wide and they dart to the left before returning. “Thank you, Signor.” Her eyebrows raise at the way the Italian term leaves his mouth. He clearly had invested time in his Italian lessons. “Don’t thank me. You’ve done well for yourself. And now you have an F1 seat.” Her eyes darted to Andrea, “Nonno.” She hisses, stepping forward. “Andrea has signed the appropriate NDA’s and contracts, stella. There is no need for your worry.” This meeting seemed to be nothing but worrying for her. And suddenly the employment contract she had seen in her inbox for Andrea makes all the sense, especially since it had been sent to her directly, not cc'd.

“You will be joining Sauber this coming season. Are you ready?” “I hope and believe I am.” “And you have a team? A trainer, your own PR manager? A assistant?” Charles shakes his head, cheeks red. “I’m afraid not. I only signed the contract two days ago. I haven’t made arrangements.” “And your plans for the 2019 season? Still at Sauber?” “I only signed a one year contract with them. So I hope to stay with them if I can.” He hums and the tone if it tells her everything she needs to know and it takes everything in her to not show the horror she’s feeling. “There will be a spot open at Ferrari for the 2019 season. Show me you can handle an F1 car and perhaps it will be yours.” The three sitting opposite stare at him with wide eyes and Charles’ mouth is open, jaw dropped. “And Andrea will be your trainer. I have a good feeling about you Charles Leclerc, prove me right.” He then nods his head towards the door and the three scramble to stand and leave with rushed goodbyes.

She stands behind him for a moment before walking around the desk and flopping down in one of the seats.

“That boy is going to get destroyed.” “He is a boy to me. Barely a year younger than you, I believe.” She scoffs, “please, nonno. You have just put the biggest weight on his shoulders. Prove to me? And what if he speaks of this? Of getting to meet the great Enzo Ferrari when the man doesn’t leave his house and hasn’t met any drivers or even team principals in person since Schumacher.” “Then you will handle it, I suppose. And I will be proven wrong about the boy since he had to sign an NDA. Not a word of this meeting or this trip to Italy.” “And if people ask about Andrea? How they met? How he came to work with him?” “The academy put them in contact together. And no one will think anything of it. He is too distantly related to think that we have anything to do with it. Nor has he ever spoken of us.” His eyes soften as he really looks at her. “Everything will be fine, stella. I have a good feeling about this one.” She looks at him, worries still sitting heavy in her stomach, horror too, because god what if her grandfather had just sentenced him to forever chasing a dream he can’t have and faith in them that they are unable to deliver. She knows already that both Räikkönen and Vettel are feeling that way, their faith in Ferrari wavering if not gone. “I won’t be able to do anything to help him. Not for years.” “You will be able to help. Not as much as you will in a few years time, but you can still help. We still make decisions for the team and sign off on things.” “And if he leaves before then?” “He won’t.” His voice is quiet, but filled with unwavering faith. Faith she wants to feel herself. “He will be what our team needs to become champion and he won’t leave until he gets that.”

2018

“Vettel is not happy that he wasn’t told before about getting a rookie as a teammate.” She tells her grandfather, looking over the top of her laptop at him. “Sebastian will deal.” Enzo coughs. “And he won’t have a rookie as a teammate.” She makes a humming noise, looking at all of the articles about the announcement of Charles Leclerc joining the historic F1 team before opening her email again. “Should I cover Andrea’s costs again?” “Yes. As long as you aren’t in power with the team, I want Charles kept close.” “That won’t happen until the end of the 2023 season. You want us to pay for Andrea that long?” “Andrea is also family.” He reminds her, before lips twitch into a smile. “And there is a reason he doesn’t receive as large of a Christmas bonus as everyone else anymore.”

2020

“They want to sign Sainz for a two year deal.” He snorts, “and for what? Let me guess sponsors?” “They’re serious about this, nonno. His team has already approached us about a two year contract.” “And he can’t go to Aston because Vettel is going there for two years.” “And he’ll never go back to Red Bull. Mercedes won’t entertain the idea.” “But we are?” He groans, running a hand over his face. “God, what has happened to this team? He hasn’t gotten a single podium, a win! And he’ll hit a hundred races this year. That is who they want on the team?” “He was sixth in the driver standings last year.” “Could he handle it?” She frowns. “Maybe. We wouldn’t know until it happened. He’s older like Vettel, has more experience as well than Leclerc. But Leclerc already has wins under his belt, managed to get fourth in the standings in only his second year. He was teammates with Verstappen in his rookie year, so it’s possible he could handle it.” “A two year contract, huh?” “Two years.”

2022

“Sainz wants to be extended.” She rubs at her forehead, the email, moreso the wording was troubling. “And why should we?” “Because he finished ahead of Charles in the driver's standings last year.” “By less than ten points and due to our own team's failings. They way they embarrassed him in Monaco.” He shakes his head, the rage he felt that day watching it happen coming back. “Four podiums to one. And neither got a win.” “Who needs a seat?” “There’s rumors about Schumacher.” “No.” He shakes his head, fingers beginning to tap against his desk. “Maybe in a few seasons, but not now.” “Bottas, Guyuan, De Vries, Hulkenberg.” He scoffs at all the names. “A friend at McLaren said they’re looking to drop Ricciardo.” His fingers stop. “Ricciardo. He’d understand his role.” “And as long as we treat him better than Red Bull did or how McLaren are, we’d have him.” “Why do they want to drop him?” “Underperforming. Norris is doing better.” He looks at her disbelief. “Please tell me that’s a joke.” She shakes her head. “He gave that fucking fake British team their first win in a decade!” “He’s older and despite his knack for giving good development advice, they’re ignoring it for Norris’.” He rubs at his forehead. “Write him down. Maybe we can get a talk with him before another team manages to snatch him up. Who else?” “It’s all reserves and formers now. There’s Piastri who's serving as Alpine’s reserve this season, wouldn’t shock me if they’ve already signed a contract with him for the next year but haven’t announced it though. We or Haas really has Illot still under contract as a reserve.” He shakes his head. “Leave him in Indycar for a few seasons. Might try him in 2024 when we’re looking for another driver.” She nods, writing his name down with 2024 beside it. “And Piastri?” “No. Alpine probably has something signed with him already. They’d be stupid not to.” “That leaves Ricciardo and Sainz.” He frowns. “Reach out to Ricciardo. We nearly had him for 2021, we should’ve taken him.” “Understood.”

As she begins to type out her email to Ricciardo’s team and she wonders how Blake will react to seeing an email for Ferrari, Enzo speaks.

“How is Charles?” “Nonno.” “I can’t ask?” “You are fishing.” She replies, not looking away from her laptop. “But he is good. Ready for the season to start.” “Hmm. And will he be coming for dinner?” She pauses her typing, looking at him. “Are you asking him to come to dinner?” “I’d like to meet the boy that has made my granddaughter so happy.” “Oh, nonno. It is not a boy that is making me so happy. Just you. You have been in better spirits for the last year.” She laughs. “And isn't it interesting that it was only when you started seeing him that both of our spirits rose?” Her eyes narrow. “Don’t make me take the Leclerc name.” It’s a high insult to the Ferrari name, one that her grandfather has made sure that she knew better to even joke about, but he doesn’t react with his fiery temper, just smirks. “It’s serious enough for marriage but not for you to bring him to meet me?” Blood rushes to her cheeks. “You have met him.” “When he was a boy.” He counters. “One you had distaste for.” He reminds her not that she has ever forgotten.

She had told Charles on their third date about it, watching as his mouth gaped at her, unable to believe that the boy he was at the age could be distasteful. Now, he likes to tease her about it. About how she didn’t like him but as soon as he left the room and she was issued the challenge of making sure he got to Ferrari she did.

“I haven’t met him since. I haven’t met him as your partner. And we both know that you’ll be taking each other's names.” “It is too early to say that.” She tells him, voice quiet. “But I’ll message him. He’ll love to meet you.”

2023

“This is ridiculous!” “I told you that this would happen! You put your hopes and dreams on a boy and look at what has happened!” “I did no such thing!” “You did! And I told you that you would ruin him. That he would lose faith just like the ones before and now look.” She waves a hand at the TV in front of them, playing the lowlights of the season. “He didn’t just go to that meeting with Red Bull and then shut it down like he has before, he entertained it.” She scoffs, shaking her head. “He should’ve left us for them when they first fucking offered.” “You do not mean that.” “Look at what our team has done to him! Look at what you have done! I have no power there and barely do you. I get to vote on what drivers we add to the team, but it is one vote, against six others. Same goes for the general direction of the car, which we both were out voted in. And that is it, that is my power! I don’t get to give him the Ferrari team he deserves, that we deserve, because you signed it away when my father died until I turn twenty-seven!” She turns away from Enzo, taking in a shaky breath, before turning back to him. “And you will not ever bring it up to Charles that he considered leaving us or if he does. Because I set up that meeting with Red Bull for him.” He looks at her resigned, saddened, but not surprised. “You would let him leave?” “I don’t let him do anything. I love you, nonno. I love this team. But it is not just Charles that they are disappointing and letting down. It is our fans, our people, our family, our legacy, me, you. Next month, I get to finally take back our families power in the sport and it is already too late for this season and nearly too late for the next. I can’t even guarantee a good first season with me in charge because of where the car is already developed too. And the upgrades.” She shakes her head. “None of it would matter with the team that is working there.”

“What do you want to do?” She looks at him, struggling not to cry, and she folds herself down in front of him, taking her hands in his. “A new structure and house. The voting can stay, but it has anonymity, we don’t talk about who is going to vote for what, only after the votes have been cast we talk, discuss, but with us having the power to veto if decisions are being made too much on outside factors like money and perceptions. Drivers who have multi-year contracts starting next season can be present for the votes, hear why we voted for what we did and even jump in on discussions if they feel inclined. We change. We have been stagnant for too long. We need new blood and beliefs.” He starts to shake his head and she squeezes his hands.

“Nonno, please just listen to me.” She pleads. “We need a complete overhaul of the team, you know it and have said it yourself. I can’t just hire Italian first, not when that has ended with us where we are now. I can offer everyone severance packages, pay for it all myself, but no more Italian first. We take who is best suited for the team and hope they are Italian. Maybe we baptize them if they aren’t.” His lips quirk into a smile. “The strategy team needs to go, PR, social media, the race engineers.” “Sainz likes his race engineer.” “Sainz also likes to say that he comes up with the strategy used in the races but as soon as they fail, he backtracks. He is a fair driver, but he needs to be retrained in PR.” “His family needs a gag order.” Her grandfather huffs. “Yes, but that is not something we can do. What we can do is get him retrained and get a new PR manager for him, same with social media. Charles will be getting the same. He needs an image refresh.” “This is what you want?” “Yes. I want to bring our team back to greatness. I already have the people I want for the team, I’m just waiting for your approval and for the next month to pass before I start sending out contracts.” He sighs, looking in pain. “Can they at least speak Italian?” She smiles, standing to press a kiss to his cheek. “They can learn and they will quickly.” Another sigh leaves him but he smiles, warm and gentle at her. “Mia figlia, la mia stella, fai quello che devi. Il mio supporto è tuo, sempre.” My daughter, my star, do what you must. My support is yours, always. “Thank you, papa.”

October 23rd, 2023

She stands facing the back wall of the room, listening as the door opens and people trudge in. She tries to count the pairs of feet she hears. She knows how many are supposed to come to this meeting, how many she asked to come, but it wouldn’t surprise her if someone let slip that the new boss, and the big boss at that, had arranged a meeting that a few people would try tagging along.

It’s the sound of the door shutting and then locking from the inside that has her turning around, giving a nod of thanks to her bodyguard, Roman, who inclines his head before retreating to the left front corner of the room.

“I see you all made it.” She says, her Italian accent barely noticeable around the English words and she can see a few faces turn confused at the English. Ferrari was Italian, they spoke Italian, had meetings in Italian. And more importantly, she was not just Ferrari, but a Ferrari. One that only three people in this room had ever met in person, and only two others had seen her face because of video calls. “Good, let's talk about the dumpster fire that was yesterday.” She can see a few faces balk at her words, but it’s Sainz’s that gets her attention. “You don’t agree?” “It was an unfortunate thing that happened to Charles, but I still ended up in P3.” “Due to a disqualification. Which is also what happened to your teammate. This also is the third time you’ve ended up on the podium due to such a thing. Let us also not forget to acknowledge that while the FIA didn’t check your car, like they should have after finding that two of four of the cars they checked had issues with their planks, doesn’t mean we didn’t.” He frowns and so does a good majority of the room. “I don’t understand.” “Your planks were just like Leclerc’s. Just barely under what they should be. But still enough for disqualification.” Eyes widen and she continues. “Not that it matters, because I won’t be alerting the FIA of such a thing. Not when the teams didn’t get enough time to set up the car because of the sprint format and I don’t think we need to give McLaren more of a jump on us.”

Walking around the room, she nearly pauses behind Charles' chair. Wants so badly to squeeze his hand, to offer him comfort or a way to get his frustrations out, but she continues until she is at the front of the room.

“The FIA won’t get rid of sprint races, but myself and a few other team representatives, will be going to them with a new sprint format for the next season hopefully or for at least starting the 2025 season. I expect both of you,” she looks at Sainz and Charles, “to voice your support. And I’m sure Red Bull, Williams, Mercedes, McLaren, Aston Martin, Alpine, and Haas, will be saying the same to their drivers as well.” “You want us to support a format that could be worse?” Charles asks, and she can see a few shakes of the head at him. “No, I want you to support one that is better. For Sprint weekends, you will have free practice one and the sprint shootout on Friday. On Saturday, there will be the sprint, followed by second free practice, then qualifying. Sundays of course will just be race day. Does that sound worse?” “No. You think the FIA will go for it?” “The FIA won’t have much of a choice. And besides next year allows each team to have more tyre’s allocated, they’ll want something extra to help burn through them to make it more interesting.”

“Now,” She lifts the lid of one of the two file boxes she has. “Leclerc, Sainz.” Both grimace at the use of their last names, but she catches a glimpse of amusement from Charles. “I have meetings with both of your management teams after this. Sainz, you’ll be getting a new PR manager, Ana. She or her assistant Val, will be with you for every event, interview, or anything else PR wise. Sometimes they both will.”

She turns her head to look at Charles. “Leclerc, you're getting an image refresh. I’m not letting a driver for this team have a vast majority of people thinking there’s nothing behind your apparently good looks.”

“Why isn’t Charles getting a babysitter?” She raises a brow at the tone and question. “Ana and Val aren’t babysitters, they work in PR. They will be retraining you. Because at the moment I could be breaking your contract right now with four races left in the season due to the public clause and if you have to ask why, you need more help than I thought.” He looks at her in shock and she can see a few people in the room shift uncomfortably. “Also concerning both of you, you both will have new race engineers in Mexico. Your previous engineers were lacking.” They both look uncomfortable with the decision but don’t say anything and she turns her attention to Fred.

“Fred.” “Ms. Ferrari.” She smiles at the title, though there’s nothing polite or happy about it. “This is your team is not?” She gestures to the drivers, the heads of different departments that all sit in the room with them. “Yes.” “Then, why am I doing your job for you and handling them?” With that she starts throwing out the severance packages onto the table. When she runs out of ones in the first box, she takes the lid off the second and just tips it over, letting them spill out.

“Severance packages.” She states, seeing some people's confused looks. “Some are effective immediately. Others will be given after the last race.” “Fabio’s name is here.” “So is Gualtieri and Cardile. They have been given generous severance packages.” She reassures. “You will meet their replacements either later today or in Mexico.” “They are heads of their departments!” “And they have failed at their jobs. As has everyone who has been issued one of these.”

—

“How did they take it?” “Safe to say I haven’t made any friends.” “So, it's going well.” She snorts, smiling at Charles as he enters her hotel suite. “I’m fairly certain they all would like to burn me at the stake.” Charles frowns. “Not Charles of course.” “Is he there?” “Just got here.” She confirms. “Do you want to talk to your grandson?” She teases and predictably Charles flushes. “Yes, yes. I want to make sure that he’s taking care of you, protecting you.” She rolls her eyes at the last part but passes the phone to Charles, pressing a kiss to his cheek as she does before stepping around him to her open laptop.

Leaning against the desk, she stares at the list in front of her. A list of drivers, currently on the grid, reserves, and not yet on the grid. Before the halfway point of the 2024 season she’d either have to sign contracts for one new driver or two for the 2025 season and now it just came down to who she wanted to reach out to.

A good amount of them are already on the bottom half of the page under the bolded words, not an option.

Verstappen was there, both Mercedes drivers, Bottas, Hulkenberg, Magnuessen, Alonso, Ocon, Stroll, Perez, Norris. She chooses not to look too closely at the fact that she doesn’t have Piastri there. She’d buy out a contract if need be and she knew Mark. If she proved that Ferrari could improve and be a winning team under her, he’d be willing to help her break a contract or two.

She jolts when a pair of lips presses themselves to her forehead, her phone being set down next to her laptop. “Your list is interesting. No Antonio?” “He’s a good development driver.” She says, typing his name out under not an option. Charles hums, sitting in the chair and then pulling her onto his lap, carefully pulling her legs to hangover the arm of the chair. “You have two Indycar drivers under possible.” She shrugs. “I’ll watch closely as the first few races go for them. They only have contracts for the 2024 season.” “Not that it would matter.” She grins, huffing out a laugh. “Not that it would matter.”

She watches as he peers at the list, his hands rubbing at her calf. “You have a lot of no’s.” His eyes narrow as he scans it again. “Mick, Ollie, and Vesti all under maybe?” “Vesti’s done well for himself, Mercedes is just going to waste him. Especially if he’s any good in an F1 car. Bearman’s had a strong first season in F2. Schumacher,” She hesitates. “I’m not keen on the idea. Especially with two seasons out of F1, but there is the opportunity to put him in Alfa Romeo.” “But Valterri and Zhou.” “Valterri knows he won’t be promoted back up. He’s doing good for being at Alfa Romeo, but he also has a lot of other ventures and pursuits. I’d like to keep him for another year or two after for development if I can.” He hums, “Alex and Schwartzman?” “Albon is sticking to Williams like glue. Which is understandable after Red Bull, but there’s hope.” She doesn’t mention that she’d think that he’d be a good teammate for Charles. “Schwartzman is already under contract with us. Just as a reserve and for testing, but who knows.”

He presses a kiss to her shoulder and he reads the top of the list, the possibles. He had only skimmed it before, but now he gives it his full attention.

“I’m on here.” “Yes.” “But,” “You don’t have an extension with us. You are only contracted with us for this next season. And as much as I’d like to keep you as would the fans and nonno, we haven’t proven that we deserve to have you here. I have to keep my options open that there will be two drivers I have to sign for 2025.” “I don’t like it.” He tells her, frowning. He didn’t like to think about not being at Ferrari, at the possibility of it, especially now with her at the helm and already making drastic changes. He didn’t know yet if those changes were good or not, but it felt like they were, he hoped that they were.

Piastri, Ricciardo, Drugovich, and he blinks as reads the last name, saying it outloud. “Sargeant. You have Sargeant under possible? Not a maybe but possible?” “Sargeant would sign a contract with us in a heartbeat, no contracts to break. 2024 will be a one year for him.” “Something has been signed?” She shrugs, “it’s common sense to keep him. Otherwise they’d just be dealing with a whole other rookie.” He sighs, jaw twitching. “I don’t like it. He has only scored a point because of my disqualification.” “I know.” “He has cost them much.” “I know.” Charles pouts, “he is American.” She lets out a laugh, running a hand through his hair. “That will be your issue with him? His Americanness?” “Yes.” “Well, it’s just a possibility.” She smiles, before leaning down to press their lips together in a quick kiss. “Now, tell me out of everyone in the maybes and possibles who you’d want as a teammate.” “And what? You’ll make it happen?” “If I can give you a good season next year, I’ll do everything I can.”

He eyes the list, taking in the names he mentioned before and the few he didn’t.

Pierre would end in a dumpster fire and he was selfish enough to say that he didn’t want him as a teammate so they could keep their friendship, one so close to his heart. Lawson was an interesting idea, he had performed well for having to suddenly jump into a car. Alex would be a good teammate as well and he knew that Alex would also love the development side of things like he did.

He didn’t know enough about Drugovich or either of the Indycar drivers really. They had performed fair in F2 and were doing well in Indycar, but it was unknown. He could see them both though at Alfa Romeo. Ollie was too young to step into such a huge seat, maybe for him also Alfa Romeo in 2025 and by 2028 he’d be ready to step in and then take over a seat.

Oscar and Sargeant are both interesting for completely different reasons. He wishes that she had gotten power in the beginning of 2022 and when the Alpine drama happened, snatched Oscar up.

But there’s one name that he keeps on looking at, that’s circling in his head.

“Daniel. If I could have anyone, I’d want Daniel.”

There’s a shared pained history there and Charles knows that he took what was going to be Daniel’s seat in 2019 before Ferrari really started gunning for him while Renault took a keen interest in Daniel.

Charles could still remember around the fifth race of the 2020 season when Daniel had cornered him, looking nervous to be around him for the first time since their accidentally shared Vegas trip that made them break the ice. Daniel seemed so much smaller as he asked Charles if he’d be okay with them being teammates next season, and had seemed shocked by the relieved and happy grin Charles had given him.

She hesitates, “I never said anything, but I tried getting Daniel for 2024 and even 2023 when the rumors about McLaren dropping him started up.” “But Carlos?” “He asked for an extension, but nonno and me wanted to present a different option. But by the time I reached out, Red Bull had managed to snatch him back up. He’s only with them though for 2024. He’s free after that.” “So, you are saying?” He hopes. “I’m saying that, I’ve already reached out as of yesterday. Red Bull isn't in any hurry to get him under contract for 2025 and Blake has made it clear that Daniel isn’t signing any contracts until May or June to them and us.” “Which is enough time to prove that the team is improving.” “Yes.”

He stares at her wide eyed speechless. “What does that mean?” “If we improve?” He nods. “We sign you and Daniel until 2027.” She pauses, hesitating, but she won’t lie to him now. “We let you two battle it out at the beginning of the 2025 season. If Daniel is scoring more points, higher on the podium than you by break, you defend. We’ll ask you to let him pass if both of you can get on the podium or he has better pace and can get on it. We let him become world champion first. And it would go the other way around as well.” He rolls the idea in his mind, lets it sit in his stomach. “Daniel Ricciardo the 2025 world champion and Charles Leclerc the 2026 world champion.”

He lets them sit in the air, the idea of practically another three seasons before it could happen. Could he wait that long? Watch as Daniel got it before him? Watch as his teammate got it before him? Could he let himself be sacrificed for his teammates gain again? He thinks it over, because it is not fair for her to ask, to say, but that is what driving in Formula One is. It is not fair, with unequal machinery and only twenty spots available. To have to worry not just about your race but also your teammates depending on where the point standings are at.

But she is offering him something that he wasn’t before and with clearness, transparency. Not something that will be dropped on him in the middle of the race or as he’s about to finish lap ten or fifty. She’s telling him now what to expect and how it will go. She’s letting him know that it doesn’t matter which one is in the lead for the championship, just that whichever one isn’t when they come back from break, will be defending and he thinks now of her emphasis on the word. Not sacrificing, but defending. She wouldn’t let either of them be compromised so badly that they drop either low in the points or out of the points completely, but she would ask that they defend the other.

“I want it. Even if I do have to wait an extra year. It’d be worth it.” “And if you won in 2025 and then Daniel in 2026?” “We could trade off years, but I want it, I want that.” She smiles and there’s something sweet and dangerous about it. “Then I’ll make it happen.”

@eleetalks @cixrosie @badbatch-simp24 @darleneslane @fanboyluvr @teti-menchon0604 @eugene-emt-roe @gemofthenight @peachiicherries @lpab @copper-boom @topguncultleader @iloveyou3000morgan @boiohboii @benstormy @bibliosaurous

#charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc imagine #f1 imagine #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 imagine #f1 x reader #figlia mia - charles fic #sins fics

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mrsrileywrites · 6 months

Note

Hi! I read lots of your work and im SO IN LOVE!!! Like I absolutely fell so hard for papa simon 😭😭 i wanna give him a babyy! But i was wondering, how would pregnancy be like with his child. I mean bro is HUGE so his baby would probably be not only pretty big and probably weight a little bit more too than an average newborn. If its okay with you would it be possible for you to write a little story maybe add a little bit of angst? (Idk like argument about something that made the reader really sad?) but please a happy ending 🥹

Feel free to ignore if thats not your thing or just not feeling comfortable writing about it!! LOVE YOUU!! Btw sorry for any misspelling English is not my first language.

First of, as a not native English speaker, your English is perfect.

And second, thank you for your kind words, it really encourages me to keep writing and also boosts my ego 😁

You asked in such a nice and respectful way so I really want to make you happy.

Now here's the thing, I'm an adult with lots of responsibilities and sometimes adulting makes me tired, like last night when I was trying to finish this but I fell asleep and I woke up this morning to find half of my writing disappeared, it just vanished 🥲

But I'll give you this to munch on and I promise I'll finish this before the end of the week.

I hope this is what you were expecting... Enjoy 🫶

A little over 700 words.

_______________________

You stood in front of the sink of your bathroom, holding a pregnancy test on your shaky hands, two little red lines staring right back at you.

How did this happen? How would you tell him? He doesn't want kids, he made it clear from the beginning and you accepted it without a fuss, that's why you've been taking your pills diligently every day, you didn't forget one, did you?... No, you know you didn't, how did this happen?

"You okay there, love?" Simon knocks on the bathroom door and you jump in surprise, like a child that's been caught red handed.

"Y-yes Si, j-just give me a minute... I'll be right there." Your period is about three weeks late so you bought a pregnancy test, your best friends advice, it wouldn't hurt, it was just to make sure, you certainly were not expecting this.

You hid the test on the cabinet under the sink and washed your face before coming out.

It's been a week since your ob-gyn confirmed a six weeks pregnancy and you still haven't found the courage nor the right time to break the news to Simon, so when he gets a call from Price to get deployed on a long mission you fear it would be too late by the time he comes back.

One month at most he said when he kissed you goodbye almost two months ago, you are 16 weeks into your pregnancy and your bump is starting to show, which only adds to your anxiety, between the morning sickness and your hormones being all over the place you still haven't figured out how to tell him.

As you ponder how to break the news to him, you realize that a simple phone call wouldn't suffice. With him stationed on the other side of the globe, risking his life every day, you hesitate to burden him further. At the same time, you know it wouldn't be ideal for him to return home and suddenly find you waddling around with a baby bump.

So you stay quiet and whenever he calls and asks why you sound so exhausted you blame it on your job, you say you are just stressed out, and he promises he'll take care of you once he's back, he'll relieve you from the stress the way you like it, the way only he knows how to.

You are laying on the couch wearing Simon's t-shirt, stuffing yourself with your favorite ice cream and watching trash tv when you hear fumbling outside your front door before it swings open, a very rugged Simon stands in the threshold , you curse under your breath, he didn't say he was coming home the last time you talked on the phone three days ago so you stand there and look at him overly conscious of the bump hiding under his t-shir and you thank the heavens he is a big man, you think the loose fit of his T-shirt would buy you time, your ice cream long forgotten in the coffee table.

He walks towards you with long strides as he pulls his balaclava over his head running his fingers through his messy hair and you shy away, you step back and freeze, eyes wide like a deer caught in the headlights, he stops in his tracks and tilts her head, his eyebrows pinch as his eyes linger on your midsection and you know you're fucked, he noticed, how wouldn't he, and you hope and pray he'd say something, anything, but he doesn't, he turns on his heels ready to walk out.

"Simon wait!" You call for him and he stops, his hand lingers on the door knob, "I can explain, please just hear me out" your voice cracks and you wish you had been brave enough to tell him before, you know about his childhood and his trauma, you know his struggles and why he didn't want children in the first place, he trusted you and you broke his trust, you deceived him from the moment you found out you were pregnant and decided to keep it to yourself because you were too scared to trust him back.

"Explain what?" He shouts turning around and walking towards you again, your hands fly to your belly instinctively, protective. You lower your head, eyes glued to the floor, ashamed.

#simon ghost riley #cod mw2 #ghost cod #simon riley #simon riley x reader #simon ghost x reader #simon riley x pregnant reader #angst?#mrsrileywrites

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bbrissonn · 1 year

Text

𝐛𝐚𝐝 𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐚 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭? - 𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐨𝐫 𝐳𝐞𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐬

summary: in which trevor broke up with you at the end of the season because of his own insecurity, but what happens when he's back in anaheim and he's had a little too much to drink

disclaimer: english is not my first language and this is not proofread so please excuse any errors and if any words are missing add them in your head :) also this is a work of fiction, this doesn’t reflect how these boys act in real life, and it isn’t how i imagine them acting

warnings: slight smut, angst, fluff, swearing (i think), not proofread

pairing: trevor zegras x reader

wc: 4.9k (including lyrics)

a/n: based on the song bad idea right? by olivia rodrigo

guts masterlist

Hey

You’re eyes scanned the bar as you, along with your group of friends, walked into the place. The loud music filling your ears, making you grimace slightly. This was your first time going out since your break up with Trevor at the end of his first full NHL season, back in April. He had made the decisions to end your relationship only hours before going on his last road trip of the season, and when he came back home a couple of days later, all your things were gone.

You hadn’t tried to reach out to him when he left, instead choosing of just leaving and moving back into your parent’s house for the summer. Your friends were with you everyday, not wanting the end of your year long relationship to destroy like your previous breakup did. They understood that you were in the mood to go out every night, or any night at all, so movie nights, walks on the beach, ice cream runs were a daily thing.

Eventually, in early July, you started moving on from him, he hadn’t bothered to reach out to you either, so you had no choice but to do so. Slowly but surely, you started spending more time outside of your house, something your parents were grateful for. Then, you found yourself your own apartment, still close to home, but not too close to where Trevor lived so you wouldn't have to run into him in the store or on the streets.

Now here you were, October only a couple of days away, standing at a bar with a bright smile on your face as your friends talked about all the drama they heard from your high school days, which couple were still together, which ones weren’t, some of them were now married with kids, something that shocked you a bit since you were only 21, but if that’s what they wanted, good on them, you thought.

Haven’t heard from you in a couple of months

But I’m out right now and I’m all fucked up

And you’re callin’ my phone and you’re all alone

And I’m sensing some undertone

And I’m right here with all my friends

But you’re sending me your new address

And I know we’re done, I know we’re through

But, God, when I look at you

As the morning hours approached, it was safe to say you were completely drunk, somehow this casual night out, had turned into you guys celebrating going into your last year of college, meaning way more drinks were bought than expected.

You were all sitting in a booth, laughs echoing, when you felt your phone buzz in the pocket of your jeans shorts. You struggled a bit, but eventually, you got your phone out, squinting your eyes to see who was calling you.

❌trevor❌

You let out a sigh watching your phone ring until his contact disappeared, and then voicemail notification popped up. You knew you couldn’t do this to yourself, you shouldn’t, but you wanted to. So, you excused yourself, claiming you needed to use the bathroom, of course some of your friends suggested they came with you, not wanting you to be alone. But you assured them you’d be fine.

“Hey, it’s me. I… Uh, it’s been a while.” His voice echoed through the speaker of your phone, making you bit your lips as you heard his voice for the first time since you two broke up. “I hope you’re doing good, I really do.” He continued, his voice shaky a bit. Before he said anything else, you heard him sip on a drink and let out a sigh. “I don’t know if you’re busy or whatnot, maybe you’re having a night with your parents or something.” He added, sipping once again on his drink, and now you could tell he was a bit tipsy by the way his words were slurred a bit. “But I was wondering if you’d wanna meet up? Talk a bit about what happened. I’ll text you my new place, come if you want.”

And then it went silent, but he hadn’t hung-up, after about ten seconds of silence, you decided to hang up, telling yourself he was probably done and just miss clicked the red button on his phone. You stayed in the bathroom stall for a bit, wondering what you should do. You wanted nothing more than to see him, talk to him, get some closure about why he ended your relationship, but you didn’t want to get even more heartbroken than you already were.

When you made it back to the booth, you knew what you were going to do. Was it a smart decision? No, absolutely not. But did it seem like a good one to your drunk self? Yes, absolutely.

My brain goes, “Ah”

Can’t hear my thoughts (I cannot hear my thoughts)

Like blah-blah-blah (Blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah)

Should probably not

I should probably, probably not

As you announced your departure to your friends, a lot of them suggested to go with you, make sure you stay safe, but you convince them you’d be fine, only having a couple of minutes to walk and promising them you’d call them if anything happened.

As you started your adventure towards your desired place, your brain started to come to it’s sense. This was horrible idea, but you didn’t care. You craved to hear him, see him, smell his cologne that you adored so much, you need him. So, you just ignored what your head was telling you, choosing instead to follow your heart and what it wanted.

Seeing you tonight

It’s a bad idea right?

Seeing you tonight

It’s a bad idea right?

Seeing you tonight

It’s a bad idea right?

Seeing you tonight

Fuck it, it’s fine

As you got closer and closer, the anxiety of seeing him again started to settle in. What if he decided you took too long and left? What if he had another girl over and asked you to come just to rub it in your face? No, he wouldn’t that. Trevor could be an asshole on the ice sometimes, and to other guys in the bar if he saw them let their eyes linger on your body a little too long for his liking, but he wouldn’t do anything like that.

That’d be such a dick move from him, plus, you were still in contact with Jamie, and from what you understood through the boy’s weird texts, Trevor hadn’t seen any other girl yet. So, truly, what was the worst that could happen, right?

Yes, I know that he’s my ex

But can’t two people reconnect?

I only see him as a friend

The biggest lie I ever said

Oh, yes, I know that he’s my ex

But can’t two people reconnect?

I only see him as a friend

I just tripped and fell into his bed

Deciding that at least informing your parents of where you were going, or more like who you were going to see was the least you could do. That way if your friends went over to check on you, they’d call your parents to see if you had gone to their house, they’d know of the horrible decision you had made the previous night.

Your mother wasn’t too fond of your idea, but she had met Trevor, he was a sweetheart, he knew you weren’t in any danger. If anything, she was over the moon that you had decided to finally go see the boy and talk about what had happened.

Trevor had met your parents countless of times during your relationship, your dad being a big hockey fan, even though his favorite team was the Kings and not the Ducks. Every time you’d mention coming to visit them for the day, Trevor coming along with you, they’d almost jump from excitement, happy that their daughter had finally found a good boy for herself. They were a little cautious of him at first, doing their researches online before meeting him and seeing not so good things about him and his reputation of being a playboy, but all that worry quickly washed away when they caught the two of you sitting on the front porch watching the sunset. The window in the living room giving them a perfect view of the two of you, wide smiles on your faces as they saw Trevor looking at their daughter the way your father looked at your mother, pure love in their eyes.

No, your mother was more scared of you walking the streets of Anaheim all alone in the dark, and you understood her. The world wasn’t a safe place, neither during dark or light, especially for young woman your age. The fact that you were drunk didn’t help either, so you decided to stay on the phone with her until you made it safely to Trevor’s place.

Now I’m gettin’ in the car, wreckin’ all my plans

I know I should stop, but I can’t

And I told my friend I was asleep

But I never said where (in his sheets)

And I pull up to your place on the second floor

And you’re standing, smiling at the door

And I’m sure I’ve seen much hotter men

But I really can’t remember when

Your hand were shaking slightly as you knocked on his door, making sure not to make too much noise to wake up his neighbors, but enough so he could hear you. You heard movement behind the door, along with the sound of the TV getting paused.

Then, the next thing you knew, Trevor was standing in front of you, a beer bottle in hand. A wide grin appeared on his face as your eyes meet for the first time in months. He had gotten a haircut, thankfully, the last time you saw him, his hair kept covering his eyes and he was always complaining about it, but refused to get it cut anywhere other than his hairdresser back home.

Suddenly, all the emotions you had been holding for the past couple of months rose within you. All the anger, hurt and love you felt towards him were all present inside you, making you extremely confused as to how you felt.

“You came.” He stated, his eyes growing wide as he realized what was going on, you were here.

“I did.” You confirmed, more to yourself than to him. Suddenly, you regretted coming here, but at the same time, you were so grateful to see him. Almost as if seeing him just confirmed that you’re relationship truly happened, that it was real and wasn’t just something you made up in your sleep, that he was real.

“Come in.” He said, opening up his door completely for you to walk in. There was still a couple of boxes in the corner of his living room, and there was barely any furniture, meaning he hadn’t been back for a while.

As the two of you walked into his living room, it was the first time you truly saw him. The lights in the hallway were dimed down considering the time, and all the lights in his kitchen and entry way were turned off. His skin was tanned, his muscles were more defined than they were back in spring, but one of the first thing you had noticed was his arm, more specifically his left one. It was now home to not one, but two tattoos.

You knew he was planning on getting some soon, it was something he talked about a lot during your relationship, but he never figured out what to get.

“A spider? Seriously?” You laughed as the two of you sat down on his couch. He gave you a weird look before realizing you were looking at his tattoos.

“Spiderman.” He answered with shrug, making you roll your eyes with a smile before letting your eyes drift over to the TV. Your heart dropped slightly as you realized what he was watching, Shameless, your favourite show. He had never watched it before the two of you started dating, and you quickly made sure to make him watch all the episodes, gasping when he informed you he’d never seen it before. You were about to mention it to him, but the screen went black before any words could leave your mouth.

“So, how you been?” He asked, his words a little slurred. You looked over at him, only to see he was already looking at you with a way too familiar look. A look he always had on his face when he’d be talking to you, or at any moment really, one that was reserved just for you and no one else. Only making you wonder even more why he had ended things between the two of you.

My brain goes, “Ah”

Can’t hear my thoughts (I cannot hear my thoughts)

Like blah-blah-blah (Blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah)

Should probably not

I should probably, probably not

“Seriously? You break up with me for no reason, then five months later you call me, drunk, asking me to come over to talk, and all you have you say is ‘how you been’?” You asked, the anger in you taking control. Trevor looked down at his lap at your words. He knew calling you was a bad idea, he didn’t even know why he decided to do it in the first place. Sure, he had been thinking about it ever since he walked out the door in April, apologize to you a million times and do anything you’d want him to if he meant he could be yours again, but he knew he couldn’t. He couldn’t break your heart even more than he already did.

“Listen, Bug, what I did, what I said, it was the worst mistake of my life.” He started, the nickname he had given slipping past his lips. “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened and I was so stupid to end it. And, I know I’ve made a lot of mistakes in my life and during our relationship, but being your boyfriend was never one. I am so in love with you―”

“Then why’d you end it, Trevor?” You cut him off, your voice stern as you avoided his gaze, scared that tears would start to form in your eyes if you looked over at him.

“Because you deserve better than me. You’re the most perfect person I’ve ever met, and I know that you don’t think you are, but to me you are. You’re kind to everyone, you’re smart, you care about everyone even if they’ve done bad things, you’re perfect. And I am… am just me. I fuck up everything good that happens in my life, I hurt people without even realizing it, I am not a good person, Y/N/N. You deserve better than me.” He confessed, his voice low, almost scared that you’d hear him. After he was done, he chugged the rest of his beer before adding one more thing. “I am not good enough for you.”

“Says who?”

“Everyone. Every time you’d meet someone I know, they’d always say they didn’t understand what someone like you saw in me, like I wasn’t good enough to be your boyfriend. All my family and friends, they all love you, but they don’t understand why you’re with me, and honestly, I don’t either.” He admitted, the tone and volume in his voice not changing. You knew Trevor was a bit insecure about himself, scared that he was too high energized that people wouldn’t want to be around him, but you never knew it was this deep.

“Why didn’t you just tell me, Trev?” You asked him, your voice shaky a bit. You start to wonder how long he had been feeling this way, suddenly feeling guilty for not noticing it. The boy next to you scoffed a bit before answering as he opened another beer.

“I didn’t want to burden you with my stupid problems.”

“Trevor… you could never burden me. I care about you, so much―”

“You care about everyone.”

“Yeah, maybe I do, but I don’t care about them the way I care about you, Trevor. You’ve made me feel the best I ever have in years, you’ve helped me over come so many challenges in the last year, you’ve been there for me through everything. The way I care about you, Trev, I can’t even explain it. And I am so, so sorry I didn’t realized that something was wrong and hearing you talk about it makes me feel guilty that when you needed someone to help you, I wasn’t there.”

“You couldn’t of had known―”

“But I should’ve. I should’ve realized, Trev, and I am sorry I didn’t. You were there for me every time I was hurting, and when you were, I wasn’t.”

Seeing you tonight

It’s a bad idea right?

Seeing you tonight

It’s a bad idea right?

Seeing you tonight

It’s a bad idea right?

Seeing you tonight

Fuck it, it’s fine

Then, the next thing you knew, his lips were on yours, one of his hand cupping your cheek as your eyes grew wide. After a couple of seconds, the boy pulled back, his eyes focused on yours, and you waisted no time pulling him back in for another one.

Minutes later, your tongue met his in the middle, a small gasp leaving his mouth as you bit down on his lip. His other hand was now resting on your waist, holding you close, as one of your hand was holding onto the collar of his shirt tightly while the other was holding onto his neck. Then, both of his hands started making their way down to your thighs, softly rubbing them before picking you up and placing you on his lap, your lips never leaving each other’s.

Soon, his hands made their way back up your body, slipping under the shirt you were wearing, pulling you closer to him. Your mouths separated for split second and you took the opportunity to lift his shirt over his head, wasting no time to attack his necks with small kisses and love bites.

Groans slipped past Trevor’s mouth every time you bit down on the skin under his ear, and even more when you started moving your core over his. Your shit was next, joining his on the floor behind the couch, and this time he was the one to attack your chest. Your hips accelerating every time his mouth got closer and closer to your breasts and soon your bra joined the small pile of clothes.

“Trev!” You moaned as his lips attached around one of your nipples, pulling the hairs on the back of his neck as he did so, a loud groan echoing through his living room. Eventually, his lips left your body, your foreheads now leaning against the other’s, mouths inches apart, as you both grinded on each other, moans leaving both of your mouths. Then, you uttered the three words he had been dying to hear in since April.

“I need you.”

Yes, I know that he’s my ex

But can’t two people reconnect?

I only see him as a friend

The biggest lie I ever said

Oh, yes, I know that he’s my ex

But can’t two people reconnect?

I only see him as a friend

I just tripped and fell into his bed

A grunt left your mouth as your back hit his mattress, his body soon leaning over yours as your lips attached, his hips meeting yours as you whined. You wanted nothing more in that moment than for his pants and underwear to disappear, as well as yours.

“So inpatient.” He mumbled as your lips parted, a smirk plastered on his face.

“Trev.” You whined, your hips leaving the comfort of the mattress to meet his, his smirk only growing even more. The forward waisted no time baring the both of your of your bottoms, creating a new pile of clothes, now in his bedroom instead of the living room.

As the morning hours rolled in, the two of you gave your everything to the other, your bodies, your wants, your heart. It was like you were back to last year, one of the happiest times of your life, spending each second that you could with the love of your life.

It was like April never happened, you had been stuck in time in March, the familiar sent of his cologne filling your nose as you feel asleep in his arms, your head tucked into his chest as his arms wrapped around your figure protectively, scared that you’d disappear and he’d lose all over again. In that moment, you felt true happiness in months, all the heartbreak and tears the boy had caused being forgotten by your undying love for him.

He was yours again, well at least for the night, but you didn’t want it to be just for tonight. You wanted him to be yours forever and always, you didn’t want to go back to how you were mere hours before, heartbroken and hung-up on the boy of your dreams. You had him right there, in your arms, and you weren’t ready to let go, not again. You lost him once, and you weren’t about to lose him twice.

At that moment, you decided that whatever happened when the two of you woke up, no matter how hard Trevor tried, or didn’t, to tell you to just forget it even happened, that it’d be best if the two of you didn’t see each other again, you weren’t gonna let him slip out of your grip without a fight like last time. You didn’t care if it took him days, or weeks to understand that there’s not other man you’d rather be with, having already decided that if you couldn’t have him, you were the spend the rest of your life alone. But, you needed him to understand that he was perfect for you, and that he was all you ever wanted.

Maybe he’ll never be yours again, but you’ll always be his.

Oh, yes, I know that he’s my ex

Can’t two people reconnect?

My brain goes, “Ah”

Can’t hear my thoughts

“Morning!” The Zegras boy exclaimed as you walked into his living room the next morning, well almost afternoon. All he was wearing was a plain pair of grey sweatpants, his boxer peaking over his waistband slightly. You had allowed yourself to dig through his closet, finding the pair of sweatpants and hoodie that were yours for most of the relationship before leaving his bedroom.

“Hi.” You whispered as you sat down on his couch. The boy sent you a small smile before throwing one of his arm on the back of the couch, something he always did.

“I just ordered breakfast, got you the same always.”

“Thank you.” You responded, and then a silence settled between the two of you as a news channel played on the TV. “How’s your head?”

“Huh?”

“You… you looked like you drank a lot last night.” You mumbled, keeping your eyes focused on the TV as you felt his looking at you.

“‘M fine. Had a little headache when I woke up, but I took an advil.” He answered, his eyes still looking at you as you nodded. “This is the part where you tell me we need to talk, isn’t it?” He added after a couple of seconds, another nod coming from you. He had a feeling about what you were about to say, and it wasn’t something he wanted to hear.

He had spent the whole morning prepping himself mentally to not break down if the words “mistake” and “forgot” left your mouth, telling himself he couldn’t just believe you’d come back after how he ended things previously. One of his solutions was avoiding eye contact, so he looked at the same place as you did, straight ahead.

“I get, I get that opening up and talking about things like insecurities is hard, Trev. It’s scary, you think people will judge you or making fun of you, of use it against you, trust me I know how it feels, but when you’re in a relationship with someone, that’s the kind of you stuff you can’t just hid from them. Especially if it makes you want to break up with them. That’s what I am here for, I am a safe space, Trev, nothing you tell me about how you feel or how you think will ever make me see you differently.

I love everything about you, Trevor, every little flaws about you just make me love you even more than I already do. To me, you’re perfect, Trevor. Everything about you is perfect to me, you’re everything I’ve ever wanted, you’re the one for me, I know you are. And I get that hearing people say that you’re not good enough for me can be hard, but trust me when I saw, you’re perfect for me.” You stated.

His heart dropped as your words filled his ears, in a good way of course. You remembered, even though you were drunk, you still remembered his confession from the previous night. Just as he was about to say something, the doorbell rang and he quick to push himself off the couch, but before he could take a step, your hand gripped his. His head turned to look at you, only when his gaze met yours, tears were pooling in your eyes.

“Don’t runaway again, Trev, please.” You begged, your voice shaky and broken. You knew him, if he walked away right now, your conversation would never continue, he’d come back in the living room and pretend that it never happened, he’d runaway from it instead of facing it, just like he did last time. He hesitated for a bit, your eyes staying locked together, before he nodded slightly and sat back down.

“It hurts. When people say all those things about me not being good enough for you, or that you could do so much better than me. I hate it.” He admitted, his eyes looking down at the floor, your hand still gripping his as you moved closer.

“Trev, look at me.” You said, and when his head didn’t move, you grabbed his chin, forcing him to look at you. His eyes were watering as he blinked repeatedly, trying to hold his tears in. “I don’t care what people say about us, you’re way more than enough for me, and yeah, maybe I could do better, but I don’t want better, I want you.”

“Maybe you could do better?” He questioned, a little confused as to why you would chose to say that to him.

“Someone that doesn’t have only three functioning brain cells.” You joked, making the boy laugh a little.

“You love it.”

“I do. I really do, Trevor. Everything about, all your flaws and everything, I love.” You spoke, your voice soft and low. Your hand that previously grabbed his chin now cupping his cheek, a soft smile appearing on his face.

“I am sorry.” He said as a tear fell from his eyes, which you were quick to wipe away before wrapping both your arms around his neck, his going around your waist as you held each other close.

“You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, love.” You whispered in his ear, only making his smile grow wider. In that moment, he realized that no matter issue he was dealing with, either from hockey or his personal life, you’d always be there for him, just like he always wanted to be there for you.

“Girlfriend?” He asked, making you pull your head away from his neck, but keeping your arms around him.

“Boyfriend.” You confirmed with a wide smile on your face, an identical ones plastered on Trevor’s face before the two of you leaned in and your lips locked together. Unlike all your kissed from the previous night, this one was slow and full of love. It wasn’t a quick, rushed and hungry one, no, it was one that only true lovers shared.

Thoughts

Blah

Thoughts

Blah

To say your mom was excited when you told her the news that you and Trevor were back together would be an understatement. A loud squeal came from the speaker of your phone, making you pull your phone away from your ear quickly as Trevor sent you a weird look. Before you even had time to say anything else to her, she hung out, claiming she had to go tell the good news to your father.

As for your friends, they were a little iffy about the situation, scared that the boy would break your heart once again, but eventually, they came around, realizing how in love the two of you were.

Trevor no longer ran away from his insecurities, now confronting them and talking about them with you, something you were extremely grateful for. All of his friends were over the moon when they heard that you were back together, tired of always hearing the Zegras boy mop over you.

As for you, you were the happiest you had ever been, everyday Trevor made sure to tell and show how much he loves and appreciates you, spoiling you with hugs and kisses.

Your life was perfect again.

#bri writes #trevor zegras #trevor zegras fluff #trevor zegras fic #trevor zegras imagine #trevor zegras angst #trevor zegras x reader #trevor zegras smut #trevor zegras imagines #guts series

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smninthisworldd · 1 year

Text

- ͙۪۪̥˚┊❛ Injury ; König x fem!reader ❜┊˚ ͙۪۪̥◌

so, my books on wattpad got deleted. apparently, someone reported me. i’m trying to post all the stories here and on ao3, but it’ll take a bit of time. please be patient and bare with me. 🙏

PAIRINGS AND WARNINGS: König x fem!reader, fluff, falling in love, smut, oral sex, p in v, soft sex, gentle sex, friends into lovers, kisses, teasing.

CHAPTER: 1/2 ; NEXT CHAPTER

MASTERLIST

It was all a blur.

One minute I was shooting and killing our enemies, then I got shot and fell to the ground, unable to walk. I couldn't feel my left thigh anymore, and when I looked down at it, blood was spilling out of my wound.

I panicked, and tried to crawl away from more gunfire. I entered a building, making sure no one saw me, and crawled behind a high half wall. As soon as I was safe, I pressed my back against the wall and removed some layers off of me. I ripped the black shirt i was wearing underneath my bulletproof vest and used the fabric to press to my thigh, stopping blood circulation.

It hurt like hell, especially because the bullet was still trapped deep inside my thigh. A tear fell from my eye and down to my cheek, as I looked at my hands, covered in blood just like my gear and the floor.

«Fuck...» I groaned in pain, hitting my head to the wall.

«Blade!» König shouted through the comms, that was my code name. «Where are you?» I could hear his thick German accent, which I was really thankful for. My vision was starting to blur, but at least I had an excellent hearing.

«I... got shot...» I stuttered. «I can't walk, I'm in the.. third building to the left.»

«Scheiße (shit)! Hold on, I'm coming!» he said. «Stay with me, it's nothin'! You got this!»

«I'm soaked in blood... I need...» I let out a heavy breath, my voice cracking and my hands shaking. «Take me back... to the base...»

«Stay with me, Blade, please!» he shouted as he probably noticed my voice lowering its tone, as I also closed my eyes.

I wasn't replying, but heard heavy footsteps entering the building. I hoped it was König, but still, you never know. I quickly grabbed my gun and held it ahead of me, still shaky as hell. A tall figure appeared in front of me, and I did not realize it was actually him at first. My vision was blurry, my eyes filled with tears.

«It's me, Blade! Don't worry, I got you!» König kneeled before me and I let go of the gun, closing my eyes again.

He gently touched my thigh and I whimpered, as it hurt like hell.

«I'm sorry» he apologized. «Let me see, please.»

Though it felt horrible, König had to press on my wound in order to search for the bullet. «We must take it out now, before it... scheiße... before it gets worse!» His english wasn't collaborating, he was nervous. Bless him, he was so anxious.

He suffered from it when he was younger, he'd told me about it. Me an König had such a good friendship, actually. He found confort in me, whenever he was nervous or anxious about something. He would always come to me and talk to me, and I would listen to him for hours. He had just so much to say, and nobody was really ever there to listen, before me.

«I'm really sorry, Blade, but I need to... take these off.» he said, referring to my pants. «I have to take that verfickte (fucking) bullet out of there! I can't...» he stuttered. His voice was trembling and his hands were shaking on my thigh. I looked into his eyes and softly placed one of my hands on top of his.

«It's okay, König...» I whispered. «Just take it out so we can... kill these motherfuckers.»

«Is it okay if... I have to...» he mumbled.

«Just fucking do it already!» I shouted at him. I have never yelled at him before, and I felt kind of bad, especially knowing he was really sensitive under that intimidating and scary facade.

Without a word, he cut the improvised bandage made with my shirt and finally unbuttoned my pants gently taking them off. I saw him not moving for a moment, he just stared at my bare thighs before pulling out of his vest a mini first aid kit. He swallowed hard and opened it, grabbing some tweezers and a disinfectant solution. He sighed and proceeded to slowly dig into my thigh, causing my eyes to close shut and my spine to shiver.

I was losing a huge amount of blood, and König tried to be as gentle as possible with me. He wasn't talking anymore, and I realized it was probably because I scolded him.

«Fuck!» I cried out as he pinched my sensitive skin with the tweezers, without doing it on purpose. His hands were shaking and his breathing was heavy, he didn't dare to look at me.

He was focused on my wound and searched for the damn bullet. I continued to cry out in fucking pain, I couldn't stay still because of the pressure he was putting on me. I writhed under his hands, my hands lifting myself from the floor and my back arching as my head hit the wall again.

He aggressively pushed my hips on the floor with his knee, making me feel trapped under his enormous mass. I looked up to him but he didn't, still trying his best to reach the cause to my pain.

And finally, he caught it. He held it with the tweezers and sighed in relief before putting it aside.

He disinfected my injury, but it burned like hell and I couldn't help but scream in pain. He quickly cupped my mouth with his hand and finally looked into my eyes. Mine filled with tears as I kept groaning on his hand. «Quiet!» he scolded me, this time, with his raspy and aggressive tone. His grasp squeezed my cheeks a little as he continued to pour the disinfectant on my leg.

I grabbed on his forearm tightly, raising my hand on his bicep. I was crying and my breathing was irregular under the grip of his hand covering my mouth. I lifted my healthy leg creating myself a bit of support, placing my arms on my knee, but as soon as I did and my legs were a bit more open, I noticed König's eyes peered between them.

He quickly moved his gaze away and removed his hand from my face, squeezing his eyes while exhaling loudly. He then grabbed a sterile gauze and wrapped it tight around my thigh. He pulled on it two times and looked into my eyes. «Is this tight enough? Is it good?» he asked in a whisper.

I nodded and he cut off the excess. We both exhaled, relieved. I rushed into his arms for a hug. I placed my arms around the back of his neck and held him tightly. I really needed it. «Thank you.» I whispered in his ear. I felt his hands on my ribcage, gently moving towards my waist, a bit unsure. He then wrapped his arms around me and pulled me closer.

A few moments later, he whispered: «Let's get revenge on these arschlöcher (assholes).»

…

I heard a knock at my door and when I looked towards it, König was standing there. «Can I?» he asked.

«Of course, come in.» I welcomed him into my room. He got rid of his gear and wore just his black shirt and cargos. I, on the other hand, was wearing just one of his oversized t-shirts, which he gave to me as soon as we arrived to the base. His scent was on it, and I kept smelling it.

«How are you feeling?» he sat on the bed and gently caressed my knee.

«A lot better, thanks to you, and the doctor.» He took me to the hospital before heading back to our base and the doctors stitched up my wound with six stitches.

I smiled at him as he looked straight into my eyes. I still had an apology to do.

«Konig» I positioned my hand on top of his, caressing it, «I'm sorry. I didn't mean to yell at you earlier.»

He sighed and replied: «Don't worry about it. I know you were panicking in that moment, I understand.»

I smiled at him again and gently asked him a favor. «Could you close the door?»

He nodded and stood up to do so. When he returned to me, I gestured for him to join me in my bed, as we usually did. He lay down next to me and 1 cuddled up to his chest, leaning my head on it. He stroke my hair and pulled me closer, letting out a deep breath. My hand caressed his abdomen and draw small circles on him through his shirt.

It had been a while now that I was starting to realize that my feelings for him went beyond a simple friendship. I opened up about myself and he did the same, I knew him better that anyone else. I knew what a sweetheart he really was, how caring and loving he could be. I exhaled and I decided it was time for me to be truthful.

«König...» I lifted my head up on his chest to look at him. I was very shy around him, though he was the shy one, in reality.

He let out a soft «Mhm?» and looked at me, waiting for me to talk.

«I, uhh...» I mumbled. Fuck it. «I like you. I really do.»

He swallowed loudly and I felt his heart beating faster. He looked away and I thought to myself I fucked everything up'

His gaze returned to my eyes and he softly caressed my cheeks with both of his shaky hands. I lifted myself as best as I could and kept my eyes on his as I pulled his hood up, revealing his lips.

I stroke his sharp and defined jawline feeling the subtle beard on the lower half of his face. I then caressed his bottom lip with my thumb and he did the same with mine. Both of us were shaky as fuck.

«I like you too, y/n.» he said in a whisper that I barely heard. But I sure did. His lips created a smile that infected me, causing my lips to do the same.

His gaze fell to my smile and he finally pulled my face closer to his, kissing me.

He kissed me.

I couldn't believe it.

It all felt like a dream, a beautiful one. His soft and warm lips pressed against mine, his big hands still caressing my cheeks and my neck... goosebumps started running throughout my body. I instantly closed my eyes as our lips connected, and drowned in that heavenly kiss.

One of his hands soon moved down to my spine, wrapping around my body as our kiss intensified.

He tilted his head and grabbed on the back of my neck, causing my head to tilt, too. I leaned over him, and placed one of my hands on the pillow below him, the other one still stroking his neck and jawline.

Our tongues began touching, shy at first... and all of a sudden he started to slowly give me the most passionate kiss in my entire life. Out of all people I've ever kisses, no one was like König. No one compared to him.

Konig raised himself from the pillow he was laying on and towered me with his size, continuing to passionately kiss me as his tongue dominated mine. His hand still firm around the back of my neck, while the other one was gently grabbing and squeezing my waist.

I placed my arms on his shoulders and caressed his head through the hood, pulling him closer. Our kiss continued and, oh. My. God. I didn't expect that from him.

König began lowering his hand down my side, and gently grabbed on my healthy and naked thigh. I was wearing his shirt, but I couldn't wear any pants or shorts since my wound was still too fresh to be compressed.

He squeezed the soft skin of my leg and then he got up, pushing me to lay down on the bed. He lifted my thigh on his hip as he was now on top of me, his tongue still fighting against mine. He was so careful not to hurt my injured leg, which he didn't.

I pulled him closer, gluing his body to mine. I could feel his weight on me, but he made sure he didn't crush me. As my legs were quite spread under his body, his hips pushed towards my crotch, and I felt his... hardness pressing on me through the pants.

My face was burning hot, I was a hundred percent sure I was blushing like an idiot. My heart raced as his hand slid throughout my thigh and gently reached my - well, his - shirt, lifting it a little.

But then, he stopped. He lifted his head and pulled away from our kiss, leaving a trail of our saliva still connect us. I tried to reach for his lips again, but he gently pushed me back.

«Y/n... I don't know if...» he began, but his words soon failed him. «This is... We shouldn't...»

He started to move away, but I pulled him towards me and kissed him. He didn't stop nor backed away from it, so I guess he wanted it, too. This time, our kiss was much more aggressive, almost ravenous, as if neither of us wanted to leave the other's face.

He bought his hand back to my thigh, squeezing it harder than before, and forcefully pulling me towards him.

Konig placed his other hand back to the side of my neck, sending shivers all over my body. I felt his knee press in between my legs, which caused me a soft moan into his mouth. I didn't realize I moaned until his grasp tightened around my leg.

I pulled away from his face for a moment and looked into his eyes as he tried to reach back for my lips, this time. «You said we shouldn't, yet you're not leaving me.» I whispered.

«Fuck, I can't.» he breathed. «You have no idea what you're doing to me, schätzchen.»

I loved when he gave me German nicknames, he often did.

He kissed me back and caressed my thigh, lifting my shirt again. This time, he finally took it off and admired my almost naked body, taking a deep breath. His lips were glossy and red, also a bit swollen, and I could see his cheeks turn reddish, too. His eyes glared throughout my body, still covered by my underwear.

Konig shook his head and placed his hands on his eyes, sliding them on top of his head right after.

His anxiety was eating him alive, I could tell he was nervous. I lifted myself and gently sat on the bed, looking up to him. I caressed his waist and hips trying to reassure him, but that probably didn't help; instead, it made him even more nervous... and hard.

His pants were tight around the shape of his now rock-hard member. I thought I could make him relax a bit... but he just grabbed my wrists and threw me back down on the bed.

He pushed himself against my entrance, through the pants, causing me to groan softly. He began kissing my neck and that made me weak. At that point, I let him do whatever he wanted with me.

I grabbed on the back of his neck, digging my fingers inside his hood and feeling his hair. I gently stroke him under the mask, as he lowered his warm lips down my collarbone. My back arched towards him and he squeezed my waist, pulling my crotch closer to his.

I bit my bottom lip and moaned again as his lips were exploring my chest. His hand lifted from my waist straight to my back and he unbuttoned my bra, throwing it away. He seemed mesmerized by my naked breasts and took a moment to stare at them before feeling, touching and kissing them. I felt him sucking on my skin, leaving his marks all over me.

His wet tongue traced a path from my breasts across my abdomen to my lower belly. He reached the seam of my panties and looked up into my eyes.

«May I?» he searched for my consent.

«Yes...» I whispered, lifting my hips towards him. «Please, König...» I got a little too excited.

Hearing me beg for him probably only turned him on even more. And it also turned me on.

He let out a heavy breath, hooking his thumb into the side of my already wet panties and pulling them to the side to expose my soaked cunt to his eyes.

Using his index and middle finger, he parted my lips and began exploring me. I was a fucking mess already, wriggling and arching my back over nothing, and he seemed to enjoy it.

As his fingers were still keeping my lips spread, he stuck his tongue out and slid it on my clit. I flinched and moaned softly at the feeling of his warm tongue on me, but König soon gripped on my good leg to keep me still. He continued to stimulate me licking my cunt up and down, as his tongue collected my juices. He pulled his tongue back into his mouth to let the taste of me sit on it.

My eyes were glossy and felt heavy as I tried to look at him. He glared at me but soon returned to my intimacy after whispering a soft «Köstlich (delicious.»

He created circular motions on my clit that felt extremely good, I threw my head back unable to keep it on him. I arched my back and grasped tightly on the sheets, whimpering and squirming under his touch and stimulation. His hard tongue inflicted torture on me, but soon his mouth completely enveloped my clit, sucking and pulling on it.

How on earth was he so good at it?

I knew I wasn't going to last, I was too sensitive after a very long time not having this kind of treatment to please me. All I could do was moan loudly and let my body release my cum right into his mouth. He didn't even notice it, instead continued to give me pleasure despite my body starting to relax.

König was hungrily eating me out, and he seemed to be far from done. My inner thighs felt soaked around the lower half of his face, as he spread my legs a little more, carefully making sure my injured left thigh was okay. My dizzy mind, though, couldn't feel anything else apart from the extreme bliss König was causing me.

He removed his mouth for a moment and slid his middle finger inside of my hole, unsure of how to move. When I sensed his slight unease, I grabbed on his wrist and moved his hand in and out of me, soon leaving it to him. His finger started to search deep inside of me, stimulating my g-spot, that caused me to moan heavily.

König was a fast learner.

He was soon confident enough and added his ring finger, pushing both deeper. My legs were shaking at the overstimulation König was procuring me. My vision started to blur, my hands were grasping the sheets hysterically and my whimpers were getting louder and louder as his tongue returned to my clit.

I was going crazy, high of him. My heartbeat was pulsing in my throat, I've never felt like that. His head pressed between my trembling thighs, his tongue swirling around my most sensitive spot and his fingers digging deep inside my pussy.

His other hand was wrapped tight around my good leg, his nails began poking into my soft skin. I could already see the marks he left all over my body, starting from my neck and lowering to my legs. I wasn't able to speak clearly, just whimpers and pleasured groans coming out of my mouth.

König's fingers soon came out of me, drenched of my thick cum, and moved all the way up to my sore clit. He lifted my hips a little, placing his hand below my lower back and continuing to please me.

But I couldn't resist more.

«König...» I muttered, not able to finish my sentence. I closed my eyes and allowed myself to release everything I was holding inside of me. And so it was the second time König made me cum, with a loud orgasm. He collected my cum with his fingers and licked the rest of it from my cunt, swallowing it. He licked his fingers and when I looked at him, a trail of my sticky cum was connecting his two fingers and his lips. He then cleaned everything with his tongue.

Fuck.

Wow. Just, wow. I was breathless, my arms high above my head, my legs now closed and the sheets below me soaked in my wetness. Jesus Christ.

König approached me and gently caressed my waist, while kissing my neck. I knew he wanted more, and I did too, but... damn. I needed a moment to stabilize myself.

«How are you feeling, geliebte (sweetheart)?» he whispered. «Did I do a good job?» He dared to ask.

Catching my breath, I looked into his eyes and caressed his cheek. «I feel absolutely fantastic, König... you did fucking... perfect.»

He loved to hear that. I knew he needed reassurance and words of affirmation, so I praised him. He kissed my cheek and got back to my neck.

God, this man's stamina was by no means over yet.

I felt he could go on and on for hours, and we both really needed it. I could take him, I wanted to, I needed to. I desperately needed him to do the nastiest things to me, with me.

Konig began kissing my neck again, slightly biting on my skin, causing me to shiver and whimper softly. But I lifted myself up and pushed him away from my neck. I looked up into his eyes and as he walked away, I dragged him closer, pulling him by the waistband of his pants.

I felt his evident erection under my fingers, and I finally unbuttoned his pants, pulling the zipper down. This was going to be a long night...

~ smninthisworldd ; please do not copy.

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sanemistar · 6 days

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hiii!! i would like to request an obanai x fem reader fic where they're forbidden to speak to each other by their families but they do it anyways and meet up without them knowing :333

sorry if it's not worded correctly english is not my main language!

thank you in advance!! and i love your stuff <333

being in a secret relationship with obanai

synopsis: obanai x fem!reader, they’re in a secret relationship

୨୧ a/n: hello lovely !! thank you so much for your kind words <33 much appreciated ! i wrote this as a short drabble, i hope you don’t mind,, and pls enjoy <3 also happy birthday obanai <33

it's been a year now since you and your boyfriend obanai were in a relationship secretly without your your families’ knowledge. due to the many complications between your and obanai’s family, you two are forbidden to contact each other. however, this has never stopped your feelings from blossoming into a love relationship.

the two of you often meet up in secret late at night, since you can’t see each other throughout the day. you meet in a secret spot down the forest which you consider your safe haven, where you can be free from any pressure and enjoy some quality time with obanai in peace.

you love obanai, and he loves you too. the two of you are so in love with each other, yet you still can’t help but feel scared and afraid of your family’s reaction if they find out.

“i’m so scared, obanai. what if my family tries to harm you once they find out about our relationship?” you say nervously. obanai fully understands where you’re coming from, the situation is very shaky and you both still decided to move forward with your relationship knowing that you’re probably putting one another in danger. but he’s fully prepared himself to face both your family and his if he needs to.

“for you, i’ll do anything. i’ll endure everything, so don’t worry and leave it all to me.” he reassures you before he leaves a soft kiss on your forehead. you smile at him as you slowly begin to feel more at ease, you rest assured knowing that he’s not giving up on you. that he’s prepared to face whatever obstacles on the way to stay with you, and it fills your heart with comfort, knowing that you can fully trust your boyfriend to take care of everything.

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blueberrypancakesworld · 3 months

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Omg, we need a emma d'arcy x fem reader! Pleaseee!!!

Let me help you here

Emma D'arcy x fem!reader

warning : fluff, flirting, comfort, nicknames, no use of Y/n, i really hope emma is not too ooc, i hope all pronouns are right

Summary : The latest season of House of the Dragon is about to start and final filming is underway. Emma as the Queen Rhaenyra finds themself in a quiet scene with a fellow actor and the two need some help from each other getting dressed…professionally of course.

info : normally i don't write for actors but i feel comfortable with it so i hope you like it anon and emma looks like the queen herself too. have fun reading ;)

ps : I love the gif not only a queen but Ewan in the background so sweet

masterlist

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The acting group needed for the scene had already gathered at the slightly unfinished set. The lights over there were sometimes bright, sometimes dark, with a wide variety of flares and lanterns, some lit with real flames, of course, and some with no real light.

The sets, as you all knew, served mainly as backgrounds for the actors and for the special effects specialists as the big screen which, in addition to the scenery and the actors and props, brought them all to life, giving them that fantasy look.

The large set the hall of Dragonstone went almost to the ceiling thick walls some with steel thickness some finely crafted with foam served as a set. It was really impressive to see how they did it all thought the young actress and let her gaze wander only briefly knowing that the camera was still on her co-worker Matt who was discussing the war plans as Daemon as he had learned.

Especially in the final edit when they had all watched the greasy series together, it was really nice to be back. The camera on the table moved around it again from Matt to her as Daemon looked at the Nachirhct's delivery. ,,Be assured the sea route is supported by Lord Manderly. This also goes out to your ships Lord Corlys your safety is our concern" she said her sentence as scripted letting her eyes wander over the sea route and nodded to Matt and Steve in their roles as Daemond and Corlys who also gave her a nod and thanks before the camera panned back.

It was a few lines she had played a newsbringer a high lady from the lake house as she had done a little research on the internet and even read a little blood and fire. A really good book.

But then she knew her cue when it became quiet at the table and the guards could be heard announcing in loud voices on the set that a queen was arriving. Instead of the short hair, Emma's head was adorned with a long, light-colored wig, which made their face slightly pale, but the expression Simply incredible she thought and looked at the older one who Matt then placed next to her around the table.

There was silence as everyone looked at the Queen, who looked at the card with a broken look of hatred and after another shaky breath gave a determined ,,I will…Aemond Targaryen" everyone lingered like that for a moment before there was a loud ,,Cut!" and a clap was heard and everyone fell out of their roles. Immediately there was talk and laughter, and everyone was curious to see what the scene would look like, ,,What a cute curtsy my lady," she heard Emma say as they came over to her and mimicked the movement, making them both smile.

,,So much training," the younger one mumbled, pretending to strain before D'arcy took the younger one's arm and pulled her along, ,,Nice to see you having fun and everyone going so well," the taller one began, giving her an assuring look.

It was only a small role and she had been in a few smaller TV series here and there, but it was still something completely different, it was really exciting to be around movie legends and such good actors.

A possibility she really appreciated…and maybe she appreciated Emma even more. The English actor was really impressive, even though they only played a few roles, but the expression, the voice and just everything about D'arcy was engaging and so captivating.

,,Everyone take a break, later we might do a post-production but until then you can get out of your costumes!" they heard the head of the costume department say and most of the actors went straight to the dressing rooms and Emma to the caravans.

This time, however, the younger one, who was only a supporting role, was about to say goodbye when the older one took her hand again and pulled her along. ,,I promised you I'd have a Negroni Sbagliato with you, come on, sweetie," they said and before she knew it they were actually in the actor's cozy caravan. Yes, they had made that promise after they realized on the first day they had met that they had not only gone back to the same acting school but had also run into each other more often than they wanted to.

From auditions, to plays and in real life it was almost romance ripe. ,,So with Orange without?" they asked, still standing at the small bar in their full outfits, which made the younger ones smile, ,,As the Queen takes him, so do I," she demanded with a look that went over the actor's body. The dress and the coat and the hair it was so impressive to see how versatile Emma could be.

But she had noticed the younger girl's stare, not just the little smirk on her lips, but when she turned to her and put the drink in her hand, their fingers deliberately touched and Emma let them touch. There seemed to be something between the two of them.

She had often invited Emma to her small but pleasant apartment and they had spent the evenings doing all sorts of things. In return, Emma sometimes invited her to extraordinary restaurants or something, it was like a friendship, even if some of the looks went deeper.

The two of them talked for a while about the costumes and the stunts with the "dragons", how exhausting and yet beautiful it was. She had watched D'acry do some of the flying toes and it looked incredible. ,,I'm glad to see you're enjoying it so much…you see I knew it would do you good not to give up now that we're here together," Emma winked and stood up after taking a sip of the alcoholic beverage before turning around and standing with their back to the younger one.

,,I can get the wig off by myself, but would you mind taking off the dress?" the actor asked and the younger girl jumped at the sight of a slightly rapid heartbeat, slightly sweaty palms and suddenly the alcohol was pounding much harder than usual. ,,Gladly for you-I mean, of course I'll help," she mumbled, stammering, and slowly began to help the taller girl out of her jacket, the smell of Chinoto Dark's citrusy, smoky scent enveloping her now that it had settled on her skin.

She liked the scent strong and yet slightly sweet because of the hint of lemon it was really something nice. ,,All good sweetie?" came the voice of the older one who turned slightly and looked at the younger one who was still holding the jacket in her hand ,,Yes-yes all good" she shrugged and felt the warmth on her cheeks.

Pull yourself together, you're not a schoolgirl anymore, she admonished herself and put the coat away before tying the dress, but she heard the slight smirk and Emma's words, ,,Don't be nervous, you're just undressing the queen," Emma joked, giving her a wink. A wink that only made the younger girl's heart beat faster.

Maybe it was Emma's intention, maybe it was the actor's style, or maybe it was just for fun. Who knew, but as her fingers tightened on the laces, the taller actress held still and let her friend do her thing, stepping out of the dress before reaching for a robe.

The back was nicely defined by the light muscles, not just for acting, the underwear a quick glance and her cheeks almost got hotter. ,,You were a grateful help, sweetie," Emma said, standing in front of the younger girl, they towered over her with their height in addition to the boots.

Her wispy dark blonde hair was slightly tousled and she had to resist tousling it and greenish eyes were looking at her. But then suddenly D'acry reached for her hand and brought it to her lips, placed a grateful kiss on it and seemed about to continue. The moment deepened and the younger girl clung to the fabric of the robe, fearful of falling over in devotion, when a ringing from her cell phone threw her off balance.

,,Fuck," she muttered with a determined look and Emma just smiled again. She picked it up, ,,I'm um what-yes of course-yes I'm on my way," she mumbled as the voice of the debriefing leader at the other end called for her to go over the script again when a few changes were made.

Sighing, she gathered her things and had forgotten all about the actor when Emma held her lightly again, ,,I'll wait here honey," Emma winked and gave one last kiss on the hand before she let the younger actor out of the caravan with an embarrassed look, knowing that something was finally going to happen, just a dance of the actors.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

#hotd #house of the dragon #emma d'arcy #emma d'arcy x reader #reader is female #hotd fic #request answered

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snipersfucker · 1 year

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request from @gh0stfac3-w1f3y: I can't find any fics where Noah and the reader first meet Mirage in the garage and then they met the others

i changed the plot so much, it's so far from canon lmao but we roll. it's long btw sorry for making you wait *cries*

"Any last words?"

Noah looked up at you with widened eyes after hearing the question that'd left your mouth.

He was so close to shitting himself and you were not helping.

"What?" He frowned with his eyes now focused on your face, the word a whispered yell.

You rolled your eyes, not actually having expected him to understand your little joke, considering the fact that you two had slightly different senses of humour. But you had the right to roll your eyes at him nevertheless.

"Before you get shot in the head for stealing," you explained in the same tone, loudly enough for him to hear but also not too loudly so that you wouldn't catch anyone else's attention.

And Noah would've normally kind of snorted at your words. But not now. Not when his special thingy used for opening stranger's car doors without making much noise was inside a Porsche that did not belong to either of you.

He just let out a shaky breath through his nose, trying to calm down his growing nerves. His attention went back to the car, his trembling hands trying to open it without triggering the alarm.

"We're so dead," you muttered under your breath, shaking your head and looking around in search for any unwelcome guests. Noah didn't even hear you, too focused on his task as well as not fucking everything up.

And he nearly let out a loud noise when the safety lock clicked. He was too nervous to properly smile at you but you couldn't stop the corners of your own lips from curling up. You made a proud face and held a thumbs-up to him.

"Get in," he just said, grabbing the handle to open the door, and you did the same thing.

You raised your eyebrow when the safety lock locked itself again.

"She doesn't want us to steal her," you whispered to him, referring to the silver car, your hand pulling on the handle a few more times, hoping it would eventually work.

Humour helped you not to lose your mind due to stress, which was happening to Noah at the moment, almost silent curses leaving his mouth, the desperation in his movements now much more obvious as he kept attempting to unlock the safety lock with the thingy again.

It clicked.

You pulled the handle again. And the safety lock locked itself. Again.

"The fuck?" Noah whispered to himself, the frown on his face deepening even more. This time he decided to trick the system and unlock the safety lock and then open the door as fast as possible.

It worked.

"I knew w—" you began the sentence, feeling quite victorious, even though you did absolutely nothing to help Noah, but was interrupted by the male voice coming from behind you. Your eyes snapped to Noah's face which was filled with just the same amount of horror. They immediately widened in shock and a sudden wave of stress as well as panic washed over you, making your heart skip a few beats.

"Hey! Security!" The man yelled, his heavy steps increasing in volume, getting closer and closer to the two of you. "What are you doing?!"

If the image of you in an orange suit hadn't appeared in your mind for that split second, you would've frozen in your spot, unable to enter the car, let alone run away from the security guard. But you managed to do the former, your hand opening the door with one swift motion, your legs guiding you inside.

"Noah!" A croaked yell fell from between your lips as your eyes shot to your friend standing by his side of the Porsche. Your voice hit him like a bucket of cold water.

He quickly got inside, taking another thingy out of his pocket to use it to start the engine. Random courses both in Spanish and English were coming to your ears as Noah tried to work his magic and get you two out of that damned parking lot.

But before he could even flex his car-stealing abilities, the security guard was already knocking on your window with a lot of force, nearly breaking the glass. That almost made you and Noah throw up from the stress, and the fact that he was still struggling with all the cables—

The engine suddenly started.

The radio blasted music on its own, the tunes so loud they either freaked the security guy out to the point he stopped punching the window, or they completely silenced his furious knocks and pulls on the handle. You weren't sure, not even daring to look in the man's direction, focused only on Noah, as if you were trying to get him to drive without actually yelling it at him.

You tried to turn the radio off but it just kept screaming the lyrics to Act a Fool right in your face. And you could swear you were able to hear a faint sound of a male voice speaking through the radio, saying something you didn't understand because of the loudly playing song.

Why the fuck wasn't he driving?

Your head turned to the left as your eyes met the side profile of your friend hitting the gas pedal with desperation you've never seen on him before.

Why the fuck wasn't it working?

And then, all of a sudden, the car moved. You and Noah were pushed into your seats as the Porsche got out of its parking spot in a dangerous speed.

But there were no hands on the wheel. The pure horror and panic in your widened eyes matched the look on Noah's face as his dark irises met your own, as if he was looking for answers in them to the questions he hadn't asked.

The music was overwhelming, the speed making you grip anything to steady yourself, making you want to scream every single time the front of the car nearly touched an object in front of it.

Was it the right moment to tell Noah you kissed the boy he fancied in the third grade? It definitely sounded like something he should hear before you both die tragically in a car crash.

Noah was doing everything he could to stop the car, from hitting the brakes to slapping the dashboard with his right palm, the other hand staying on the steering wheel in case the car decided to let him drive.

But when the tires of the Porsche made contact with the highway, he wrapped all his ten fingers around the round object, gripping it with all the strength he could find within himself.

It was obvious. Obvious but apparently you and Noah were so stupid neither of you even thought of it. An expensive Porsche sitting in a parking lot for a long time, appearing abandoned but still in a perfect condition, practically asking for a potential thief to steal it. It had to be someone's brilliant idea, probably an idea of a cop, to put a damned self-driving mechanism inside of the car, which now was most likely taking you and Noah to a police station.

You didn't even notice when the music got a bit quieter, enough for you to hear your own, terrified thoughts, but you did notice the sound of sirens getting louder and louder with every passing second.

That damned Porsche sped up even more, making you and Noah scream like little boys, shifting your gazes between the road in front of you and the sight behind you. Police cars catching up to you, the sound of their sirens, and the absolute absurd of the situation made you nearly lose your sanity.

The loudest scream left both your mouths when the Porsche sped up even more, drove onto something and got in the air for a few seconds. But these few seconds were enough for you to have a tiny heart attack.

Why did the sirens stop?

You were so focused on not dying that the police cars hitting other vehicles, brick walls, driving out of the highway and out of the bridge were omitted by your overwhelmed brain.

Your eyes closed, the breaths leaving your mouth quick and heavy, after multiple failed attempts to steady them, you decided to give up and focus on something else, something that would hopefully ground you. Your eyelids separated, the gaze of your eyes shifted to Noah which seemed to be losing it even more than you.

The road got clear, and soon the car turned to the right to drive into an alley, and then into an open garage.

"No, no, no, no, no, no..." you kept repeating, shaking your head, disagreeing with what was happening out of your control, but at the same time being fully aware that your disapproval couldn't do anything to change your situation.

One drift and you found yourself rolling on the dirty ground, now out of the car. You let a couple of grunts out, your eyes squeezed shut as you felt pain in your knees, elbows and palms.

The unfamiliar sound of metal hitting metal mixed with something you couldn't quite name made you turn your head in the direction of the noise. Before you could register Noah kneeling down next to you and the touch of his warm hands on your back and arm, your brain got shocked by the sight of...

"Woohoo!"

A male voice rang in your sensitive ears, its tone slightly deformed to match his robotic appearance. It... was standing right in front of your very eyes, making energetic movements, then walking in your direction.

You managed to get on your weak legs. Barely.

"T'was... Damn! I haven't done that in ages!" He exclaimed, jumping on his metal legs around the garage, punching the air as if he was preparing himself for a sparring match. "Really gets the fuel pumping, doesn't it?!" he directed the rhetorical question to you and Noah, watching you both with a very content expression on his face. After a couple of seconds of not getting any responses, he added himself, "Damn right it does!"

Your friend was as stunned and speechless as you but you managed to somehow grab a metal pipe lying on the dirty floor, and hold it as if you were about to hit the... whatever or whoever it was... if he tried anything.

"Chill, man..." The machine held his hands up in a defensive gesture, pretending to get intimidated by the threatening posture of a much smaller human. "Jus' not in that pretty face, yeah?" He covered the said body part with one hand, acting as if you could even reach that high.

You gripped the pipe harder, ready to swing at the metal man, but then, when he let out a chuckle and shook his head in amusement, you lost all your confidence that you had any, even the tiniest bit of control over the situation.

None of you expected to see a hand of his transforming into a huge weapon, the blue muzzle probably reflecting in your widened eyes. Noah wanted to do something but you stopped him with one quick glance.

"How 'bout now, baby?" The machine practically mocked you in your face, but you were too focused on the idea of possibly dying right there and then to even notice the playful hint in the tone of his robotic voice. "Still gon' hit me?"

You didn't even know what to say to that, knowing that the wrong response would probably put you in the grave, but you still didn't want to give him the satisfaction of being the one in absolute control of the situation.

You finally managed to blurt out, your voice coming out a lot weaker than you intended it to, "Maybe..."

You swallowed thickly, accepting the fact these were most likely your last moments on Earth, but then, the robot made an impressed face, tilted his head slightly to the right, and said with a smirk, "Shi', you got some balls, dude." And lowered his arm, the weapon transforming back into a hand.

The relief that washed over you was indescribable. But you still had to be in the state of constant focus, in case he decided to put that blue thing in front of your face again.

He nodded, eyeing you from head to toes, and then admitted, "I like that... I like that a lot."

"What..." you whispered to yourself, confused by his words, the sudden change in behaviour making a frown appear on your face.

"I was expecting a different reaction, though," he started talking again, the playfully casual tone back, as if he was slightly disappointed but didn't want to show it, "You know, I saved your asses and all," he tried not to make it sound like a big deal, but still wanted to jokingly point out the fact that you were a pair of slightly ungrateful little humans. "...But I get it. I get it. I'd be scared of me, too..." He raised his hands in a defensive gesture again, speaking to you as if he actually understood, even though he found the whole situation, and your approach as well, quite amusing. "I don't expect every girl to get weak in the knees 'cause of me or anythin'."

A beat of silence passed, and the robot just couldn't stop himself from speaking up again, "Where are my manners? The name's Mirage." He extended his arm towards you both, his fist in your faces, as if he was waiting for you to bump it with your own. His next words in an encouraging tone only confirmed it, "Come on... Give it a lil', give a lil', give it a lil' tap."

Maybe complying to his requests was the only way of getting out of this situation alive... But at the same time the robot didn't give the impression of being cruel enough to just kill you both in cold blood...

You made eye contact with Noah for a moment, just to notice him shrugging, and then, slowly extending his own fist towards the machine's one, as if testing the waters.

When their knuckles touched, Mirage exclaimed with a satisfied look on his face, "Now that's what I'm talkin' about!" And then, he looked at you with a slightly raised eyebrow, motioning to your stiff body with his finger nonchalantly, directing the question to Noah, "She always this fun?"

Oh, I'm sorry for not wanting to fist-bump a robot three times my size who almost shot my head off with his weird fucking arm.

"What the hell are you? Some shit like E.T. or whatever?" Noah ignored his most likely rhetorical question, even though the machine seemed to want answers to every single thing he'd say.

"Naah, that'd be at least weird..." he said sarcastically, then made a finger-gun at us and added with a smile, "I'm a robot from space."

Great.

"A robot... from space..." you trailed off with a weak voice, Mirage's attention back to you.

"One and only." He bowed ever so slightly, but then corrected himself, "Well, technically there are others. You're actually real lucky you have met me first, though. But chill, maybe they'll like you. Proly not but maybe." He shrugged, not actually caring about what his team would think of his new human friends.

And as soon as Mirage finished talking, the sounds of loud engines were bouncing against the walls of the garage, and then hitting yours and Noah's ears, making you both quickly turn around to see a couple of cars driving in your direction.

"Oh, yeah, forgot to mention they were gonna pay us a visit," the robot who was once a silver Porsche said from behind your backs, but the tone of his voice was so casual he didn't really sound like he felt bad for not notifying you.

Soon, the cars transformed into... robots. Of course.

"Prime! Long time no see! Missed you!" Mirage walked past you, making loud noises when his metal feet made contact with the floor beneath them. He opened his arms, as if he was trying to encourage the huge machine to give him a hug.

"Mirage," he spoke in a stern, warning tone, immediately making the smaller robot let out a chuckle, but also obediently lower his arms so now the metal hands were on his hips.

"Good ol' Prime, am I right, Bee?" He directed the question to the yellow machine which was much closer to being his own size.

"What are those humans doing here?" The gravely voice of the tallest robot sent shivers down your spine but Mirage seemed not to be so affected by it. In fact, he looked like he gave absolutely no fucks about it.

Mirage turned his head in your direction, making a nonchalant motion with his hand. "Them? Oh, yeah, they're my friends, sir. Lil' Lady and The Guy," he introduced you two, and you wouldn't be one bit surprised if Prime shot him right then and there with the same thingy Mirage wanted to use on you.

And you nearly fainted on your spot when you felt the ground shake with every single step the tall robot made while walking in your direction. Your knees got weak but you were lucky Prime helped you and swiped you right off your feet, grabbing you like a rag doll and holding you closer to his metal face.

He did the same thing with Noah who, in your opinion, was handling it much better than you.

"Who are you?" Prime's cold voice made you internally die, your mind already making scenarios about him literally squeezing you to death with his metal hand.

"Nobody," you quickly answered, your voice much more high-pitched than ever, shaking your head in panic, "I don't even know who that man is," you added, referring to Mirage standing behind you.

"Hey! I thought we were friends!" the walking Porsche got immediately offended by your words.

Prime narrowed his eyes even more, observing you with distrust, as if he started despising you as soon as he saw you for the first time.

"We shall not waste our time on those humans," he spoke again, squeezing you and Noah tighter and tighter with every passing second.

You let out a shriek. And that's when Mirage realised he had to step in.

"Woah, woah, woah." He immediately found himself next to the big robot, holding his hands up, telling him silently to stop literally taking yours and Noah's breaths away. "Prime, no need for that. Look, I took 'em here, my bad, should've hidden from the cops somewhere else, yeah, I get that. Next time I will, promise."

And Mirage didn't even care that he just admitted to catching the attention of humans, especially the armed ones, which the leader of the Autobots told him to avoid at all cost.

Prime shifted his gaze from you to the apologetically smiling robot.

"C'mon. Red might be your colour but do you really want their blood on you?" he asked in hope it would actually discourage him, make him change his mind.

And without a word, Prime let go of both you and Noah. You didn't manage to hold onto anything, even the robot's hand just not to fall onto the hard floor of the garage.

But before you could make any sounds or properly experience the pull of gravity, you felt another metal hand on you, this time the grip much more gentle, far from suffocating.

You didn't even notice the moment you closed your eyes shut just so you wouldn't have to witness your own body hitting the ground with a good amount of impact. You opened them just to see a pair of blue, shinning ones right in front of you.

"We friends now?" He tilted his head slightly, observing you with a confident smirk, knowing that you had no other choice but to agree with him.

Because he saved you from breaking your skull on the cement a couple of feet below your body.

"Buddies for life," you responded with a shaky voice and many eager nods, barely catching your breath, the panic still evident in your widened eyes.

Today not only did you not die, but you also gained yourself a new friend who would do anything to protect you.

the end sucks as always but do not worry. there will be worse.

#i was listening to 2pac when i was writing mirages parts #mirage is so hit em up coded idc #something hed rap for you on your first day <33 such a cutie #i have no idea how guns look and how to call that blue thingy mirage had when he pointed his whatever at mirage in the garage #mirage x reader #mirage x you #mirage #mirage rotb #mirage x my pussy #mirage transformers #transformers rotb #rotb #transformers #wattpad

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eowynstwin · 9 months

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@ceilidho tagged me in a wip challenge, i think it's a 1k word thing? (checks notes) Oh it's WIP Wednesday!

no pressure tags: @smoggyfogbottom @lunarvicar @391780

Meanwhile, have 1k of a gangbang I may or may not finish. Set in the neighborsverse but completely noncanon. Or is it??? (It isn't.)

“That comfortable, love?” John asks as he adjusts the blindfold. “Not too tight?”

“Feels fine,” you say, blinking against the fabric.

The silhouettes of the other men are dim through the weave, but you can pick each one out by where they are sitting from before John tied your eyes. Ghost is leaning against the front door, arms crossed loosely over his chest. Soap is sprawled across John’s couch, and you know he’s still wearing that rakish grin. And Gaz has his elbows on the back of John’s armchair, drumming his fingers against the cushion.

All of them have their eyes on you. You don’t need to see it to know. You can feel it. Their gazes on you, as you sit kneeled on the rug, are every bit as tangible as the warm air that billows from the radiator across your bare skin. You are in a filmy, sleeveless dress, and nothing else.

“Rules of the game,” says John, fingers lightly tracing the sides of your neck, “you have to figure out which of my men is which. If you do, we get to move on. If you don’t, you have to try again.”

You nod. “Yes, John.”

Someone takes in a breath. “Shite.” You’re pretty sure it’s Soap. You don’t hide your smile.

“Meanwhile, you lot have your orders,” John addresses the other men. “And you know I’ll step in if I have to. She’s also got her killswitch if she needs it. Don’t you, love?”

“Benzo,” you relay obediently.

Someone snorts. “The ex? Really?” Gaz says aloud.

“It’s a pill,” you reply sweetly. “There’s no relation.”

“Sure, hen,” Soap chuckles, “and I sailed a banana boat down the Clyde.”

“English, Johnny.”

“Awa’ an bile yer heid!”

You feel John press his lips to your hair, feel him cup your jaw on both sides with long fingers. “I’ll be here the whole time,” he murmurs.

Heat pools in the pit of your stomach, begins to seep into your skin. Your pulse is a steady, strong beat behind the drum of your breastbone. “Yes, John.”

You know he’s given the men a signal to begin, because Soap rises from the couch to approach you.

John’s hands leave your neck and travel, flat and fingers spread, down your back as a new pair cradles your face. Fingertips trace the outlines of your browbone, press into the hinge of your jaw as warm lips brush teasingly against yours, breath fanning across your mouth.

You part your lips to let out a shaky sigh, and that’s when he kisses you, firm and playful. The hands slide from your face to the sides of your neck, encircling as the thumbs press into the soft underside of your chin, while the tip of his tongue grazes the edge of your teeth. It’s a kiss that knows it’s getting seconds, and wants to make sure you look forward to it.

Soap pulls away, dragging his hands up your neck and along your jaw before his touch retreats.

“Gaz,” you pretend to guess.

“Wrong,” John murmurs. He presses his mouth against your bare shoulder, and you can feel him smile. “Next.”

Next is Gaz, who kisses you without preamble, hands resting on your hips and squeezing. He’s smiling, too, and rather than one kiss he gives you several, tiny pecks from one corner of your mouth to the other that are unexpectedly ticklish.

You can’t help your giggle, and you know if you get them all wrong the jig will be up. “Alright, that’s Gaz.”

“All day,” says the sergeant, a laugh in his tone. He kisses you again for getting it right, his hands ascending to squeeze you around the waist, and then he retreats.

Ghost comes to you then, and he does not touch you. Even on his knees, he towers over you, and you feel his hands brace on either side of your thighs as he leans down to your level. You can’t feel his breath on your face, but you can feel his eyes as he looks at you.

He leans in a moment later, and presses his mouth very softly to your chin.

“Oh,” you breathe, tender and trembling at the gentleness.

“S’alright,” John says over your shoulder, low and rumbling, and you know he’s not talking to you. His hands are warm and soothing on your low back. “She likes it just like that. Go on.”

Then Ghost’s lips press to yours, feather-light, coaxing, moving along the contours of your mouth. You can’t help leaning into it, magnetized, and when you do Ghost seems to get more comfortable—he kisses you harder, one big hand cupping the back of your neck, his tongue easing between your teeth to stroke your own. A moan leaves you, completely unbidden, low and needy.

“Christ,” Soap says. You hear the sound of a hand against fabric, and your whole body throbs when you realize he’s rubbing himself over his trousers.

“How’s this supposed to be a game if you give it away, sergeant?” Price grouses.

You laugh against Ghost’s mouth, and he rewards you for it with the slide of his hand into your hair, gripping firm at the root as he tilts your head and licks deeper into your mouth. Your hands come up to steady yourself on the broad plane of his chest, his pectorals flexing beneath your palms. You can barely breathe as he practically drinks from you, his lips wet and noisy against yours.

“Jesus, LT, you’re just going for it,” Gaz says, clearly impressed.

Ghost finally pulls away, and you pant for oxygen as he breathes evenly, seemingly unaffected. “Someone’s got to show you muppets how to do it.”

Price’s hand strokes over the hair that Ghost had mussed. “Watch yourself.”

“Sad you can’t join in, Cap?” Soap laughs. “Wouldn’t be fair, would it? You could pick him out right away, aye, hen?”

#all x reader #cod x reader #tag meme #neighbors #madi writes

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g1rld1ary · 8 months

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come home with me ; anthony lockwood x reader

➻ hbd lockwood & co!! this was meant to be for the anniversary but as always I have greatly miscalculated the english timezone... (also totally feeling pre-valentine's excitement!!)

➻ word count: 3720

➻ synopsis: when your bus breaks down in the middle of the night, one Anthony Lockwood may just be your knight in shining armour

➻ warnings: slight mentions of drinking, clubbing & drugs, lucy making slight suggestive jokes if you squint, reader is shorter than lockwood, sharing a bed, fluff

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

You sat in your bus seat, checking you still had all your cash and your fake I.D. Satisfied, your purse snapped shut, changing shape as you gripped it tightly. Although you took the bus fairly regularly, you felt much more alone tonight than you had in a while. You’d left your friends and their ‘galentines’ celebration early, not in the mood to go clubbing but not willing to ruin their vibe. Plus, you weren’t ready to celebrate a holiday all about love so soon after being dumped.

You fiddled with the bracelets on your wrist mindlessly, knowing you were still a long way from your family’s apartment. You quickly scoped out the rest of the bus. A few middle aged couples — you imagined they were returning from sweet Valentine’s Day dates and ready to be home and in bed before one. You thought it was sweet that their love was stronger than their fear of the Problem, though the iron lined buses probably helped quell their apprehensions. Your eye caught the only other young person on board, a boy around your age who was staring out the window, rapier hanging off the edge of the seat and into the aisle. An agent, clearly, though you wondered why he was alone when they usually travelled in teams.

You quickly averted your eyes, not wanting to be caught staring at anyone who could proficiently use a sword. You bounced along in the seat until the bus began to slow, jerking the passengers around aggressively. When it came to a proper halt you felt a spike of panic run through you. You were all alone in an area you didn’t know and still at least a half hour cab ride from home way past curfew. To top it all off you were in your heels and new slinky dress, prepared for the safety of a club and not the outdoor weather. You were going to die, you were sure of it.

Then the lights flickered and dimmed. Great. You were almost certain this was the end when the doors were locked too. You rolled your eyes as you watched one of the adults jiggle the door around until it could be forced open, then reluctantly followed the rest of the passengers out onto the street. Just your luck, you were in the middle of a random residential street with no overhead covers except a tiny iron bus stop fifty metres away, which you reluctantly let the older couples hide in. At least the ghost lamps were on, and your very average senses told you there weren’t many ghosts out tonight; were you the only person in London — dead or alive — who didn’t have a valentine?

You watched as the bus driver pulled open the hatch to expose the engine, tinkering around nervously to hurry and find the issue. You leant against a ghost lamp as a shaky protection and felt a few freezing rain droplets land on your bare arms. Fabulous, the night was just getting better and better. You watched the driver huff in frustration and glance around nervously, you doubted you’d be getting back on the bus anytime soon.

You slid down the ghost lamp until you were sitting on the damp ground, past trying to impress anyone at that point. You telepathically tried to send your friends a message that you were going to be found probably ghost touched or hypothermic in the morning. You breathed a sarcastic laugh to try and convince yourself it was a joke, but you could feel the panic rising in the back of your throat. At sixteen you were not equipped to be stuck on the side of the road well into the night, past curfew and pathetically unarmed. You could feel someone’s stare and couldn’t tell whether it was at your sad excuse of a dress or at your position on the ground, but you were past caring, not even trying to shield yourself.

“Sorry, everyone, but I can’t fix this. Your best bet now is getting a cab and getting inside as soon as you can,” The bus driver explained apologetically, and some of the couples groaned, eyeing out the street for a taxi. You were past the point of feeling phased, tilting your head up to face the sky and embracing the storm on your face, not even thinking about the mascara tracks being run. When you reopened your eyes there were only a few people left; the driver, one couple, the teenager and you. You stood reluctantly, trying to think of a way to get yourself home.

You cracked open your wallet sullenly, expecting exactly was in there. A few dollars; enough for a few drinks but not nearly enough for a taxi to where you were going. You sighed, feeling defeat creep upon you as you tried to come up with any other method of getting home. You could return to the club — if you survived the walk — but even then your friends would be either too drunk or too high to be of any assistance. A huge crack of thunder drew you from your thoughts, a lightning storm was definitely brewing. Amazing.

You sighed, stress manifesting as the hot tears beginning to stream down your face. You felt utterly hopeless. You had nowhere to go and no way of contacting anyone, you couldn’t even use a payphone to call your parents as you’d promised you’d stay in while they were away for the weekend.

“Why tonight?” You asked the sky, more to express your irritation than to search for an answer. You could hear the agent escorting the couple down the street to a cab, easily soothing their fears with overconfident assurances. You knew he’d returned only by the occasional drag of iron against cement accompanying his footprints, presumably his rapier. Unknown to you he watched you as he approached, taking in your dishevelled state. You were pretty, undeniably, but the mascara smudged from rain and tears and your hair stuck to your face and shoulders made you look like you might’ve seen better days. He sucked in a breath and approached you.

“Hi,” He said, “I’m Lockwood.”

“Y/n.” You turned to him, hoping he’d realise you had no interest in talking.

“I know this sounds really creepy, but will you please come home with me? Promise I’m not trying to murder you, but this storm’s not getting any better and I can’t leave you to the ghosts in good conscience. My house is only a few blocks away; I live with another boy and a girl, both my age so we wouldn’t be alone. You can take all the precautions you like — keys between the fingers, walk on the other side of the street if you want,” He rambled and you sized him up. A lanky boy with a sword or the ghosts? You figured you had a better chance against him if it came to it.

“Ok.” You nodded, trying to smoothly push yourself off the pavement and appear well put together in front of the strange boy.

Lockwood led the way, holding the umbrella over his head. You followed a few feet away, cautious to be out of reach, just in case he did want to hurt you. Though you were jealous of his prior planning for the rain.

“Here, take my coat. You must be freezing.” He held it out to you and you gladly accepted, spaghetti straps doing nothing to fend off the cold. The coat was warm and enveloped you entirely, sitting below the hem of your dress. “So, are you in school?” He tried to break the silence.

“Yeah, for history. You?” You cringed as you realised the redundancy of your statement — his being an agent of some sort was more than obvious and only emphasised by the rapier he held out in front of him. He answered kindly anyway.

“I never did much school, I’ve been an agent as soon as I was allowed.”

“That’s cool, you in a big agency?” You asked, and Lockwood beamed with pride.

“Not exactly — not yet. I run my own agency, soon to be the best in Britain. Lockwood and Co, you might have seen us in the papers?” You raised your eyebrows.

“Your own agency, huh? That’s big stuff. Wish I could say I’d heard of you, but I avoid the papers when I can, it just depresses me. You might have to be just Lockwood tonight if that’s alright,” You joked and Lockwood laughed out loud, giving you a glimpse of an illuminating smile.

“Just Lockwood is perfect,” He answered, and the conversation quickly moved on, the two of you quickly losing the awkward silences.

“I got caught up in my research — a first, believe me. If I’d known about the bus and the weather I would have just caught a cab, or bailed earlier which is far more likely.”

“Tell me about it. My friends are out clubbing and I’m here walking in the rain with a stranger — uh, no offence.”

“None taken,” He assured you, “Wait, how old are you?” He didn’t think you looked old enough to get into a club, although the smudged makeup may have had something to do with it.

“Sixteen…” You trailed off, suddenly afraid he would judge you for your bad habits.

“So you’ve got a fake ID?” He raised an eyebrow at your nod. “Lucky. I tried to get one once but my associate George yelled at me for forty minutes straight, I never tried again.” You giggled at his explanation, the image making Lockwood seem younger, less intimidating than he’d initially been.

You moved closer as you walked, eventually ending up under the umbrella and feeling much warmer without the violent rain. As you talked more you noticed Lockwood was quite attractive, in an odd sort of way. Despite his old fashioned attire (you didn’t think agents typically wore shirt and ties), he had the loveliest smile and soft looking hair, though some of it was plastered on his pale forehead, unable to escape the rain entirely. What stood out most though, were his cheekbones. They were impossibly defined and quite dreamy, if you were being honest.

You talked about all sorts of unexceptional things, and you had the impression that Lockwood was doing his best to entertain you and distract you from your previous mood. It was working though, so you had no complaints.

“I’ve got a bit of sensitivity — very average — but I’m not going to waste my adolescence being stuck in the nightwatch ‘cause I can’t make it to really being an agent,” You laughed softly, “So I figured if I studied history I could be of more use, learn more about the Problem and all that.”

“You’d get along famously with my friend George, he’s obsessed with trying to figure out the Problem. For me it’s about the action, knowing that I’m actually putting all these ghosts to rest and having a meaningful impact on people’s lives.” You watched him circle his sword in the air, keeping the few Type Ones around further than they’d been lurking.

“Is that why you started your own agency?”

The walk seemed much shorter once the two of you started talking, and soon you’d arrived at Lockwood’s house, 35 Portland Row. The outside was unassuming, but beautiful in the classic English way. You caught a glance of the Lockwood & Co sign and couldn’t help but smile; you could feel the love and passion Lockwood had for the company from the small discussion you’d had about it. As Lockwood pushed open the front door a woman was just heading up the staircase in the hall, but turned at the noise.

“Jesus, Lockwood, what time do you call this? I was getting worried! Who’s this?” She looked at you, and you couldn’t help but feel self conscious under the beautiful girl’s stare. You thought she looked a bit teasing, and realised what conclusions she’d drawn. Embarrassing, but understandable.

“Luce, this is y/n. Y/n, Lucy, my associate. She’s staying with us tonight; our bus broke down and getting her home at this time is practically impossible.” Lucy nodded, but the amused twinkle in her eye didn’t dull.

“It’s nice to meet you then. I’d offer for you to bunk in with me, but I’ve got a nasty flu coming on and I doubt you’d want me anywhere near you.” She gestured down to the thick blanket wrapped around her shoulders and the steaming tea in her hand. You smiled to absolve her of responsibility and she waddled back up the stairs and into the dark.

Lockwood, in turn, led you up to the first landing and into his bedroom. He rifled through a chest of drawers as you tried not to snoop, eyes instead catching on the alluring movement of his fingers. He eventually handed you a t-shirt and some tracksuit pants.

“They might be a bit big, but they’ll do for the night,” He sounded embarrassed and you smiled in thanks. “The shower’s just down the hall, second door. You can go clean up.” You thanked him again before heading for a much needed shower.

You stood under the hot water, more than mindful not to take too long. You were so caught up in being grateful to be alive and not ghost touched or stranded in the middle of London that the weirdness of the situation hadn’t fully caught up to you until now. Once dried you put on the clothes Lockwood had given you and laughed slightly at your reflection. Despite your figure the clothes still unexpectedly swallowed you. It made sense since Lockwood was so tall, but you found it funny nonetheless.

You returned to find Lockwood sitting on the edge of his bed and stood in front of him awkwardly, unsure of how to proceed.

“So, um, I’m not a great sleeper so I think I’ll go read in the library for a bit and probably stay there. You can take the bed.” His previous easy confidence was gone, and Lockwood suddenly looked his age again, innocent and awkward.

“Are you sure? I can take a couch or something, I don’t want to intrude.” Lockwood assured you that he wasn’t going to sleep anytime soon anyway, and he was sure you needed the bed much more than he would. You bade him goodnight shyly, and thanked him for the millionth time before climbing into his bed, ashamed to admit how much you liked the pillow that smelt like him.

However, once it was just you in the dark, all your previous exhaustion had dissolved and you were wide awake, too on edge to sleep. You were in a strangers house on the other side of the city in the middle of the night, you very well may not live to see another day. Logically you knew you were being dramatic, Lockwood and Lucy both seemed lovely and genuine, but then again, so did Ted Bundy.

You felt like you’d been lying in bed for hours when the door creaked open and you inadvertently made eye contact with Lockwood creeping in, looking admittedly adorably soft in his worn pyjamas.

“Sorry,” He said, “I needed an extra blanket. Can’t sleep?” You used the light from the hall to glance at the clock, almost two o’clock. You shook your head softly, feeling almost guilty when he’d given up his bed for you. Lockwood stood in the doorway for a moment, seemingly hesitant about something. “Do you, um, do you want me to read to you for a bit? It always worked for me when I was younger.” He sounded sheepish but you thought he was the sweetest person on earth at that moment. You agreed quickly, and he slotted himself in on the other side of the bed.

You huddled in to face him and Lockwood cleared his throat softly. He had continued on from where he’d evidently left off in the library so the plot was a mystery to you, but his soothing voice worked wonders in calming your thoughts, weary eyes closing quickly to send you into a cozy sleep. Lockwood, unbeknownst to you, fell asleep uncharacteristically fast after you, novel left upside down on the nightstand. Despite his usual aversion to sleep, having a warm body and small snores next to him strangely made him want to start getting eight hours a night.

Lucy was assigned to wake Lockwood for breakfast the next morning upon George’s request, and silently sent a prayer before pushing open his door, wary of what she might find. To her surprise (and personal relief) you two were in bed together, but not in the way that she’d dreaded walking in on. You were both totally clothed, your head resting on Lockwood’s chest, his arm around your waist, effectively keeping you burritoed in the blanket. Lockwood’s eyes snapped open, a habit he’d never detested more, and groaned at Lucy’s good humoured snicker when they locked eyes. She shut the door behind her quickly, leaving Lockwood to deal with things on his own.

You woke not long after, feeling Lockwood stirring next to you and his breathing start to become irregular.

“Morning,” He slurred, still half asleep and wanting nothing more than to pay off his sleep debt with you keeping him safely in bed.

“Good morning.” You smiled sweetly, already in a good mood. You bent to collect your clothes off the floor, eyeing your dress with mild disgust — it would be quite the walk of shame home.

“Keep the clothes.” Lockwood gestures casually to your outfit and you shook your head vehemently.

“I can’t, they’re yours!” You protested but he seemed not to care at all.

“I don’t need them, just have them. They look good.” You flushed and dropped the fight, words lost in the vacuum of your brain. You busied yourself with rolling the cuffs a few times so it wasn’t quite as obvious they weren’t yours.

Lockwood led you down to the kitchen, asking you about your plans for the day. You were met with Lucy and one other boy in the kitchen, Lucy sitting at the table already tucking into her meal while the boy was standing by the stove.

“I mean, come on Lockwood, you couldn’t have given me any warning we had a fourth for breakfast? Bloody good thing we had enough eggs or it would’ve been you going hungry!” The boy muttered to himself, apparently unaware of your entry. You locked eyes with Lucy who was holding back her laugh and Lockwood coughed uncomfortably.

“Morning, Georgie,” He smiled an amused grin, practically blinding you in the early morning. George froze as he realised he’d been caught, then doubled down his mood with a glare in Lockwood’s direction but it simply bounced off the charm he oozed and you smiled. You introduced yourself quickly and explained the situation, not wanting to uphold the tension in the room. George wasn’t exactly as warm as Lucy, but then you got the impression that it wasn’t in his nature to be.

Lockwood and Lucy upheld forced small talk as you became nervous in the new environment and George simply had no desire to talk, at least, until Lockwood had the bright idea to get the ball rolling.

“So Georgie, y/n actually studies the Problem. Like, academically.” It was like a switch had flipped and suddenly George had so much to say you were overwhelmed with it all. You tried to explain your research area as best you could while trying to politely ask questions about his own knowledge and make a good impression. Lockwood must have sensed your anxiety as he put a hand on your thigh and gave it a reassuring squeeze under the table, chuckling softly into his eggs.

Your meal passed quickly after that, and you felt strangely at home in the cozy kitchen, amongst three people who were total strangers only hours before. Yet, it had to come to an end at some point, and it was soon time for you to go.

You collected your things, profusely thanking each of them for not only saving you (Lockwood), but also for the ridiculously delicious breakfast (George).

“You really saved my life,” You said, as Lockwood disregarded yet another thanks.

“It’s nothing, you would have done the same. You, uh, you should come around again sometime.” You beamed, nodding quickly.

“Yeah, I have about a thousand more questions for you — not an exaggeration,” George said, and you easily agreed to share more of your research with him.

“Plus, we like seeing Lockwood blush,” Lucy added cheekily, and then it was your turn to blush, forcing your eyes down to the floor as both George and Lucy laughed at the pair of you, mirror images in your embarrassment.

Although it may have looked like you were making a post-Valentine’s Day walk of shame, you were gleeful. You hadn’t at all imagined your night would turn out as it had, but you’d made new friends — and maybe the start of something more, and managed to avoid being ghost touched which you always counted as a win. You ignored the judgemental looks you received in slept in joggers and club ready heels, and delighted in getting home before your parents arrived back and noticed you were missing.

You locked the door to your apartment behind you and dialled the number Lucy had made you promise to call when you were safe and sound, hanging up with plans for dinner at Portland Row the following week.

You flopped back on your bed and grinned. You were sure you’d see more of Lockwood & Co in the future.

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pholla-jm · 2 months

Text

Movie?

IMAGINE: MOVIE? ~ GOJO X READER GENRE: FLUFF cw: not proof read. italics means they are speaking in English. **************

Months went by with Gojo in your class. It was weird having an adult in your classroom, but you were happy to say that he was making progress.

Every now and then Gojo will come up to you and have an English conversation. At first, it was a bit shaky. But overtime you were able to have conversations with him about things that both of you liked

Which brings you to now.

“Hey (l/n).” Gojo pops up behind you causing you to jump a little. Gojo laughs at your reaction before pulling out the chair and sitting in it.

“Don’t scare me like that!” You playfully slap his shoulder. “Also remember you can use my first name.”

“Well you can use my first name too then.” You give him a look, “you know I wouldn’t want to make you uncomfortable. It’s customary to use your last name, but not for me, you know?”

Gojo nods his head. He admires how much you researched his culture and language. But all he really wanted was for the both of you to get closer.

“I was thinking.” He states causing you perk up. “Oh, no. You were thinking.” Gojo pouts, “mean.”

You laugh, “sorry. Sorry. Continue.”

“We should watch a movie.” “Like in class?” You ask him and he shakes his head. “Not exactly. More like my place?”

A large grin takes over your face and you took this moment to tease him. “Ooh, Mr. Gojo. Are you asking me out on a date?” You lean forward, chin resting on the palm of your hand.

You could see the slight pink raise on his cheeks before he leaned in himself. So close that his nose was almost bumping into yours. His breath fanning against your face. Now it was your turn to get flustered.

“So what if I am? What are you going to say?”

“I’m thinking-” “Oh, you’re thinking now?”

You laugh at him, “I think I would be stupid to decline. I would love to watch a movie with you.” You sit up straight again, giving you and Gojo an appropriate amount of space.

Gojo lights up at your words. Honestly, he didn’t think that you would agree to watch a movie with him. Especially the two of you.

At this moment he was glad that he bothered Nanami for advice. Sure, Nanami was reluctant to help the white haired sorcerer, but if it meant that he would leave him alone for a few minutes, then so be it.

You giggle at the excitement in his face. You knew this was going to happen at some point. I mean, it was hard not to deduce it when Gojo was spouting out how cute and beautiful you are.

“So, what movie are we going to watch?” “Umm, Legally Blonde?”

“Why does that sound like a question?” “I’ve never seen it… so I don’t know if it’s good.”

You looked at him shocked, “what? You haven’t seen it? It’s like one of the most iconic movies ever.”

Gojo laughs at your bewildered face and your reaction to him not seeing this movie. “I’m sorry. I’ve just never seen it.” “That’s just unacceptable. We’re watching it asap, tonight.”

“Asap?” “Oh, it means as soon as possible.”

Gojo nods his head in understandment.

You stand up, getting ready for class.

Then it finally clicked in his head, “wait? Tonight?!” “Yup, see you at my place.” You tell him, leaving the teacher lounge.

All Gojo could do was watch you leave, his heart beating faster than it should.

He definitely didn’t think he was going to fall this hard for the new English teacher.

Tag list for people who wanted to be in it! @yumii-34 @jotarohat @kuroosluthoe @sakuichan @chilichopsticks @nijinohoshi @cloudjoyous @tobysmokes @satoruontopofme @storacy @phantomvlood @svnkenlily if you don't feel comfortable being tagged, just let me know and I'll happily remove it!

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #oneshot #satoru x reader #gojo fluff #gojou satoru x reader #gojo x reader #satoru fluff #satoru x you #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jjk x you #jjk fluff

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cyberrose2001 · 1 year

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Hi!!! I love your works! 🥰 I was wondering if I could request a Tfp bots (Op/wheelJack/knockout) reaction to their s/o who is very sweet and shy normally who’s in uni but what they don’t know is that she’s a stripper/exotic dancer late night to pay her tuition and they see her perform and later they make her do a performance for them only and gets smutty 😏😳🤭 sorry if it doesn’t make sense my English isn’t the best 😭 (also totally not projecting at all I am a pole dancer to pay for uni and damn well I treat myself well hehe, if you ever do commissions I’ll be ready 🤣)

TFP Optimus, Wheeljack, Knockout w/ Stripper Reader

I'm so sorry that this took forever! My brain may be fried but this was still so fun to write! I'm sorry if I got some things wrong, I'm still learning how to translate choreography into words (and I know very little about being a stripper oop).

As much as I wanted these to be short, my fingers slipped and I wrote whole ass fics for each of them. So be warned, this post is VERY long! I hope you enjoy! <3

18 + ONLY MINORS DO NOT READ

Warnings: Stripper reader, mentions of alcohol use, small mention of blood, smut/valveplug, blow jobs, sticky sexual interfacing.

Word count (combined): 5,981

Optimus

Was this a bad idea? Maybe, but you'll worry about the consequences in the future. For now, you slowly approach a mass-displaced Optimus Prime sitting on a metal stool that is still far too small for his frame, who still towers over your body by a solid two feet. He's watching every step you take in every click-clack of your six-inch pleaser heels. The small portable speaker you set up begins to play a bassy remix of 'Dirrty' and 'Talk Dirty', respectively called 'Talk Dirrty'—a fitting song since you're about to lay down the dirtiest heat onto the flustered mech burlesque style.

This was Optimus' idea, after he had followed you on your lonesome to a local nightclub on the outskirts of Jasper, duffle bag in your hand. He wanted to ensure you were safe, but his curiosity had gotten the better of him, and he watched your little… performance for the locals from a side window. Safe to say, you were embarrassed once you had returned to the base at an ungodly hour, and he was, of course, still awake. But he had politely asked to see a performance of yours first-hand. And that's how you both ended up in this situation, in Optimus' quarters, door locked.

The first bassy note fills the room, accompanied by Christina's melodic voice as you flick your hair back, shaky hands dragging down your chest to your hips. A little taste of what's to come. Your hands come to rest on your fishnet-covered knees and shamelessly slut-drop a few metres before Optimus, who watches with bated breath. And in the sexiest way you could think of, place your hands down the floor in front of you and slide your body towards the floor, arching your back as you do so. It's a raunchy move, but the look on his faceplates is priceless as his optics flicker to your ass in the air.

You then move your knees forward and crawl towards his pedes, akin to a predator stalking its prey. He hitches his breath as you straddle the floor between his legs and slowly drag your hands up his pedes to his knees, and to his utter shock, you pry them open. Moving from his knees, your trail your hands up his silvery thighs, past his hips' blue plating and to his abdomen's plating, fingers lightly dipping into the crevices between them.

You can feel him shutter against your touch as you tease him, arching his back into your hands. In a smug move, you withdraw your hands from him and trail them back down to his knees, using them as leverage to push you upright. Arching your chest forward, you come within inches of his own until he has a frontal view of your barely covered cleavage. It's revitalising your confidence as you watch Optimus ogle. His frame shivering and servos twitching with a restrained desire, to which you would need to praise him for respecting the etiquette of lap dances.

"You look like you're enjoying yourself," You lean to whisper into his audio receptor before you lift your legs over one of his thighs, then the other, now straddling his waist, "Remember what I said before… no touching."

Optimus gives you a restrained whimper as you grind against his lap to the music, whipping your hair around with a hand on his shoulder for balance. The other hand moved meticulously across his chassis. This dance was supposed to be for Optimus, but you're enjoying this far more than anticipated. His broad shoulders were undeniably attractive, and his neck cabling, Primus, you could lean forward and tease the trembling mech with your tongue, but you knock back that thought. Instead, you lift yourself from his lap and flip yourself around, near bare ass making direct contact with his painfully bowed-out interface plating, and you can feel his engine rev at the move, and he makes a low groan from behind you.

"Primus," He growls as he watches you grind your ass on him. It's taking the strength of a thousand tugboats to keep him from shoving you onto the floor and ploughing into you like the out-of-control cargo ship he is. Whether those tugboats are strong enough is a matter of what your next move is.

And when you stand up to bend over, fingertips brushing the floor, he is greeted with a direct view of your backside, slick arousal and all. And within three seconds, his servos are on your ass, and he pushes you to the ground with the force of a cargo ship slamming into the shoreline. It knocks the wind out of you, forcing you to take sharp breaths.

Optimus flips your body around and settles himself atop you. The bump-and-grind music is drowned out by his harsh invents, and you can feel the roar of his engine in your bones as he lowers his helm to the nape of your flushed neck.

"I apologise for my abruptness, but I can no longer contain myself." He growls against the pulse of your neck, hammering against your skin at a speed you never thought was possible. Optimus losing his restraint and going against the rule book of lap dances was not expected, but a warm and hot welcome nonetheless.

The chair is long forgotten, tipped over when Optimus pounced on you like a big cat. And you don't care about the dance anymore. Your mind solely focuses on how his hands rip your bottoms and fishnets away. Note to self, add new pair of fishnets to the shopping list.

"I'm obliged to ask," He brings a hand to cup your chin, the gentle action contrasting his fiery optics boring holes into your own, "Do I have your consent?"

You bite your lip, an attempt to ignore the feeling of his knee bumping against your heat, which is currently wetter than the Everglades. You'd be crazy not to consent.

"Yes." You finally breathe out. That seems to satisfy Optimus as he begins to assault your neck with kisses, and you hold back a moan. So gentle yet firm as he trails them across your jawline and finishes with a drawn-out kiss to your lips.

He pushes his glossa into your mouth as he dips a servo in-between your thighs, prying them open gently. Optimus only had to press the tip of his digit for you to let out a breathy whimper against his intake, thighs already shaking, and Primus, you're wondering what his dick could possibly feel like inside you if he's already dragging you to heaven with just his hands. And you're eager to find out.

You break the kiss and struggle to keep your composure as he moves his digit gently within you, "Optimus- ah- no offence, but I think I'm - oooh - already wet enough."

He flickers his optics to your face, then back down to the hand working between your thighs. It's already soaked with your arousal, running down the palm of his hand and wrist.

"I see," Optimus says, prying his hand away from your slick. And with the same hand, he disengages his modesty panel with a grunt, letting his spike lay heavy in his hand, "However, I need to take necessary precautions of my own to ensure this encounter goes smoothly."

Now it's your turn to ogle at his junk as he uses the remainder of your fluids on his hand to pump the length a few times, and it's the hottest thing you've seen to date, despite you being a stripper. You've seen some shit, and Optimus' dick tops all of them. And he's about to top you with it.

Finished with lubing himself, he leans his helm down to the side of your head and presses the tip of his length against the folds of your pussy. Optimus uses his other hand to curl behind your head gently.

"Please, if you cannot handle me at any point, tell me."

And with a shaky vent against your ear, he pushes himself inside you. Even if you could scream, the bassy background music would down it out. But you're rendered speechless as your jaw slips once he reaches the innermost part of you. You're shaking and squirming underneath Optimus, and he gently squeezes your head as he cocoons himself around you, whispering sweet nothings and reassurances. You're already on the cusp of an orgasm, and he hasn't even moved.

Once Optimus has also regained somewhat composure, he draws his hips back and rolls them back into you. And your vision dots with stars, supernovas even, which would be a more fitting term as he grinds his hips against your own at an even swiftness. Your voice doesn't hold back this time as you let out a filthy cry against Optimus' audial fin.

"Optimus! Ahah!" You wrap your quivering arms around his helm as he pounds you into the floor. It's unrelenting, overwhelming all your senses. You're stretching beyond human limits. The music no longer exists according to you; the only melody your mushy brain desires to hear is his growls and groans against your ear as he ruts into you.

"I'm - ahh - closer to finishing than I thought," Optimus grunts, then nips the shell of your ear with his dentae, "You're… quite tight."

Despite being mass-displaced, you were about to respond with a sarcastic comment about the obvious size difference between you and him. Yet, all that comes out of your drooling mouth is a high-pitched squeal as Optimus delivers a harsh thrust to your G-Spot. To which he continues to abuse and grind his tip against.

"P-Please…" Another short thrust, and he's purring into the side of your neck, "Overload with - hgghn - me."

That's it. You're at the finish line, and you throw your head back and buck your hips up as your orgasm wreaks havoc over your sweaty frame. You're digging your fingertips into the crevasses of his shoulder plating as you let out a fluttery cry. Optimus, currently experiencing a religious experience from the sheer force of your velvet walls squeezing his spike, lets out a gravelly moan into your neck. His hips wildly buck as he experiences his overload, spilling himself inside you. It's everywhere, dripping down your thighs, transferring onto his thighs and the cold floor beneath you both.

A few glorious moments pass, a mold of flesh and metal entangled on the floor. With all the multicoloured lights cascading off your bodies, you could create an oil painting and make Da Vinci cry with how beautiful this moment is. Optimus slowly pulls out, craning his helm down to watch his transfluids spill from you. Then, like the gentle giant, he scoops his hands under your body and rolls onto his back with you lying on his chassis. You let your head come to rest against where his spark chamber is, hearing tiny little zaps and whirls as his spark slows down its beats. He places a servo on your lower back, and you crane your head just in time to see a mushy smile on his face. And you can't help but let one encompass your own.

"What are you smiling at?"

You give him a soft chuckle, "You. And also because I didn't even get to finish my dance for you."

"I suppose there will have to be a next time then, hm?" Optimus nonchalantly says before he pulls you to his face to kiss you deeply.

Wheeljack

"Thanks for the lift, Jackie." As you pick up your duffle bag from the passenger seat, you mutter and crack the door open, "I owe you one."

"Hey, anything for my favourite squishy," Wheejack replies, albeit slightly hesitant at the current location he was dropping you off, "Say, why'd ya want me to take ya here this time of night? It's kinda… unexpected."

"I uh…" You stammer, closing the door and hoisting the duffle over your shoulder, trying to think of some excuse for asking him to drop you off at a nightclub and not telling him that you were a stripper, "I work here. Yeah, I'm on the late shift."

"Oh, like a bartender? I never knew you were the one to pour out the drinks." He revs his engine, "Just com the base when you're ready, kid. I'll come an' pick ya up."

You nod and give his roof a few pats before you sundered off to the back entrance to the nightclub, hoping and praying that the rich guys were here tonight so you could get paid the big bucks. You're so caught up in your money-hazed vision that you overlook your Cybertronian Uber parking next to the building.

Gonna see what you're really up to, Wheeljack thinks, scouting the area for other humans before returning to his alt mode and settling down under a window.

It's times like this when you're grateful for your job. Yeah, the flow of money is hit-and-miss at times, but a night like tonight is what every stripper dreams of. Bands and bands of fresh cash stuffed half-hazard into your duffle. You could treat yourself, go all out and buy a new pair of lingerie. You could wander into the liquor store across the road and purchase a nice top-shelf bottle of vodka. But alas, most of this dough will be funding your university fees. A sad reality, but you'll do whatever it takes to graduate.

Stuffing the rest of the money into the duffle, you hear a familiar rev of a sports car and make your way to the front entrance. Most patrons had left, leaving you relatively safe to walk out alone. Not that you had to worry in the first place, not when you've always got Wheeljack looking out for you. You've grown on him, and he's grown on you. There's no denying that you've got some feelings for the wrecker, but you'll keep that to yourself for now. He opens the door for you, and you slide in. A soft sigh of relief escapes you, and you slump into the eerily warm seat. After you're safely bucked in, he pulls away from the kerb. The silence that drowns the cabin is… awkward.

"Hey," Wheeljack begins after a while, a slight edge to his voice. He then clears his vocaliser, "How was your, uh… shift."

"It was pretty alright," You fold your arms across your tank top, "Just the usual."

"The usual, eh?" You can hear a little cockiness show through like he's trying so hard not to smile, "Does your line of work usually result in a dollar bill getting stuck in your… What's that thing you females wear again? Uh, bra?"

You freeze, eyes burning holes into his dash before you glance down at your chest. It appears you missed one; the corner of a dollar bill is peeking out from the bra you wore on stage. There's no way Wheeljack would've noticed if he wasn't staring at your tits, which there's no denying because his rearview mirror is pointed downwards, reflecting your cleavage.

"I know you humans get up t'some strange things, but ya could've at least told me you were a stripteaser."

You bury your head in your hands, a pathetic attempt to squeeze yourself into a ball and hide your rosy face, but you can't because he's everywhere. There's no escaping, so you let out a muffled whine.

"Ok, you got me," You huff, any shred of dignity thrown out the window, "But if you tell anyone, and I mean anyone, that I'm a stripper, I'm coming for your aft."

"Oh, I don't intend to, sweetheart," He growls, and you can feel it in your bones, "Not if I can have ya all to myself."

"Wait wha-" There's no finishing your sentence as Wheeljack veers into an abandoned gas station, almost taking the wind out of you. He rolls to a stop and opens his door to let you out, or for a better term, stumble out, "What the hell?"

You watch Wheeljack transform into his bot mode, mass displacing himself so that he towers just a head above you, and you can see every little detail, every wrinkle and scratch. Oh my god, you need to stop staring.

"I quite liked your little routine, kid," He begins, poking a digit at one of the straps of your tank top, "But I'd like ta experience it first hand if ya catch my drift, right here, right now."

Your jaw drops, "You want me to… give you a dance?"

"I didn't stutter, did I?" And before you knew it, Wheeljack sits propped up against the gas station wall, a digit beckoning you over, "C'mere an' give me a show."

Well, there's no time like the present, you think to yourself. You cross your arms over your stomach and swiftly pull off your tank top before moving to your tracksuit pants, throwing both articles of clothing behind you. Your outfit was not modest in any regard, and you can feel Wheeljack's optics clawing at your exposed skin already. As you shakily rummaged through your duffle for your pleaser heels, Wheeljack switched on his radio, and you could hear the first beats of 'You Shook Me All Night Long' by AC/DC. You roll your eyes as you slip on your heels.

"What? Ya don't like this song?" Wheeljack chuckles, "I think it fits perfectly."

"It's the meaning behind it," You stand, the satisfying click-clack of your heels echoes off the walls, "I'd say you're looking for more than just a lap dance if I'm right in my suspicions."

"Cheeky, I like it," Wheeljack says with a shit-eating grin, "Go on then, show me what ya got."

And so, you do. You stand a few metres before the wrecker and swivel your hips to the drum beat, flicking your hair in the same motion as your hips, running your fingers through your hair as you do. As the first lyrics start, you take a few drawn-out steps closer to Wheeljack, running your hands over your breasts and down your bare stomach finishing off with a twirl. He's facing your back now as he watches you squat to the ground, hands dragging down your thighs, swivelling your hips as you do. While crouched down, you turn on the balls of your feet and give him a wink before arching your back and returning to a standing position. You high-kick and finish with another twirl, standing directly between his spread pedes. You repeat the crouch move, but you're facing him this time. In time with the main chorus, you slide to your knees to straddle the ground, bouncing your hips a few times, dragging your hands through your hair, and flipping it in a circle. You then slide your hands down your thighs and to the ground before you, slowly crawling closer to his thighs. Wheeljacks' optics had not left your frame during all this time, a small smile tugging on his dermas.

"That was impressive, kid," He nods before reaching for your hands and tugging them closer to his interfacing panel, "But I'm not blown away jus' yet. Do ya think you can help me with this?"

Swallowing the lump in your throat, you nod, hands ghosting across the bulging panel. Wheeljack seems rather impatient, so he slips away the cover for you, and the sight that meets your eyes makes you drool.

You knew Wheeljack was riled up from your performance, but this was the icing on the robot dick cake. He's thick, blue biolights run down the underside of the silver member and already dripping with precum. Half-naked, you're both out in the open at an abandoned gas station, and your dignity has already been thrown out the window. You were willing to indulge in him just for a short while.

Running your palm up the underside of his spike, you feel Wheeljack shiver. The textures and patterns are so foreign, like nothing you've experienced. Tentatively, you wrap your hands around the base of his spike and give him a few experimental pumps, drawing a few low moans from the mech above you. Feeling more confident, you squeeze him tighter and pump him faster.

"Scrap," He mutters, placing a hand on your shoulder, "You're good at that."

Smiling, you lean down and cautiously lick the tip of his spike, drawing even more delicious moans from the wrecker. And when you wrap your lips around it, he has to restrain himself from pushing you down further onto him. Living up to your 'cheekiness', you flicker your eyes to his face and stare at him right in his optics as you give him a harsh suck.

"Ah - frag - Y/n, stop!" Wheeljack half whines and laughs as he pulls you off him upon feeling a premature overload, "Sheesh, ya nearly got me there."

Placing a departing kiss on his tip, you crawl onto his lap, six-inch pleaser heels digging into his metal thighs. The music is louder from here, and you can feel it vibrating your bones, "I guess you're not satisfied just yet."

His vents hitch as you move your underwear to the side and press your very wet pussy lips against the tip of his spike, "Maybe not, sweetheart. Ya gonna change that?"

You slowly sink onto his spike, maintaining eye contact. You watch his face turn from a smug look into one you could frame on a wall. His face scrunches in pure pleasure as you stuff as much of him as physically possible in you. He may be mass-displaced, but his sheer thickness makes it a tight squeeze. You feel your own breath hitch as you take him to the hilt. He fills you up amazingly.

"Yes."

You roll your hips forward once, and you're already seeing white. The combination of Wheeljacks' spike dragging against your velvet walls and the vibrations from the electric guitar still playing on the radio strums your nervous system like an instrument. You're craving more, and he is, too, because his hands are on your hips now, and he's guiding you. He's the maestro, and you're the entire orchestra.

"F-Fuck." You whimper out, bracing yourself against his chassis as you start to bounce on his spike. Your thighs are starting to ache from the lactic acid built up from all the dancing you've done tonight, and thankfully, Wheeljack notices your struggle.

"Don't worry, cutie. I'll take it from here." He huskily breathes out before his grip on your hips tightens, and he bucks up into you. As he does, you fall forward flat on his chassis, cheek squishing against him as he proceeds to fuck you like his spark depends on it.

"Oh fuck!" You cry out, bringing a hand to cover your mouth in a pathetic attempt to muffle your moans. But nothing can silence the lewd sound of metal slapping against skin, not even the rock music, which has now clicked over to 'Pour Some Sugar On Me', and you'll never think of this song again without getting absolutely turned on.

"Take your - hggff - hand off. I wanna hear ya," Wheeljack growls as he grips the hand covering your mouth and forcefully removes it, "Y'know, maybe I can taste ya instead."

Within what seems like a nano-second, he wraps his arms around your midsection and smashes his dermas into yours. He presses his glossa against your tongue in a fight for dominance, and you're forced to surrender as he slams his spike so deep in your pussy you see galaxies, crying out into his intake.

"Oh, frag-"He murmurs into your mouth, keeping a death grip on your midsection, "Keep squeezing me like that kid, and I'm gonna-"

He's gone. Thrown into the deep end of his overload, he presses himself as deeply as physically possible and releases his transfluids inside you. You choke on his glossa at the delicious sensation of being stuffed full, and it triggers your own orgasm. You break the kiss and bury your head in the crook of his neck as your body shakes, crying out in utter euphoria as he bucks his hips to help ride out the shared orgasm. You can hear Wheeljacks' spark spasming in rhythm with his throbbing spike gushing in your tight walls.

"Frag…" He shakily ex-vents, holding you against his chassis, "You've certainly impressed me now, kid."

You're too exhausted to give him a cohesive reply, opting for a string of whines. You're also too focused on the sheer amount of fluids you can feel dripping between your thighs. He gives you a chuckle and presses a loving kiss to your temple, utterly amused at your dopey post-orgasmic bliss.

"You're so fraggin' adorable."

Knockout

There was nothing more refreshing to Knockout than clocking up speeds that could blow up a regular v8 engine along the winding rural roads of Jasper. It's freeing. It's elating. All heightened by the fact that he knows he shouldn't be out here in the first place. But there's nothing a little manipulation and the tugging of a few strings can't do to convince Megatron that he had good reason to be zipping around.

In the distance, he notices a peculiar establishment with bright neon lights surrounding the exterior. Strange, he's never seen such a place before. Knockout slows down, rolls into the parking lot, and is greeted with the muted sounds of music coming from inside. All the humans seem to be in there, so he transforms into his bot mode and crouches down to a window to take a peek. He notices some usual human behaviour, some drunk people, some cheering and throwing bits of paper at what seems to be a stage with a metal pole in the centre.

But it's not just the metal pole they're throwing currency at. No, they're tossing it towards a very under-dressed human hugging the pole, swinging around like an erotic firefighter he's seen in a movie once. Although, he's never seen a firefighter do that with their near bare ass. Conflicting feelings start to arise in Knockout, knowing that he shouldn't be out here and definitely should not be this fascinated by a human. But a part of him needs to meddle with this… alluring human.

"Wait, you want me to do what?"

It had been a regular night for you. You went to work, danced in front of an eager crowd, collected your cash and went home, is what you would say if a two-story alien robot hadn't grabbed you with a pair of extra sharp talons and transported you to god knows where. All you know so far is that through your screeching and thrashing around, you noticed that you were on a ship of some kind in a small room that was freezing cold. You had zero time to change out of your stripper wear and into something warmer before you were zipped away. And this red metal bastard sitting in front of you dares to ask you to perform for him, even though you find him mildly attractive in an unorthodox way.

"I know you heard me, squishy," The giant says with a toothy sneer, "Usually, I find your species rather obnoxious. Pityfull even, especially those other humans fawning over you like a scraplet in heat."

You have no idea what a scrapet is, but you ignore the strange synonym and probe him further, "If you hate us so much, why kidnap one? Wouldn't you prefer not to have a human here in your… quarters, I'm assuming?"

"That doesn't concern you." You swear you could see his face tint a slight blue, "Besides, wouldn't you prefer a little more excitement in your minuscule lifespan?"

Ok, he's got you there. Not every day you get to be kidnapped by an alien robot, let alone a hot one that wants you to give him a lap dance. You weigh your options, give him a dance, or he may step on you. Preferring not to be butchered today, you sigh in defeat.

"Alright, I'll give you what you want," You cross your arms and tap your heel on the floor, "But after, are you gonna let me go or…"

He holds his talons to his face as if checking his non-existent manicure before giving you the most sultry stare with his glowing red eyes, "That, my dear fleshy, entirely depends on whether you deliver or not."

You choose to ignore the heat that instantly pooled into your lower stomach and whip out your phone. No cell signal… even if you wanted to call for help, there's no way to do so. Glancing up at the mech still seated before you, you shakily scroll through your playlist and press play. 'I'm A Slave 4 U' pretty much sums up your current circumstance. How ironic.

You do what you know best, scrapping together any little confidence from the bottom of the barrel and just going for it because your life is potentially on the line. Your sway your hips, exaggerating your movements as much as possible. Hands exploring your own body and running them through your hair. You feel sexy as fuck, and you most likely look like it, too, because the look this robot is giving you is enough to sear holes into the surface of the sun. His eyes drag over every exposed inch of your body, and his lips are pressed in a line with a slight tug at one of the corners.

You finish with a dramatic split to the floor, then slide to your hands and knees and crawl towards the red mech. For some reason, he appears smaller than when you had started, but you decide not to dwell on it and regard it as a strange quirk of an alien.

"My, that was very entertaining," He grins, bringing a pointy digit to drag under your chin, the sensation making your eyes water, "But I seem to have a little… problem if you are willing to indulge me."

You quirk your head, "Uh… what kind of problem?"

With a smirk, he brings his other hand to the plating between his spread legs and fiddles underneath them. With a clang, the plating falls away. It reveals a very erect phallic object resembling a dick if it were created from metal.

Oh, that kind of problem.

He leans back against the wall and rests his forearm on a bent knee, looking like a poser straight out of a porn mag. You swallow heavily as it's your turn to rake your eyes over his frame, wide eyes landing on the throbbing silver mass resting on his hip. This is wrong on so many levels, but you don't seem to resist as you extend your hand to brush your fingertips on the underside of his cock. His breath hitches as you do so.

"Eager already. I knew you wouldn't be able to resist. You humans are all the same," He pinches your cheeks with the hand still touching your face, "Go on, I don't have all night."

Bastard. It seems to you that he's the eager one because he draws your face closer to his cock that it now pokes into your cheek. It's oddly warm with a slight metallic smell, and now all you're thinking about is how it tastes. This is wrong. You grip his cock in your hand and slip the tip into your mouth, circling the tip a few times to collect the tiny drops of precum on your tongue. So very wrong.

He shivers, his grip moving from your cheeks to the top of your head. His fingers are sharp against your scalp, but you don't care. You're going to give this alien what he wanted and more. You want to blow his circuits for kidnapping you. With this in mind, you push his dick past your throat and take him to the hilt, causing him to buck into your mouth. Your eyes are watering again, threatening to spill out onto your cheeks.

"Scrap!" He whines before gripping your hair and ripping you off his dick. Harsh ex-vents blow onto your body, "You almost caused an overload!"

You're assuming that's the robot equivalent of an orgasm. You smirk, "That was the plan."

He huffs, "Well if that's how you want to play, I'll have to make you overload first."

He pounces, and you fall on your back with an oof, sharp talons clawing at your pants, ripping them clean off. He moves one hand and pins your arms above your head, and the other drags across your thighs to your embarrassingly wet folds. You pray to god he doesn't poke you.

"Pfft, by the amount of fluids accumulating down there, it seems like you are enjoying this." He scoffs, rolling his thumb around your clit, sending jolts of electric shocks up your spine, "I'm right, aren't I?"

Your head lulls to the side, allowing the mech to give you direct access to your neck. He hums, leaning down to give you pecks and love bites. How strangely gentle of him, "Just - guh - hurry up."

You can feel him smile against your collarbone, "Alright, if you say so~"

He removes his thumb and replaces it with something much more significant in size. It's pressing right against your entrance, and oh my god, it's pushing inside you. You throw your head back and clench your hands in his grip as he pushes the rest of his length inside you. It's throbbing against your walls as he seems to display some restraint to not fuck you into the floor at the first instance.

"My, you feel… very tight, dearie." His hips are flush against your own now, and all you can do is squirm as you feel him pressing against your cervix, which you're sure is about to be ruined.

He draws his hips back and re-enters you, and your vision goes white. It's slow pace at first, an agonisingly slow pace. Most likely to prevent his own orgasm and to draw you as close to the edge as possible. The bumps and ridges along his cock drag across your walls mind-numbingly, and you're not sure how long you will last.

The pace picks up until he slams you into the floor with every rut of his hips, abusing your G-Spot un relentlessly. The hand that wasn't trapping your arms is now gripping the plush flesh of your hip, aiding him in his thrusts. His little mewls and praises were unexpected but delightful against your ear, and they only drew you closer to finishing.

"I - haAHH - never got your - hggnh - name." You stutter out as he send a particularly harsh thrust, arching your back into his chassis.

"Knockout, dearie." He grunts, claws digging into your hips deep enough to draw blood, "And I - hffgh - expect you to scream it."

That was it. Knockout only had to slam into your aching pussy a few more times before your orgasm knocks you off the cliff. You cry out his name, as ordered, as your walls strangle his cock. He yelps against your neck as he unleashes a disturbing amount of cum inside you, rutting into you in jagged thrusts as he rides out his own. You can feel it dripping down your inner thighs as your soft body fails to accommodate even a fraction of the amount. Legs quivering, he slowly draws his cock out, admiring your hole as the rest gushes out.

"Well, wasn't that exciting?" Knockout gives you a toothy smirk, lazily grinding his cock across your folds, "I think I'll keep you around, sweetheart."

No average person would be happy with that. Still, after tonight, you're very welcome to the idea of being a personal strip teaser for a devilishly hot alien robot.

#tfp x reader #tfp optimus #tfp wheeljack #tfp knockout #tfp knockout x reader #tfp wheeljack x reader #tfp optimus x reader #valveplug #cyberrosewrites

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