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the-goddess-of-mischief-writing · 6 months ago

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Concentrate

summary: You've been engrossed in work lately and Price decides to take it into his own hands to make you relax.

pairing: cpt. John Price x reader (sunshine universe)

tags/tw: afab!reader, mention of canon related injury, NSFW, mdni 18+ please and thank you, p in v, teasing, unprotected sex, creampie, d/s themes, captain!kink, implied age-gap

a/n: god, it's been too long since I've updated this series, but considrings it's summer now, I actually have may aims set on finishing it<3

Sunshine universe MASTERLIST & John Price MASTERLIST

Despite the blue-light glasses dimming your already yellowed screen, your laptop's light strains your eyes.

They sting as you blink, tears occasionally wetting your lash line. You don't want to continue working, the whole day has had you glued to the screen. But, you'd signed a contract with a bigger firm, and the first checkpoint in that partnership was scheduled to be presented in two weeks.

Despite so much time left, it felt like you were already behind.

You sighed, your forehead finding solace between your arms as you rested it against the bed. You felt the mattress shift beneath you, not too surprised you caught the attention of the bed's other occupant, who had been engrossed in his book for the better part of an hour.

"Not time to let it rest for tonight?" You sighed again, catching the sound of an open book being placed down.

"I know I should, but there's still so much left undone." You turn to face John, your head finding a temporary respite on your shoulder, relieving some of the tension in your neck.

Compared to you, he lies on his back, one hand resting along the book's spine, his index and middle finger hooked between the pages. His brows are drawn together, and the creases between them are more visible than otherwise.

"Mhm, know it is, but you've done quite some work for the last half an hour." Right, this isn't the first time he's asked if it's time to put aside work for tonight. The knowing look John sends you makes you break away from his gaze.

You know he is right. But, as soon as you stare at the unwelcomingly bright screen again, the unpleasant tingle in your nerves of work left half-done and the heaps of it left to finish forces your fingers to flex before settling on the keyboard again.

"And yet I've come nowhere", you mutter. The clicking of keys ceases when John's hand enters your vision, and a heavy paw is placed upon one of yours to halt your typing. Your eyes flick to him, noticing how he's

discarded the book and rolled onto his side, watching you with raised brows and sincere eyes.

"Wrap it up, love. You've done enough for tonight." His voice is steady, and his gaze is heavy.

Letting out a breath of combined compliance and relief, you nod. "Alright, let me just wrap these few sentences up so I'll know where I should pick up tomorrow".

"Good choice." John catches your chuckle with a kiss as he leans close to peck your lips before standing from the bed. "I'll be in the shower when you're done," he says, withdrawing to the en suite.

You follow him as he departs, leaving the invite dangling in the empty space he leaves you alone in. The water from the shower reaches you as a soft pour through the door, making it even harder to turn back to face the screen. It's light stabbing your sore eyes just a bit more viciously.

And you do plan to join him sooner rather than later. Yet the concluding sentence seems impossible to wrap up, going on forever as you attempt to put down all the thoughts on the screen for your well-rested self to probably frown at tomorrow morning.

The sound of the shower fades to a white noise as you simply can't take the step and cut yourself off, close the screen, and join John in a warm shower your sore body and exhausted mind needs.

***

Price waits for you. He didn't anticipate you to come running after him before the door shut, but he did expect you to join him soon after he stepped beneath the shower-head. But he sighs heavily when he's stood beneath the stream of water for long enough that he's finished washing and even stretched the time if you would join him in a minute.

Turning off the shower, Price steps out to dry off. He'd looked forward to spending some time with you, no less seeing you relax for the first time since after breakfast. That project you're working on has taken much of your time the last few days, rendering you basically motionless in front of your laptop if it wasn't to eat or take a minuscule pause.

Despite knowing it was he who was on med-leave and not you, Price still felt that the days on which he had no paperwork to fill his time while you worked dragged on particularly slowly. And with his shoulder barely impairing him from any movement, sitting about the whole day made his leg bounce from restlessness.

Neither did he want to disturb you too much, noticing how you noted his presence each time he passed within your view with a flick of your eyes before they fell to your laptop again.

While never saying anything, Price, in return, noticed how you often slowed your pace momentarily after he'd passed you, often with a swift kiss. Likewise, if he stayed in your vicinity, your attention strayed towards him more than once.

He tried to keep clear so as not to impair your workflow. But your workplace is much more fluid than his, and you often placed yourself in areas he passed through when moving through... practically anywhere in the house.

With the tally he kept, you favoured the couch in the living room downstairs and the bed later in the evenings.

Dropping the towel from his head, Price looked at his reflection before it fell to the side. Some little part in his chest hoped to see you suddenly appear behind him, but the door remained as shut as a few minutes prior.

Price wasn't surprised to find you right where he left you once he exited the bathroom with the towel tied around his hips.

He called your name, but you barely moved. You remained on your stomach, propped on your elbows, occasionally scrolling on the computer before you. He catches you mumbling a 'mhm, soon done' much later than his call for you and only shakes his head, the response more autogenerated than anything else.

Even from this angle, Price notices how the light from the screen illuminates your tired features. When he moves around the bed and towards your side, he catches your furrowed brows.

You're so engrossed in your work and whatever is going on inside that head of yours you don't notice when he steps up beside you. Instead, your head falls to your hands, your thumbs pressing into the roots of your eyebrows.

A low groan escapes you, stirring something in the pit of his stomach.

You'd been out like a light the last two nights, barely able to put away your computer and mosey your way for your skin-care routine before falling asleep. He'd caught you standing with your eyes closed as you massaged your products into your skin, only to offer him that sweet, tired smile once they fluttered open.

To say he hadn't been aching to touch you more than fleetingly the past three days was an understatement. But the day you announced you'd gotten the deal for this collaboration, you also said in your ecstatic state how you needed to work. So he'd let you, settling for the warmth of your body against his right before sleep took you both, and the day started in the mornings.

Price knew your jobs were different, awfully so. However, he recognised you were in that initial bubble of concentration that was hard to break out of, and you could bring in the rest of the world again.

While Price didn't blame you for working while you stayed here. After all, he'd thumbed on his non-working practice while on medical leave. He found that you had difficulty relaxing; your shoulders pulled tighter each day, your remote work smudging the line between work and home. Even now, you hadn't stopped massaging the pressure points in your face, the blue-light glasses discarded to make it easier.

He wanted to see you wind down, not only for tonight but also to allow yourself to not overwork so early on in this project. Take it from him about knowing that planning and prepping could only take you so far. Yet Price knew you wouldn't take that step yourself. He'd waited to see if you would since yesterday when the exhaustion of your mental workload slowly started to make itself noticeable.

Maybe that's why he found himself suddenly resting a knee on the bed beside your hip, the mattress dipping beneath his weight as he pushed himself over your laying form until he kneeled on either side of you. Or so he told himself, dismissing how he slowly felt himself grow hard standing there, watching your form resting prone on the bed, craving to hold your body.

***

The mattress shifts and a sudden weight settles atop your thighs. You start from whatever brain fog has momentarily overtaken you.

You smell John's shower gel, the slight dampness of what must be a towel separating your naked legs from his as he sits behind you.

Fuck, right, you were supposed to join him.

You attempt to glance over your shoulder to apologise but only catch a glimpse of John, towel around his waist and hair still wet from his shower, before a hand lands on your neck and directs your face forward. The firm grip makes you feel a bit like a kitten being grabbed by the scruff, yet John's voice makes another feeling come to life.

"Just concentrate on your work, love." His voice is smooth and gravelly deep, but he doesn't let up on your neck, forcing you to continue facing your screen with the blinking marker not far from your face.

"What-"

"And let me take care of you", he continues, disregarding you completely.

You're about to ask him again what he's doing, but upon the fingers resting on either side of your neck pressing, your words escape as a rushed exhale. His thumb and index finger repeatedly knead the base of your skull, making your eyes fall shut.

Yeah, you could need a massage. That's also how you interpret John's action, as his hand slides with equal pressure further along your spine. The pressure is firm, but oh, it is needed on the sore muscles along your back that you let out a shaky breath when some of the tension is relieved.

However, your shaky breaths turn into a sharp inhale once one of his hands that has been kneading the worst of the tension points in your back slips down your spine, not stopping at your last vertebrate but continuing over the globe of your ass.

One calloused hand turns to two, both grabbing at you from behind, groping your cheeks in each palm, squeezing until flesh spills between fingers and an appreciative noise sounds from the man doing so. And then, he pulls you apart just a little, the oversized shirt of his that you're wearing riding up until you practically can feel his eyes on your scantily covered core.

"John-" His name is cut off by a sharp inhale as one of his hands slides between your legs, and he runs his thumb the length of your thong-covered pussy from behind. In the aftermath of your involuntary jerk, his other hand settles heavily on your hip, pressing you down into the bed with the help of his weight pinning you.

"Hush, don't mind me." His voice is remarkably even despite gently rubbing up and down your cunt like he is currently doing.

"Hard not to mind you." You let out a soft moan, clenching around nothing but the phantom feel of his thumb against your entrance as he presses just a tad bit more.

"You wanted to work, love, don't let me stop you". It's sweet, even considerate, the way he says it. Contrasting so deviously the way he's petting you with repeated motions of his thumb.

Your mouth opens and closes, your eyes fluttering in an attempt to stay open and watch the keyboard and screen you're meant to type on. However, the computer you only minutes before couldn't tear your attention from remains untouched.

Your fingers hover, and your chest heaves as your total concentration falls on John.

Hyper-vigilance overtakes your body as you follow every tiny thing the man pinning you against the bed does. John keeps the pace of his fingers the same, the prodding remaining frustratingly consistent. You try to wriggle your hips, but the hand on your waist only tightens its hold as he clicks his tongue. A simple but effective warning.

You fall still, letting him touch you at the pace he wants despite your breaths now turning to soft whimpers.

A flush rushes through your body when John shuffles. You feel him rise onto his knees for a second, and then the fingers playing with your pussy leave your body, only for the sensation of fabric to sweep over your legs and be thrown to the side.

Once he retakes his position, it's his naked thighs that connect with yours. But the stuttering breath escapes when you catch a low groan spilling into the air.

Your head whips around, catching John admiring you with lidded eyes, hand fisted and stroking his rapidly swelling cock to full hardness.

Mouth salivating, your lip catches between your teeth upon the scene. You can't help the way your thighs clench together when your pussy flutters. John notices, eyes trailing upwards until his gaze locks with yours. He tsks the moment they do, stopping his fisting of himself as if to depreve you of the hot scene.

"Thought you wanted to work, eh?" He leans forward, shifting his hand to rest by your shoulder instead of your hip. It lets you arch against his hardened cock when it falls against your backside. John grunts, jaws tightening as his free hand curls around your head, gripping your jaw to force you to look at him by craning your head backwards. "Now, don't let me fuckin' this pretty pussy of yours distract you." He directs your head forward slowly as the words drip from his tongue.

But, rather than your hands resuming the typing you'd given up on since he started touching you, they fall to the sides of your godforsaken computer, fisting the covers. "I-I won't be able-"

"M'no, no backtalk, or else I'll go an wank off rather than help you relax, love." Your mouth snaps shut, breathing turning shallow as your heart thrums in the hollow of your throat. "Understood?"

"Yes". There are a few beats of silence as John lets go of your jaw. You wait for his next move, but so does he, apparently, as suddenly his palm connects with your ass, the spank reverberating in the air together with your gasp.

You know what he wants, then. "Yes, Captain." His title sends a shudder down your spine, the implications of its use telling what's to come.

"Good girl", is the low-muttered response you get against the shell of your ear as John settles into his previous position again.

His hand glide over the globe of your ass, soon joined by his other one. You can only imagine the sight he's greeted with when he rucks down your panties and spreads your cheeks enough to bare you for him.

You feel how wet you are. The crotch of your panties tying your legs together is damp against your inner thighs. The uncomfortable feeling of being soaked between your legs makes you squirm beneath John's gaze.

"Squirmin' already, and I've barely touched you", he hums, letting his thumb fall to your entrance again. When he curls the digit, it disappears inside you, forcing a stutter moan out of you.

He toyed with you, teasingly stretching you over his thumb as he wiggled it at the entrance. Sometimes, John let it slide deeper, which had your thighs clenching beneath his thicker ones straddled over you.

You whimpered, head falling to the bed when he used the slick you'd coated him in to rub your clit. The stutter of your hips was impossible to stop, but rather than a swat to your ass and a disappointed sound, the one you could've presumed would leave John. His tut was filled with remorse, the way he kneaded your ass almost caringly.

"So strung tight, ain't you, love?" You whined in response when his thumb left your clit, sliding up and down the seam of your pussy. "Poor thing", he hummed, low and gravelly in his chest. If not for your body already vibrating, you bet you could've felt the same bone-deep rumble of his voice through your back.

"Yeah-oh!" A moan cut off your sentence, John's thumb swapped to the head of his cock in the middle of it. It was a slow push inside, having your mouth falling open, another moan forced into the bed.

The familiar burn of his thick cock stretching you wider made your eyes screw shut and your breathing heavy. With little to no prep, apart from your slick and John's teasing, the delicious stretch around him was slower than usual.

"Oh my-", you whimpered, feeling John move and his weight settles against your back.

A hand beneath your throat is what forces your head up. With a slight bend backwards, you met with blue eyes gazing down at you. The picture of John was upside down, but the evident lust in his features as his hips met your ass shone no less clearly.

"How's that work goin' for you?" His voice was thick, dripping from his mouth into yours from how your lips brushed.

You opened your mouth, intent on replying. Though, John had another idea. Before your words could more than begin as a deep inhale, he started to fuck into you, torturously slow but deep, rocking your body from how tightly he pressed himself against your rear.

Intended words escaped as nothing more than a moan he swallowed with a messy kiss, your sound of pleasure urging a deep groan from John in response.

Your eyes fluttered when John shifted just right and hit that bundle of nerves inside you that made silvery stars dance across your vision. He must have felt your walls contract as he picked up his pace. And basically rutted into the bed, your eyes fluttered and your neck going loose, forcing John to let you down so you would not bend it at an awkward angle.

With your cheek pressed against the bed, you followed the large man sitting straight again through your peripheral. He appeared larger when he grabbed your hips, pushing those big pecs of his together, puffing his chest up.

His bicep flexed, and his head tipped back a notch when he pushed your legs together more firmly with his thighs, feeling you tighten around him. The fit was snug, urging him to push firmer into you, lifting your hips the slightest bit to meet each thrust.

You could drool at the sight of him huffing and groaning as the muscles in his stomach and arms flexed. Some wetness probably escaping along the constant strings of moans and whimpers flooding your mouth. The burly bulk of him working you closer to orgasm with each tug of your body and snap of his hips. Fuck did he look good.

"C-captain", you moaned wantonly, earning his attention as he haunched forward, sneaking a hand beneath your front to strum at your clit.

"Fuck me, love." John couldn't help but stutter through his words when your goaded groan stoked his primal pride at having you look so utterly dishevelled. "Lookin' so fuckin' cockdrunk."

You nodded absentmindedly, earning another grunt from the man shoving his cock possibly deeper as his finger toyed quicker over your sensitive bud. It was impossible to keep your eyes open, your mouth hanging open without a sound but heady exhales escaping. Your fingers were cramping, clutching and unclutching the rucked-up duvet around your face.

"Can feel you flutterin' around me. You needed this, didn't you? Already close." Fingers dug into your hipbones, and your body jolted when John switched the pace to agonisingly drag his cock out before slamming home. "Yeah, yeah? Are you goin' to cum for your Captain? Cream my cock while you work?"

Work was nothing but a memory now as you could only muster a moan in response.

You twitched beneath him, coming nowhere despite arching your back as you came, and John continued sliding over your clit with his finger. It was violent, ripping through all those frayed and tense nerves that had pulled tight through over the last few days.

You cried into the bed, shuddering when John kept pumping into you, prolonging the blessedly painful high he forced you into by the end. His rumbling grunts and mumbled praise spread goosebumps over your skin as you lay there, taking whatever he needed to spill inside you through the overstimulation.

Then John stilled, shoving himself deep as his thighs quivered and he pulsed inside you, the warmth and stickiness spilt inside you, making you weakly moan in satisfaction.

It was blessedly silent as you felt him push incredibly lazy into you once, twice, before he pulled out and settled on his haunches, pulling your cheeks apart to probably look at the white dribble of cum that oozed out of you. He hummed contentedly, smoothing his palm over your bottom before he wedged a hand beneath your hips, helping you lift them as he pulled your panties up your legs again.

You whined at the uncomfortable coldness but stopped once John's thumb ran soothing circles into your spine.

Your eyes had fallen shut, the fatigue from earlier creeping violently close. The only thing making your lashes flutter was once John leans over your body, closing the laptop that switched to standby long ago.

His hand is kept on the device as he leans down, his head notching on your shoulder and his lips resting against the shell of your ear as he falls to his elbow.

"You're done". This time around, it wasn't a suggestion.

You can't argue this time, only hum and tip your head in an attempted nod. Your head is silent for the first time in three days, and the pleasant buzz makes your body completely lax. John takes it as an agreement as he leans down and kisses your shoulder blade.

One press off his lips turns into two, and then a question breaks the pattern, "You feelin' alright?"

"Mhm" is all you can muster in return. You receive a last kiss against your clothes-covered skin before John stands from the bed while you remain put.

You feel the laptop disappear, presuming John puts it away to charge for the night.

"Come on now, love, up you get". Your head twists to watch John as he stands beside the bed in his naked glory. A tension was lost in his shoulders now.

"M'too tired", you mumble.

"Now it suits you", he laughs softly, a quirk tugging in the corner of his lip as he bends down.

You move easily when he pushes you over to your back, enjoying the view John offers above you. When he inserts his hand behind your knees and your back to scoop you into his arms, you sober up quickly as you release a squeal, eyes widening as your arms shoot to wrap around his neck.

His chuckle vibrates against your ribcage as he readjusts his grip on you before he sets off to the en suite.

"Waited for you to take that shower with me, but looks like I had to take it into my own hands".

"So you're kidnapping me to take another?"

"Yes", he says, shifting his eyes to yours before stopping to push the door open with his foot.

"What a gentleman", you giggle, craning your neck to kiss his beard-covered jaw quickly.

"Didn't leave me with any gentlemanly options", John fixes you with a look as he lets you down.

"Guess the both of us can get stuck in work sometimes," you shrug, blinking up at him with innocent eyes and giving him an apologetic smile.

His arms circle your waist, accepting your regretful gesture by pulling you close to him. All the while, John huffs to playfully deflect your accusation towards him.

"Don't know what you're talkin' about".

"Don't know what I'm talking about, huh?" You question with a cocked brow, a smile pulling at the edge of your mouth. "Says the man who would rate his study a close second behind being in bed with me".

"Surfaces to fuck you in both places." He shrugs. Your mouth drops open, your spluttering making him let out a short laugh, a boyish smile now tugging at his lips. "And... it's not my fault you consider one of your offices the most fuckable surfaces in the house, nor your work attire this", he defends himself half-heartedly while slipping a hand beneath his oversized tee covering your body.

You lightheartedly swat his chest, chuckling as you detangle yourself from his arms.

You feel John's eyes rove over your body while you pull the shirt over your head, catching his gaze once you drop it to the floor. You lift a brow once his eyes rise to yours, only briefly, however, as they soon drop again when you step out of your sticky panties.

You feel the wetness left behind between your legs; no doubt that John also sees it from how his chest expands when you step backwards through the open shower doors and onto the still, slightly wet ground from his previous shower.

When he follows you, he instantly pulls your naked body against his as if he hadn't just held you.

Just before the water hits your front, John huddles close, bending slightly forward so the water cascades over the back of his head instead.

He runs a hand through his hair to push his drenched locks backwards. Droplets fly and hit you in the face, and you raise a hand to swipe most of them from your lashes.

You stand in comfortable silence as you stare at each other. John's hands wander up and down your sides, your hands no better as they slide over his wet torso. He can't take his eyes off of you, gaze slowly dipping, mapping your body as if he hasn't seen it naked countless times.

"You're touchy tonight", you hum, following his gaze as it settles on your breasts, hands soon moving to the same place.

"Have barely felt you for days." He fondles you in his hands, much gentler in all his touches now compared to earlier, simply feeling you up.

"Could've just asked if you wanted to have some time for us without my laptop present", you jokingly offer.

John only raises a brow as his eyes lock with yours, his hands stilling and ultimately sliding down your ribs to rest on your hips.

"With how you've buried that nose in the screen, I didn't know if you fancied if I would come and cop a feel". You tip your head side to side. "You're probably right." John only cocks his brows, a silent dig at the probably you threw in there. "But I didn't mind it now".

He shakes his head, reaching down to plan a swift kiss on your lips. "'Course you didn't when bein' so wound up. Know a good fuck makes you relax".

"Oh, shut up," you say, pushing his face away with your hand and bashfully dipping your head. He laughs lowly through the shower stream you'd moved him into.

He shook his head as he exited the water, his arms wrapping around your waist to pull you flush against his chest.

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sashi-ya · 29 days ago

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ㅤㅤㅤㅤ エロチックトバー２０２４> MDNI / EXPLICIT CONTENT

MONSTER UNDER THE BED 💦HOLLOW! ICHIGO X F! READER ＫINKTOBER DAY 30: SLEEP PLAY

🐙 requested by: Anonymous: Day 30 f reader. Grimmjow? Hollow Ichigo? Up to you ⚠️ tw: mdni. explicit content. adult! ichigo. hollow hybrid form, kinda "the horn of salvation" form. sleep play. rough sex. 🐙 wc: 1k // kinktober 24 masterlist // join the taglist 🐙a/n: sorry about the delay! I've been studying non stop as I'm graduating in less than 3 weeks! hope you enjoy either way 💖

For the longest time Ichigo didn’t want to share a bed with you; It brought endless fights, much more than it should be allowed before ending the relationship. But, whichever was the reason why he didn’t want to sleep with you, you were still in love with him… yet, tonight, you would learn, exactly, the real reason.

“I’m. so. tired” Ichigo grunts, dragging himself to the sofa.

You look at him, knowing sooner or later you must leave his apartment… again, another night, sleeping on different beds.

“Leaving now” you murmur, grabbing the keys of your car without looking at him.

“Wait…” he whispers; Ichigo might be tired, but he is still fast. His hand stops you from leaving, as it pulls from your wrist.

You turn around and sigh; Raising an eyebrow, this time with no intentions of starting an argument.

“Stay…” he mutters, looking down. Ichigo looks visible affected, sad, worried and most importantly, frustrated.

You widen your eyes; are you dreaming? Is this real? Does he really want me to stay the night? In any case, you didn’t want to ask further questions… “Of course I’ll stay”

He stutters, the way you kiss him makes him blushed, hot, needy. Both, tangled on each other’s arms, crawl towards his bed, flopping on the mattress to let your bodies enjoy each other’s.

Maybe, Ichigo didn’t plan for him to fall asleep so fast after his body gave all of it. You, even though it was what you interpreted, fell asleep before he could have told you otherwise…

Your back feels hot, but you still can’t wake up. It’s ok, Ichigo has warm skin. Your neck, more than hot, even wet… are you sweating? Your hip… it feels like your skin is being… clawed?

Dazed, too tired to even wake up, you are sure this is probably just a dream… this is probably Ichigo’s weight as he holds you tight around his arms tonight. Right?

However, there, on the other side of dreams, a beast within has been allowed to wander through the ups and downs of your anatomy… he has been freed, he or perhaps, “it”

White skin, yellow eyes. Half a mask, broken. A horn, and long, long orange mane. Strands like waterfall, kissing your skin, tangling with your arms…

A claw, going up and down the silhouette of your spine… panting creature, desperate to bite, to taste, to fuck.

“Mine…” just that word; that’s the only word aside from “protect” it could murmur.

What has taken over Kurosaki-kun? He is not there; he is not able to stop the creature within.

His hand slides down your belly, coming from behind. He does, slowly. He might be a beast, but when such a perfect prey lays there, asleep, immobile, he must not scare it away.

However, a tongue so impossible to control, tastes the sweet flavour of your skin. From your shoulder to your neck, warm and wet, ready to eat your flesh.

You squirm a little under his touch. He stops, just for a second. And then, back to your body… His hand slide now up to your breasts, his claws wanting to burry on them, to squeeze… falling asleep naked next to him hasn’t been the best idea.

“Mghn… Ichigo…?” you mumble, still dozed off. Your hand tries to reach for him, blindingly patting behind you.

A soft growl invades the room, that’s definitely not Ichigo’s voice…

You turn around, still a little sleepy, to discover a beast instead of your boyfriend. It is panting, and it seems to be fighting against himself… but still desperate for you, as his claws carve more and more into your skin.

“You couldn’t control him…” you whisper, taking your hand to his human façade side. “Now I know… but remember, Ichigo, this is also you… and I’m completely yours ~”

You slowly pull the man in front of you towards you; it feels weird, strange, but a heat that’s been growing inside you has already taken over as much as his hollow had…

That man, that beast, that hybrid takes a deep breath pouncing into you, pinning you against the bed with a strength you have never experienced before.

Your face gets squeezed against the mattress; his claws pull your hips up to get you on all fours. There are little blood drops on your skin, right where his nails have scratched… and there is also wetness coming from your core, dripping down the bed, hypnotizing Ichigo in the most lewd way.

It doesn’t take much time for the beast to attack; his sex, hard, even bigger, throbbing, searches in an erratic desperation to get swallowed by your insides.

“Do it, Ichigo… I know you can hear me, do it…” you whimper, still a little sleepy, with eyes teary and relaxed muscles.

He grunts, finally getting his dick deep inside, in such strong ram it forces your legs to fail you and your whole body to be pressed against the bed.

He immediately begins moving, in and out, thrusting with such violence your toes curl and your nails carve into the sheets.

Ichigo bites your shoulder, panting in your ear, growling. His ginger hair, longer than ever, rains down his back and frames the sides of your captive body.

You tremble, the sound of your fluids trying to escape your core makes it even more lustful. You can feel his intrusion into your lower belly, and you could totally swear you could see the bulge if you were to be on your back.

“I love you” you murmur, biting the sheets, covered in sweat. Yours, and his.

It simply takes those three words to wake this man up, from such a “heartless” possession.

“I’m… SORRY… I-“ he screams, trying to stop his body from fucking you. This last, being absolutely impossible.

“Do not stop, Ichigo…” you whine, reaching for his hips to force him to go deeper into your core. “I’m com- ing… Keep fucking me, this way”

Poor man, he knew asking him to stop would have been fruitless… he simply couldn’t have done it ~

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dinogoofymutated · 7 months ago

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SFW!Nightcrawler/GN!Reader - Part 1 - part 2 - Part 3

kdhbcjshbc I know I said I was gonna work on my Wolverine fic rn but I got sidetracked. This was originally going to be one long ass fic but since the first half ended up already over 4k works I decided to split it into two! It's basically a friends to lovers fic and I know the beginning is a bit of a jumpscare but they're both adults by the end of the fic I promise!! Edit: I totally forgot to add!! Another special thanks to @blue-devil-of-the-lord for their help with german translations!

Tws: Mentions of animal cruelty in the circus. The ringleader is an asshole. I might have made Kurt's brother a bit of an asshole too sorry. Kurt's backstory is going to be kinda a combination of all the shit I've read/know so please be patient lol. I'll go back and add more tags if I think of any.

You were sixteen when you first met Kurt Wagner, although, he went by Kurt Szardos back then. You had never been to the circus before, and you hadn’t really paid to be there anyway. The show had already started when your father had taken you into the tent, sitting you down in an absent seat near the front. You didn’t want to get in trouble, but he had assured you it was fine. He had business to attend to, and told you that his future employer had given his blessing for you to sit and watch as your father handled business. After all, the two of you were a combo deal, and if you were to be working for the circus, you might as well know just what you were getting yourself into.

The circus tent was loud with laughter and the sounds of an awed crowd. It was a little overwhelming, to be honest. There were simply too many voices, too many lights- and yet when you finally set aside your grievances to try and enjoy the show, you still struggled.

The monkeys were annoyed with their handler, and every shout towards the crowd was an insult. The lion was young, and still afraid he wouldn’t make the jump through that vicious ring of fire- still healing from the burns he earned by brushing against the flames during the last performance. The doves from the magician act were a bonded pair, rejoicing the time and attention they were being given in the spotlight- and yet the male was already dreading their moments after the show and the dark, dirty cage they would kept in. The female was trying her best to cheer him up. Every animal was unafraid to keep their voice down, and you had never heard animals speak so loudly before. Part of you wonders if it was simply because they were so used to being ignored, they had grown used to letting their voice free- speaking from the heart and yet always being unheard.

You didn’t like this part of the circus much- and although the tricks these animals did were beautiful and amazing, you couldn’t manage to enjoy it like all the others around you did. You were frowning while all others were smiling and laughing so joyously- perhaps that was what drew him to you in the first place.

“And now, Ladies and Gentlemen, may I present-” All but one of the spotlights have started to circle around the tent, the ringmaster standing completely within the only lingering light. “Our Flying Fiend… the Daredevil Demon… The one and only, Nightcrawler!” Every moving spotlight lands on a single man standing on one of the high beams. He’s smiling so brightly that you can see it from where you stand feet below him. He’s… strange. Elf-like ears, yellow eyes, and blue skin. A pointed tail sways eagerly behind him, and he takes a deep bow in front of you. His yellow eyes peer open as he does so, and for a moment, you swear he looks straight at you. You’re not entirely sure if he was wearing a costume or not anymore.

The performance starts out with one hell of a beginning. Every flip and jump is an incredible act of athleticism- and you find your eyes following Nightcrawler throughout every trick. Two other acrobats join the fray, and yet he’s the only one who catches your eye. At one point, they bring out these long swings- ones that sweep right above the audience with every swoop. There’s one swing for every side of the audience- and the acrobats switch with a dramatic flare every few swings.

On the very last switch, Nightcrawler is the one who swings over your seats.

He’s much more handsome up close, you realize, blushing even where you are now. You swear with every swing, he’s looking at you. It makes your heart flutter a bit, and on the very last swing of the night, he takes out a rose, pretending to throw it to multiple groups of screaming fans, before he swings again with a dramatic flair. Unlike the other times, he’s holding onto the swing with his feet and tail. He’s so close to the audience without touching a single hair on anyone's head- and then he gets to you.

You could have sworn that time had slowed, no matter how quickly it happened. The two of you finally lock eyes, and his hand stretches out. The rose falls into your lap, the air whooshing by your face as he’s gone just as quickly. You pick up the flower, a genuine smile finally on your face, and you find that all the other voices of excitement around you have finally drowned out.

That was the first and last time you had watched the show at Herr Getmann's Traveling Menagerie. After that, you and your father were behind the scenes instead of in the stands.

It had been about a week and a half since you and your father had been walking to the circus to work. He knew every path and every road like the back of his hand, insisting the two of you walk instead of drive to save money on gas, and he just so happened to know a few shortcuts through the woods. Usually, you were able to rely on him to guide you, but today you woke up late. Your father had already left without you- which you’re not entirely sure wasn’t intentional. He did leave a note for you, giving you instructions on how to get there on your own.

Needless to say, that didn’t actually work out too well. A thirty to forty-five-minute walk had quickly turned into an hour, and then an hour in a half. You were trying your absolute best to follow the instructions, but this was hardly a cohesive path in the middle of the woods. It wasn’t exactly easy.

You’re beginning to give up at this point, stumbling through the brush as you try to find the general direction you think you’re supposed to be going. Your feet have started to ache and blister, and you find yourself beginning to lose hope.

“Hello!” If the sound of the voice hadn’t scared the shit out of you, the strange man hanging upside down from the branches of a wild Crab apple tree certainly did. You shriek in terror, your feet slipping as you fall back on your butt. You hold your hands over your heart as the strange acrobat from the circus jumps down in a panic, holding his even stranger hands out in front of him.

“Oh- Es tut mir Leid! I am so sorry! I had not meant to startle you!” He says frantically, kneeling down to help you up in a very gentlemanly manner. You’re wide-eyed as you look at him, letting him help you up without a fuss. Up close and in broad daylight like this, it was very clear that he certainly was… Blue, to say the least.

“I-it’s okay.” You stutter. He smiles warmly at you, tail swaying excitedly behind him, and it simply confirms to you that he wasn’t wearing a costume at all. You open and close your mouth a few times, trying to find some words. He blinks at you as you do so, patiently (if not obliviously) waiting for you to speak.

“You’re from the circus, aren’t you?” Is what you finally land on, still a little startled from before. The acrobat nods eagerly.

“I am. I'm happy that you remember me! I’ve been told I leave a bit of an impression.” He jokes, and you find yourself smiling again. He was charming, for someone so strange. “The farrier is your father, right?” He asks, taking you by surprise. You didn’t think that anyone had taken the time to notice you, your father’s shadow in every sense of the word. It makes you feel a little funny, but surely he didn’t remember you from that first performance, right? Maybe he’s just very observant of those who come in and out of the circus stables.

“Well, yes.” You affirm, starting to anxiously fiddle with your fingers. “I didn’t really expect you to know who I was, to be honest.” He lets out a happy chuckle at that.

“Of course, I know! A face like yours is hard to forget.” He chirps, sending you a wink. “But I must say, You’re a bit far from the circus, Meine Freundin.” You make a bit of a grimace at that, and he sends you a questioning smile.

“Yes, well… To be frankly honest, I’m a bit lost.” You admit, eyes locked solely on the ground, taking the time to notice the various fruits that had fallen from the tree and gone bad. You can see the acrobat’s tail swaying in your peripheral vision, and still feel his eyes on you. It makes you blush a little from embarrassment, a little flustered that you had become so lost.

“I’ll gladly show you the way, I was just about to go back myself.” Your head snaps up to look at him in bewilderment at that, before you realize just how lucky you are to have found him out here. He picks up a basket of crab apples that you hadn’t noticed before, and you offer to carry it for him as a thanks for guiding you back. He won’t let you no matter how hard you try, certainly the first gentleman you’ve met in quite a while. He tells you that your profuse thanks is more than enough for him.

The two of you get to talking while you make the long walk back to the circus, and he tells you about his mother, Margali Szardos, and how she had asked him to wander over this way to pick the fruit from the crab apple tree for her. She was fairly adamant about him doing so, telling him that it was of great importance, but he didn’t quite understand why fruit could be such a pressing matter. He’s very funny, and you find yourself greatly enjoying his company. The two of you feel like close friends already, and you hadn’t even realized that you didn’t even know his real name until you’ve already arrived at the plethora of brightly colored circus tents.

“I’m so sorry, I don’t believe I ever asked for your name.” You say, the awkwardness of the question not even registering with how happy you are to simply be in his company. He sends you another dazzling smile before he holds his hand, offering it for you to shake.

“I’m Kurt.” He tells you. You introduce yourself as well, happy to have made a new friend today. You hear someone calling your name from not too far away, and spot your father waving his hand at you, calling you over.

“I have to go, but thank you so much for your help!” You say, once again thanking him adamantly.

“Walking with you was lovely. I hope to see you more often.” Kurt says, right before you go. You can’t help but blush a little, unable to keep yourself from smiling widely. You couldn’t help it! He was just so handsome in both looks and personality, the strangeness of his skin color and three-fingered hands being something you easily begin to care less and less about.

“Likewise.” You agree, almost completely flustered. Your father calls for you again, and you quickly say your goodbyes before you rush off to him. You find yourself in a rather good mood for the rest of the day, despite your sore and blistered feet from the long journey here.

Many months flew by very fast while you and your father worked for the circus, and you and Kurt had grown very close. He visited you when he could sneak away from practice and performances, and although you were more concerned about him staying out of trouble, you began to appreciate the company beyond the way a simple friend would, finding yourself blushing and flustered while around him.

A fact that hadn’t changed throughout your time there was the treatment of many of the animals. All of them had a grievance or problem of some sort, and it broke your heart to have to stand by without the ability to help them. In the eyes of the circus, you were just the Ferrier’s assistant, nothing more. At first, you were, in the very least. Some of the animal trainers had noticed how good you were with the horses, and how even the most skittish of the equine animals would calm around you and let you handle them without any trouble. Things like that don’t go unnoticed, and soon enough many of the animal handlers had heard about your “gift” with the live attractions. Part of this was due to your Father’s constant bragging about your special skill with animals, although you were the only one who knew the truth about it all. After a while, the frustrated animal trainers began to ask you to assist them with the other animals as well, noting how it hadn’t taken very long before they were at ease around you. The size of cages and the attitudes of the trainers were something you couldn’t change very much, but even if you could only help out with a few things here and there, you were happy- and the animals were too.

Today, you were doing your best to handle an absolute disaster.

Tonight’s animal show was a new set, with lots of loud noises and the pops of fireworks launching far, far above the tops of the tallest tent. With so many new lights and colors, they should have known something was bound to go wrong- and boy, did it. The smallest pony in the show was a stunning Blue Roan mare named Bubbles- and unlike many of the other mares in the show, she was very skittish. Her trainers mostly knew to be careful around her, but that consideration slipped under the radar when it came to all the new changes. Her show went by relatively seamless, with only a few issues here and there- but it was enough to put her on edge. When the fireworks finale went off as she was being led out of the main tent, it was just her last straw.

I don’t like them. I don’t like the loud noises. Bubbles is pacing anxiously in the back of her tiny stable, still having trouble settling down. Every bump or noise from outside and even the neighboring stables sends her spiraling again. You’re standing at the gate, giving her a cautious amount of room to pace and worry so that she doesn’t feel trapped by you.

“I know, Bubbles, It’s okay.” You whisper. You’re so concerned for her, and angry with her trainers, too. It makes your blood boil to remember how one of them had gotten frustrated with her tonight, eventually giving up on settling her completely and thrusting her reins at you, telling you to “take this stupid thing somewhere else!”. The lack of patience and understanding makes you rage, but you know you can’t say a thing if you want to keep this opportunity to work with the animals.

Please don’t be mad at me. I’m sorry. I don’t know why I’m so scared. I’ll do better, I promise. Bubbles says again. The words almost bring tears to your eyes, hurting for her. You hate seeing her so scared.

“Hey, hey. Easy, I’m not mad at you, I promise. You’re safe with me, okay?” You tell her, starting to slowly approach her as her pacing begins to slow. She whinnies once, huffing as she tries her best to calm herself down. Eventually, she begins to settle, letting you get close enough to reassuringly pet her nose and flank. She leans into the comforting touches, finally beginning to relax after being high-strung for so long. The two of you sit in a comfortable silence for a minute, enjoying each other's company as you hear the sounds of the circus begin to dwindle and die.

I’m sorry for all the trouble. Bubbles apologizes quietly.

“You haven’t been any trouble, Bubbles, I promise.” You say soothingly. “Do you want to talk for a bit before I go?” She nods her head, and that’s all the answer you need.

The two of you talk for a long, long while as you take off her tack and brush her down, pampering her as you ready her for bed. You talk about food, trainers, the new horseshoes she’s getting next week- anything at all. Even Kurt comes up in conversation, eventually.

I like him. She says decisively. He sneaks me leftover apples. You can’t help but giggle at that, already having a hunch that he had been giving the horses treats while no one was looking. Not that you really mind, it was nice to know that they had someone other than you and your father looking out for them.

“I agree. He’s very nice.” You say, smiling brightly. She noses you in response.

I think he likes you, too. You instantly blush at her words, shaking your head at her with a flustered smile. You honestly doubted he saw you as much more of a friend, even if the two of you have had somewhat sensitive moments sometimes.

“I really don't think-”

“Guten Abend!” You can’t help but shriek at the greeting, knowing just who it was as you whip around in the stable, spotting Kurt leaning against the gate with a cheesy smile.

“Kurt! You have got to stop scaring me like that!” You scold, throwing the dandy brush at him. He pretends to be wounded, holding a hand over the spot it hit him dramatically as he laughs.

“I’m sorry. Seems I couldn’t help myself.” Kurt says, and you lightly slap his arm again for good measure when you can reach him, trying and failing to keep yourself from smiling at his antics.

“You could have startled Bubbles. It took forever for me to get her settled after the show today!” You scold him again, smile not letting up for a second. Kurt smiles a little nervously at that before he looks behind you to see the completely unbothered Bubbles.

He wouldn’t have- I saw him come in. She says. You wave her off discreetly. That’s not the point, Bubbles! But even without being able to understand her, Kurt seems to get the hint that she wasn’t even a tad bit bothered and jumps the gate with such ease you can’t help but be a little jealous of his athleticism.

“Then I’ll apologize to you too, Bubbles.” Kurt cooes, lavishing her forehead and muzzle with pets and kisses that she happily receives. You watch him with a smile, a warm feeling spreading through your chest. You knew you were absolutely gone on him, this little crush of yours having developed into true and deep feelings of affection. But how could you not? Even watching him right now it’s clear to see the kindness and support he gives to every living thing regardless of status or species. That meant more to you than you think he might ever know.

“How was it out there?” You ask eventually, leaning against the side of the stable.

“So-so. The crowds have started to react less to our sets. Mother says that we’ll get better reactions if we change the performance a little.” Kurt shrugs, tail tucked tightly around his own waist- something you noticed he did every time he entered the stables so that he wouldn’t startle the horses with the snake-like limb. You frown, eyebrows furrowing at the news. You knew that they had been trying some new things for the animal shows, but the acrobatics had always been so incredible and immaculate. It’s strange to you that anyone would look on at that part of the show with a straight face.

“And how does Ringmaster Getmann feel about that?” You ask. Bubbles huffs through her nose angrily at his name, and you join Kurt by her side, petting her shoulder. You can see that Kurt is frowning, not responding to your question as his eyes stay squarely on Bubbles.

“...Kurt?” You’re really worried for him now, knowing that the look on his face can only mean that nothing good will come of it.

“It’s nothing for you to worry over.” Kurt responds after a minute. “He wants us to do riskier tricks, but Mother keeps telling him it’s not the best idea. He’s rather adamant about it though.” His voice is soft while he delivers the news, and it makes you wonder how on earth he’s not angry about the blatant disregard for both his and his adoptive siblings’ safety.

I knew I had a good reason to hate that man! Bubbles speaks angrily as she flicks her tail, Kurt being the only reason she hadn’t bucked or stopped in frustration. Your worry begins to deepen as you think everything over.

“I- You won’t get hurt, will you?” You ask, worry clearly spilling into your tone. “The animal injuries are already bad enough, but if he starts risking human lives-”

“I’ll be fine, Schatz.” Kurt cuts you off, stepping away from Bubbles to take your hands in his own. The nickname had a tendency to make your heart flutter, but right now all you could feel was the anxiety of an impending disaster. “Please don’t worry for me.” He tells you, brushing a lock of hair away from your face. You’re breath catches at the act, and when you look at him there's a fond, reassuring look on his face. Still, it did not ease your worries in the slightest. Kurt takes a step closer to you, his hand cupping your face now instead.

“I can’t help it. I worry because I care.” You whisper. Kurt smiles softly at you, leaning in to rest his forehead against your own. The two of you sit in silence for a minute, reveling in the fond moment. Still, your lips tingled with how close the two of you are, eyes darting down to the shape of his lips as you ran your tongue across your own. Kurt’s pretty eyes don’t let the action go unnoticed. He begins to lean in to close the gap between the two of you, and your eyes flutter closed as he does so.

“Kurt.” The voice startles the two of you, separating immediately. It’s Stephan, Kurt’s adoptive brother. He’s not only startled you and Kurt, but Bubbles too. She spooks in the tiny stables, rearing up before you immediately turn to her, doing your best to calm her down once again. She’s breathing a little hard, but she’s not pacing again, which was much better than before, although you were certainly peeved to have backtracked already.

“You know you’re not supposed to linger around the stables after the show,” Stephan says to Kurt, who only frowns. The two had begun to form a rather strained relationship as of late, but neither of you would have expected him to go out of his way to catch Kurt like this. You glance back at them as you finish settling Bubbles, staying silent as the two of them share a look. Kurt’s tail sways a bit, and you can see Stephan roll his eyes at Kurt before he nods his head to the door and begins to leave. Kurt sighs deeply before he turns to you with a remorseful look.

“I’ll see you soon- promise,” Kurt says, taking your hands in his own and giving them a reassuring squeeze. You’re frowning, unable to help it at this point due to the moment being ruined. Kurt leans in and presses a kiss to your forehead before he leaves, and you smile a bit. He gives you another quiet goodbye before he jumps the gate again, and follows his brother out.

You're left standing there with Bubbles, and despite Kurt’s promises, you have an uneasy feeling in your chest. You want to blame it on the disappointment of the night, but you can't help but wonder when you'd actually get to see him again.

#x men #x men 97 #x men comics #x men x reader #x men 97 x reader #kurt wagner #nightcrawler xmen #xmen nightcrawler #nightcrawler x reader #nightcrawler #kurt wagner x reader #marvel fanfiction #marvel fandom #marvel x men #marvel x reader #marvel reader insert

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rorylovesangst · 26 days ago

Text

A Burning Hill

construction worker/underground fighter simon riley x waitress

mood board

song of the chapter is I Bet On Losing Dogs by Mitski

tws: sh injury, physical discomfort, emotional distress, self-deprecation

previous chapter → chapter 3 -> next chapter

word count: 2.5k

The next time you see him, it’s not at the diner. But you really wish it was.

The bell above the pharmacy door cuts through the heavy quiet with a sharp, irritating jingle. The air is thick and stale, heavy with the scent of cardboard, antiseptic, and damp. You pull your coat tighter around your body, its nylon whispering as you move, and your sneakers squeak against the warped linoleum, leaving small wet prints behind.

The overhead lights flicker faintly, casting yellow, uneven shadows over the shambolic shelves. Rows of half-forgotten remedies line the aisles, their withered labels mucky and peeling. The heater in the corner gripes mellifluously, pushing out only the faintest suggestion of warmth.

You find the burn cream on the far aisle, tucked between dented bottles of rubbing alcohol and crushed boxes of gauze. You crouch, your cold, stiff fingers skimming over the boxes, your eyes snagging on the bold prices: $17.99. $23.95. $19.90. An acidic knot twists in your chest. It might as well cost your entire paycheck.

The bell above the door chimes again, and the sound of boots scuffing against the linoleum cuts through your thoughts. You shift slightly, keeping your focus on the shelves and their ludicrous prices.

Embittered, you snatch a box of the cheapest cream and stand up too fast, your heel catching gawkily on the edge of your coat. You stagger backward, colliding with something solid—no, someone.

“Shit—sorry,” a voice rumbles behind you, low and familiar, vibrating through you like an aftershock as their breath puffs across your shoulders, balmy and minty.

Your breath catches, and you whirl around on your heels. His face is right there. Broad shoulders framed by a battered green jacket, the same blond buzz cut, and eyes so stygian they feel like ink.

Riley. Coffee, light and sweet.

For a moment, you’re too agitated to speak. The box of burn cream slithers from your fingers, thudding softly to the floor. He bends to grab it, rising in one smooth motion, holding it out like an offering.

“You okay?” He’s watching you with a smirk, cool and coy.

“I’m fine,” you say nippily, hell for leather. You pluck the box from his hand, holding it in a hermetic embrace against your belly.

Your eyes flick from his hands, seething and raw, back to his face. “You should clean those up,” you blurt, leaking like a faucet from your mouth, as you stare at the shelf behind him, the vitamins coalescing into a colorful, prismatic haze.

He raises an eyebrow, the faintest hint of amusement wrestling at the corner of his mouth. His knuckles flex as he rubs one hand over the other, and his voice carries a dry, razz edge. “Clean ‘em up, huh? That coming from you? With that look on your face?”

You blink, startled. “What?”

He gestures loosely toward you, his dark eyes probing over your posture, your face. “Your eyebrows are all pinched up. You’re holdin’ that burn cream like your life depends on it.” His tone softens, a few opaline teeth keeking through his curling lips. “Not exactly subtle.”

Your cheeks prickled hot, and you innately loosen your grip on the box. “It’s fine.” You’re flaring, voice serrate, defensive. “I’m fine.”

“Sure you are,” he replies, tipping back slightly, though his gaze doesn’t waver. “Bet it doesn’t even hurt, right?”

“It doesn’t,” you snap again, the words brazen this time.

He chuckles, low and throaty, the sound entwining around you like vines. “Could’ve fooled me. You’re holding yourself so tight you might snap in two.”

You scowl, shifting on your feet, suddenly hyperaware of the dull throb radiating from your chest. “Shouldn’t you be worrying about your own injuries?”

“Oh, I am,” he says with a grin, holding up his hands dramatically. “Look at me. Poster child for health and safety.”

Against your better judgment, an infinitesimal laugh escapes you before you can stop it. A few more glistening teeth poke out from behind his grin, and you immediately hate yourself for finding him funny.

“Seriously, though,” he continues, his tone softening just a touch, “you should take care o’ that. Burns ain’t something you want to mess around with. Get infected easily, y’know?”

You flub for words, making them come out like a dog's breakfast. “I—I know,” you mutter.

“Good.” He nods toward the cream still clutched in your hand. “Tha’s a start. Now you jus’ need to stop looking like you’re about t’bolt.”

Your eyes dart to his, startled by his bluntness. “I’m not—”

He cuts you off with a wry smile. “Yeah, you are.”

You open your mouth to argue but close it again, the words failing you. You glance down at the burn cream, suddenly feeling the weight of his attention like a spotlight.

“I should go,” you blurt, stepping back.

“You’re good at that,” he says lightly, though there’s no malice in his tone.

“At what?” you snap, your embarrassment bubbling into a rolling boil.

“Running off,” he replies, shrugging. “Guess I’ll see you at the diner, sweetheart.”

The word sweetheart lands like a stone in your chest, sending a hot flush up your neck. Without another word, you turn and head for the exit.

It’s only when the cool air nips your face that you realize the burn is still safe and sound on the shelf where you’d slipped it in your panic. You don’t bother turning back. The burn will heal itself, without the aid of an overpriced cream.

Olive, of course, does not agree with you.

She’s protesting at you over the running water, your hands pruned and wet as you wash the dishes. “Blue, I’m so fucking serious! Why didn’t you get it?”

You shrug, handing her a plate to dry. “I dunno. Slipped my mind, I guess.”

“Slipped your mind?” she scoffs, glaring at you with her jade eyes, “You are telling me it slipped your mind to get the burn cream as if you can’t hear the gauze every time you move.” You nod, and she scoffs again. “Ill buy you some then.”

“No—no. Olive, seriously. I will get it. I swear.”

“You better,” she demands, draping the rag over your shoulder before going back out to the front. You watch her go, your hands still submerged in the soapy water. The warmth seeps into your skin, feeding the black holes that live deep inside you—parched, gnawing voids that grow where your bones should be. She tugs her umber hair into a clip as she walks, her hips swaying in that effortless, kittenish way she has. Olive always moves like she owns the space around her, like the world bows to her rhythm.

In the year and a half you’ve worked at the diner, she’s become a lifeline—motherly, but not your mother. She’s too young for that, only a few years older than you, and far too happy. It’s the kind of happiness that feels like a foreign language, one you’ll never learn to speak.

Olive had your back when no one else did. She let you crash at her place when things got bad, even found you that rundown ranch for dirt cheap—just a couple hundred a month. You try to repay her the only way you know how: covering shifts, cooking the occasional egg bake, and pretending not to need anyone.

But the truth is, Olive is the only one who’s seen through you.

And that’s why you’ll get the damn burn cream tomorrow. Probably.

You spend the rest of your shift crammed in the back, where the dishwater steam clings to your skin, making you feel as though you’re dissolving into the air. On your lunch break, you slump against the countertop, your arms folded like the weight of the day is too much to hold upright. Tony’s voice fills the space, rough but warm, as he flips something sizzling on the grill. He slides you a chicken quesadilla with a gruff, “Messed this one up,” followed by a quieter, “Looks like you could use the extra pounds.”

Olive’s voice cuts through the clatter of the kitchen. “Blue! Get out here a sec!”

You pause mid-bite, blinking toward the kitchen door. Tony gives you a pointed look, smirking as he flips a pancake. “Guess you’re wanted.” You sigh and stuff one more fat bite into your mouth, cheeks bulging like a chipmunk.

You rub your hands on your apron and push through the swinging door, the abrupt garishness of the diner’s main room making you squint. Olive stands near the counter, her back turned to you. But she’s not alone, and you almost choke on your food.

Olive peers over her shoulder, her perfect teeth glistening behind her pink lips. “This is Simon,” Olive says, nodding toward the man beside her. “He’s a family friend. Said he came in here the other day.”

Riley’s gaze meets yours, soft and steady. His dark brown eyes flicker with recognition, and he smiles faintly.

Olive glances from you to Riley—Simon?—her eyes narrowing as her gaze bounces between the two of you. “Have you two already met?”

Simon glances at you briefly, then back at Olive. “Something like that.”

You shift on your feet, feeling heat creep up your neck. “We ran into each other at the pharmacy,” you mumble, brushing a stray hair out of your face.

“Literally,” Simon adds with a small chuckle, but there’s no edge to it, no teasing smirk. Just an easy, almost apologetic tone.

“Ah,” Olive says, her curiosity lingering, but she waves it off. “Well, now it’s official. Blue, meet Simon. Simon, meet Blue.”

He holds out his hand, and for a moment, you hesitate. Then, reluctantly, you reach out to shake it, wary of the wrap engulfing his knuckles. His grip is warm despite his callouses and scars, and you wish you could curl up in his palm and steal all his warmth, but you pull away quickly.

“Nice to meet you,” he says, his voice low and calm. “Properly, I mean.”

“Yeah. You too,” you reply, your voice far more cloying than you intended, making you cringe.

The scrunch of your gauze sparks his attention, causing him to furrow his brows. “How’s the burn?”

You blink, taken aback. “The same as this morning,” you mumble, smoothing out your apron.

“Thought so,” he says, eyebrows slightly raised. “Burns aren’t something to mess around with.”

You nod, glancing away. “I’m taking care of it.”

“Glad to hear that,” he says with a faint smile.

Your gaze drops to his hands, the cuts on his knuckles. “What about you?” you ask, surprising yourself. “Your hands… are they okay?”

Simon glances down at them like he’d forgotten they were there, then shrugs. “They’re fine. Just clumsy, I guess.”

“Looks like more than just clumsy,” you murmur, but he doesn’t respond, just rubs the back of his neck sheepishly.

“You two done swapping injuries?” Olive cuts in with a grin. “Blue, Tony’s yelling back there. Simon, want me to grab you a coffee or something while you wait for Price?”

Simon nods, but his eyes linger on you for a beat longer. “It was nice seeing you again,” he says softly, stepping back to let you pass.

You mumble something resembling “You too” before slipping through the door, your pulse hastening for reasons you can’t quite place.

The quiet buzz of the diner feels like a bulky, smothering blanket, pressing down on you as you wipe the counter with bovine, ruffled motions. Your skin feels sticky, the burn on your chest starting to throb painfully; it’s alive and refusing to let you forget it, growing tentacles and eyes. The sting isn’t just a sting anymore. It’s oozing, sticky, raw in places it shouldn’t be, but you can’t bring yourself to look.

Olive’s voice breaks through the silence, humbler than usual. “Simon’s a good guy, you know.”

You freeze for just a moment, not ready to hear it. You know she’s talking about him, but you can’t quite bring yourself to nod or even respond. Your hands feel too rigid, the tingle of the burn creeping over your chest, making it hard to focus. You wish you could ignore it, wish it would go away.

Olive doesn’t push, though. She doesn’t seem to need you to respond. “I’ve known him for years. He’s the quiet type—keeps to himself mostly, but when it counts, he’s there.”

You wish your heart didn’t strain at her words. She makes it sound so simple, so tranquil. But everything about Simon feels like a weight you weren’t ready to carry. You can’t get comfortable around men. Haven’t been able to for as long as you can remember. Maybe it’s the way they look at you. Maybe it’s the way you look at them. Every part of you wants to space yourself, to keep up the walls you’ve spent years building.

You clear your throat, trying to push the uncomfortable feeling aside. “I thought his name was Riley,” you murmur, almost to yourself. “That’s what it said on his jacket.”

Olive glances up, her smile soft but knowing. “Riley’s his last name.”

You’re eyes flutter, caught off guard. “Oh.”

“Yeah, Simon Riley,” she adds, a slight warmth in her tone.

You nod, your fingers moving to polish at the counter again, but your movements are slugish now, bemused. Ronny coughs and sniffles from the back, a rough sound, cutting through the silence just as Olive speaks. His cough rattles through the diner, something almost intentionally loud about it, like he knows exactly what he's interrupting, exactly when to make his presence known. You can’t help but feel a strange sense of unease wash over you at the sound.

You shift anxiously, the burn on your chest now impossible to shrug off. It’s not just a dull throb anymore, but a sticky, aching kind of pain that pulls at the skin, and you can feel it starting to seep through the fabric of your shirt. You try to hide it, but it’s getting worse—making you feel more exposed with every second that ticks by. The tightness in your chest isn’t just from the burn. It’s the weight of your own discomfort, the way you can’t bring yourself to reach out for help, even if you know it’s getting too bad to handle alone.

Olive doesn’t press on Simon anymore, her gaze softening with a quiet understanding you can’t quite place. “He doesn’t talk much, kinda like you.”

Your hand intuitively goes to your chest, trying to kneed at the burn, but the pain intensifies, and you wince, clenching your jaw against it. You want to pull away, to escape the way it feels to be so visible—so vulnerable. But it’s too late.

Olive doesn’t say anything else, and the diner seems to settle back into its rhythm. But in the back of your mind, there’s that thought, small and growing: Simon. He might be a good guy. You just might not deserve someone like that. Not when you can’t even handle your own skin, let alone anyone else’s skin pressed against your own knowing the rot will spread.

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sinofwriting · 9 months ago

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So Many Reasons - Ollie Bearman

Words: 3,343 Summary: She honestly just wants to go to these two races to see her brother so he won’t complain about never seeing her anymore that is it. She has exams, an internship, and a job, she doesn’t have time for any of this. Note(s): Thank you V once again for commissioning the fic! I had a lot of fun writing it and may or may not have spent an hour researching different business degrees and universities and such. Reader is Andrea Kimi Antonelli’s older sister. Age gap of 3 years between her and Ollie. Not good family dynamics between her and Kimi and their father.

Masterlist | Support Me!

“Andrea, no.” Her voice is firm, perhaps harsh but she doesn’t care. She was tired, hungry, and had to stay up for at least another six hours. Her last red bull in her bag sounded better every second. “C’mon, sorella. It is my first F2 race. You can miss a few classes.” Her jaw clenches and she forces herself to take a deep breath. Thank god this was just a phone call. “No, Andrea. I can’t. I have exams.” “Ask for an extension.” “Andrea,” she snaps. “Does padre know you are asking me this?” His voice is quiet, “no.” She sighs, pushing away her work. “How is your school work going?” “It’s fine.” “And the sim?” “Good.”

It’s quiet between the two siblings.

“It’s been months since we last saw each other. Do you not miss me?” “We saw each other at Christmas.” She reminds him but softens. “Of course I do. But I’m busy. I can’t take a few days away to go to a race, at least not one that’s not in Europe.” She looks at her planner, at the days blocked out with different colors. Purple for exams, blue for classes, yellow for work, green for work and classes, the dreaded orange for when she had both exams and work. It was filled for days, weeks, and months. “I could maybe make it for Imola.” She’d have to talk to her professors, put in her time now for work, but she didn’t have any exams the day after his feature race. “Maybe even Monaco if you can get me a spare pass.” She shouldn’t go to Monaco, not with her final exams to obtain her MBA starting just the day after the race, but she didn’t have any work those days and she could always bring her books with her. “Really?” She smiles at the excitement in his voice. “Really. Are you sure you want your big sister around?” “Yes. It will be nice to have family in the paddock. Someone other than dad.” She hums, eyes widening as they catch the time. “Let me know about the passes for the different races, okay? As soon as you get them I’ll talk to my professors.” “I will.” “Bye Andrea.” “Bye.”

—

“Mr. Garcia?” She knocks on the door frame. “You asked to see me?” He smiles, beckoning her in. “Yes. Please sit.” He gestures at the chairs in front of his desk before quickly typing something. She sits down, smoothing the fabric of her skirt. “I wanted to talk to you about your plans after you get your MBA.” “I’d like to get a travel position or be able to work remotely half of the time. Then I think after ten years of doing that, I’d like to take a bigger account or two.” He hums, looking at her consideringly. “Why the travel position?” “I like traveling, going to different places, and when I went once before with Maria, I liked what she had to do.” “You're also good with languages.” “Yes.” “And the hybrid?” She fidgets a little. “The same reasons really as the travel position and I like the extended hours.” His lips twitch into a smile, “Maria hated remote.” She nods.

“She said you’d be suited for it.” Her leg that had started to bounce stops. He leans forward, “I’d like to keep you on. I know that your internship with Maria ends the first week of May. And that you’re only supposed to continue to work with us until August. But I’d like to offer you the remote position, starting June 20th.” She looks at him with a slight open mouth. “What,” she clears her throat. “What exactly would that look like?” He pushes forward a folder. “All of the details are in there, but there are two important things. There will only be a few days every month that require you in the office. Those days are always made known at least two weeks in advance, some as much as six months.” She nods. “The second is you will have strict deadlines. Miss two within a three month period and you will be on probation, meaning that for a time you will be spending at least eighty hours in office for the month, until your probation is up. Look over all the details and get back to me next week.” “Of course.” Taking the folder, she stares at it before standing. “Thank you, Mr. Garcia.” “Of course, Ms. Antonelli.”

—

“Andrea!” She calls, seeing him looking around. His head turns to look at her, a large grin taking over his face. “Sorella!” He calls, jogging over to her. “You made it.” She rolls her eyes, pushing him away when he tries to give her a hug. “I told you two weeks ago I’d make it to Imola. It’s not my fault, you don’t listen.” She touches her ears before giving him a quick hug. “How are you feeling?” “Good.” She hums, following him as he leads her to what she assumes is Prema’s space for this race.

The good was false that was more than clear to see, if she wasn’t his sister, she’d know just by looking at the F2 races so far. Round four with no podiums? Or pole position. Her brother was surely smarting. She wondered if it had hit him yet that he wasn’t the most talented driver in this series yet.

Entering the Prema garage she smiles when Rene immediately greets her.

“How are you?” “I’m good. Very good. How are you? How is Angelina?” “I am good, I’m sure you saw the Indycar news.” She nods, watching as Andrea starts talking to either a mechanic or an engineer. “I did. It sounds amazing.” “Very amazing. And Angelina, well,” He pauses, turning his head and calling her over.

“Oh, Y/N.” “Angelina.” She greets back, melting into the hug the older woman gives. “How are you doing?” “I’m doing good. And you are well?” “Of course, it is the season.” She smiles at her, knowing all too well how much everyone loved the motorsport season.

“Kimi!” Angelina calls and she has to stop herself from flinching at the use of his nickname. “You did not tell me that your sister was coming.” He shrugs, “She’s coming next race as well.” “You are coming to Monaco?” She shrugs, adjusting her purse. “It’s my last free time before my exams and Andrea asked when I was going to come.” Rene and Angelina share a look but before either can say anything, someone interrupts.

“Angelina, Dino and Antonio are wondering about the next shoot.” The older woman sighs, “And neither of them could get me themselves.” He shoots her a grin, and it’s the sight of his grin that makes her realize that this is Andrea’s teammate. “I volunteered.” Angelina shakes her head, muttering under her breath but leaves the small group.

“Ah, Ollie, this Y/N. Y/N, this is Ollie.” Rene introduces. She shakes his hand. “Nice to meet you.” “You as well. Are you new to the team?” “No.” She laughs, pulling her hand from his. “Just a guest for this race and next.” “Oh.” He looks at Rene questioningly, but the older man is already in conversation with other people. “I could give you a tour, if you’d like.” “You don’t need to do that.” He smiles, giving a small shrug with his shoulders. “I don’t mind.” “Don’t you have race prep?” She can see just behind him, Andrea talking to another two people, their heads all gathered around a tablet. “I finished mine already.” Her lips purse. “At least let me get you a coffee from Ferrari’s hospitality.” Her nose nearly wrinkles at the word coffee, but Ferrari… She wasn’t into motorsports by choice, but she was Italian. She knew the allure of Ferrari and more so now Charles Leclerc than the team itself better than anyone. “So, coffee?” He grins. She sighs but nods. “Just one though.” She doesn’t think she could stomach another one.

“You don’t like coffee do you?” He asks nearly twenty minutes later as she sips at the coffee he got her and she chooses not to think too hard about the money she tried to hand him that he refused. “No.” She laughs. “But you like Ferrari.” “I’m Italian, Ollie. I think I get kicked out of the country, especially this part if I don’t bleed rosso corsa.” “Yet your brother is a Mercedes junior.” She pauses, “My brother?” His eyebrows furrow. “I’m sorry, it’s just Kimi, he has a picture of you. I asked about it once, because I already knew what his girlfriend looked like.” “I didn’t know that.” She wondered when the picture was from. Not from this Christmas, that was for sure. Ollie stares at her for a few seconds, something dancing in his eyes before turning the conversation back around. “It is a bit funny isn’t it? An Italian choosing Mercedes, while an Englishman chooses Ferrari.” “A second Charles Leclerc in the making.” She muses, remembering an article that said it. He flushes red. “I wouldn’t say that.” She shrugs, “Then other people will for you.”

Her phone buzzing makes her look away and she rolls her eyes at the text from Andrea. “I have to go back, Andrea is looking for me. Thank you for the coffee.” He nods, standing with her. “No problem.” He then opens his mouth again, quickly closing it. She raises an eyebrow and he flushes a bit more. “Could I get your number?” “Ah.” She glances down at her phone, another text on the screen. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.” “Why not?” She can think of a million reasons. “It’s just not a good idea.” She settles on. “What if I want it as a friend?” She sends him a look and he grins. “I could do friends.” She shakes her head, “I need to go. Thank you again.” “Anytime.”

—

“You're at a race.” “Padre.” She greets, watching the screens as the sprint race goes into its fifth lap. “Andrea asked me to come.” “You don’t like races.” Her lips thin. “No, I don’t. But he wanted to see me, I made time.” “Have you made time for the interview I want scheduled?” “No.” He starts to say her name and she shakes her head. “No, padre. I’m here for Andrea, to see him. Just like I will be for Monaco, that is it. I have no interest in working for you.” “For the family.” “Or that.” He sighs.

Crossing her arms over her chest, she winces at the way Andrea gets overtaken, can already imagine the way he’ll beat himself up over it if he doesn’t regain the position, especially with the way Ollie is in P2, no battle in sight, as he more than comfortably keeps the place.

An arm wraps around her shoulders and she easily goes into her fathers side. “I miss my little girl.” She bites back on the words that want to crawl from her throat. “Love you too.”

—

“So,” she startles at the sound of a voice and the owner of it grins. “You don’t like coffee.” “Hello, Ollie.” “Hi.” He greets back. “You don’t like coffee.” He repeats. “I don’t like coffee.” She can’t help but smile at the way he grins at her responding to him. “What about,” he pauses looking around, before leaning closer and lowering his voice. “Red bull?” “I’m listening.”

She has to stop herself from giggling as Ollie leads her through Ferrari’s garage. She really shouldn’t be here. And not just because she shouldn’t even be at the race.

Stopping in front of a door, she watches as Ollie knocks, sending her a grin as he does.

“Hello?” The voice is a little confused. “Ollie! Come in, come in.” And Ollie grabs her hand, intertwining their fingers as he pulls her into the room with him. “Hi Charles.” Her eyes widen at the name and she quickly schools her expression though neither are looking at her. “What are you doing here?” Ollie grins at the older man. “I wanted to introduce you to someone and raid your fridge.” Charles rolls his eyes. “At least you don’t ask permission anymore.”

The tease makes her stiffen, this was a lot more than she felt she should be seeing or hearing.

“No, I learned.” Ollie laughs and then he’s tugging her closer. “Charles, this is Y/N.” A bit of tension leaves her when he doesn’t say her last name. “Y/N, this is Charles.” “Bonjour.” She greets, keeping her free hand firmly by her side as she wiggles her fingers in Ollie’s hand, but he just brushes his thumb over her knuckles. Charles’ eyes brighten at the greeting. “Bonjour. Est-ce un accent italien que j'entends?” (“Hello. Is that an Italian accent I hear?”) “Oui. Je suis italienne et je vis actuellement en France.” (“Yes. I am Italian currently living in France.) His grin widens. “Oh, très bien. Votre français est bon.” (“Oh, very nice. Your French is good.”) She ducks her head. “Merci.” (“Thank you.”)

“I didn’t know you spoke French.” Ollie says. She gives him a look. It should make his smile falter a little, but it only grows. “An Italian living in France. A bit uncommon, no?” Charles asks, handing her then Ollie a Red Bull. Before grabbing one for himself. “I study there.” “What are you studying?” Ollie asks, “Ki,” he stops himself. “Andrea never said.” Her eyes narrow at the catch, wondering why exactly he did it. “Accounting. And I’m not surprised. If it’s not something racing related, my brother has no interest.” Charles laughs. “I think Lorenzo and you would get along well. Having siblings that live and breath racing while you don’t.” “Maybe.” “Are you close to getting your degree?” “I am actually. My final exams start Monday.” “And you came to the Monaco Grand Prix?” Charles’ eyes are wide. “Yes.” “My goodness.” He looks at Ollie, winking at him. “This one is a keeper.” “Oh,” she says, feeling blood rush to her cheeks and Ollie is turning pink. “We aren’t.” He shrugs, taking a drink of his red bull. “Maybe not yet.” His eyes then fall to their still intertwined fingers and she gives another tug to Ollie’s hand, expecting him now to let go, but he doesn’t. “No, not yet.”

—

“What race are you coming to next?” Her hand tingles at the sound of Ollie’s voice. “I’m not.” “What?” She turns to face him. “Andrea wanted me at the first race of the season, but I couldn’t make it, so I said I’d come to these two.” She doesn’t mention that the want of her coming was because he apparently missed her. She had her doubts about that, especially after this weekend. “You don’t think he’ll ask you to come again?” She looks around, seeing no one nearby, she sighs. “Even if he did, I wouldn’t come. I love my brother, but not on race weekends, not during the season. I’ve seen you more than him.” Ollie’s face that had looked shocked, turns to understanding. “I’m sorry. I had no idea.” She shrugs. “He’s busy.” Ollie looks like he wants to argue, but he doesn’t.

Instead he leans a bit closer, “so, could I get your number now?” She laughs, shaking her head. “No. Still not happening.” “Oh, c’mon. I won today. This is the one thing I want as the Monaco F2 feature race winner.” She shakes her head. “Maybe, if you actually wanted it as a friend. I’d say yes.” “And why can’t we be more than friends?” He’s closer now somehow and she has to swallow around the lump in her throat. “Ollie,” Her name spills from his lips in a gentle sigh as he leans ever closer. “We can’t.” She whispers, hand against his chest, holding him place. “Why? Give me one good reason why.”

He’s guiding her backwards, down the short hallway and into a room that’s thankfully empty, the door shutting behind him.

“One good reason.” “You’re Andrea’s teammate.” “For nine more weekends.” She lets out a shaky breath, watching as his tongue darts out to wet his lips. “I’m busy with school and work.” “You have final exams this week, which you’ll pass. And I’m busy with work as well.” “You're younger than me. I’m twenty-two, you just turned nineteen.” He shrugs, her eyes following the strong line of shoulders with the movement. “I’m an adult. And I like you.” “Ollie.” She breathes. He’s closer than ever before, their lips nearly brushing. “I’m still waiting.” Her eyes scan his face, his words full of confidence, his body too, but he’s flushed and his nervousness is easy to read. And she delivers the reason that has to make him see reason. Because she doesn’t know if he stays this close to her if she can stop herself from kissing him. “Your parents,” his throat bobs. “Would never approve.” He looks at her and she looks back, holding her breath, waiting for him to back away but he doesn’t, and god when does Ollie ever do things she expects. “They don’t need to.” He whispers and then he’s kissing her.

—

“What are you talking about?” “Andrea,” “No.” He stops her, shaking her head. “What do you mean, you are seeing Oliver?” He spits the name out. “Don’t, Andrea.” “NO!” His face is red and she’s reminded of the times when he wanted candy that she had and threw a fit over not getting it instead. “He is, he is,” he shakes his head. “I don’t even know what he is. He is my teammate, he works in motorsports, you hate motorsports.” She keeps quiet, watching as her brother processes the news. “He is younger than you, barely older than me. And you.” He shakes his head again. “Does padre know?” She scoffs, now shaking her head. “Does padre know? That’s all you care about isn’t it. If our father approves or not, if you knows what he thinks, because heaven forbid Kimi,” he flinches at the name. “You think for yourself.” “That is not.” “Don’t.” She cuts him off. “Yes, he knows. Don’t worry he disapproves as well. So, you don’t have to think for yourself again.”

She stares at her younger brother, knowing that this is her fault, but she can’t, she still doesn’t have it in her to deal with it, not today. “I will talk to you sometime, Andrea.”

—

“Your fans are lovely.” Ollie makes a humming sound, half asleep. She pauses her scrolling on twitter, unable to stop herself from liking the picture of Charles’ dog in his own personal little car. “Your fans. Very creative as well. They can’t call me a gold digger, but a fame seeker? Well, if the shoe fits.” “They what?” He sounds so much more awake, it makes her laugh. “It’s just hate, Ollie. I’m an old woman praying on the young. Apparently I’m like Piquet.” “Ew.” And she can picture his nose wrinkling. “You know you aren’t though right?” “An old woman?” She jokes. “A predator.” She softens, turning in his arms, so that they are chest to chest. “I know.” “I mean, really if anything I was.” “You were very insistent.” He flushes. “Only a little.” She nods, pressing a kiss to his jaw. “Only a little.”

“I know we talked about it before, but are you okay with everything?” “Yes. I mean, it hurts that Andrea is still not okay with it but my father’s opinion has not mattered to me in a long time. And no matter what the media and fans were never going to give us peace, so I made my peace with that as well. Besides, your parents are okay with it.” “They love you.” “Our friends are understanding.” “They are.” “And you aren’t about to dedicate any more podiums to me.” He grins at her and dread starts to form in her stomach. “Ollie…” “About that last one.” “Ollie!”

@crashingwavesofeuphoria @poppyflower-22 @racingheartsposts @gemofthenight @peachiicherries @lpab @hiireadstuff @iloveyou3000morgan @boiohboii @bibliosaurous @skepvids @elliegrey2803

#ollie bearman x reader #ollie bearman imagine #f2 imagine #f2 x reader #formula 2 x reader #formula 2 imagine #sins fics

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sweetyyhippyy · 3 months ago

Text

Meeting Mom. Eddie Munson x Fem! Reader. *Fluff*

Summary: Eddie tells his girlfriend about his mom for the first time. He also takes her to go visit her on an important date.

Word Count: 1.6k

TW: Mention of Eddie smoking weed. Eddie talking about his mom and some cute stories about her. Eddie obviously being sad about his mom being gone. Eddie and reader being at a cemetary.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The storm had knocked out the whole apartment complex's power, luckily Eddie decided to stay the night with her to keep her company and keep her safe- he would use any excuse to spend the night with her.

She shuffles back into her room, turning her flashlight off once it lands on Eddie in her bed, an ashtray laying on his stomach and a half smoked blunt between his lips.

The ember end of the blunt guides her back to the bed, laying next to Eddie and resting her head on his shoulder.

Eddie takes one more large hit before coughing heavily. “Shit.” He mutters once his lungs fill with clean air. Putting the small stub in the glass tray and placing it on the bedside table.

She giggles against his warm skin, looking up at him. “You alright there, Smokey?” She teases.

He huffs out a laugh as he settles into bed with his girlfriend’s bed with her, resting his arm around her shoulder. “I’m testing out a new strand Rick got. It’s a little strong but good.”

She hums happily against him, kissing the pale skin. “Can I ask you something?”

“If you were a worm, yes I would still love you. I’d love you a little less, but I would still love you.”

She giggles at his response, playfully pushing his side. “Not that question you dweeb. And good to know you would love me less if I was a worm.” She scoffs.

Eddie chuckles deeply, stamping out the end of the blunt in the ashtray. “What do you want to know?”

She flips onto her stomach, lightly touching his undershirt. “The other day when I came over, you were talking about going to Crawford and you sounded sad. Was everything okay?”

The room grows quiet for a while, just low thumps coming from the apartment above hers.

“I’m sorry, did I bring up something I wasn’t supposed to?” She asks, breaking the silence in the room.

“Oh, no baby, no. It’s just um… you just overheard kind of a deep conversation.”

“I’m sorry. We don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”

“It’s okay, baby.” He says. “Um… the anniversary of my mom’s death is next weekend, so I’m going to go visit her at the cemetery.”

Eddie never talked about his mom with her, it was one of the walls that he still had up. She understood that it was a hard subject and she never pried. The only thing that she knew was that her name was Elizabeth and she had big curly dark brown hair, just like his.

“Aww, baby I’m sorry. I didn’t know.” She moves up the bed, kissing his cheek softly.

“I think she would have liked you.” He smiles to himself warmly, touching her lower back, drawing small circles under her shirt. “She, uh,” He laughs to himself. “She liked to paint and draw. I would wake up in the middle of the night sometimes- I was a bad sleeper as a kid- I think I got it from her, because she would be in the kitchen at like 3 am with all of her paintbrushes, her paints, and canvases. She liked to paint nature a lot, like the woods in our backyard and if she took me to the park in our neighborhood, she would paint the field that was next to it, it was full of these yellow flowers she loved. Yellow was her favorite color.” He was glad that the room was dark because he could feel tears fill his eyes.

“That’s where you get your love artistic stuff from, hm?” She says, touching his face softly, hearing the sadness in his tone.

“Yeah. She tried to teach me how to paint stuff, but I was better at painting the linoleum floor in the kitchen.” He laughs deep from his belly. “She started to teach me how to draw, and that I was good at. She would get so excited when I would draw stuff on her Mother’s Day cards or her birthday cards. There was one Christmas, it was the Christmas before… before she passed… I worked on this picture of these yellow flowers that had this like pink trim or something around it. I surprised her with the picture and she loved it, she put it in a frame, hung it on the wall in her and my dad’s bedroom.” Eddie sniffles, tears now rolling down his cheeks.

“Oh, honey.” She whispers, kissing his cheek.

Eddie wipes his eyes, clearing the hoarseness that was in his throat. “She loved it. She kept all the shit I drew for her. After my dad got locked up and Wayne came to get me, I found this huge box with all the cards and drawings I did for her. I was such an angry little shit head at that time, I wanted to throw it in the trashcan and burn it. But Wayne put it in the back of his truck and took it with us, he has it somewhere in the trailer.” He stays quiet for a few seconds before sniffling. “I loved her so much… she was my best friend.”

The lights flick back on, making her jump slightly. The lights illuminate Eddie’s wet brown eyes, his dark eyelashes damp from his tears.

She swipes her thumb across his cheek, her other hand wiping the single tear rolling down his cheek. “Thank you for telling me about her. I can tell where you got that big, loving heart from.”

Eddie nods his head, smiling at her. “Can I ask you something?”

“About you being a worm?” She jokes, trying to take the heaviness off his heart.

Eddie laughs, his round eyes scanning her face slowly, looking at every little detail carefully. “Do you want to take the ride with me to go see her? Introduce you guys to each other?”

“Oh, Eddie.” She coos. “You really want to?”

“Yeah, I think it’s time for you to meet her. The only two women I’ve loved in my whole life.”

Her heart flutters at his words, making her own eyes water. “I would love to come.”

***

Elizabeth “Lizzie” Munson. Loving sister, daughter, wife, and “mommy” Born: May 2, 1939. Died August 28, 1972

“Hey, mom.” Eddie smiles, taking the dead flowers from the hole next to her headstone and replacing them with new ones. “I brought someone for you to meet.” He turns to look at his girlfriend, motioning her to come closer.

She smiles at Eddie before walking next to him, laying her own flowers that she bought down. “Hi.” She says, looking at the picture of her etched into the headstone. “Wow, you do look a lot like her.” She says to Eddie, smiling fondly at the black and white picture.

Eddie chuckles, sitting on the green grass below them. “Yeah, everyone said that I stole her entire face. My dad’s genes didn’t stand a chance. Here, come sit.” He pats a spot next to him.

“Hold on, I have one thing I wanted to show her, if you don’t mind.” She says, digging into her back pocket.

Eddie raises an eyebrow at her in confusion.

She unfolds the long wrinkled piece of paper, flattening it out as best she can against her leg. “Eddie told me about how you taught him how to draw. He’s drawn a lot of pictures for me since we’ve been together, and I keep everything just like you did. He told me about this picture that you were so proud of him doing and I asked Wayne to find it for me.” She bends down, placing the paper right under the headstone and grabbing a few rocks on top to weigh it down. “I wanted you to see it again.”

Eddie peeks over her shoulder, seeing the drawing he did back Christmas 1971 of the yellow and pink flowers he drew for her. He bites his bottom lip to keep it from wobbling while he openly cried. “Babe.”

She turns to look at him, her own eyes wet too. “I wanted it to be a surprise. For both of you.” She sits next to him, resting her head on his shoulder.

Eddie wraps his arms around her, kissing the top of her head. “Thank you, sweetheart.”

She lifts her head up and kisses his jaw lovingly. “Of course.” She says softly. “You know, for you only being 6 when you drew that, you were really good.”

Eddie smiles warmly, looking at his girlfriend. “Been a long time since I drew stuff like that. After my mom died, I started doing ‘darker’ stuff. Characters I would come up with and stuff when I started doing stuff with D&D, writing campaigns was easier when I had faces to names. Then when you came along, started drawing stuff for you and my art got happier. You made me happier than I had been since I lost my mom.”

Her heart fluttered in her chest at his last sentence, somehow falling more in love with him. “I’m glad I can make you happier, baby. I always want to make you as happy as I can. You deserve to be happy.”

***

“Put your trash in here, I’ll go throw it in the trash.” She holds open the paper bag they brought their picnic lunch in, throwing the discarded items in.

“Thank you, baby. Why don’t we head out? It’s going to start getting cold soon.” Eddie says.

“Yeah, okay. I”ll meet you at the car.” She smiles as she stands up, turning toward the headstone. “It was nice to meet you, Mrs. Munson. Hopefully I can come back soon. I’ll take care of your boy.”

Eddie watches as she walks away, warmly smiling at her. “In case you couldn’t tell, I’m planning on marrying her, mom. She’s the right one.”

#Eddie Munson #Eddie Munson fluff #Eddie Munson fic #Eddie Munson fan fic #Eddie Munson fluff fic #Eddie Munson x fem reader #Eddie Munson x fem! reader #Eddie Munson x reader #Eddie Munson x reader fic #Eddie Munson x reader fluff #Eddie Munson fan fic

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anthonys237thfreckle · 4 months ago

Text

‘Promise’ - Javier ‘Javi’ x Kate Carter & F! reader (angst!)

someone asked for a part two and I realized how good of an idea that was lmao. I need indirect ways to incorporate my past experiences into my fics anyway.

part one

prompt: you made a promise to distance yourself from Javi and Kate

TW: mentions of smoking, some detailed mention of self harm, suicidal thoughts, mentions of nausea, disordered eating, breakdowns, smoking, angst :(

Do NOT proceed if the triggers mentioned above upset you greatly. You have been warned.

I made a promise

To distance myself

Once Tyler dropped you off to the train station, you smiled and waved until you couldn’t see his truck anymore. You wanted to hang onto any last string of familiarity for as long as you could.

Especially since your life would change completely - for better or worse.

You took a deep breath, closing your eyes for a moment, trying to calm down your trembling body.

5, 4, 3, 2, 1.

5 things you see - the train station, the crumbling yellow bricks, the jolly red-white-blue american flag, your luggage, and the people. Lots of people.

4 things you hear - the people, obviously, the cicadas crying, the heavy bell ringing inside, the honking of cars for you to get out of their way.

3 things you smell - the heat - somehow, the smell of smoke from cars, and the thick air.

2 things you feel - terrified. hurt.

1 thing you taste - bitterness.

Shaking your head, you take another deep breath. Eyes dead set on the mission in front of you, you marched into the train station, bought a ticket to Oklahoma City, and settled down inside.

But now was the hardest part; waiting. What made it harder was you didn’t want to think about anything that happened yesterday. So, putting your headphones on, you made a playlist with none of the songs that reminded you of Javi or any of the ones he recommended to you. Essentially, you just listened to 3 songs in total, over and over again, but the knowledge you knew what was coming next was comforting, something you couldn’t apply to your current situation.

Took a flight, through aurora skies

Honestly, I didn't think about

How we didn't say goodbye

Just see you very soon

You woke up when the train jolted to a stop - you had fallen asleep, waking up to hear the opening notes of some song you were listening to earlier. Looking out the window, you reached Oklahoma City. With a sigh of relief and trepidation, you got your bags and headed out of the station, hailed a taxi to the airport. Booking a last minute flight back home to LA, you made your way to the gate. Setting your bag down, you sat in a char near the huge windows. Deciding it wasn’t close enough, you sat on the little raised platform attached to the window and leaned your head against it like you saw so many children do.

The boarding call was announced, and everyone sat up groggily. It all went by pretty quickly. Standing in line, getting your boarding pass stamped and your passport checked, finding you seat, putting your bag away and sitting down. Taxi and take off was a blur; luckily you got a window seat, and stared out at the pink clouds, tinted by the setting sun, a peach tone.

Peachy, just like your favourite pie.

You groaned, covering your eyes and rubbing them as your mind started to think about Oklahoma. About Javi, and the last time he saw you. And the last thing he said to you. It wasn’t even a proper goodbye, but you couldn’t blame him because he didn’t know it was goodbye.

And honestly, neither did you.

But you made yourself a promise - to distance yourself.

Those last words of his echoed in your mind.

“I- Okay, alright. Take care, (Y/N)”

It hurts to be something

It's worse to be nothing with you

You half expected a text from Javi - it had been around 24 hours since you last saw him. Since you told him you had a ‘family emergency’ to take care of. Who wouldn’t expect a little ‘you doing okay?’ or ‘safe travels’ when someone saw you break down in the middle of a field, distressed as hell? Sure, you and Javi weren’t dating, sure you both drifted apart ever since Kate got closer with him instead, but were you two not even friends anymore?

Did you mean nothing to him?

This wasn’t the first time he ghosted you - after the EF5 tornado, he didn’t say a word to you. But it was understandable why - everyone was hurting, and maybe he couldn’t bring himself to talk to you. In Oklahoma, the only times he’d talk to you is when you started a conversation, otherwise you could sit silently and he’d happily talk with Kate, leaving you be. It was never him starting anything.

And Kate. Did she figure out you liked Javi? Is that why she didn’t text you? Did she feel guilty? Part of you wanted her to feel guilty, but the other part of you didn’t want to be pitied. Part of you wanted to go back, but this - this was best for you right now. Nobody could tell you otherwise.

Instead, you got a text from Tyler.

‘hey there cowgirl - how you getting along?’

You chuckled - ‘cowgirl’ was probably the worst way to describe yourself. Instead, you typed down a response, your heart a little less heavy.

‘hey, Tyler. thanks for asking. means a lot’

He was typing, the three dots appearing on screen

‘of course. lemme know if you need anything at all okay? stay safe out there’

You sent him an affirmative text, thankful to actually have a friend who cared enough to check in on you, helping you out without questioning anything, having only known you for a week.

So I didn't call you

For sixteen long days

You found comfort in some form of familiarity in your life; back home in LA, everything looked duller, more still. Like the whole world knew about your heartbreak and was mourning, or mocking you. You tried to plunge into work, distracting yourself but sometimes, you’d just stare at your work, screen or paper, and just zone out. Your was brain still trying to process everything, and you were losing a lot over it - sleep, peace, overall joy, your will to wake up, and more.

It felt like after the EF5 tornado but worse because you knew somewhere in Oklahoma, Kate was with Javi, both of them happier than ever. It felt worse because you could never have him anymore. He was gone. And someone got to see him every day, sometimes wake up next to him, sometimes stay up all night with him. You felt like you were gonna be sick.

For a fortnight, all you could eat was cheese, bread, and grapes. It was the only thing you could keep down.

It was so hard not to text Javi. After you had just left, it’s like you were isolated for 5 years, given a taste of him, then forcing yourself to stay away. It was something you chose to do, not something you were forced to live with.

But you won’t call him. No matter how long the days felt they were dragging by.

And I should get a cigarette

For so much restraint

Walking by a drugstore to entertain yourself, you entered the establishment with an electronic ding notifying your presence. Strolling through the ailes, you picked up Sourhead Extremes (so in case you wanted to call Javi, you’d have to go through a gustatory agony first) and some nail polish, just to look pretty. Walking to the cashier, you mindlessly threw in a pack of cigarettes onto the counter, before putting them back in a jerky motion.

“What the hell…” you murmured to yourself, ashamed of what you were about to do. Buy cigarettes - to smoke.

Walking out of the store briskly, you speed-walked home; chiding yourself for almost ‘rewarding’ your no contact mission by smoking, you realized how truly pathetic you were.

“God, what is wrong with me…” you muttered, keeping your head down, watching the wet streets reflect the light of the sun and your dark sorrow.

No matter how long I resist temptation

I will always lose,

Eventually you did buy the cigarettes. You went home, lounging in your bed, a pretty china plate acting like an ashtray for you. Legs up in the air, swinging occasionally, eyes half lidded from the light high, you felt the chalky smoke fill your lungs, watching it come out in little clouds of grey air.

You felt in control for the first time since leaving Oklahoma - the cigarette sitting pretty between your red tinted fingers and lips. You smiled softly, satisfied by finally scoring a small win. You didn’t tell Tyler that you smoked. He’d say it’s a horrible habit you should give up.

Obviously it was more of a lose - giving into an impulse, and now you were at risk of falling deeper into addiction. You weren’t in control, you never really were.

But why would you make yourself feel worse when you were on the literal brink of crumbling?

Although, you didn’t get addicted. After the high wore off, you felt disgusted, throwing out the pack of almost full cigarettes. You wouldn’t tell Tyler, of course.

It hurts to be something

It’s worse to be nothing with you

Two weeks went by, and though you pretended everything was okay, it really wasn’t. You didn’t know if you missed Javi or not, but you really didn’t want to.

You don’t know if you want to see the face you loved so much, the face that lights up when he sees Kate, the face that Kate holds, kisses, caresses.. the face that she admires alongside you.

You wanted to get over him, you really did, but you cared so much about him. You didn’t want to stop caring about him, when loving him felt so… lovely.

But it hurt so much.

You barely got any sleep this past fortnight. Having a reverie about the man who daydreamed about another woman. The things you wished he did to you, he did to Kate. He was hers. So assured, so confident. No doubt in that.

For a fortnight, there you were, stripped of any text backs from him.

You were starting to think you just wanted his attention, which you dont know if you wanted anymore, knowing his attention belonged to Kate. Why would you care so much about him texting you?

But then again, weren’t you two friends?

I’ve done the math

There’s no solution

We’ll never last

Why can’t I let go of this?

Right now, you, broken, needed comfort. May it be fake hope again. Nobody was there to stop you anyway, so in your free time, you started to think of the ways Kate and Javi would have problems with each other.

‘She’s too arrogant sometimes, and he’s really down to earth’

‘She can’t communicate her feelings!’

‘Kate’s one to settle, Javi isn’t’

Of course, you knew it was wrong. Of course it was a bitchy thing to think. But who were you to care right now?

You were hurt, and you needed to feel better to even try and start to get a grip on reality. you didn’t want to rip of the band aid yet.

Not yet.

Even worse, your mind started thinking of ways you and Javi could get together; Kate could leave him in the dark again, she could get into a fight with him…

But nothing made sense - she wouldn’t leave when she looked at him that way… and any fights would be cleared quickly with Javi’s forgiving nature.

He would do anything for her.

All in all, you realized how shitty you were being, and texted Tyler, saying you couldn’t hide from Javi - couldn’t hide from the pain that haunted you. The bright lights of LA looked dull. The sun felt like a false light.

Your world was falling apart, how could the sun be shining when your world was falling apart?

‘Just walk around. Wear something that makes you feel good. Grab some good lunch downtown. Spoil yourself. Act like a damn tourist, I don’t care. Just do anything that reminds you that there’s more to life than Javi’ he wrote.

So I broke my promise

I called you last night

I shouldn’t have, I wouldn’t have

If it weren’t for the sight of a boy who

Looked just like you standing out on Melrose Avenue…

It hurts to be something

It’s worse to be nothing, with you.

Three days later, you sat on the roof of a building. The sun was setting, you looked at the streets below. People were walking - their dogs, their toddlers, and whatnot.

You were so disappointed with yourself. Closing your eyes, you thought back to everything that happened yesterday.

Following Tyler’s advice, you woke up ready to face the day.

Waking up bright and early, you went for a run, saw some pretty things on the way. You found it insane how easy it was to overlook the small things in life.

Coming home, you made breakfast; oatmeal with bananas, almond butter and chocolate chips. You savoured every bite with a smile.

You hopped into the shower, using your favourite body wash. Putting on an outfit, doing your hair and makeup, slipping on your shoes, you left the house, ready to explore the city…

All was going well until sunset.

—

You were walking along the streets of LA, acting like you’d never seen anything like it before. A coffee in hand, you walked confidently down the path, turning a corner to browse a bookstore on Melrose Avenue, when someone caught your eye.

A boy, waiting for the light signal to turn green, who looked exactly like Javi.

You froze.

Suddenly, you didn’t want coffee any more. You didn’t want anything right now but to go home.

—

You rushed home, trying so hard to control your breathing, then stumbling desperately to your room. As soon as your face crashed against the pillows, the soft, gentle fabric a perfect medium to absorb the tears now flowing down your face. You sobbed, curled into a still-bedazzled ball on your bed, hugging yourself, contracting into a fibonacci.

Reaching for your purse, you pulled out your phone, scrolling through your contacts. Through the wet and blurry lens of your tears, you scrolled into the alphabet until you reached the ‘J’ section. The first name was Javi.

Pressing on his name, then the ‘call’ button, you held it to your ear, taking shuddering breaths as you tried calming yourself down. The your phone cooed like a pigeon, signalling his phone, somewhere in Oklahoma, was ringing.

You were clean. Clean for a little over 2 weeks. Clean from his voice ringing in your ears, new words exchanged and whatnot.

But as you held your phone in your hand, crying, watching it reach Javi’s phone, waiting for him to answer, it all felt like a relapse.

Like the feeling of the cool blade on your skin, slicing through, leaving an angry red river in its wake.

The sick, high feeling you get from it - the ecstasy, watching you destroy yourself, finding beauty in the rubble.

Some part of you, the logical part of you was screaming to press the red button. To leave Javi alone. It wasn’t fair for you to reach out first, right? Why would you make a fool out of yourself by calling him? You’re not that desperate for him, are you?

But the hurt, emotional, desperate part of you didn’t, daring him to answer. Just to remind him of your existence. Just this once.

Still fighting the internal battle, you delved deeper into why he didn’t call you yet.

Did Kate tell him everything? Did she finally find out? Did she realize at all about how hurt you were?

The anger only just started to hit you, claiming your brain as a new population to be corrupted, a new host for the parasite, a new fruit to rot.

You were mad. You didn’t know at who. But you decided you were mad at Kate. For dating him. You knew it was wrong to be mad, because you had no claim over Javi, but you were too deep into your anger to actually think of a better way to cope. Suddenly, you were so mad at Kate. So, so mad. Part of you wanted to tear your house down, scream like a mad woman, but you didn’t. Your dwindling self control kept you in check.

Then came the sadness. You were so mad at Kate, but she was so happy right now. She didn’t care or know how your felt right now. how hurt you felt right now. She had Javi. Her Javi. And they were both happy - oh so happy, oh so blissfully unaware of how you felt right now.

They were happy - they were perfectly fine without you. Because they didn’t need you as a friend, not like they did in college - maybe they didn’t back then either, because they had each other. That’s all they needed. Each other was all they needed.

You were so deep into the crevices of your mind, drowning in both pain and relief, you almost didn’t hear your name drenched in Javi’s voice coming from the speaker.

‘[name]?’

—

follow + stay tuned for part three!!

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lustrexia · 5 months ago

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im definitely interested in the Jude and Pablo drabble... please post it😫

tw: nsfw, size kink, hate sex, rivalry, rough oral sex, minors dni.

— “Size does matter” Jude Bellingham and Pablo Gavi

It’s probably not his fault. Not entirely, anyway, it’s just that it’s too obvious. Too noticeable.

Pablo, he means. Barcelona’s golden boy. The title didn’t mean too much to Jude, he already won that award last year, pretty easily so if his ego permitted him to admit. Madrid’s marketing did really go far long, didn’t it?

But that wasn’t really what made Jude feel bad, really. It’s Gavi’s height. And his body. And everything.

It became almost overwhelming to him when he noticed it; Pablo was really small. Hell, he could totally beat him up and the guy wouldn’t stand a chance, but that’s not what he really wants to do with him.

It’s almost funny, Jude notes. He’s so small, but so full of energy and will, it’s like his body was made of seventy percent determination and twenty percent water, albeit one or two percent of that had a little bit of poor emotional regulation.

Maybe that’s what made Gavi so endearing to half of the population. That he wore his heart on his sleeve, that he presented himself quite authentically, just as he was on the interior.

His chest too small for his big heart to fit into. It’s not saying much though, Jude snorts dryly, Gavi was really small. Wasn’t even like the guy was skinny or anything, the barcelonista stole the attention of his eyes plenty of times, his body was toned and his skin seemed just so soft.

But he wasn’t thin at all, even Pedri was way thinner than him.

Maybe he’s overthinking. Obsessed with the entire image of Pablo’s body even. He shouldn’t even be thinking about another man like that, he’s got a career and priorities that he has to take care of, like his younger brother throwing a little bit of a fit because of some girl. Or the fact that he just lost the European Championship to Spain.

He can’t. He can’t stop thinking about it. Because that’s all his male brain spits at him when he sees Pablo at the other side of the stadium, celebrating his win.

Smiling, like he ever did something to deserve that happiness.

He avoids Cole Palmer’s look when the blond straight up ignores his handshake. He’d talk about it later, when his own emotional block stops and he can start actually feeling anything other than ‘void’.

Jude walks just beside the trophy, that’s already decorated with Spain’s ugly colors, just tacky red and yellow. His steps feel heavy, even breathing is hard for him. He can sense his own lungs contracting and letting loose one again.

Losing takes the form of a bitter taste on his tongue. It’s ugly, it’s accompanied of despair and it’s everything he didn’t plan for.

It’s everything that Pablo Gavi isn’t feeling at that moment. He can almost taste the victory from the pretty boy’s mouth, and now he’s getting closer and closer. Jude feels in a trance, he can’t make something of whatever Pablo is saying at him, some bullshit about second place in Spanish, probably.

He doesn’t care. He never cared for what being a madridista meant for the blaugrana men. He’s English, he recognizes that he doesn’t feel the rivalry as his own, but he can empathize with the fear of losing, so there’s that.

And it’s so stupid, how Pablo looks at him triumphant, like this is such an important moment for him, like this means something. Like he’s Cristiano at forty with his career ending right now. He’s not. He’s a talented twenty something with lots of projection for the future. Gavi is a failure of La Masía, injured and barely walking like a normal person.

Jude is getting mad, mainly at himself for not hating the gorgeous boy that’s looking at him through his lashes, teasingly demeaning him with an adorable Spaniard accent. He should be disgusted, should push him to the green hard ground of the field.

He doesn’t. Jude looks at him in the eye, with curiosity, like he’s watching some scientific experiment with a really stupid rat lab, fixating on every move that Gavi makes.

“And you’re second! I can’t believe it! Joder, que te hemos ganado!” He says, his hazel eyes glowing in the artificial light of the stadium.

Jude feels drunk in a bad way, time is slowing down like he smoked something thirty minutes ago and Pablo’s monologue is getting slurred.

He can’t stand it. Not like this. Not with how easy he could grab Pablo’s arm and throw him around like he deserves to. Jude’s sanity is clearly disappearing, he can feel it sliding down his spine, pinching him. Gavi’s densely annoying rich boy accent doesn’t help him either.

It’s not his fault. Pablo is annoyingly pretty, and totally crushable, like some insect he can get rid off easily with the sole of his expensive sneakers. It’s childish, but the need is clearly there.

So he indulges into it, posing his big hand on the back of Pablo’s neck, pushing him to walk forcefully at his side, like they were friends; resembling a bond that was not there, just for the cameras.

He could see how Gavi tensed and changed his facial expression to something a little bit uncomfortable, his eyebrows were almost knitted to each other and his lips formed a nervous curved line.

And it was exactly as he thought so, Gavi was weaker than him, couldn’t fight or back off even he was in serious danger.

“M’sorry” Gavi said, “I was just teasing, it’s just banter, sorry”.

Fucking brat, Jude didn’t respond. He just continued to guide Gavi’s body towards the hallway of the stadium, searching for somewhere more private.

The cameras didn’t even flinch at them disappearing, the public was more focused on celebrating the win or just taking pics of the actual players on the pitch.

Jude scanned through the doors and stairs of the space, finding in some barren corner a door with the ‘storage’ sign in a foreign language. Fucking Germans and their weird wording.

He lowered his hand now that the cameras weren’t looking, placing his calloused fingers on Gavi’s waist. So tiny. Jude heard the other man’s breathing hitch almost whimper airily.

So this was affecting Pablo at the same intensity as it was affecting him. News flash. The insanity of this exclusive situation altered the cute midfielder too.

God, so maddening. He squeezes the curve of his waist, reminding him of how useless fighting back is going to be. Someone of his size couldn’t possibly get him off in a real struggle. Gavi whimpers, biting his lip.

“Whore” He whispers into Gavi’s ear, his hot air hitting him. “I’m going to break you in half”.

He’s almost sure Gavi is pretty entitled and possibly did refuse to learn English in the past, but he can see that he understood what Jude told him right there. His face, now totally bewildered, exploded in pretty pink colors. He was blushing.

They entered the storage room, it was small, closet-like, just enough space for the two of them to breathe in each other’s faces. He pushed Gavi’s body towards the cold surface of some shelf, looking down at him, noticing just how frail he really was.

It made him so hungry. Like he was king starved and now there was a big plate of his favorite meal in front of him, just waiting to be sexually cannibalized on. The air hung heavy on them, the realization of what they were really going to do was now crawling under their skins.

He pushed through it, through whatever this meant for Pablo. It wasn’t his place to care for it, he just had an itch he needed to scratch badly.

“Take your jersey off” he commanded to him, already pissed off at how red looked amazing on Gavi.

White would look more elegant. More classy.

Gavi did, he took off the garment, not breaking eye contact if possible. Venomous.

Jude aggressively took his own jersey off and grabbed Gavi’s neck with just one hand. His long fingers made a good collar for the barcelonista’s neck, pressing lightly. Pablo moaned, his eyes half closed, full of incomprehensible lust.

“Put it on, quickly”.

He released his grip on Pablo’s neck and threw the shirt at him, watched how Gavi’s pathetically small hands trembled while putting the piece of clothing on.

Holy shit.

“¿Qué?” Oh, maybe Jude said that out loud.

“Nothing,” Jude went back to his stoic look, “White looks good on you”.

Pablo’s look, full of empty hatred fueled his own lust. Culé at heart dressed in white. Humiliation must be burning in his stomach.

But Pablo was hard, the tent of his shorts showed him just that. Was he really into the whole being the bitch of a madrid player thing? That was a new low, it made Jude smile.

Gavi was just as pitiable as he thought. Could bark and try to bite as many times as he wanted to, that wouldn’t change the fact that he’s weak in physicality, biologically inferior.

“Get on your knees”.

Jude didn’t wait for Gavi to move, he shoved him down, using little force. Pablo’s little prince hairstyle was now messy, his curls running wild because of the new hot boiling temperature. He was sure Gavi could feel how warm his bulge felt, even when his face was pressed against it with shorts on.

He couldn’t possibly get harder, the view was amazing, Pablo’s face length matched the length of his clothed dick, that Gavi was caressing with his cheek.

“You’re so big, joder, qué pollón” Gavi whispered, and for some reason, Jude thought that would probably be the dirtiest thing that someone could ever be able to say in Spanish.

Goosebumps ran all through his pelvis, electricity burning high. Not wanting to wait any longer, he pulled down his shorts and boxers, his cock jumping back lewdly to his stomach hung heavy.

It’d be impossible for Pablo to take it all in. It was probably like nine inches. Almost as long as his face. He compared the size of his cock to Gavi, pleasantly surprised about how pliant the man was being with someone who was spreading pre cum on his nose and cheek.

“Yeah, fuck that’s it, lick it. That’s what you want, right? Some good dick to keep you calm” He groaned, rubbing the fat tip of his cock into Gavi’s mouth.

Pablo gave his dick kitten licks, almost scared of the girth. It was so thick, Pablo would have to open his mouth completely to take it in.

Jude was not a patient man with people he hooked up with. He opened the other’s lips with his middle finger, forcing him to suck on the metaphorically offensive digit. Once he got tired of the sight of Gavi’s little mouth struggling, he lined up his cock with his mouth, grabbing Pablo by the back of his head.

There was no running back now.

Not when Pablo had his shirt on, looking absolutely oversized on him, with a hard on between his legs just by the proposition of sucking some madridista off in a storage closet.

Slut.

“Wait, no, it’s not going to fi-” Gavi choked on his cock, closed his eyes and tried to get Jude to back off.

He couldn’t. Bellingham was already fucking his mouth now.

Pablo’s mouth was hot and wet, his tongue laid flat at the bottom, just taking that dick like he could. His lips were made thicker rounding the thick girth of him, stretching his jaw painfully.

Jude sighed blissfully, the tight feeling felt amazing for him, like he was consumed by a pool of wet heat. Inch by inch, he pushed his cock inside, deeper and deeper, totally fixated on how overwhelmed Pablo appeared below him.

Where he belonged.

Pablo’s little hands rested on his thighs, trying to push him back. Didn’t work, he was already swinging his hips back and forward, chasing the high of Gavi’s mouth.

Gavi was gagging, making choked sounds every second, and his eyes were crossing towards his the bridge of his nose, disassociating a little.

Was he passing out? Jude could not care less. Maybe he’d use his mouth better that way. He looked dumb and out of it regardless.

But now that Gavi’s characteristically present strength was just shining by its absence, Bellingham could force him to deep throat, feeling his nose brush against his lower stomach, making it even harder for him to breathe.

Jude fucked his mouth roughly then, not pulling more than one inch out of his mouth, content on how Gavi’s uvula grazed his cock. The back of his throat felt amazing.

Gavi was struggling, trying to pull back, but Jude didn’t let him, cupping the back of his head forward with his arm.

“Take it, shit, don’t fucking pull back, yes, that’s it, good boy” He praised when Pablo stopped moving his head back.

Tears were forming in Pablo’s eyes. But he didn’t look sad, his honeyed eyes were full of lust, apparently he did have a thing for praise.

Something hot boiled inside of Jude exponentially, growing more and more, tensing the elastic until it was just about to snap.

He was so close. Gavi was now looking up at him, wet lashes, face dirty with pre cum and drool, tears too.

Every time Pablo moaned the vibrations went to his dick, stimulating him more and more. He wasn’t fighting anymore, his arms, like some sex doll, went down, letting Jude do whatever he wanted with his mouth.

Jude let out a grunt, rapidly increasing the rhythm of his hips moving, just abusing Gavi’s mouth. Pablo’s gagging sounds echoed on the walls, lewd symphony that Jude loved.

Loved how this was the right sequence of events that should happen. This was what he needed. To remind Pablo what he was really useful for, instead of some stupid tournament where he didn’t even play.

So, so close, he could almost taste the glory that was robbed out of him before on the pitch.

Jude Bellingham felt his orgasm all through his body and right out of his dick, felt how the cum spilled out of him in the most intense way that he ever experienced. The elastic band snapping inside of him, leaving his legs feeling like jelly.

He rode his climax with his cock bottomed out in Gavi’s mouth, his cum spilling right inside of his throat.

He quickly pulled out of Pablo, letting him finally breathe. The blaugrana player coughed roughly, almost throwing up all of the cum that he had inside of his stomach now, hands resting on the ground, not looking at him. Still coughing, tears came out of his eyes, Gavi was crying.

“Thank you, thank you, mnh” Pablo tried to say, his voice was completely destroyed and he was still almost about to vomit. He didn’t, he swallowed most of Jude’s cum back.

Pablo was a mess, his face full of fluids, puffy eyes and a fucked out expression, he was totally out of it.

Jude pulled his pants back up, grabbed a pen that was on the shelf and wrote his phone number on Gavi’s arm.

He took Pablo’s Spain jersey, put it on, and left him, to be found in that state.

(…)

A/N — Hi! I hope you liked this! I usually don’t write a lot in English because I don’t feel confident enough so I’m really hoping that this felt natural! If you have any feedback please let me know <3

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crookedkryptonitebeliever · 10 months ago

Text

Yandere Coworker (part 2)

Tw: Afab and fem reader, Cyprus doesnt take no for an answer and keeps you in his apartment

masterlist, part 1, part 3

You woke up with the biggest hangover of your life. Your mouth was dry and your head was pounding against your skull, you could feel the alcohol from last night sloshing around your stomach.

You squeezed an eye shut while the other struggled to focus on your surroundings. This is not your bedroom.

Your blood runs cold upon realizing that you're not in your work clothes. But an oversized shirt that's exposing one side of your shoulder and reaching to your knees. Cyprus must have changed you last night, god knows what else he did to you while you're that vulnerable.

There is a ceiling fan above you that clearly hasn't been cleaned for a while. Old, ripped and yellowed posters of famous fighters were plastered on his off white walls, they're not even straightened. A pair of red boxing gloves were hung on the side of his wardrobe, whereas his suitcase is on a lone table by the corner.

You could hear something sizzling outside, it must be Cyprus cooking.

You got out of his bed and exited his room, gulping and bracing what's to come.

"Morning." He gruffed. You scanned the room and saw that it's a modest living room with a small kitchenette away from the main door. It's a bit bare, just a couch, a TV on a wooden stand, a dining table that fits four and a printer awkwardly pressed against a wall. It was resting on a stool.

There is a tattered punching bag in the corner, hanging from above. It has definitely seen better days.

You noted that he has two pedestal fans and another ceiling one, but no air conditioning.

You turned your attention to him, he was plating the food on some paper plates. Cyprus picked them up and turned around, tilting his head towards the table. You tried to ignore the fact that he's half-naked, only wearing a pair of shorts. You knew that the majority would salivate over his oddly unscarred, sculpted body and veiny arms. There was a healthy, bushy happy trail on his abdomen, looks like he had let them grow rampant.

You went ahead and sat down on one of the chairs. He placed a dish down in front of you before taking a seat himself.

It's toast, sausages and eggs, cooked the way you usually prefer.

"You told me last night, this is how you liked your eggs." He mumbled, digging into his own breakfast which consisted of the same items, just in more quantities fitting to his stature. "I hope I can trust the Drunk You."

You went straight to the point and asked what happened.

"We didn't fuck, if that's what you're asking." He nonchalantly told you as he stabbed his omelet with a plastic fork. "You puked all over yourself, so I had to change you before bringing you to bed."

You were astonished at the difference in his language at home, compared to the one at work.

You asked what the time is. You're going to be late for work and you cannot afford to lose this job.

He furrowed his eyebrows as he chewed. "Relax. I called in sick for you."

He did what now?

"I took an emergency leave off work today too. We're free until Monday." He continued, acting like this is a totally mundane topic to talk about.

You rubbed your face, dreading the day where you're going to have to face your coworkers.

"What's up with you?" He asked, staring at your flustered face. "And eat up, your plate is getting cold."

You asked him how he called in to tell your manager that you won't be coming in.

He shrugged. "Pick up the phone. Dial the number. Call. Hang up."

You said that wasn't what you meant, you asked what he told your boss.

"I said you were too sick to come in. What more do you want from me?"

You asked if you provided context behind his words. He couldn't just possibly do that on your behalf can he?

"I told Jane it was none of her business. All she needed to know was that you're not coming in and so am I."

Jane, the devil you and everyone else on your floor call a manager. He wouldn't have let that response slide if you were to do the same.

And she is a gossip super spreader. You're sure the entire building is already making their own speculations about the relationship between you and him.

You stood up and paced around, trying to expel the nervous energy you built up. Cyprus looked at you quizzingly as he munched on his toast.

You ask how he is so calm about all of this, does he not care about being the center of gossip when he gets back?

"Fuck them. I don't care what they think." He turned his focus back to his plate, stabbing more food and shovelling it into his mouth.

But you do. You didn't tell him that, though.

"Damn, sit down. You're always so jumpy. It's just me and none of Jane's crap you have to face at work." He complained. You still fidget with your hands and walk around in short circles.

"You know, I always wondered if you're as jittery when you're not in the office. I guess this confirms it, you are. How could you live like that, always feeling on edge twenty-four-seven?" He pushed his glasses back up, his grey eyes trailing your every move.

You told him that you have to go home. You have something to do, mumbling about chores and other weak excuses.

"That can wait. We should talk more." He brought his hand up to your arm, firmly grabbing them and trying to lead you back to your chair.

You said no, you have to go.

"You and I know it isn't urgent. Come on, sit down. I'll reheat your breakfast up for you." You managed to slip out of his loosened grip.

You asked where your phone, clothes and belonging are.

"They're in my apartment. Safe and intact. You'll get them, don't worry. Just, sit." His patience is thinning but you're too frazzled to notice.

You said you have to check your emails to see if Jane-

"Park it!" Cyprus barked as he rose up from his seat, pointing at the empty chair opposite of him, causing you to flinch at his raised voice. You hurriedly followed his command and sat down.

He sighed. "You really need to stop thinking about work."

You kept your lips sealed as you trembled. Fearing Cyprus. As promised, he took your plate to be reheated in the microwave. You wonder if it's safe to be microwaving a paper plate.

While that's happening, he pulled out two empty glasses from his cabinets and a jug of juice from his fridge. He sets them on the table and poured you and himself some.

"Christ, you're so shaky. Loosen up!" He snarked.

You said you have no idea how to approach this situation, it's completely new and you're being caught off guard. How are you going to relax when you don't know what to expect?

"Well, first off. I'm not going to hurt the girl I'm trying to get with." He walked to the microwave as it beeps. "That's you, by the way. If it wasn't already painfully obvious." He sarcastically remarked, pulling out your steaming plate.

"Here you go, princess." His tone was softened and endearing as he placed your plate in front of you once again, it's mildly soggy but still in one piece, holding your food. You reluctantly picked up your disposable plastic fork and ate, since your stomach was grumbling.

He returned to his seat and continued his breakfast too.

"Secondly," Cyprus gulped his food down. "I want you to tell me more about yourself, and I'll talk about my life."

You didn't respond to him, still warily watching him as you ate.

"I'll go first." He set his fork on his plate. "My name is Cyprus. Cyprus Andrea Rodriguez."

That explains the "R" in your Valentine's Day note. You found it amusing that his Initials spell out 'C.A.R'.

"I work in finance. You know that." You nodded.

"I smoke. I like my coffee black. I drive. I cook." He started rapid-firing facts about himself while counting his fingers. You already knew all these.

You asked him about the boxing gloves in his room. He smirked and leaned back against his chair, bringing his arms behind his head.

"Not so fast, your turn to tell me about yourself, pretty girl." You coughed in your hand to try and hide the fluttering of your chest upon hearing that nickname.

You also told him things that he already knew. You worked on the same floor as him, you do not smoke, you like your hot drinks a certain way and you like your eggs like how you're eating it right now.

He pursed his lips. "Pfft. Boring. I want to know what you do after work."

You said you would go home and scroll endlessly on social media. Or do more work.

"You're not fooling me, doll. I know a generic to-go reply when I hear one. I'm not your coworker here, you can tell me."

You thought about it. Yes, you would go to dinners and gatherings with your friends and other colleagues, but those aren't usually for fun. They're for keeping up appearances. Aside from that, you would just rot with your phone.

You told him that you would go out with friends.

"Who?" He brought his hands to his side and leaned towards you, now very interested in knowing your social circle.

You said he wouldn't know. It's no one from work. You quickly switched the conversation about his boxing gloves again. It seems like he wanted to say something else, but he ended up disclosing about his hobby.

"I box in my free time. It's a good way to release all that pent-up stress from dealing with Jane's shit on the daily." You eyed his deformed ears. Then you asked him if he does it for money too.

"Yes. It's one of my side hustles." He scraped the remainder of his eggs from his dish.

You asked what he was doing at the bar last night.

"Ah, ah. Your turn to answer my question, pretty girl. What were you doing at the bar last night?" He narrowed his eyes at you.

You said that you felt like drinking and going to the bar outside office hours. Was that so wrong?

He stared at you for a bit before replying, "You don't seem like the type."

You asked what he meant by that.

"You were never great at handling your own stress, doll. I know you don't like the smell of bars and the taste of booze. You were there as a 'last-resort' type of act, and I bet it's because of the guilt for standing me up."

While that is true, you don't necessarily appreciate Cyprus calling out as it is. You would very much prefer to remain in denial.

You said he has a good point. Then you proceed to ask him why was he there, in that one specific bar out of thousands in the city.

"I was there for a boxing match."

A match? Where?

"Somewhere." He was vague in his answer, you can only assume that it's nearby. "Next, what do you do on the weekends?"

You do not like these questions. They make you reflect upon your life.

You said spending time with friends, rot on the internet, or work. The last part made Cyprus grimace in disgust.

"The last thing on your mind during the weekends should be Jane's bitching. Work? Really?" You shrugged, saying that you're trying to save up enough for... you actually don't really know what you're saving for at this point. You're just doing what everyone is doing.

"You know you can't bring all that cash with you when you're dead, right?" He stood up, taking the empty disposables with him. Cyprus chucked it into the trashcan in his kitchenette.

You disregarded his last sentence and asked him about the paper plates and disposable utensils.

"They're cheap, and I don't have to do the dishes." what an interesting way of living.

You asked about his plans over the next three days. A flash of fear crossed your mind when you remembered you had to face your coworkers on Monday. They are going to ask all kinds of invasive questions and you're going to have to speak like a politician.

"What do you want to do?" He asked, leaning against his counter and staring down at you.

You said you wanted to pack up and go home.

He lets out a loud buzzing sound from his vocal cords. "Wrong answer, I'm not done with you yet."

You asked if you could at least have your clothes back.

"Later. They're in the wash."

You asked where is the wash.

"Downstairs."

You asked if you could go downstairs.

"Nope."

Why?

"It's lame down there, I'd have to say hi to my neighbors. And, I want to talk to you alone."

You asked if you can have your phone.

"Nope."

Why?

"It's charging."

Where?

"Not telling you." He pulled out a pack of smokes from his pocket and switched the stove on to light the cancer stick up.

You said you need your phone.

"To do what? More work? Dream on, I'm not helping you waste your life." He placed the cigarette into his mouth. Cyprus walked up to the window and blew puffs out of it. Occasionally he tapped his cigarette to knock the ashes off it.

You said you just need to check it. Someone might try to contact you in the event of an emergency!

"Trust me, it's nothing important. They're all from Jane." He took another drag of his cig.

You asked when will he be "done with you".

"When I feel like it."

You fell into silence, trying to think of something else to ask.

"I like you." He said, supporting himself over the windowsill with an arm. "You don't play that fake bullshit with me, you don't try to kiss my ass or fuck me over either. I like that a lot."

You watched him enjoy his smoke.

"You don't go around blabbering with a huge mouth. You're the only one in that damn building who minded your own business and respected me. I liked that."

You don't think you're any less nosy than your coworkers. But it was fascinating to see yourself through his eyes. Was that how you came off? You just didn't give a crap about Cyprus because he was antisocial and most likely wouldn't help you advance or destroy your career.

"And you're so fucking cute too. I had to snatch you up before anyone else did. But I couldn't lay it too thick, you and your reputation among the other mindless drones. I would have scared you off if I gave you roses in person, those pricks would have made a huge deal if I signed your letter with my full name." He stubbed his finished cigarette against the ashtray on the windowsill. Cyprus turned around and moved to the chair, he pulled it out and sat on it.

"I guess I came on too weak. It's fair. You wouldn't have known your gifts were from me. Did you like the chocolates? They were selling out fast, I knew I had to grab one for you."

You said it was nice, not knowing how to respond to his long rant.

You blurted out a question, asking him how he would define the relationship between you and him.

"You're my girl, duh."

You didn't know how to ask the next question without sounding rude or condescending, you wanted to ask what made him think you agreed to it. But no matter how you try to frame it, your question appears as a rejection. You didn't have to ask to have it answered, since he deduced from your uneasy expression.

"Fine. Deny all you want." He crossed his arms over his chest. "Let's see how long that lasts."

You decided to rip the bandaid out and told him you're not interested in a relationship. You tried to convince him that you were not worth the effort, but your words entered one ear and out of the other.

You were interrupted by a hearty laugh erupting from his throat. It soon died down, Cyprus leaned closer, and he lowered and deepened his voice to a husky growl.

"You should know, that once I set my sights on you, there is no stopping me." His piercing grey eyes struck terror in your heart. "I am a dogged man, princess. I do whatever it takes to get the girl I want and I don't share."

You're uncomfortable, this is a completely different Cyprus than what you're used to. You missed the quiet man who would keep his distance from everyone, not this menace.

You're going to have to figure out how to deal with your new unwanted lover by Monday.

#yandere #yandere oc #yandere male #yandere x reader #yandere concept #yandere x you #tw yandere #yandere oc x reader #male yandere oc x reader #oc cyprus #male yandere #yandere boyfriend #cw yandere #tw afab reader #male yandere oc #obsessive yandere #tw: yandere #yandere ocs #yandere x y/n

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eternalmoonlight18 · 4 months ago

Text

Please Please Please (Don't Prove 'Em Right) Chapter 6

Trafaglar Law x afab Female!Reader

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Chapter warnings: slight mentions of doing the nasty. MDNI!

Summary:

You are the Heart Pirates' beloved cook and sniper. However, you were also an insufferable troublemaker who always seemed to get on Law's nerves. He swears he's going to get rid of you one day, but as much as he hates it, why does he find you fascinating? Was it because you reminded him of someone he was greatly fond of?

As your relationship with Law grows, he only hopes you don't fucking embarrass him. After all, he has an image to uphold as one of the Seven Warlords of the Sea.

This story starts off as short stories between (Y/N), Law and the Heart Pirates, then picks up into the One Piece canon timeline, starting from Punk Hazard. This is a slow-burn Law x Female Reader story!

Updates every Monday!

Cross-posted in Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/57651295/chapters/146705491

Chapter 6: Chicken Feet

Chapter summary: You and Law leave the crew behind to journey to Punk Hazard. You meet Monet, but seeing Law and Monet together makes you uneasy. Chaos ensues when your jealousy reaches to new heights each time you catch them together.

A/N: HELLO! Thank you so much for your patience friends! Writer's block is gone and it's time to get rolling! This story is canon-compliant, but it's not going to follow the actual story 100%. This isn't proofread so yeah sorry lol

Also CW/TW: slight mentions of the nasty if you squint, use your imagination folks.

I also created a taglist. Let me know if you want to be a part of it!

wc: 4k

You were instantly hit with regret when you and Law stepped foot at Punk Hazard. It was a month since you and the captain dropped off the crew at Zou to assist him in his mission to stop Doflamingo, but you desperately wanted to turn around and return for them. But it was too late, and Law seemed amused with the sight of you shivering in the vast cold land of the half of Punk Hazard.

"Wow, it's not that cold here," Law said sarcastically as he walked towards a large door by a mountainside. While keeping his head forward, you saw him look at you with a smirk on his lips. Annoyed by your captain's sarcastic remark, you stooped to the ground to grab a handful of snow and chucked it at the back of Law's black coat. The man chuckled, clearly unbothered by your tantrum.

"Shut up! If you told me that we would travel to the fucking Arctic, I would've dressed better!" you comically spat at him.

"I told you (Y/n)-ya, you should've worn that boiler suit." the man tutted back at you.

There was no arguing that. You fought tooth and nail against your captain on wearing anything else but those damned boiler suits, and now you're paying the price for it. So you opted for a cute black fur coat that went down to your knees and black leggings, but it was not enough to keep you warm in the insane cold environment of Punk Hazard

"I'd rather die than wear those ugly boiler suits! We're not with the crew anyway!" you argued back.

You and Law now stood in front of a giant steel door. With his slender finger, Law knocked on the door. A few seconds passed before the door scrapped open, revealing a pale white man with spiked black hair. He stood very tall, but he didn't have any legs as it was replaced with gas. His yellow eyes bore into you and Law before his lips turned into a sinister smile.

"Well well well! What do we have here? Shuorororo!" the man creepily giggled. "A warlord at my doorstep? I'm honoured!" Then he took a look at you who was behind Law, and his eery smile widened even more. "And you brought along a sweet treat!"

"Caesar Clown. I came here for some business with you." Law said with a calm demeanour. Although he spoke professionally, there was a slight tone of aggressiveness. "I've heard about your production in SMILE fruits and SAD and I'm greatly intrigued. So, I'm offering that we can be business partners, to help you with production and distribution."

"And why should I engage in a partnership with you?" Caesar questioned.

The tattooed doctor hummed before he gave his answer. "You can use my Warlord status as protection."

The pale man smirked, "I already work for a Warlord. I won't disclose his name, but the JOKER already compensates me well."

"What about extra protection from another Warlord?" you piped up behind your captain.

The two men looked at you. Law stared at you with amusement while Caesar held a bewildered expression.

"That doesn't seem to be a bad idea. Good thinking (Y/n)-ya." your captain said with praise. He then turned his head back at the gaslike man. "The JOKER may be a good employer, but he will backstab you Caesar-ya. But with me, I can be that backup plan just in case things go wrong with your little business, hm?"

"Little?! For your information, my work is greatly sought after! I am the second-best scientist in the world and my work and weaponry directly supply an Emperor of the Seas!" Caesar scoffed.

You stepped up and took your place beside Law. "More of a reason to partner with my captain! If all goes to shit with the production of SAD, who do you think is first to blame?" you piqued up.

That seemed to get the mad scientist thinking. "Well well. You're not just a pretty face after all. Shurorororo!"

Even though you cringed at the compliment, you couldn't help but swell with pride, seeing that Law gave you a tiny smile of appreciation your way.

"The two of you come inside! I'm warming up to this idea of being business partners with another Warlord..."Caesar started to ramble as he ushered the two of you inside the facility.

-------------------------------

You really wanted to go back to the Polar Tang now.

The facility wasn't bad at all. Everything was provided: space, a place to rest, and food. But you felt that something suspicious was going on and you couldn't figure out what it was. Law refused to tell you why he wanted to stay on Punk Hazard, but you understood it was all to avoid compromising the mission. He even exchanged his heart with Monet, another person staying in Punk Hazard, so that no one could betray one another.

Speaking of Monet, you hated the woman. Something about here didn't sit right with you, but you couldn't figure out why.

As you walked the laboratory corridors, you spotted that a research room had its door slightly cracked open. Curiosity got to you, prompting you to peek inside. Standing at the door, you touched your chest and muttered 'Calm'. With the newfound Devil Fruit powers you gained a month ago, you could take away sound from yourself and your environment. And it proved very useful now that you were peeking in this room.

There, Monet was sitting on a chair, writing notes on a desk. To her left, was Law, sitting on a couch to her right and Caesar was standing in front of him. They were engaged in a conversation, and you couldn't help but listen in.

"So, you're Trafalgar Law. Also known as the Surgeon of Death. You hail from the North Blue. You ate the Op-Op Fruit." she spoke as she was writing away.

Law glanced at her as she continued to speak. "You also brought your subordinate, (Y/n). A formidable sniper and a cook at the Heart Pirates. She hails from the East Blue. You said she ate a Devil Fruit recently but no information about its type."

Monet turned from her chair to face the two men to her right. "There are former prisoners that are on this island who were affected by a poison gas. Can you heal them?" she asked.

Your captain continued to stare at her. Meanwhile, Caesar continued the conversion. "I'll let you and your subordinate stay here, so long as you assist me and don't tell anyone else about this lab. Are we clear Trafalgar?"

"So be it. Also, you are not to tell anyone that (Y/n)-ya and I are here. That includes Joker alright?" Law said firmly.

A light giggle passed Monet's lips. "Caesar, I say that it's fine that he stays here. Besides, he's cute," she said as she threw a wink in Law's direction, much to his dismay.

An unpleasant shiver went down your spine as your chest started to tighten.

Now you really didn't like her. That was strike one.

--------------

A week slowly went by as you and Law stayed at the Laboratory. You found out that there were children and giant children, who were staying at the lab because Caesar said he was finding a cure for them. Of course, you didn't believe him, and you took it upon yourself to find out that the kids were actually guinea pigs for Caesar and his messed up experiments. But with your given circumstance, you knew that Law had a plan to take down Caesar and the SAD factory, so it was a matter of being patient with him. So the most you could do right now was feed the kids and keep them safe.

Tonight, you made the kids spaghetti and meatballs, and when you presented it to them in the Biscuit Room, which was where they were staying, they all cheered joyfully.

A small smile graced your lips as you watched the kids eat the dinner they made you.

"This is amazing (Y/n)!" a giant girl named Mocha exclaimed. She wolfed down her portions and reached out her bowl to you. "Seconds please!"

"Good thing I made two buckets full of spaghetti, you kids got big appetites!" you giggled as you gave the girl another portion.

"I'm so glad you came here! The food you make is awesome!" A blond boy named Sind cheered.

The rest of the kids shouted with joy as they continued to eat. As you were serving the kids their second portions, you didn't realize that Law walked into the room and made his way beside you.

"Oh, hello Mr. Snow Leopard!" A giant kid named Konbu called out.

You turned your head to see your captain with a sour face. He was not fond of the nickname the kids had given him.

"Hey, Captain Snow Leopard. Fancy you seeing here." you teased.

"Don't be copying these brats too (Y/n)-ya, address me properly." he scowled.

A cackle left your lips while you prepared a plate for him. "Oh, don't be mean. You know these kids are going through a hard time by being here, and we're the only ones decent enough to take care of them."

"You're forgetting that Monet takes care of them as well," he answered back as he reached out to take the plate of spaghetti from your hands.

The smile on your face fell as Monet's name was mentioned. Your grip on the plate tightened as Law tried to take it.

"I see that you're getting comfortable with Monet, are you captain?" you said in a high-pitched voice, laced with discontent. A smile appeared on your face again, but it was clear that you were irritated.

"I would like a plate of spaghetti please." your captain said as he tried to pull the plate away from your iron grip.

"Hm, I don't feel like giving it to you now." you singsonged. You pulled the plate away from his tattooed hand and gave it to Mocha instead.

"Are you mad at me?" Law gritted, clearly irritated by your actions.

"I don't know Cap, did you do something to piss me off?" you shot back at him.

The doctor grabbed the collar of your black jacket and brought your face close to his. "Don't start this again (Y/n)-ya. If you have an issue then spit it out." he lowly said.

You raised your right hand which was holding a pair of tongs, and smacked Law's head with it. The tattooed captain let go of his grip on you and proceeded to clutch his head as he stumbled back in surprise.

"You're a smart man, figure it out yourself!" you shouted at him.

"What the hell is wrong with you?!" Law shouted back.

The two of you grabbed each other's collars and started to hurl more insults at each other.

The children watched the quarrel between you and Law with amusement. They started to whisper amongst themselves.

"They're funny!"

"They remind me of my mom and dad. Now I miss them..."

"Wow, I've never seen (Y/n) this mad before, it's funny!"

You and the tattooed captain were butting heads until Monet made her way into the Biscuit Room.

"Time for your candy!" she called out. The kids dropped their plates and proceeded to run toward the green haired woman.

Pulling away from your captain's collar, you started to clean up the plates and utensils littered on the floor. "There's your woman," you muttered while cleaning up.

"Hm?" Law said, "What did you say?"

"Hi, Monet! Did you want some spaghetti? I made some for dinner!" you called out while ignoring Law.

Monet made her way to you. "Oh, I would love some!" Then she looked at Law and smiled. "If you haven't eaten yet, would you like to join me for dinner Trafalgar?"

Law 'tched' in response. In the corner of Monet's eye, she saw your face deepen into a scowl. The sight of you being mad made her smile

That fucking woman was pushing you buttons and she was enjoying it. The handle of the pot started to crack as your hand gripped as tight as ever in anger. However, you managed to shove down your emotions and flashed a fake smile towards her and Law. The doctor raised his eye in skepticism as he saw you set down the pot and prepare two plates of spaghetti.

"Oh, how nice would that be? Here you go! You two enjoy dinner!" you said with fake cheerfulness. Shoving the plates into their hands, you quickly scrambled to set the plates and pots into the rolling cart and sped out of the Biscuit Room.

"Thank you (Y/n)! Your cooking is always delicious!" Monet thanked you.

The tattooed captain just stared at your back as you were leaving the room. He knew something was up with you. Sighing in exhaustion, he brushed your behaviour aside as he started to think about the mission he was currently in.

Unbeknownst to Monet and Law, you were unbelievably angry and veins started to pop on your forehead as you made your way back into the kitchen. Heavy stomps echoed throughout the hallway as you angrily pushed the food trolley. With your hands tightly gripping onto the trolley bar, you took a deep breath and sighed.

That was strike two. One more strike and you were going to beat both of their asses to the snowy grounds of Punk Hazard.

-------------

You heard that Law agreed to give Caesar's henchmen limbs. It was one of the conditions that Caesar implemented for you and the captain to stay at Punk Hazard, aside from exchanging the literal hearts of Law and Monet to prevent backstabbing.

So when you were walking across the halls of the laboratory and heard the deathly screams of grown men echo throughout, you weren't surprised.

"Looks like the captain is performing surgery today." you giggled as you skipped along the hallway. Deciding that you wanted to see the disembodiment in action, you quickly followed the sounds of agony. But as you were nearing the door, the screaming suddenly halted. As you slowed down your pace, you quietly made your way to the door and heard light shuffling and Monet's voice, You leaned up against the door with your right ear to listen.

"Alright, I'm ready Trafalgar," Monet said. "Are you sure this won't hurt?"

More shuffling was heard until Law spoke up. "First time? Don't worry, I'll stick it in slowly."

Your entire body froze as your mouth dropped in horror. "What the hell are they doing in there?!" you hissed to yourself.

You heard a light grunt and a sharp inhale. More shuffling.

"Oh my, that's kind of big now that I look at it," Monet commented. "It feels weird too."

"Don't worry, you'll get used to it," You heard Law reply. "Now, hold still, I'm going to shove it in."

Oh that was it. That was strike three. And you know what they say. Three strikes and you’re out. And by out you meant that you were going to kill your captain and that green-haired witch.

Your mind short-circuited as you assumed that your captain and that damned woman were up to no good. With your mind and heartbeat going 100 miles per hour, you grabbed the handle and swung the door wide open, screaming; "WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON IN THERE?!"

And as soon as you laid your eyes upon Law and Monet, your heart stopped and your feet were stuck in place.

There they were, with Law's back facing you and the green-haired woman lying on her back on the couch. The doctor's left tattooed hand was holding onto her right leg which was up in the air. Your captain's face was turned to you with his face widening in horror, and Monet tilted her head to the left to look at you.

What set you off was when Monet glanced at you, her long green hair was dishevelled.

Steam started to blow through your ears as you glared hole into Law and Monet. Your entire body started to shake uncontrollably as your chest heaved up and down aggressively.

Realizing that he was caught in a position that already caused a great misunderstanding, Law quickly let go of the leg he was holding onto and scrambled to make your way towards you. What you failed to see was that Monet's left leg was now replaced with a giant talon.

"(Y/n)-ya, you can't just barge into here while-" he started but you cut him off.

"CAPTAIN TRAFALGAR LAW! WHAT IN NEPTUNES GREAT BEARD ARE YOU DOING WITH THAT BITCH?!" you bellowed.

Unable to think straight, you stomped past your captain headed towards the large bird talon on the desk in front of the couch. As you picked it up with your right hand, you whipped your head to glare at the insufferable woman lying on the couch.

"You've got some nerve seducing my captain like that!" you shrieked as you swung the limb towards Monet. She promptly dodged your attack and screamed, running away from the couch and onto the other side of the room.

"(Y/n)! It's not what you think! He just-" she started to explain before you swung at her again.

"I don't want to fucking hear it!" you screeched as you chased the poor limping woman around the room.

"Shambles!" Law grunted. And as soon as he said it, you swung the talon once more towards Monet, only to knock down a bookshelf onto the floor.

You whipped your head to face the captain once more. Law shuddered as he saw your eyes glimmer with hate. It was screaming bloody murder, and he was on the receiving end of it.

"YOU! Oh, you've got some nerve! You men disgust me!" you screeched as you stomped towards the doctor. With your left foot planted in front, your right arm swung up, reading to assault the man with the bird limb.

"(Y/n)-ya wait! Whatever you're thinking, we didn't do it!" he yelped as he jumped to the side to avoid your attack. However, he didn't know that you were quick enough to see through his actions and the back of the talon hit him on the side of his head, which successfully smacked him to the ground.

Your left hand reached out to the pistol that was hoisted on your hip. You drew it out and pointed it to the man on the floor, "Falling for a woman like that? How despicable! I-!" you started to lecture, but your voice drowned out as you realized that your outburst of anger took all the energy out of you.

"I-" you started to speak but your voice failed you. As your hand fell back to your side, you started to wonder why you acted like that. Even if they had something between them, it wasn't your place to care, unless you were...

"...Jealous? Are you jealous (Y/n)-ya?" Law called out as you returned to your senses. The discomfort that once reflected in his eyes was replaced with amusement as his mouth raised in a smirk.

Your eyes widened at the revelation as your heart started to pound. A bright red flush appeared on your cheeks.

"There's no way," you muttered. The limb that once was on your hand dropped to the ground as you stumbled back in shock. Glancing at Law, who now stood up with his arms crossed, you shot a nasty glare as the smirk on his face widened even more.

"Why would I be jealous?! I was just protecting your dignity!" you sputtered. The captain made a stride towards you as he chuckled.

"What a stupid reason. You expect me to believe that?" he teased.

He was now looming in front of you as you backed up to a wall. Your head was bowed down in embarrassment as you refused to look into his steel grey eyes.

"I wasn't jealous..." you lowly muttered.

"Somehow that's not believable," Law answered back. He dipped his head to your eye level so that he could make eye contact with you, but you whipped your head to the side, still refusing to meet his eyes.

Amused by your sudden 180-degree change in mood, your captain stood straight up, placed his hand on the back of your head, and kissed your forehead.

The once freezing temperature of the laboratory now skyrocketed into a burning hot sensation as Law made an out-of-character advance toward you. Whipping your head up to face Law, your face was now burning hot with more embarrassment.

"Captain! What was that for?" you yelped in surprise.

Law simply chuckled. "Sometimes, I wonder what goes on on that interesting head of yours. One minute you're beating me with a bird limb and then the next I find out it's because you're jealous."

You shoved away the man in front of you and pouted. "I am NOT jealous! I just had to straighten you up and remind you that we're on a mission here!"

"Oh please, if anything, you were the one who forgot that we had a mission (Y/n)-ya." he retorted.

"Whatever, now help me clean up this mess," you sneered as you proceeded to pick up the fallen books that you knocked down from your rampage. The tattooed captain chuckled and proceeded to assist you in a comfortable silence for a while before he spoke up again.

"(Y/n)-ya?" he said as he hoisted up the fallen bookshelf.

"Yeah what is it cap," you said with disinterest as you continued to collect the fallen items.

"You know you'll always have me right?" he announced.

Your heart picked up slightly at the confession. Then A smile graced your lips as you turned your head to face Law. "Shut up and put that bookshelf up, Cap," you finally said as you tried to dismiss your feelings.

The captain sighed as he shook his head. A rumble of laughter started to escape his chest, and you followed suit. Amidst the chaos that happened in one of the laboratory rooms, you and Law couldn't help but share one of the many moments you had with one another, even though the two of you were far away from home.

----------

Bonus Scene:

In the Polar Tang, the Heart Pirates were nowhere to be seen. That was because all of them were inside the captain's quarters, staring at a small book at the captain's desk. The cover of the book read 'Journal'.

"So, should we open it?" Penguin asked, with his hand hovering over the notebook.

"Yeah man, let's do it!" Shachi affirmed.

"Guys, what if the captain finds out?" Bepo chittered.

"You idiot, there's no way he'd find out if he's not here!" Ikkaku chided the Mink.

"Sorry..." Bepo muttered.

Penguin picked up the book and slowly opened it. "Alright you guys, here we go..."

Everyone leaned in and peered over Penguin's shoulders as the notebook opened. As soon as the first page was opened, a bunch of folded envelopes fell out and scattered on the ground. The entire crew crouched down and picked them up.

"It's addressed to (Y/n)," Hakugan announced.

"This one too." Jean Bart said.

"This one as well!" Uni called out.

"Wait a minute, are these all love letters for (Y/n)? And he never gave them to her?" Shachi said bewilderedly.

"Guys, captain's journal is just filled with yearning for (Y/n)!" Penguin cackled as he skimmed through Law's journal.

The whole crew burst into laughter as they crowded around Penguin once more to read what the captain had to say about you.

----------

TAGLIST:

@hopelesslover06 @shakysif @eyes-ofhell @letmereadchristonabike @bi-narystars @valval08 @urbisexualfriend @emmaiscool22 @deathsmajestysworld @sp1ng @kitsunechan707 @orange-milky

#reader insert #one piece #one piece x reader #fem reader #trafalgar d law x reader #crack fic #heart pirates #law x y/n #law x you #trafalgar law #punk hazard

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velvetures · 1 year ago

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Vulnerable pt.2

A/N: Due to everyone's love for the first installment, here's a continuation! It's not full NS/FW to "completion", however, a third post will finish up the little mini-series if part two does well enough. Summary: After getting Ghost to release his tensions after a harsh mission, you're surprised to see how far things go. Ghost is just as shocked. TW's: sexual content NS/FW 18+ ONLY, fem reader, cursing, sexual thoughts, intimacy, not proofread. If I missed something... let me know.

Read Part One Here

Ghost’s eyes flicker in the dim light with something you’ve never seen before. It’s similar to the pain you’ve seen on his face when trying to nurse a stab or gunshot wound. Tinged around the edges with a panic and cracked lines of desperation. For such a strong and self-proclaimed heartless man, his eyes show so much deeper a story. One that calls out happily at the idea of keeping you close to him like this. Interested. Much more than he’d ever felt before.

“If you want to, we could lay down?” You suggest gently, looking at the bed and then back to him. “I’ll keep going.”

Those silently expressive eyes shift all over again. “Yes.”

You stay still, allowing him to choose the pace and tone of this. Wanting him comfortable and feeling safe with you. All of it could stop the second he made it clear, but for some reason, you really couldn’t understand why the Lieutenant was letting you in. And it wasn’t because you were massaging his back. Twisting his lower half onto the bed, Ghost shifted until settled down on the bed on his back, totally open to you. In his relaxed position, you can feel how the invisible magnets between you shift from pushing forces to pulling ones. Body heat radiating off of him and his steady breaths almost acted like a sleeping pill for you as you laid down next to him, careful not to edge into his personal space.

“How would you like to lay?” His eyes wander over your face softly as you question him; head leaning to the side to get a full look at you resting next to him with your messy hair and t-shirt with little holes dotting alone the stretched-out collar. Ghost couldn’t help but realize how pretty you looked right now with your little smile and glowing skin illuminated in the yellow light. It doesn’t take a lot of thought before he gives a very quick and confident answer.

“Facing you.” His dark eyes study you for a response.

One he fears will be hesitation or discomfort. Fuck, maybe even fear. You’d seen him do things even hell would shudder at, yet you always came to him bearing a trusting and happy disposition. Being covered in blood, sand, sweat or mud never deterred you from walking right up to him like some lost little puppy hoping someone would find it cute enough to take home. Genuinely it bothered him. Why do you overlook the danger he presented. How you could be so fucking pleasant and calm in almost every situation you were thrown into. Something he’d been angrily dismissing as nothing more than a passing trend until you really got to know him as well as others had. Yet nothing changed. In fact, you appeared almost excited at the prospect and wiggled yourself into what he assumed was a more comfortable position on your side with one arm propped up under your head.

Ghost shifts himself onto his side with a small grunt, getting into an equally comfortable position that closes a bit more distance between you both. If you had mentioned it, his excuse would’ve fallen somewhere along the lines of you having short arms and that he was only accommodating your size. Nothing could pry the truth that he just liked being close to you out of his mouth. Days in the desert hadn’t nearly touched you. Sure you were a little rough around the edges without time to redo your hair or do any of the other small things… But damn you still looked pretty. With so little space between you, he could smell how sweet you were too. Not that fake shit women always put too much of on. You smelled right. Like a woman ought to. Natural, and… maybe a little on the salty side. It meant you’d been busting your ass in the field, and that thought alone gave Ghost a bit of a shiver as he inhaled deeply.

Face-to-mask with just a little more than a couple inches between you, the closeness felt comforting, reassuring. Ghost at ease, getting to take his time admiring all of the small things he’d never thought to appreciate, while you revel in such a strange yet lucky opportunity to watch him practically melt into the bed all because of your touches and soft words. Perhaps it’s because of all his walls coming crashing down that you’re able to begin trailing your fingertips over his arm. You worked from his wrist to his bicep then over and down onto his ribs, feeling the texture of burns and scars and the small raised edges of tattoos sunk into his skin.

Ghost lets out a low, soft, moan as your hands glide over his stomach. There’s a softness in his eyes as he looks directly at you, blinking innocently like he doesn’t quite know what to do with himself. He’s so eager yet nervous for any sort of attention, and while you have no intention of stopping, you’re careful to not move too quickly. His breath increasing under your hand is a good enough indication that he was feeling something, and strongly, at that.

“More,” he breathes out, nearly panting with his one hand fisting at the sheets under him.

He’s starting to shake inside. Tingling on every surface you touch and fighting back the desperate urge to just make an observed amount of noise with just how much he likes this. It’s been so long since anyone had touched him so intimately. The overstimulation was nearly enough to make his eyes roll back in his head. Yet he swallowed thickly, willing himself to act as normally as possible. For fuck’s sake you hadn’t done anything that should reduce him to such a pathetic excuse of a man on the edge of anticipation waiting to see where you’d touch him next. You made it even harder when you looked up at him with a smile and raised eyebrows.

“Can I try something?”

He can’t nod quick enough, watching those eyes of yours light up. He shivers as your attention moves upwards to the hem of his mask, toying with it a little before tracing long lines from the base of his throat all the way up to his jaw. Working to trace out the shapes and planes of his face under the thin material. It makes him quiver and tighten his fist around the sheets in his hand. Without thinking, he moves his other arm to wrap around your waist tightly and pulls you the rest of the way against him with a small growl of lost patience. Ghost wanted you close, but god you were just too sweet to do it on your own. And with your body heat scalding against his bare skin, he gives a pinched sigh, eyes fluttering closed with you still rubbing his face.

“This okay?” He whispers lowly, his arm still wrapped around you and his hand pressed flat against the deep sway of your lower back; thumb rubbing over your belt loop absentmindedly. Hearing your soft sigh pours over his mind like thick honey in tea.

“Of course, it is,” Your hand curls around the edge of his jaw reassuringly. “You can touch me back if you’d like to.” You offer, reaching behind him to trace a line up his spine. Ghost’s eyes open at your invitation, his gaze -heavy- but fixed on you. His body tenses ever so slightly as you ask. Then, he closes them again and a small hidden smile crosses his lips.

“Yeah…” He answers at a mere whisper.

He moves his hand from its resting place and moves it to the swell of your hip, running it over your waist, fingers lazily catching the edge of your shirt and rolling it up enough that his fingertips brush against your bare skin in a soft gesture. You sense his nervousness in the slight shake of his hands, unsure of where to go, but fighting with the desire to touch everything at least once. Like he’s terrified he won’t get another chance but doesn’t want to scare you away from him either. His arm moves upwards, his hand coming to the side of your face; fingers smoothing back a couple of stray hairs and running across your head. Mentally you stutter for a moment, your arm draped over his side and your hand on his back stilling. Enraptured with Ghost’s rough hand touching you carefully. Treating you no differently than a bomb ready to go off at the slightest wrong move. So gently his thumb brushes over your cheekbone, hearing a tender sigh from under his mask.

“That feels good,” You whisper, lips brushing against the edge of his palm.

An answer doesn’t come, but you can see him nod his head. You can almost picture his smile as his fingers continue to run through your hair, twisting the strands around his fingers and pulling slightly before repeating the motion over again. Lacing his hand closer and closer to you with every soft touch. Ghost can’t help himself from tracing down the curve of your back again. Absorbing the comfort of your breath fanning over his chest and his hands getting to truly feel every inch of you he never even thought about touching, let alone actually laying next to you this close and feeling your smooth skin under his calloused palms. Experience in this kind of thing was as foreign to Ghost as the idea of working a nine-to-five at some office building typing on a computer or attending one o’clock meetings for a budget report. While that sounded mind-numbing enough to blast his own brains out…. he still felt like he’d have a better grip on living a life like that more so than he did lying next to you…

So fucking pretty always smiling like that.

He feels you lean even closer, resting your head against his bare chest and sinking deeper into the bed. Allowing him total freedom to do what he wished. If you could purr, he imagined you’d sound no different than a little kitten tucked inside someone’s shirt, kneading its paws into your skin. Ghost did smile widely this time, moving just enough to unbind his other arm out from under himself and curl it around your head to toy with the extremely soft strands right at the nape of your neck while the other rubbed at the dimples he felt in the small of your back.

You moan softly when his strong fingers squeeze at the back of your neck, rubbing in circles just at the back of your head to mimic the same technique you used on him earlier. Ghost was a quick study, but having large enough hands to practically scruff you with only one made it easier. Muffled in his chest, it didn’t come out nearly as deep and unrestrained as you’d actually been, yet you didn’t miss the slight shake of Ghost’s chest as he chuckled darkly. Proud that he’d elicited such a response, and already moving his hands more confidently to try and find somewhere else he could touch to make you repeat the noise.

“Does that feel good?” His voice pours over your ears like the bourbon he drinks, flooding your mind with a hazy and warm feeling.

Nodding your head to answer, his thumb runs lightly over your jaw again, this time squeezing affectionately. The Lieutenant on the other hand is relying far too much on his mask to keep his mounting excitement under control. Biting back an instinct to be rougher and see what other sounds you could make for him. Wrestling against the want to fully remove your shirt to see if you felt this soft everywhere. Suddenly hungry and hardly masking it. When you feel him suck in a harsh breath, you look up to see his eyes resting firmly on yours. A silent question lingers in the inch or two gap between your faces. His chest rises and falls quickly, anticipatory.

Swallowing the fucking childish nervousness clawing at his throat he finally speaks. “Should I?”

“I’d like if you did.” You whisper back, looking between his eyes and the painted teeth of his mask where you’ve pictured his lips being. Hoping. Praying. Fucking begging whatever beings could be in the sky above that you’d understood what he was asking for. That he’d give you so much more than you ever expected or dreamed of.

The Lieutenant’s eyes lock onto your mouth, and you can actually hear the thick swallow and deep breath he takes. A moment of anticipation that he couldn’t help but close his eyes for, bringing his masked face closer and closer. No more than a breath away, he can smell your hair and it makes him freeze. Quickly overwhelmed and unsure of how to move forward. So in the depth of his own mind, the presence of his mask still covering his whole lower face escapes his attention. You’re calm enough to help him, reaching between you and lifting the hem of his mask just enough to uncover his lips; Carefully resting the mask on the wide bridge of his nose.

You see deep scars -old and new- all over his lower face. Two of them cut over his lips in wide slashes that differed in color from the rest of his beautiful skin. It made your heart squeeze with sadness. Seeing the first real proof of just why Ghost was so closed off and afraid of letting anyone in. The first-hand experience left him always marching on a fine line between professional collaboration and a real, deep emotional connection to those he protected and those who wanted more than anything to protect him too.

Care about him.

It’s the one thought that brought you to press your lips to Ghost’s. Firm and sure of yourself but still sweet as sugar against his mouth. It takes him far longer than he thought to respond in any meaningful way. The sensation is so different, saccharine and syrupy. His. breath increases in pace, and you can feel his tongue teasing at your bottom lip in curiosity. It’s anxious yet bold. Even his hands are still shaking, they’re already wandering under the hem of your shirt much further than before. Grazing the bottom edge of your bra just like his tongue messily begged for more.

When you wrap your arms around his neck to pull him closer, Ghost feels his inhibitions falling away. Opening his mouth with a low groan and pushing himself deeper, licking against your tongue greedily and tightening his grasp around you to begin rumbling for the hooks on your bra.

He’s nearly panting when he pulls away first, resting his forehead against yours with the hooks of your bra undone without even remembering when he’d done it. The sensation is sending heatwaves through your stomach, flooding your body with heat that rests on your cheeks.

“You’re beautiful.” He mumbles, pulling at your shirt slowly and guiding it up over your head with care not to let it catch on anything.

Your heart thumps furiously as he kisses you, his tongue grazing against your own, softly and sweetly. His teeth tug on your lower lip, and his hands explore your back, feeling the smoothness of your skin. The warmth of his lips feels wonderful, his tongue exploring you as his movements become more frantic.

You feel his hands leave your back and move to your breasts, running lightly against the plush flesh before squeezing softly. Teasing his thumbs over your hardened nipples, giving you a darkened look when a small whimper slips from you. Ghost's eyes flick down, catching the image of your topless body before him and the almost pinched look of pleasure suddenly shocking your body. He smiles at you, his lips parting slightly as he does so feeling a new sense of accomplishment than ever before.

Hurting people felt natural to him after so many years alone and fighting to survive in every moment that came to pass. Rhythm and attention to the enemy's detailed reactions made him a lethal weapon against anyone his talents were directed at. With you in his hands though, the act of fighting was similar yet so very polar opposite. He watched and listened to every pretty little sound you made, but instead of that unending desire for retribution, he was being satiated with the knowledge that he could make you melt with nothing more than his mouth and hands.

Fuck, that thought almost ended Ghost. He couldn’t imagine just how many sounds he could rip out of you if he could use his hands or mouth somewhere else. God, if he ever had the chance to give you his cock, there’d really be no way of going back. He looks you in the eyes for a moment, then back to your lips, before kissing you again, his tongue exploring you as his hands run up and down your body.

He's so fucking eager now, and it shows, his excitement building in every movement of his hips beginning to roll up against yours. He's making you feel so hot and desperately needy for anything that could be given to you, and that's all he wants. Make you feel everything possible… all under his hands. His body, his touch. Only him. It couldn’t be anyone else now that he’d been given a taste of you.

The stone-cold Lieutenant Ghost is ready to give you everything all in the pursuit of making you feel absolutely overwhelmed with pleasure.

Comments & Reblogs are Appreciated

#simon ghost riley #ghost x reader #cod #cod mwii #simon riley x reader #simon ghost x reader #velvetures writes #velvetures #part two

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whoisneo404 · 4 months ago

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Do you like scary movies?

Summary: You and Nick have sex while you are stoned.

TW: smocking the green stuff, cursing, NSFW.

Note: Sub!Nick and reader is a cis male (so sorry to the trans readers, I’ll make more things for you all eventually).

A Friday night out ended up like it always does, 3 random Instagram users written on my hand, my eyes red, a can of mountain dew on my hand and me walking to Nicks house. My head fuzzy and my pants tight with the thought of his soft legs bringing me closer to him.

I hear my phone ring, and as I take it out of my front pocket, I can see that Nick is calling me, probably because I haven’t replied to the 15 messages, he has been sending me since I told him I was heading his way. I answer.

-Yellow?

-Why haven you been texting back? You’ve got me worried, you stupid fuck. - He sounds annoyed more than angry.

-Sorry love. - I mumble back, my pants getting insanely tighter around my crotch just from hearing his voice.

-Don’t call me love…

-Oh, but you love it when I whisper it into your ear as I slide in so-

-ENOUGH!

I laugh as I stand on the porch of his house, grabbing my set of keys where I keep the key to the front door, one he gave my many months ago.

-Do you like scary movies? �� I whisper to the phone as I open the door, entering the house and locking it behind me.

-Yeah… - Nick whispers back, the house is dark, empty, besides the two of us.

-What’s your favorite scary movie? – I walk to his room, my boots making the tiles squeak with every step, I can see a dim light shine through Nicks closed door.

-I don’t know…-He whispers, I hear him walking around his room. I laugh once more and I hang up on him as I open the door, he lets out a little gasp that makes my chuckle even harder. – God, knock next time.

-Why would I? – I walk to him and hug him, squeezing his body to mine, takin in his scent. – you are my final boy after all, and now I have you. – I kiss his cheek, down to his jaw and then to his neck.

-You are so dumb. Fuck- wait, you just got here.

Nick tries to squirm away from me but I push him to the bed. He lands on his back, pushing himself up with his elbows.

-Come on, love. I need you; we can talk after… if you are not too tired. – I wink at him and his cheeks blush a bit. I unzip my pans as I watch him take of his shirt (which is actually mine, one that I left many weeks ago and now he uses to sleep from time to time), I climb on the bed, crawling to him.

-You always fall asleep first. -Nick mumbles out, his hands sliding to my stomach from underneath my shirt, lifting it.

-That’s because I always leave you satisfied. – I smirk, helping him take off my shirt and tossing it on the floor, probably to never see it again, because he will steal it.

-Whatever, just shut up. – Nick looks away, I lean down, kissing his jaw softly as I move my hands all over his waist and hips.

-Mhm, is my baby shy? – Moving my hands down slowly, his sleeping shorts glide down smoothly. I slide down my jeans and I press my hips against his, my hard length rubbing over his. Pushing my body to his, I kiss him, messy lips crashing against each other, his hands wondering on my neck, hair and chest.

With a little of help from him I completely take off his shorts and boxer, his leaking tip hit his tummy, white drops smearing all over his abdomen. I smile as I watch him, my cheeks a bit red, my right hand takes his length and starts stocking it softly, my other hand goes to my waistband and pull down my boxers. I lean down and kiss his cheek softly, pressing both of our members together. Nick gasps, his back arches, his cheeks red and his eyes filled with need.

I rub my hips back and forward until I need more. “Turn around” I whisper into his ear, and on a swift roll Nick is laying on his chest, his legs keeping his hips up, his back arched prettily. I reach out to his night stand drawer and take out the bottle of lube half empty, pouring a bit on my dick and some on his entrance, rubbing it all over and inside of him.

-You ready baby? – I ask, his eyes meeting mine over his shoulder, he nods. – Words love, talk to me. – Nick whines.

-Yes! I’m ready – his voice is shaky, his hips move a bit, backing onto mine.

-Okay pretty boy. Be as loud as you want.

I stroke my length a few times before softly pushing it in, biting down on my lip, Nick buries his face into the pillow and I could hear his small whines and gasps.

-Come one, sweetheart. Let me hear you.

I grab a fist full of his hair and pull it gently, his head softly raises and I start pounding him slowly, long and controlled thrusts. As Nicks moans and pleads get louder my hips buckle into him at a messier pace, my chest heavy, my head spinning as I squeeze his hip.

-Fuck… - I pull out, grabbing him by the hip and shoulder make him turn around, laying on his back, I grab both of our cocks, gently pressing and rubbing them. Nicks back arches, his body pressing against mine.

I shut my eyes, biting down on his neck, strong to leave a mark but not enough to hurt. I feel the way his legs shake and my breath starts to steady as I feel the warmth dripping down my hand to his stomach.

-God, I love when you go partying. – Nick whine sunder his breath.

-I know sweety, I know.

Taglist: @freshloveforthefit @shywolfapricotfan @sturnphilia @matty-bear @thenickgirl @stvrniolvsp @paige05 @soursturniolo @miloisdone1 @teenagetrash00 @lovely-calypso @h3arts4harry @malirosee

#nick sturniolo x reader #nick sturniolo x you #nick sturniolo x male reader #sturniolo triplets x reader #nick sturniolo smut

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sunnie-writes · 2 years ago

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kiss marks !!

pairing: wally darling x reader !!

genre: fluff, friends to lovers.

tw: stimming(?), mentions of intense staring.

plot: julie convinces reader to try makeup for fun, and then end up leaving a certain yellow fellow easily flustered by this.

pronouns: they/them, makeup has no gender !!

sunnie, talk that talk: AAAAAAAH MY FIRST WELCOME HOME FIC !! i seriously hope you guys enjoy it <33 feel free to give any constructive criticism if needed !!

"trust me, you'll look delightful!!" julie happily said.

you could only smile at her antics. in this situation, you were being julie's test doll as she tried different makeup looks on you. after some time though, she decided to set on a particularly chic look on you, smokey eyes and cherry red lipstick. not only that, she made you dress up in clothes that fit the makeup more, saying something about "fitting the dark fancy look".

"aaaand done!!" julie placed down the lipstick, "oh. my. gosh!! you look absolutely stunning!!"

"do i? where is the mirror??" you asked, going directly to your reflection.

you could agree, that looked absolutely great on you, maybe you should try different styles for often. only with julie around, though.

"you look like a hollywood star, or maybe one of those crazy rich people on tv shows!!" she stimmed, flapping her hands nonstop.

"thank you, i... liked this." the praise made you shy.

"oh, we need to go now!! poppy is holding a friend gathering tonight in her backyard!!" julie smiled while catching your hand to hold hers.

you both left the girl's house and began walking towards poppy's. on the way, you thought about what could the neighbors say, maybe even a certain yellow artist would notice and think of you as something more.

truth be told, you had a huuuuuge crush in wally darling, the artist in your lovely tiny neighborhood. nobody could blame you, those half lidded eyes with a cat-like smirk surely would make more than just you fall completely down the stairs of love.

as you two finally arrived, you could see everyone eventually get into your point of view. the food table was full of delicious looking meals, and not to mention how everyone was dressed in different outfits from their usual daytime clothing, opting for a more formal look even.

"oh? julie and y/n arrived!!" barbaby exclaimed, "how are you doing, lady and--"

everyone immediately looked in your direction, julie hugged your arm on your side and giggled. heat started pooling in your cheeks as each of their eyes seemed to get wider at your presence. sally was the first to break the silence.

"oh my, y/n looks amazing!!"

barbaby whistled, "julie sure did a great job, you look stunning."

you chuckle as more praises pour in. unfortunately, it seems like the reason you got overly dressed up hasn't shown up yet. moving to the table, you get yourself a nice glass of grape juice while looking over to the gateway incase wally randomly pops out of the air.

looks like your prayers were answered, you hear poppy scream like a mother seeing her son in graduation clothing, "wally!! you're finally here!!"

you look over to him, your cheeks heating up immediately and heart beating a bit more fast. standing in a blue tuxedo with a red tie was wally, with his pompadour still up and his mesmerizing eyes. you swallow the air as to control yourself.

"ha ha, hello everyone." his voice still sounds as calm and relaxed as ever, which doesn't help at all with your flustered state.

"let me guess, you're late because you were working on your pompadour?" frank sarcastically spoke.

"oh, you guessed it. nice one, ha ha!" wally just laughed before looking around him, "all of you look amaziiiiiiiingggg..." his words slurred down as his eyes stopped at you.

you could feel his eyes burning through your skin. if you were made of wax, you would've melted already. his stare was everywhere, your clothing, your hair before finally stopping at your face, meeting your gaze.

"oh my..." wally had his mouth wide opened.

"hehe, surprised?" barnaby questioned his friend with a knowing face.

"y/n decided to let me do their makeup and choose their outfit today, don't they look amazing?!" julie exclaimed happily.

snapping out of his thoughts, wally answered.

"yea, of course." he smirked as usual while looking in your eyes, "what a sight for sore eyes."

you blushed before thanking him, earning another one of his half lidded eyes stare. wally made his way to you, holding one of your hands and planting a kiss on the back of your palm.

"oh my, what a gentleman we have here." you chuckled, trying to play cool.

it seemed to work, his usual yellow cheeks earned a light red shade. liking his reaction, you decided to be a bit more bold, planting a kiss on his cheek before walking away to julie, leaving a flustered wally holding where your lips once were.

"ooh, what was that?? you looked so... powerful!!" she jumped up and down.

"w- well i mean, two can play this game, right?" your tongue failed you, making you stutter and julie giggle at that.

"hehe, sly y/n!! i like this side of you, makes you look all cool and mysterious!" she striked a pose with finger guns, you laughed at that.

suddenly, sally walked right behind julie, waving at her and stopping in front of you, motioning for you to get close.

"i don't mean to gossip, but wally can't keep his eyes off of you!" the sunshine whispered.

you looked over your shoulder, making eye contact with that smug stare of his. you could feel him scanning your face, which was obviously making him more flustered since he couldn't stop staring so much.

seeing the romantic tension in the air, julie and sally looked at each other before walking together to the opposite side that you were, starting a conversation with eddie and frank. wally, seeing this opportunity, approached you with confident steps.

"so, mx. l/n, what made you dress up so... differently?" he asked.

"oh, you know darling, just for the friend gathering." you took use of his last name, obviously causing a reaction as he noticed what you did.

"ha ha, clever as ever, i see."

"thank you. any other question?" you smugly smiled at him while screeching on the inside.

"hmm, do you wanna take a walk with me, we can take a look at the stars maybe."

you were jumping up and down inside your head, "of course, lead the way."

you walked by his side, interlocking your arms together. his shoulders relaxed and he widened his eyes before walking out of the gateway with you by his side.

you gotta' give him credits, the sky looked absolutely beautiful that night.

"the stars look beautiful tonight." you spoke, eyes shining like the billions of lights above you two.

"not so beautiful as someone i know." wally was obviously hinting at you, but you decided to play his game.

"oh really? who?" you jokingly questioned.

"you know who." he responded, you tilted your head in a provocative manner, "you, of course."

"quite the romantic you are." you leaned closer to him, making his cheeks get brighter, "any other reason of why you wanted to take me out in this particular night?"

he looked to the side before staring right back at you.

"there is another reason." he released your arm and got in one knee, "you see, i have something to confess to you. y/n l/n, ever since you moved in here, i was never able to take my eyes off of you. even as you walked by and just laughed with our friends, i could always find my gaze stuck upon your figure. i thought i was able to keep my feelings hidden for you, each and all of my pining could be hidden as i fell more deeper for you. but today, you showed up in a way that i can't explain, blessing my eyes and enchanting this puppet's heart right into your palm." your heart was beating so fast, eyes almost watering before you calmed down, cheeks reddening at the sight of his moonlit self, "so i beg and ask of you, would you wanna give this artist a chance and become his one and only muse?"

you were speechless, only nodding your head before he got up and you threw yourself at him, kissing his face and leaving multiple lipstick marks. cheeks, forehead, the space where his nose would be, and finally, his lips.

you were so happy, couldn't contain yourself from leaving him absolutely breathless.

"of course, i do." you chuckled while he tried to recompose himself, only to be stared at by heart eyes and a loving sigh.

"give a man a warning before you rock his world like that." he laughed quietly.

you held his face on your palms, and it felt like you were holding the world, feeling confidence wash over you as you traced your eyes towards the marks you left on him.

"WOOOO-HOOOO!! GO Y/N!!!!" you heard someone scream.

looking over your shoulder, you were met with all of your friends watching you guys from afar. eddie and frank holding hands while eddie laughed and his boyfriend just slightly smiled, julie jumping up and down while stimming alongside sally who was shining even more brightly, howdy chuckling while clapping all of his four hands, barnaby clapping while howling happily and poppy stared with watered eyes like a proud mother.

well, at least you two didn't need to spend the rest of the night explaining how you and wally darling became a couple.

and with that, you gave him another peck on the lips, before pulling him to all of your friends, while he lovingly stared at you, his for now and forever number one muse.

"dearest, you're the absolute most."

sunnie, talk that talk: HOPE YOU GUYS ENJOYED!! I HAD SO MUCH FUN WRITING THIS OMG SUFNEJFJSJDJS n e ways, byeeee dear reader, ily mwah /p

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