#queueing this while on my way to meet him | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

ramp-it-up · 1 month ago

Text

Knock You Down

Summary: James Bucky Barnes is an avowed bachelor and one night stand artist. But when he meets you, he finds out that sometimes love comes around, and it knocks you down.

Word count: less than 2K

Pairing: Art Dealer (mob boss) Bucky Barnes x Reader

A/N: This fic was in part inspired by Seb Stan's latest pics and this press run 🫠, and partially inspired by an old song by some problematic people, lol. This is the result. As usual, I am Basil Exposition, so this is broken into parts. Part II is already in the queue and will be posted on Friday, 10/11.

Warnings: 18+ Only, Minors DNI. Read at your own risk. Slow burn, cursing, mutual pining, Bucky the player, wild thoughts, kisses on the hand and the cheek. No sex!

I no longer have a taglist. Please follow @rampitupandread and turn on notifications to learn when I post! 😘

I Do NOT Consent to my work being reposted, translated or presented on any other blog or site other than by myself.

-----

"Won't see it coming when it happens. But when it happens you're gonna feel it, let me tell you now."

Bucky always scoffed at Steve’s advice. He and Sam never understood his solitary bachelorhood and his one night stand lifestyle.

The truth was, he hadn’t met anyone who held his interest enough to warrant a second date, much less anything beyond one casual hookup. So, he never made promises that he couldn’t keep, and most women said they were down for that.

Even if they were lying to themselves.

At 42, James Buchanan Barnes was too dedicated to his business, ostensibly as an art dealer, for a serious relationship. The truth was that he dealt in many things, and that was why his business needed so much attention.

His life and everyone’s around him depended on it.

Bucky Barnes wasn’t going to get caught slipping.

In love or in business.

—---

The first time you met James Buchanan Barnes, on what you thought would be a random Monday afternoon, he appraised you in a way that shook you to the core, those ocean blue eyes looking into your soul. You felt as if he were evaluating a piece of art as he gazed at you across his desk.

You couldn’t know that he felt the exact same way.

His eyes never strayed from your face as he shook your hand, but he’d noticed every bit of you as you entered his gallery, Rebirth. You were more stunning than any piece of art that he’d ever curated in the space.

While nothing like his normal type, you made Bucky feel as if he’d been so wrong about so much in his life the moment you entered his orbit. He had to get to know you to find what he’d been missing.

This afternoon you were a sight to behold and serving body. Although you were covered from neck to shin in an elegant sheath dress, the high, wrapped waist was giving all of your bounteous curves up to whoever glanced at you. And you had heads turning.

Steve, Sam, and even Natasha craned their necks to watch you as you entered Bucky’s office. And he could have sworn that Nat’s neck was at a 90 degree angle as she watched you leave her desk just outside his door.

You were fine as hell.

Bucky was entranced by dreams of handling your curves and making you smile at him forever.

As Bucky dreamed, you admired the man in front of you. Tall, dark, and handsome, Barnes wasn’t a young man, but the gray in his beard and the crinkles around his eyes made him that much more attractive.

Even more attractive than in the paparazzi pics of him with various young models and actresses of the moment, waifs and ingénues with whom he was never photographed twice.

You just knew you were safe from any advances from him.

You thought.

“Enchanté, Ms. Y/LN. It is a pleasure to meet you."

Bucky lowered his head as he greeted you, a slight bow and extended his hand to his desk. You noticed the tattoo that started on his hand and seemed to go up his sleeve and went in the direction he pointed.

"You know, you are quite tenacious. I don’t take many meetings with potential buyers. But all of my people told me that I should.”

The silk of his voice, the unexpected tenor of it, and the way he took your hand made you shiver at the aura of experience that he gave off.

The word Daddy floated around in your mind for a moment until he invited you to sit.

You had to concentrate on the business at hand, that of negotiating for a piece of art for the Art and Culture Center in Brownsville, of which you were the director. The purchase was made possible by benefactors to commemorate a deceased Brownsville artist who became famous, then forgotten, during the Harlem Renaissance.

“You’ve made it past Ms. Romanoff, my gallerist, Mr. Wilson, my business manager, and Mr. Rogers, my gallery director, Ms. Y/LN. What makes you think that I’m going to give you a different answer? Letting that piece go for the price you’ve proposed is not a good business move.”

“You can’t afford to miss out on this opportunity, Mr. Barnes. Yes, you will be taking a loss on the artwork, but you will be on the ground floor of a major rediscovery. You will be known as one of the few who helped to resurrect the brilliance of the artist Howard Benson. You can be the Alice Walker to his Zora Neale Hurston.”

And that is when Bucky leaned back in his chair, astounded at your shrewd calculation.

“I love the way your mind works, Ms. Y/LN.”

You smiled and settled back into your chair, causing Bucky to shift in his chair. He wanted to be buried in you. He appraised and decided that he liked the pout that changed your lips almost as much as the smile that initially greeted him when he replied, “But that price is still unacceptable.”

You raised an adorable eyebrow at him and rose to the challenge that he lay at your feet ready to tangle with the inimitable James Barnes. The conversation stretched from early afternoon to dinner time, making you suspect that Barnes was drawing it out for some reason. You matched him, point for point, until it was dark. But he yielded no ground.

The conversation was intellectual foreplay: art history, sociology, american politics. And it was the most stimulated you’d been in a while.

You could do this all night.

Your phone buzzed and you looked down. There were several text messages and emails lighting up your screen. You’d been in deep with Barnes for hours. It was after 6 pm. It seemed like only minutes. You noticed that it was only you and Bucky left in the gallery and rose to excuse yourself, albeit reluctantly.

“Oh! I’m sorry to keep you so long. I’m sure that you must have plans.”

You’d done your research and you knew that there was probably someone little more than half Barnes’ age waiting for him. When you searched social media, there was a sighting or spotted every month or so of Bucky and a young, beautiful woman.

You reached for your coat, but Bucky was behind you in seconds, taking it from you and helping you put it on. You shivered at his breath at your throat and his hands on your collarbone as he draped the lapels over your neck. His deep chuckle made your stomach flip. He saw right through you.

“No one is waiting for me but my cat, Alpine. How about you, Ms. YLN? Anyone waiting for you in Brownsville?”

“Not tonight. No.”

Why in the world were you doing the sultry whisper thing? This man didn’t want you.

Did he?

You cleared your throat and you felt dizzy when you looked up and saw how close he was standing to you. Those eyes and the smile that graced his handsome face had you warm, but the way he licked his lips had you spiraling.

Bucky pushed down a mild sense of panic that someone might be expecting you some other night, but that was irrational. Competition never ever entered his mind when he talked to other women.

What was happening here?

“Well I would consider myself extremely fortunate and would be honored if we could continue this conversation over dinner.”

—-

The way James Barnes turned your meeting into a dinner date had your head spinning, but the wonderful conversation and easy, light hearted banter eased your mind. As soon as the first course was served at your table at dinner at Bohemian, he agreed to your initial price.

From there, once the terms were settled, the conversation turned to more personal questions, each of you sharing the stories of your life in your town, his childhood in Romania, your childhood in Brooklyn, and lots of funny stories.

At one point early in the night, Bucky stopped you from calling him Mr. Barnes.

“Please. Call me James. Or you could call me Bucky. My Friends call me Bucky. For my middle name, Buchanan. Bucky is short for Buchanan.”

Bucky found himself rambling. He had not been this nervous in a while.

You looked at him quizzically. At that moment, he would give you anything you were about to ask of him.

“Do you have a lot of friends? I mean, do a lot of people call you Bucky?“

Godamn, the husk in your voice, those lips, those eyes. Everything about you was about to set him on fire.

“I have a few who are in my close circle. Natasha, Steve, Sam. They and a very few others call me Bucky. Most people I speak with call me Mr. Barnes...”

You nodded slowly, licking your lips, making Bucky feel it in his cock.

“Then I will call you James.”

He got your subtle meaning. You wanted to be different.

And you were. So very different.

After almost five hours of the best conversation and laughter, he proposed another time for you two to meet before the week was up, on Friday. He had made it clear at dinner that now that business was concluded that he wanted to spend time with you.

Friday night would be a date, the second one at his insistence.

You debated that fact as his driver took you home, even up until he walked you to the door of your brownstone.

He leaned against your doorframe and checked you out as you retrieved your keys from your purse. When you turned and caught him looking, you gasped, causing him to straighten up and move toward you, eyes dilated.

“It will be our second date,” you conceded.

Bucky’s mouth curled into a smirk as he grabbed your hand and lifted it to his mouth. Your soul burned as he pressed his lips to your palm. It was like the hint of a drug in your veins and you wanted so much more.

“What made you change your mind?”

That voice. Did you have a voice kink? Good lord.

You flushed, both at the images that were racing through your mind, and at the arbitrary three date rule you’d made up a while ago. Why was that again?

You cleared your throat.

“Because of the way you are looking at me, James. And the fact that you just kissed me.”

“Is this a kiss?”

“Ummhmmmm.”

You hummed as Bucky raised his eyebrow and your hand again. This time, he brushed his lips against your wrist and inhaled the perfume lingering there. You were about to melt.

Bucky didn’t even know what he was doing. The next step in his mind was to open his mouth and consume you, but he opened his eyes and spied you looking at him in that way, and he knew he had to stop. He didn’t want this to be like all of his other conquests.

He straightened up, but didn’t let go of your hand, entangling your fingers together.

“You are correct, Y/N. In my mind, this is a date. I am interested in you, for more than just your taste in art. I hope that this is the first date of many.”

You were bowled over at his straightforwardness. It was not what you were used to. This was a man, not a boy in mens clothing.

“I appreciate your honesty, James.”

You went on tiptoes and kissed him on the cheek, your lips lingering on the black and grey stubble so close to his lips. You turned around, giving him a view of your backside as you opened your door.

“And your ambition.”

You gave him that smile again with a wink, and your “Goodnight, James,” floated up to him on cloud nine.

——-

Let me know if you liked it!

Part II here.

#falloween #falloween 24 #kinktober #kinktober 24 #ramp-it-up falloween ‘24 #bucky barnes #Art dealer! Bucky Barnes #mob boss! Bucky Barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes smut #james bucky buchanan barnes #bucky barnes x plus size reader #bucky barnes x black!reader

405 notes · View notes

reidmania · 2 months ago

Text

cinema seven | s.reid

summary; spencer goes to see a movie in cinema with derek, when cinema seven breaks down, he offers to help the pretty — all too stressed manger (who he has been too nervous to ask out) fix the projectors.

warnings; guys this fic is actually just for me. cinema manger reader, fem reader, they lowkey break rules but we don’t talk about that, probably boy band haired reid and ooc spencer bc they flirt or banter idk, fluff!! So much fluff!!spencer has been pinning for a while

an; i am a cinema manger 😐 cinema seven is making me want to die because of the bloody projectors breaking constantly. this is probably soo ooc, and also like uncorrectly timed bc it based off how cinema’s are now, not how they were. Whoops. this has been in my drafts for weeks and i hate it.

Dimly low lights lit the theatre room, couples, families and other guests filling the space of the soft red velvet chairs set aligned, finding their seats as the advertisement’s played over the big screen in front of them, the stairs lit with small red lights to ensure everyone knew where they were going, and to ensure nobody missed a step under the dim lit lights.

The room smelt strongly of sweet buttered popcorn, and whatever antiseptic spray had been used to wipe down the cupholders of the seats when being cleaned in between movie sessions, the smell sent a small wave of reassurance over Spencer.

Spencer had never been a massive fan of cinemas, he preferred watching his documentaries or show’s from his couch at home, curled up in blankets, in an area he knew was completely sanity, away from the public and in his own space. However, lately Derek had been inviting him to the cinema more and more after he agreed the first time.

He didn’t necessarily mind, and he knew why Derek had continued to invite him — which was the reason he didn’t mind so much. The first time they had come to the cinema apparently they had picked a bad time, since it was absolutely packed the minute they arrived.

Thats when Spencer had seen you, working on one of the till’s. He had been to the cinema before, but he had never seen you before. As they got closer and the queue shortened, he was able to read the small ‘manger’ badge that hug off the lanyard around your neck.

Explained why he hadn’t seen you at the front before.

His palms had grown clammy as the line grew shorter, whatever Derek had been talking about was completely lost on Spencer, his gaze was locked on your pretty face smiling at a young kid who — spencer assumed — was blabbering about something, hardly coherent over the noise of the people around, but you smiled and nodded none the less as you handed the parents boxes of popcorn.

That was the first time he went to the cinema’s with Derek. Derek had watched the boy stumble over his words as he spoke to you when you served them, cheeks flushing and his gaze never meeting yours for two long. You had laughed and told him to take his time as you wiped down the benches, listening intently. He had taken note of the way you juggled tasks all at once, making popcorn, serving, cleaning.

He had been three times since, the second time wasn’t with Derek, and he honestly didn’t really want to see a movie, he just wanted to see you, unfortunately you weren’t working and he was left seeing a movie he didn’t actually want to watch.

Derek teased the boy endlessly, about his cinema crush. Which was why him and Derek were here now. Again, a movie Spencer had no interest in, but it was busy enough that you would have to be working tills. That was enough to justify seeing a boring film to Spencer.

He had seen you, you had served them and when you smiled widely with recognition of their faces Spencer felt like he was about to pass out with how hard his head was beating. Now he was sitting in the cinema, next to Derek who was shovelling handfuls of popcorn into his mouth before the movie had actually even started.

It was only about five minutes into the actual film when the sound had dropped out.

It was another five minutes before people started talking, before someone had stood up to leave the cinema. Then another two minutes before a worker — not you, a different one, came in and looked over the screen before talking into a hand held radio.

People were growing frustrated, annoyed and restless in waiting. Fair enough, no one really wanted to see a film with no sound. However what made Spencer pinch his eyebrows together with a frown is when you did walk in, and there was someone else standing, obviously taking their frustration out on you.

Spencer looked at Derek, who looked at him at the same time, obviously noticing the interaction before the guy had returned to his seat in a frustrated huff. Then your voice rang out throughout the cinema as you stood to the side, Spencer watched from his seat as your hands toyed with the lanyard around your neck.

“Im really sorry about this guys— We’ve been having issues all day. Just give me a couple of minutes to try to fix the projector then I’ll put it back to before the sound went off, so you don’t miss anything.” You sounded stressed, clearly apologetic as you spoke. There were mumbling that went around the cinema. Spencer’s eyebrows furrowed as you ran your hand through your hair before turning to walk out.

Spencer— didn’t know what was going through his mind when he stood up and made his way down the stairs, ignoring the confused splutter from Derek. Spencer made his way out of the cinema, looking around at the foyer area, it didn’t take long to see you.

Standing there, you were talking to another customer, clearly stressed and in a rush but still respectful. He waited patiently before the customer thanked you and walked away. His feet worked quicker than his mind could when he walked up to you.

“Hi” he said gently. Your eyes lifted to his before you looked towards a doorway, you smiled softly. He stood in front of you, your hands continued to fidget, he noticed that, he noticed the way your cheeks were slightly flushed and a few baby hairs stuck to your forehead from sweat.

You wiped your cheek, “Hi- Cinema seven right? I promise I’m getting there — Im so sorry.” You apologised, his heart both warmed and ached for different reasons, one because you remembered what movie he had gone to see, and because you sounded so insanely overwhelmed. There was a slight shake in your tone, he noticed.

He nodded, “yeah- But uh- I just- What’s the issue?” He asked, he wanted to slap himself in the face for the way he stuttered over his words. He was embarrassing himself, and wasting your time and he knew he should probably just turn around and walk back to his seat but he couldn’t.

A sigh left your lips, “I honestly have no idea — all day the sound has just been going out, it works for a bit but it’s just — so annoying. I’ve tried restarting it like ten times — i can’t seen any obvious issue, I really am so sorry.” You continue to apologise, he hated that you were apologising for an issue that was out of your control, its not like you went and broke the projector.

“No- Its okay. I just — I could look at it — if you want? If thats okay? I just, uh.. know quite a bit about them..” He offered, because you looked so stressed and so overwhelmed and he just wanted to help in any way he possibly could. This was something he knew he could do, he was smart enough to figure it out.

You sighed and smiled gently at him, “Thats really nice and I would totally say yes — like i genuinely would but we can’t uh— have customers going up there.” You mumbled out, almost as if you were genuinely disappointed by the fact.

He nodded in understanding because it made sense, of course you couldn’t. Projectors weren’t cheap by any means and if you just let customers go up there then chances are they would all be broken within minutes.

“Im not- I work for the FBI, I-I can show you my badge.” He mumbled, hand already reaching out for his pocket to pull out his badge and flick it open. Now, Spencer didn’t use his job as a personal weapon often; however this was different. This was you, and you were oh so pretty.

He watched as your eyes trailed down his hands to his badge, reading over the information before your eyes flickered back up to his — you were considering it, he could basically see the mental debate you were having with yourself. He hoped you said yes, because if not then he had wasted an incredible amount of your time and was actually just stopping your from doing your job.

Then you huffed out a small breath of air, “You know what you’re doing?” You asked.

He nodded instantly, “If it helps I have an IQ of 187 and have three pHD’s?” He offered the information, not to impress but to provide some sort of comfort to the clear worry over your features.

Yours eyes met his and you just looked at him for a minute — trying to find any hint of dishonesty in his features, but when you didn’t you huffed out a small ‘okay.’ Before turning around, Spencer followed you.

His mind was spinning. If he thought he was flustered before now was something else. His skin felt so hot he wanted to dive into a pool of pure ice, despite knowing that it wouldn’t actually be nearly as enjoyable as it sounded right now.

“Please don’t make me regret this. And please— for the love of everything above, don’t break anything, i do not need to loose my job right now” you had mumbled as he followed you up the stairs after you unlocked the door. He smiled gently at your words and the trust you were putting in him, maybe it was naive and stupid if it was someone else who had bad intentions, but you took your chances with him.

Spencer steps up to the controls, eyeing the mess with a focused look, his fingers tracing over the switches and buttons like he’s reading a puzzle. “Wow,” he says after a beat. “This is… pretty old-school.”

You let out a short laugh, leaning against the doorway. “Yeah, tell me about it. I’m honestly surprised we haven’t had more breakdowns.”

He glances over at you, his expression softening. “You’ve been keeping this place running pretty well, considering.”

The compliment catches you off guard, and for a moment, you feel your face flush. You quickly shake it off and nod toward the panel. “So, you think you can fix it?”

Spencer nods confidently, already getting to work. He’s methodical as he checks the wires and makes adjustments, explaining the technicalities as he goes. You pretend to understand most of it, but really, you’re just watching him, impressed by how he seems to know exactly what to do.

After a few minutes of working in silence, he glances at you again. “You know,” he says with a small grin, “this isn’t the first time I’ve saved a situation with some quick rewiring.” He grows more comfortable under your gaze as time goes on, the nerves still fluttering through his body, he tries to keep his hands as steady as possible — because you were trusting him.

“Oh?” You raise an eyebrow, intrigued despite yourself.

“Yeah. One time, I had to disarm a bomb using only a circuit board and a pair of wire cutters.” He pauses, eyes sparkling with that same quiet confidence. “This is a little less stressful.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “I should hope so.”

The conversation continues like that—light, easy, playful. and the tension you’ve been feeling all evening starts to melt away. There’s something about his calm demeanor that puts you at ease, like you can trust him to handle things, not just here, but in general. It’s a strange feeling, but a good one.

Finally, he steps back from the panel, brushing his hands together. “That should do it.”

You blink, glancing at the screen where the sound has suddenly returned, loud and clear. “You fixed it?”

“Looks like it,” he says, his voice soft but full of satisfaction.

A wave of relief washes over you. You hadn’t realized just how tightly wound you’d been until now. You smile, unable to hold back your gratitude. “Thank you. Seriously, you have no idea how much this helps.”

Spencer shrugs, looking a little bashful. “It’s nothing, really.”

But it’s not nothing. You can feel that. He’s helped you out, more than just with the projector, and the gratitude in your chest grows warmer.

You glance at him, hesitating. He can see it in your gaze, your eyes are on his, a warm smile on your face. He has to stop his mind from drifting away.

“I don’t know how to thank you,” you say, your voice softer now, more personal. “Is there anything I can do— Free tickets, do you need more popcorn?— That doesn’t do it justice. If there’s anything I can do to make it up to you, please let me know” You rambled and his heart fluttered.

There’s a pause, just long enough for you to wonder what he’s thinking. Then, he meets your eyes, his expression a mix of uncertainty and hope. “How about a date?”

The question hangs in the air, and your heart skips a beat.

It takes a moment to process what he’s asking, but when you do, you feel a smile tugging at your lips. “You’re asking me out?”

He nods, looking more nervous than you’ve ever seen him. “If you’re free. I’d really like to take you out sometime.”

You furrow your eyebrows slightly, hands coming back up to fumble with the lanyard on your neck — for maybe the hundredth time. You look over his face as id you don’t believe him for a moment before you let out a breathy laugh, and for a moment his heart dropped with the idea of rejection.

“Yeah- Yeah. I’d like that.” You said. And he felt like the wind had been knocked out of him.

Spencer liked the cinema’s a lot more now.

491 notes · View notes

boolger · 2 months ago

Text

A lapdog at a farm - chapter 1

AO3 link. next chapter -> Call of duty. Explicit, 18+, minors do not interact. read the tags. wc: 4,147

Farmer!John Price x Hybrid!Reader, hybrid! Kyle Gaz Garrick x hybrid! Johnny Soap MacTavish x hybrid! Simon Ghost, John Price x Nikolai.

Summary: When Price was young and left his childhood home, a farm in the middle of nowhere in England, he didn’t enter the military. Instead he moved to London, got a degree and a good career, earning good money. He got you, a human dog hybrid as a pet, after feeling lonely - and you lived your best life for years, spoiled and pampered, Price’s lapdog who got praised at every party. Loved and fucked every night. That was until Price decided to return to his roots and go back to farming - dragging you along to the middle of nowhere, away from all the wonders of the big city. Expecting you to accept this sudden change in lifestyle and pretend to be a farm dog. Bad luck however, because you fucking hated it, and became more and more unruly. In hopes of getting you to calm down and to keep his live-stock and farm safe, Price then got three working dog hybrids - and all at once, your life was even worse than before.

tags: Rape/non-con elements, dub-con, dog!hybrid!people being kept as pets, alternative universe - farm, dark, farmer!John Price, working-dogs, punishments, mating cycles/rut/heat (no omegaverse), the dove isn't dead but its dying, reader is a brat, knotting, animal tails and ears, mentions of trauma, violence, angst, hurt/comfort, collars, rough sex, breeding kink, biting, threesome, foursome, everyone is fucking your honor, enemies to lovers, chubby reader, reader has a pussy

author's note: Hi sinners <33 Just a heads up; the reader is gonna be a spoiled brat. If you want a smart and sweet reader who isn’t mean at times, well. Bad news. This ain’t it.🥰The reader is she / her and has a pussy and is chubby. I tried my best to keep the descriptions somewhat vague otherwise. Reader is a cocker spaniel hybrid. I will tell the others along the way. In this universe, hybrids have ears, tail, claws beneath nails and canine fangs. There will be heats and ruts but there is no omegaverse. They will have personality traits of their dog breed and so on. Now. I know there aren’t wild wolves in the UK… but in this fic there is, ok? mwah.

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

The countryside was peaceful compared to the city; the absence of the bustling streets and constant traffic, created a quietness that was indescribable.

Out here, at the new farm, the noises only came from animals that lived in the stables and barn or the occasional rumble as a tractor turned on. The wind caressed the never ending fields of wheat and the long rows of fruit trees, under which the goats and sheep walked most days.

The stress here wasn’t the same kind as in the city. Sure , there were stressful moments and sometimes Price looked like he needed to sleep for more than just the few hours he got everyday.

But he didn’t have to worry about the morning traffic, waiting in a queue for an overpriced, questionable tea or coffee. There was no need for him to wear a suit, no noisy, overfilled train cars in the underground. No crowded dog or hybrid parks, no meetings or rules to follow - except those John Price decided for himself.

He was happy, so much was clear to you. It had been three months since the move - Johnhad gone back to his roots, buying back the farm that his parents had used to own a little while ago, using some of his endless wealth on renovating the place. There was no step on the stairs that was loose, like it used to when he was a kid - sure they still creaked, but you weren’t afraid they would disappear from beneath you.

It was modernized, but most of the old charm left. Price fit right in; the furniture he had inherited and never believed he would use was suddenly in the living room. His knowledge of the business world was abandoned in the city, for the knowledge of farming that he still had left from his youth. John got a couple of farm hands and workers, who helped him with the big place.

It was like he reclaimed his own self that had been buried beneath the suits, ties and paperwork. Now he didn’t smoke his cigars from stress, but from pleasure, clearly much content.

It was like the farm had truly made John Price happy once more; his smiles more genuine, his true self stepping forth. Returning to his childhood home and taking over the farm had been the best decision Price had made. There was no question about it.

… and you hated every bloody day at the farm.

The early morning hours in bed with him, being disturbed by the farm waking up, the rooster crowing and John leaving the bed, giving you a pat in between your ears, taking all the heat with him. The constant bugs, the muddy stables and the big animals, the helpers who always teased you for not fitting in, the lack of friends you had out here. The foxes’ screams in the night, the wolves howling, and the cows occasionally mooing sounded like creatures stepping out of nightmares.

You were not made for farm life. Literally. Simply not made for it.

Some would argue that you, as a hybrid pet, didn’t have a say in it and sure , legally you didn’t. But you were a lapdog, an elegant pet. Not a farm dog. Created to be cared for and cuddled, you were a purebred cocker spaniel hybrid; you weren’t made to run around on a farm, following John on his duties And doing work.

Sure, you had the instincts to hunt a few things here and there, but it was mostly balls and the occasional bird or squirrel. You weren’t a guard hybrid, not really a working dog.

You had had enough trauma throughout your life - you deserved not to be forced into this! You had grown up being trained to be a lapdog, not a working-dog like you felt like John expected you to act like now.

You wanted John to be happy, you really did - you loved your Master! When he bought you a few years ago, when you were still aggressive and unruly (… more than now at least), you had thought he would tire of you like everybody else had. But with patience, rules, training, praise and punishment and a whole lot of sex later, you were a perfect hybrid pet for the city! People always praised how well you looked, laughing when Price said you were really a little troublemaker. You would follow him throughout the fancy apartment, on your daily walks, sometimes for meetings.

But why the fuck did it have to be a farm? He worked somwwhat the same time that he did before, genuinely seeming to enjoy himself. Forgetting about poor you!

Out here, there were no hybrid daycare that you would go to when he had long days, there were none of your playmates nearby, everything stank of animals and there were no places nearby for you to get your hair and fur styled and pampered! No nail technicians, no fancy cafes, no shops for John to buy you things in! No special made coffee or chef-made meals every other evening, no freshly baked croissants.

You felt like you had tried . You really had.

But after the first week, you had your first breakdown - and as the weeks passed, they didn’t stop. At first, John was sympathetic, like the perfect owner he was.

Cooing at you, kissing your forehead, as he gently scratched your ears. Kissing away any tears, saying it was okay - that you were just overwhelmed, that it would be okay. That you would come to like it out here.

Big fucking joke.

He had tried every trick in the book, in an attempt to please you and made you less upset, but as days turned into weeks and tantrums began to appear, you knew his patience began to disappear.

He followed professional advice and then the advice of the neighbors down the street, Rodolfo and Alejandro (who had caught you running away at one point), tried some of the workers’ advice. He had given you your own room, and it was mostly designed like your own, perfect to the pale green paint on the wall, all your toys and dog beds, your CDs - everything. He had tried hauling you along every day, trying to give you a routine to follow - but after two weeks, he gave up, not having the energy to deal with a tantrum that got worse and worse each day. He went on walks with you, fucked you silly, tried his best — and you didn’t want it.

No, you wanted to go back to your old life. Not this country life that you hadn’t signed up for, with horses that neighed loudly whenever you passed them; they were definitely going to trample you at the first chance, you knew that. You could hear foxes scream in the night, warning you of the dangers. The goats and sheep were so fucking loud and no you didn’t want to go pick fresh apples off the trees - had he seen the size of the spiders crawling on them?

When you in one of your biggest tantrums took off and bolted from the farm in distress, Rodolfo and Alejandro had almost hit you when you emerged from the corn fields onto the road.

You had cried the entire drive home, no matter what the two men had tried saying, especially as Rodolfo called Price in advance — your master was livid . The worst thing was, that it was not that kind of anger where he yelled at you before punishing you - no, this one was almost silent, a sharp grip on your collar as he dragged you along after thanking his neighbours.

He had belted you then, ignoring your crying and screaming, only stopping when you broke, sobbing and going quiet. He had explained it to you then, what could have happened, what dangers you could have ended in - and as you sobbingly apologized and tried to explain, that you wanted to go back to the city, John had sighed .

Said that he had pampered you too much since he got you, which had made you greedy and attention seeking. Which only made you cry more, as you hid your face in his neck, fingers digging into his shirt, ass cheeks burning.

“Spoiled rotten, little birdie,” he mused, though you could hear the softness in him, your tail wagging a little, hoping to get him to be less mad.

“‘M sorry,” you had whined in distress, upset with yourself as well, ears tipping down, “wanna be good but I don’t like it.”

Your rather dull escape attempt resulted in several things. An AirTag on your collar, so that he always knew where you were. A remarkable lack of treats, sex and then… the crate .

You fucking hated the dog crate.

Sure, it hadn’t been nice of you to bite one of his pillows into a simple pulp of fabric, feathers everywhere. Or create chaos in the kitchen… or get drunk on his fancy whiskey (that one had ended worse for you, hangover was a bitch and there wasn’t much sympathy from John). And yes, you might have ripped most of the flowers surrounding the house up, until one of the workers had caught you. Maybe pissing yourself in the middle of the living room while staring him in the eyes and ignoring his warnings had been a little…excessive.

But the dog crate? You hated that thing with a burning passion.

Hated it when he locked you up, ignoring your whimpers and whines, your promises to behave, ignoring your little howls as he left.

Mean. The farm had made him mean. Perhaps you had become a bit unruly too, but it was like he didn’t take your clear suffering seriously.

Mean and happy - unruly and suffering. What a pair you were. One of the workers, KAte Laswell, who was a big helper and often stayed over for dinner, suggested a fucking shock collar. You had growled, only stopped when John sent you a sharp look.

You had even heard him talking over the phone with somebody, saying that he didn’t want to rehome you, but he didn’t know what to do.

That had made you melt a little and you had cried as you had crawled into his bed a couple of hours later, begging him to not abandon you. Fears of never getting to see John again or being loved again by him made you cling onto him as he kissed away your tears, gently fucking you.

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

It was a random morning a couple of days later, that you found him still in the kitchen, reading the newspaper, humming to himself while smoking a cigar.

He looked nice like this. Despite how he sometimes muttered about being too old, he wasn’t really that old. Late thirties, and perhaps it was the peace on his face or the sun rays that kissed him, which made him look younger. But still. There was a decade between you, but days like this, you were reminded that it didn’t matter.

“Are you going to stare all day or are you going to join me, Darling?” He asked teasingly, pulling you from your thoughts. You let out a little huff and kissed him good morning, receiving a pat on the ass before you sat down on your own seat. It had been a while since the two of you had eaten together - often he was up at the crack of dawn, so his calm behavior and gentle humming was unusual to say the least.

“Why are you not working?” You asked carefully, as you ate some of the bread, trying to ignore how it wasn’t a fancy sourdough one - though you were pretty sure he had picked it up from a local bakery in the village which was a little drive away.

“Because,” he put the paper down, then tapping some ash off the cigar into his ashtray, before looking over at you, a pleased smile on his face, “you and I are going on a trip.”

“A trip?” You didn’t even bother to be embarrassed about how your voice got higher with excitement or how your tail thumped against the backrest of the chair as you wagged it, “where are we going? When? Can we go now?”

Price had laughed, a happy sound that you knew not many got to hear; it made your heart beat a little faster, made you feel butterflies in your stomach.

“Well, we got to do a few things first to get ready, and you ,” he used the cigar to point at you, your tail wagging a little faster, “need to not freak out when I tell you where we are going.”

Despite the warning, tears streamed down your cheeks when he told you. John didn’t get mad as a part of you had expected; he knew your abandonment issues first hand, knew how you had been left behind before, from one bad owner to another.

“You’re going to sell me and leave me with a mean owner and I’m gonna die of hunger and thirst - and - and —“

“Not gonna leave you, princess,” John crooned, covering your face in kisses as you hiccuped and sniffled, clinging to his clothes, “you know that. My favorite puppy. Pretty girl.”

Despite your tears and small sobs, your tail wagged at his words, “silly puppy,” he mused with a smile, gently scratching your lower back, “‘m not gonna sell you. Ale and Rodolfo are looking for a hybrid, I figured we could go look at the auction as well.”

“What if - what if - what if you’ll like them more?” You sniffled dramatically, sure that your life was only going to become worse than it already was. One thing was this bloody farm and the crate, another thing was having to share Price. You didn’t like the idea one bit. If that happened, you were going to show him how a proper tantrum was thrown - the crate would probably be the least of your worries.

As if to prove his love, John bent you over the table, fucking you in between the clattering dishes and cutlery, tea and coffee almost spilling over. Despite how many times your owner fucked you, it made you lose control of your mind every single time. His cock reached so deep inside you that it bordered on pain, your mouth open as you panted and moaned at each thrust; your soft stomach being pressed against the edge of the table, one hand holding onto the back of your collar, the other on your tail. The table rattled, John groaned and moaned, your fingers desperately trying to hold onto anything.

“My princess,” he snarled darkly into your ear, “you’ll always be mine-“ a moan, a grunt, “- no matter what happens, yeah?”

“Yes ye-ah- yes, sir, I’m yours - ah ah - I’m yours!” you managed in between pants and wails of pleasure, fear of abandonment forgotten in the ocean of euphoric satisfaction.

You came harder than you had for a while; the reminder of your worth, of how you deserved his worship, making you cream around his throbbing length, legs in spasms afterwards. He pushed deeper, filling you up with a loud roar like sound, his hands moving to grab onto the fat of your ass and hips as he came. Pain and pleasure made your toes curl and a content sigh left you, your tail wagging against Price as he chuckled.

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

The auction hall was filled to the brim with humans and hybrids alike. Every owned hybrid followed their respective owners, all wearing mandatory leashes so no pets would be confused with the ones that were being sold. You wore your own pink one with pride, gem stones sparkling. A matching leash connected to the D-ring on it, that also bore your tags. You were convinced yours were the most beautiful in this entire place.

“They’re bonded,” Laswell pointed out, pointing to the papers that hung nearby, showing off general information about them, “gotta get all three.”

You dared to look at the little board with the informations about the three hybrids they were looking at.

“Ah, we don't have space for three, mi amor.”

“eso es una pena,” Rodolfo answered, while you looked over at John - who kept looking at the three hybrids. You dared to peek over at them.

All three of them were enormous .

Two of them wore muzzles, meaning they were biters. At least at the auction. You shouldn’t judge then, not really, but you did... Even though you had worn a muzzle five years ago, when Price had chosen you. You hadn’t tried biting people out of malice; you had been scared and angry at the world. Angry for being abandoned once more, over the fact that you were most likely being passed on to another abusive master. You leaned a little closer to Price, taking in his scent.

Even from the start, despite all the problems and your attitude problems, he had been sweet. Strict at times — probably not enough — but kind.

The biggest one looked like a Great Pyrenees breed, most likely. The fur on his ears and tail looked shorter, badly cut. Probably due to matting or if he refused to get it cut. His hair, a dark blonde almost brown, was in a buzz cut. He had scars, all over - unable to hide because of the lack of clothes most hybrids were given, only underwear. There was a lot in his face, though you suspected a bunch were hidden by the muzzle. He stared into nothing, his ears curled back, though they moved now and again, listening to different sounds.

“Hard to get sold,” Laswell commented and you looked over at her in synchronicity with John, “they’re ex-military.”

Like he had been called to them, a man who wore one of the seller badges appeared.

“They’re obedient once they fall into place,” he happily explained, going full seller-mode, “they’re just not too fond of the auctions - too many people.”

“Makes sense,” Price mused, clearly interested - much to your annoyance. The fact that he asked follow up questions made you frown, fingers tightening in his shirt. He was here to look. To help Alejandro and Rodolfo, who both had continued their walk. You dared to look over at the hybrids again. All three were staring at you and John.

“How come they were discharged?”

“One of them got a hearing loss -“ he nodded towards them, “the one with the mohawk. And they’re a bonded pack.”

“So only retiring him was out of the question,” John concluded once more looking over at them.

You felt your tail go in between your legs. He couldn’t be seriously considering those three . you couldn’t help but let out a small whine. Price gave your leash a little tug.

“They’re working dogs,” the seller continued, his eyes flickering to you, making you huff, “so they’ll need something to do, not just be pets.”

“Oh I know. I have a farm. Need some work dogs - this one isn’t guarding much.”

They all laughed, your tail going even further between your legs with embarrassment.

“You can’t be serious,” you whined in a whisper to John, not caring that you sounded needy - spoiled would Laswell had said and you ignored her as she rolled her eyes.

“Hush, Princess.” John didn’t even look at you.

“You have animals there?” The seller asked, “one of them is a herding dog - the border collie.”

“I do - several. That’s why there's a need for guarding dogs as well, bloody wolves have been terrorizing us.”

You knew he was telling the truth; he had muttered about dead sheeps and goats several times - even a calf had lost its life to the wolves in the area, despite he and Laswell having shot two already. Even foxes had gotten into the coop, despite the fences.

“They’re good at that too, with their training,” the seller offered, clearly interested in selling them or at least getting John to bid on them. “The one with the mohawk, Soap , will have hearing aids with him, so you don’t need to worry about that.”

You looked over at this “Soap”, scrunching your nose. They were still staring, the biggest one bending down to listen to the third one, a beautiful black man, whisper in his ear. No doubt judging you.

“It says here they don’t do well with others,” you muttered, in a desperate attempt to sway John, pointing to the board with their papers. It did indeed say so, to which you wanted to argue that YOU should be his main focus in this whole thing - how would he even consider adding them to your household if these dogs could get a hold of you?

“It’s in the sense that they’re not really housetrained to be social family pets,” the seller swooped in, pushing your argument away, annoying you even more, “they’ve had missions all their lives. They need to have something to do.”

“I’m sure you’ll get along with them, sweetheart,” Price answered, giving you a small scratch beneath your chin as he finally looked over at you, a glint in his eyes, “some company will do you good.”

You huffed, crossing your arms. Hardly . Price’s smile told you that he thought this was a great idea however. You dared to look at the men again. Still staring, fucking bastards.

The black man seemed like a mix of some breeds, German shepherd and… you looked shortly at the board. Belgian malinois. Fancy. He wasn’t as tall as the big one, but broad and with scars as well. There was a more slender look to him, but his six pack proved he was strong. His curly hair wasn’t too long, probably cut not too long ago. He was looking at you curiously, making you raise your upper lip a little, as if to warn him.

The one with the hearing loss looked like some sort of border collie - covered in scars as well, some of his skin looking like it had been too close to fire. He was broad like the two others, his upper arms the size of your head. He even sent you a cheeky grin, even daring to wink at you. You just looked away, tipping your chin up a little.

“You can look closer if you want, sir?”

You were pulled back into the conversation at once and before you could argue, John had already passed on your leash to Laswell and walked towards the men with the seller. You whined, distressed that he was really, actually considering this.

“You’ll be fine,” Laswell commented calmly, with empathy in her voice for once, though she didn’t look at you, merely at John and the others.

“He is gonna lose interest in me,” you whined, perhaps a little dramatically, bottom lip wobbling a little as you could feel tears welling up in your eyes, “then he’ll leave me in the crate all day and only care about them an—“

“Calm down,” Laswell said, “you’ll work yourself into a fuss.”

“He can’t do this to me,” you argued in a sullen voice, already imagining John forgetting all about you, focusing on these three hybrids for the rest of his life, leaving you cold and lonely inside the dog crate - maybe even rehoming you, “he promised he wouldn’t get rid of me.”

“You’re being dramatic,” Laswell answered just as calmly as before, “John loves you too much, you’re just being spoiled. Hanging out with some working dogs will do you good.”

“They probably have fleas,” you said, your prejudices seeping into your words, knowing you’re being mean, judgmental against your own kind, “they’ll kill me and eat my dead body.”

Laswell laughed. “No they won’t. Worst thing they’ll do, is probably knock you up.”

A high pitched, scandalized sound left you, despite knowing you had an implant. Laswell laughed again, giving your leash a little yank and then scratching you behind your long ears.

“Settle, Princess. That won’t happen without John’s permission.”

You almost cried at the sight of John shaking the seller’s hand.

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

They all met up again for the actual auction part and you sat at John’s feet, sniffling a little. Crying hadn’t helped, in fact John had just petted and kissed you, calling you sensitive. Alejandro had gotten a hybrid earlier that they didn’t need to bid on - she was for sale for a certain price. Something about being too intense without enough space to roam, having attacked others before.

Fucking great. Beasts all around you.

John won the bidding on the three working dog hybrids he had been interested in - because of course he did. He spent way too much money on them too, according to you.

One more - or well, three more fucking things to hate about this “farming life” that had been forced upon you.

Maybe John had gone mad.

next chapter ->

596 notes · View notes

iheartduckie · 4 months ago

Text

slapping their butt (aoba johsai)

a/n - bye this is so funny lmfao and UNEDITED

fluff + established relationship + pre-timeskip x gn! reader

warnings - you’re slapping butts, you’re getting your butt slapped, idk if i was on something or not when i wrote this but if your not comfy with that then don’t read it obvi!

————————

# 1 oikawa toru

- is so OFFENDED! when he turns to face you and sees you trying to hide your laughter, he tries to give you a blank stare and feign intimidating vibes. although, your infectious laughter causes him to laugh too. as your running away to try and escape, he grabs your arm to pull you closer to him, “get over here, love, you’re not getting away that easily” and then really ‘hits it till he breaks’. probably starts laughing at you when he sees you rubbing your butt to soothe your pain.

#2 matsukawa issei

- he freaking laughs. like, you hit him pretty hard too, and you were so confused when you heard his laughter. yea, he leaned forward a little, but for the most part, he just shakes it off as nothing and continues on with what he’s been doing. weeks later, when you're talking to a good friend of yours, he decides to come up behind you and slap your butt. hard. you let out a yelp of surprise while mattsun and your friend bursted out laughing.

#3 hanamaki takahiro

- you don’t even get to slap his butt, HE KNEW BEFORE YOU HAD THE CHANCE- curiosity plagued your th0ughts when your hand slapped nothing but thin air, as you looked up to meet his stupid grin. “this is definitely interesting, right?” he asked, before grabbing your suspended hand and dragging you along his way. when you let your guard down and eased up after a short time walking, he playfully slapped your butt when you least expected it.

#4 iwaizumi hajime

- after he didn’t see you passing by him in the hall, you decided to slap his butt and run away. immediately blaming oikawa, he yelled profanities at him before makki and mattsun ratted you out. queue him looking around his surroundings, spotting you, saying “there you are,” rolling up his sleeves, and fast-walking towards you. by the end of the passing period, the two of you ended up at the guidance counselor’s office, promising to not slap each other’s butts on school grounds- while you iced your butt.

#13 kunimi akira

- poor boy was just laying on his tummy, chilling in bed and scrolling thru his phone, when you came up behind him to smack his butt before laying down next to him. while rubbing his butt, he looked over and asked “the fck did you do that for?” he didn’t expect for you to say that his butt was nice and squishy- giving you a soft smile, and calling you a “weirdo” under his breath, he sets his phone down and pulls you closer, taking an unexpected nap together.

#16 kyotani kentaro

- you’ve lost a bet with mattsun and makki, and as a punishment, you had to go slap your boyfriend’s butt. with him having a soft spot for you, you thought that you could get away with that unharmed. although, kyoken did not hesitate to throw a volleyball at you (not that hard tho- but it was also a head shot). “why are you like this, babe?” he asks, before letting you get a running head start because swiggity swooty, he’s coming for that booty.

——————————

masterlist

ohhhhkayyyy what was i on this was funny but what was i on

reblogs help others see my work + feedback is greatly appreciated!

481 notes · View notes

sun4r1nnity · 2 months ago

Note

atsumu secretly dating reader the nerd of the school

miya atsumu x nerd!reader

MID-YEAR EXAMINATION RESULTS

1- (L/N) (Y/N)

2- HIROSHI KAITO

3- ...................

atsumu gave a slight shrug, recognizing the two familiar names at the top of the list. he squinted, scanning the list closely in search of his own name.

143- MIYA ATSUMU

well that's not bad, he thinks.

atsumu swiftly made his way out of the throng of students crowding around to see the list, when the sound of a conversation caught his interest. "seems like i beat you again huh?" you teased, a playful glint in your eyes. "maybe you need to work harder then," you put both of your hands on your waist, with a smirk on your face as you taunt your ultimate academic rival.

hiroshi gritted his teeth, clearly irritated that the fact he lost again—to you. and the way you're taunting him right now is just adding fuel to the fire. "one of these days, i'll catch up to you," he replied, pointing at you before walking away. you chuckle, turning around to leave the area as you felt a pair of eyes watching you. atsumu, leaning against a nearby wall, a proud smile on his face. he gave you a thumbs up, and you felt your heart flutter.

you watch him walk back to his class, and you feel your phone vibrate in your pocket. you take out your phone, click on the message you've received, and a smile forms on your face.

tsumu :D <3

lunch at the rooftop tday? special treat for my smart girl :p

......

"tsumu, you're the best!" you exclaimed, as you saw atsumu holds the best-selling karaage crepe in each hand, one for him and one for you. the crepe stall was always bustling, and the queue stretched on, yet atsumu succeeded in being the early bird. he hands you a crepe and then sits down beside you. "a reward for securing first place, again," he says, taking a bite of his own. you eat yours contentedly, acknowledging atsumu's words with a nod.

"thanks, tsumu. how about you? has my nerdiness finally rubbed off on you?" you asked with a playful tone in your voice, eliciting a chuckle from atsumu. "nah, not strong enough. ya have to physically rub yerself on me," atsumu winced as you hit his arm, both of you laughing at his joke. "what a pervert," you remarked, a soft chuckle escaping your lips. as you were about to savor another bite of the delicious crepe, you noticed atsumu's gaze fixed on you. Meeting his eyes, you were puzzled by his actions. "what? can't get enough of me?" atsumu snickered at your comment, then reached out to wipe the sauce from the corner of your lips with his finger.

"yer a messy eater, ya know that?" he said, a slanted smile on his annoyingly handsome face, aware that you were blushing from his tease. "shut up," you retorted, continuing to devour your crepe as your ears grew warm. a comfortable silence settled between the two of you, enjoying the breeze and the blue sky adorned with beautiful clouds. "hey," atsumu said, breaking the silence.

"wanna go on a date tomorrow?"

.........

"i dont understand how these guys are so good at volleyball," hiroshi said. "like, how did they even keep up with all that jumping and hitting and managed to not pass out on the spot?" he continues, flipping the pages of the volleyball magazine, one of the inarizaki charming star setter, miya atsumu being on it.

you and several people in the library chuckled at his remark while organizing books on the designated shelf. "yeah, they're like monsters, but volleyball is fun. It's not just physical; you should see how intimidating they are when they put their minds to use. It's truly mind-blowing. like how a setter can control their spikers, i think thats super cool," you said, but didn't receive a respond, not even from hiroshi. shortly after, you heard hiroshi clear his throat. "hey, (l/n)," hiroshi called out. you responded with a hum.

"since when you're into volleyball?"

351 notes · View notes

heeseungwifey · 7 months ago

Text

I'll pick you up - Park Sung Hoon

pairing: idol!Sunghoon x y/n

warnings: contains smut! Minors don’t interact pls

Is a well-known fact by kpop fans that once an idol gets their driving license it means they’re having sex. Since they live in a dorm shared with their group members, they have no other choice but to fuck in the backseat of a car.

Sunghoon is one of those idols. Annoyed he has to share a bedroom with the other 6 members of Enhypen, he got tired of having no privacy and got into driving classes ASAP. It was quite easy for him to pass the test, since he’s very skillfull and has learnt a lot from driving video games.

How does he get girls? easy, he can pick and choose at all the fanmeets, in which many fans would slide their phone numbers in tiny pieces of paper between the album pages when he’s gonna sign them.

He often turns them away, scared of getting into a scandal. But, from time to time, he sees one fan he wishes he could call and meet up with. That's why he was so keen to get his driving licence so that he wouldn't have to wait so long.

At the very first fanmeet Enhypen did after he passed the driving test, he was expectant of who was in the crowd. Many girls showed up, excited and happy to get an interaction with their favorite member of the group. As the fans sit down on the chairs in front of them, Sunghoon spots a girl with long dark hair and an angelic aura. She's a fan of his, a T-shirt with his picture on it and a banner with his name on it. Lucky him.

The queue moves way slower than he wishes, making him desperate to greet her. When he sees she’s already talking to one of the members, he can no longer focus on what he’s doing. All his signatures look like scribbles and he keeps forgetting the name of the fan in front of him. After many apologies, she’s right in front of him.

-Hello! What’s your name? - Sunghoon says as he stares at her while she sits on the chair in front of him.

-Y/n - She says, shy and blushy, avoiding his eyes.

- Y/n… a very pretty name - Sunghoon looks directly into her eyes, wanting to keep eye contact with her.

-Thank you… - She looks at him and now she can’t stop giggling and darting her eyes from one side to the other of the room.

-And tell me y/n… I see you’re wearing my face on your T-shirt. Am I your favourite?- Sunghoon smirks.

-Yes, you are. Since the very beginning, I knew I wanted to be your fan. - she has sparkles in her eyes, enjoying talking about her dear bias.

-Good to know I have such loyal fans. You know, I have to admit you are also been my favourite since you walked in here. You’re beautiful. - Sunghoon lowers his voice and gets closer to her ear, freezing her on the spot.

-Ahm… that’s, that’s… uhm I don’t know what to say… about that… ahm… - y/n gets surprised by a timer, indicating the time of their brief talk is over.

Y/n doesn’t want to get up from the chair. She still has something to give to him. She looks at him in the eyes and shakes the pages of the album he just signed in front of him, a piece of paper falling from the inside.

Sunghoon couldn’t be happier. He was worried she might be a fan who thought didn’t have a shot with him. She does, oh my god how much she does. He couldn’t think of anything or anyone else throughout the whole day. With her phone number written on a piece of paper in the bottom of his pocket, waiting for him to get off work.

When Sunghoon got to the dorms, he stared at his phone waiting to gather the courage to call her. He knows she wants to meet up with him, that’s why she gave him her phone number in the first place. So why was he feeling so doubtful?

Sunghoon picks up his damn phone and calls her, jumping with every dial tone. When he’s about to give up, a voice on the other line answers:

-Hello…? Who’s this? - y/n answers the phone and Sunghoon can hear voices in the background, a male voice standing out from all of them. Is she with a dude right now? Isn’t she a fan of him? Why did that bother him so much?

Sunghoon thought about hanging up the call. It’s whatever. She has her own life, of course she’s not gonna be waiting for him to call her. When she repeats herself for the third time, he decides to just try it, this is not about catching feelings but a one-night stand with a groupie.

-Hi! y/n, this is Sunghoon. Do you have a minute?

-Omg, what?! I had the feeling it could be you, I don’t know why... this is a strange hour to call someone don’t you think?

-I want to see you. I’ll pick you up wherever you are right now. You up?

There’s silence on the other side of the call. She’s thinking. She’s not stupid, it’s obvious what this is about. She has to decide whether to leave her dignity aside or be happy. She now chooses to be happy.

-Sure! I'm in Itaewon right now with a bunch of friends. I was going to go home in fifteen minutes, but I can leave now… Is it okay for you?

-I’ll pick you up outside of the metro station. 5 minutes and I’m there.

Sunghoon hangs up, not even letting her answer. With a bunch of friends? His ass. Sure there’s some dude in that friend group that has been trying to make moves on her since they met. Women are so naive. He couldn’t have a girl friend that looked like that. A doll straight out of a magazine. The most beautiful woman he has ever seen, and sure he has seen a lot of pretty girls at award shows. It’s gonna take a lot for him to forget about that man’s voice, reminding him that this is just gonna be a one-time thing. Or that’s what he tells himself.

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

He’s already waiting outside the metro station. There are a lot of people on the street since is a Friday night and everyone’s enjoying their free time drinking and going to clubs. He has done that a bunch of times but got so scared of getting caught that didn’t enjoy it one bit.

A girl in a miniskirt and high heels walks alone around the entrance of the metro station, waiting for someone. Sunghoon realizes that he didn’t give any indication of how his car looks, and she doesn’t have a way of contacting him. Sunghoon curses at himself for being so careless, picking up his phone and calling her.

-y/n I’m here. - Sunghoon observes as y/n looks around, looking for a car.

-Hi! Ahm… What colour is your car? I swear there are so many people here It’s driving me crazy.

-Hold on, let me get out of the car and get you.

-That’s not necessary, just…

Sunghoon double-parks and gets fast in front of her. She looks gorgeous. Her eye makeup, sparkly and feminine and rosy cheeks. She seems to be a bit cold, so Sunghoon takes his coat off to put it on her.

-You really didn’t need to get out, your car is pretty noticeable haha. If you had told me to look for the most expensive car around here, I would have walked to yours.

-It would not be very gentlemanly of me to just wait for you in the car. Come on, let’s get inside, you’re gonna get cold.

Sunghoon puts his hand on her shoulder, leading her to his car and opening the door for her. This is the least he can do, he sure does not plan on being a gentleman when they get in the backseat. But for now, he’s gonna give her a great time.

He has a plan that although cliché, is still romantic. There’s a viewpoint in the Hannam-dong Hill in which one can park their car. That’s where he is headed.

-So, where are we going? - y/n asks, turning to look at him curiously.

-It’s a surprise. Just get comfortable. Is a 10-minute drive there.

-May I ask you… why me? I know I gave you my phone number, but this is the craziest thing that has ever happened to me.

Sunghoon looks at her, her body language showing an insecure side of her that Sunghoon rather than offputting finds charming and attractive. Constantly being surrounded by women who just care about their looks and are rather egocentric, y/n is just a normal girl. A gorgeous normal girl, with long legs and a pretty, pretty face.

-Just because. Can’t I just want to spend my Friday night in your company? Since you're my fan, you might know a lot about me. I wanted to know more about you.

Y/n smiles from the passenger seat, charmed by his response. Although Sunghoon hadn’t prepared it, he was quite happy about how smooth that sounded. Guess he’ll get more experience once he starts doing this more often.

The Spotify playlist is playing low on the car radio, giving a great ride for both. By the time Sunghoon gets to the viewpoint, y/n has already deciphered his plan.

-Oh, the Hannam-dong hill, how fancy… I love this place, it’s such a beautiful sight of the Han River. Look, there’s a boat over there!

Sunghoon knows it was a good decision to come here. She seems so excited, pointing at the buildings and boats that can be seen from over there. With her flushed nose from the cold and his huge coat on her, his heart feels a warmth that scares him. What is he feeling right now for a girl he just met?

Overwhelmed by her cuteness, Sunghoon turns his mindset to the plan. This is not a date, he came here to fuck her. The faster he’s done with it, the earlier he can go to his dorm without having to give any explanations.

-Y/n, get in the car. -He says coldly and gets in the backseat of his car, waiting for her to do the same.

Y/n walks to the door of the back of the car. Slowly opens it, getting in with a cold breeze, looking at Sunghoon in the eyes just as he’s doing. The car is dark, with the only source of light being the streetlights.

Y/n realizes that her miniskirt has ridden up while sitting, revealing her thigh highs. She attempts to cover them by pulling her skirt down, but Sunghoon stops her. His hands roam her legs, getting closer and closer.

-May I… kiss you? - Sunghoon is focused on her lips, some lip tint still on them. She thought there was no use in reapplying before the date, so she just left them like that.

-Sure… please do it - y/n didn’t have to say anything else, Sunghoon jumping to kiss her.

His hands were only on her thighs at first, but as the kiss got deeper he groped her ass and sat her on his lap. The miniskirt, now a belt pooling on her waist, and her hands all in his hair, pulling on the roots.

The atmosphere feeling heavy, y/n had to take a breath. Grabbing Sunghoon by the neck and pushing him away, a string of saliva left behind, connecting them. He looks confused, as he might have not realised something have made her uncomfortable.

-Are you good? Did something happen? - y/n just has her eyes closed, breathing and leaning her head back on the driver’s headrest.

-No, just… take your shirt off. - Sunghoon follows her command immediately, his pale chest on display for her eyes to see.

-Okay, I didn’t know this was gonna happen today so don’t laugh… - He raises an eyebrow, not understanding what she means. When y/n takes her top off, her breasts are cupped by a Hello Kitty bra, which makes Sunghoon giggle.

-I told you not to laugh… - y/n pokes his cheek, giggling along with him.

-You know what, I can fix it right now, don’t worry. - His hand goes to her back and unclasps her bra, her boobs bouncing free from the cute undergarment.

Open-mouthed, he had never been in front of such pretty tits, taking her perky nipple to his mouth while he looks at her face. Y/n throws her head back, moaning in pleasure as she moves her hips, the feeling of his tongue connecting straight to her core.

Sunghoon feels his hard-on rubbing inside his pants and it hurts bad, opening his pants and pulling them down to free his member, creating a tent on his boxers. Y/n whines at the sight, she knew he wasn’t average-sized but seeing in real life it sure seems big and girthy.

-Hoon, I want to… help you with that - y/n gets off him as she places herself to give him head, being stopped. Sunghoon flips her by the legs so she’s on her back, laying on the seat while he hovers over her.

-Such a good girl… wanting to take the lead. I’m sorry, this is my car, I make the decisions here.

Sunghoon gives a trail of kisses from her jaw to her belly button, licking her nipples on the way down. When he gets to her underwear, he just presses his pointy nose and smells, groaning.

-Delicious… uhm, the things I have been thinking of doing to you while in this position… I don’t think I get to do them all today. - Sunghoon is hissing while he palms himself, enjoying the warmth of his head between her legs.

-Please Hoon, take them off… it hurts - she’s rubbing her legs, trying to do something with the awful ache she has.

Sunghoon peels her panties off, placing them on the headrest and pushing her legs to the side, so she opens them more and he gets to see her glistening pussy. His sight right now is to die for, the prettiest girl he has ever seen with watery eyes and rosy cheeks, open-legged for him.

His mouth goes directly to it, savouring all of it as he licks, her moans making it difficult for him to concentrate. She grabs his hair, trying to keep him there as she’s feeling closer and closer to the climax.

Inserting two fingers, Sunghoon works hard for her release, often looking at her to see her eyes rolling back and teeth biting her lip, trying to stop screaming. He might love blowjobs but, the pleasure it gives seeing a woman fall into madness as she contorts and whines would never compare.

With loud screams and nonsensical sentences, Sunghoon knows he needs to keep working hard for her sweet venom to hit his tongue. Once she comes, she twists in pleasure, crying and tired of the cardio.

Y/n lays there, heavy breathing and covering her eyes with her forearm, while Sunghoon cleans her by sticking his fingers and licking them. After a minute of gentle tummy rubs, he kisses her, grabbing her by the arms and sitting her up.

-Hey pretty? Are you game over? - As hard as he might be now, he can’t help but think it is endearing how exhausted she seems, wishing he could just watch her sleep for a bit.

-I’m good, it’s just that it was so… strong. I have never come like that before.

-I’ll take that as a compliment for my incredible labour. Hey, listen, if you’re too tired I can get you home and just…

-No, I’m good. I’m not getting out of here just yet. Aren’t you gonna fuck me? - she tilts her head and Sunghoon lets a laugh out, brushing her hair out of her face.

Y/n grabs Sunghoon’s face with two hands and kisses him with passion, french kissing and their tongues up to each other's throats. She hops on his lap, her wet folds damping his boxer while she rubs herself.

After licking and playing with her tits while making out, Sunghoon can no longer endure the pain on his member. He remembers that, before this date, he bought condoms and left them inside the glove box of his car.

-Y/n hey… I need you to do me a favour - Sunghoon says as he keeps on peppering kisses on her face and upper body.

-Uhm, tell me… - she has her eyes closed while she answers, fisting his hair while he sucks on her nipples.

-I have condoms… in the glove box… can you pick them for me from here?- He looks up, straight into her eyes.

-Sure. Hold on, let me flip over. - She crosses her leg over his lap, now sitting the other way around, a nice view of her ass and back for Sunghoon.

He holds her by the hips as he elongates over to the glove box of the car, thankful nobody was around to see her naked. On the back of the car, the windows are tinted but at the front, anyone could see her.

She grabs the box and hands it to Sunghoon, who takes no time in opening it and ripping the wrapping of a condom to put it on. He taps her asscheek and she stands up, waiting for him to pull his underwear down, letting his member free.

-Do you want me to put it in? - Sunghoon slaps his dick on her leg, asking for consent.

-Of course I do! ... And if you don’t do it now I’ll do it myself… please Hoon, do it already! - It’s funny to Sunghoon how cute and sweet she seemed to him that morning at the fansign and how now she’s now begging for his cock in the backseat of his car. He loves girls like that, with duality.

Not even a minute passes but y/n is already grabbing his member and sticking it in herself, her face of pleasure visible from the rear mirror. He needs to stop looking if he wants to last more than five seconds, her open mouth and furrowed eyebrows too much for him to look at.

He instead focuses on her ass slapping on his thighs, wiggling with the movement. He grabs her by the hair lightly, pulling her to his chest while she keeps on moving. She grips the headrest in front of her with two hands, to help her keep on bouncing up and down.

As soon as she gets tired and her movements become sloppier, she begins to whine for Sunghoon’s help, and he swiftly places her laying on the backseat, now in missionary position.

With the windows steamed up from the heat in the car, they look into each other's eyes in the midst of the most passionate sex encounter they've ever had. They moan in unison, their skin sticking and a moist sound coming from where they connect.

-So.. fucking good… I can’t let you go just yet… this can’t be the end… arghh… - Sunghoon is feeling anxious, with his and her climax approximating, he knows the end of this is coming. And he’s only wishing for this to last forever.

-I’m…I’m…not going…anywhere, it’s… okaaay Hoon - Even though she can't say a complete sentence, what she means is true. If he's afraid of this ending, she's afraid it's the last time she'll ever see him again. It may be a great memory to cherish forever, but it's heartbreaking to think that it’ll never be repeated.

She understands, from the moment she heard his voice on the phone until now, she knows her role. She’s a one-night stand, a groupie, a slut. She took the offer and left her dignity and integrity at Itaewon, trading her respect for herself for a quick fuck with a man who might not even care about her.

This is the first time she has done this. She has only had sex with men she was in a relationship with. Although nowadays is not a big deal, she promised herself she would take care of her body, never letting anyone have their way with her if they didn’t love her.

But why is Sunghoon being way gentler than the men she swore loved her? Why does he look into her eyes with passion, fondness and warmth? Is he a psycho?

They both hold hands as they come, y/n first and then Sunghoon, falling on top of her and resting his head on her chest while she embraces him with her arms and legs. The car feels hot, perfect for them to have a quick nap in this position and not freeze in the cold of the night.

At 4:30 am, after they’ve gotten dressed, they go to a convenience store, where they both pick onigiris and ramyun, hopping back into the car to eat.

Sunghoon stares at y/n as she eats well the onigiri, hungry from all the exercise. A smile scapes from the corner of his lips, getting y/n’s attention.

-What’s so funny? Do I have mayo on my face? - She looks into the rear mirror, checking.

-No no, you don’t, I just think you’re so cute - Sunghoon pinches her cheek, laughing.

-Funny how you can still think that about me… tonight has been quite enlightening about my true self. -y/n looks outside of the passenger’s seat window.

-You can be cute and have a good ride… to me that just makes you ten times hotter. I don’t know if you’re under the wrong impression, but I liked what we did tonight.

-It’s just… I have never done this before, I swear. I just like you so much that I had to… say yes.

Sunghoon shouldn’t feel guilty, but he does. Without wanting, he pressured her into doing this. It made him insecure, and even though he does consider himself a handsome man, maybe he shouldn’t use his fame to meet up with girls, his fans.

-Sorry, if you felt pressured to meet up with me, I didn’t mean to… fuck, I feel like shit now.

-Sunghoon that’s not… what I meant at all. It’s the best thing that has happened to me, the best time I’ve ever had. I am just afraid of what you might think about me now…

Her hand, which was rubbing his neck softly, stops. Sunghoon looks at her, a tint of shock in his eyes. So that is what this is all about. She’s scared he thinks she’s some sort of whore. When he has never felt this much intimacy, or connection… with anyone. Not even with some girlfriends in the past.

-Hey, what the fuck… what I think about you? C’mon, I would be an asshole if I thought shit about you. Y/n, all I know is that… if you ever wanted to meet up again, I’d cancel everything just to pick you up.

-Yeah, I guess so… to meet and do this again, right? That’s what I thought. You know, I wouldn’t feel good about that. - y/n looks outside the window, trying to end eye contact with Sunghoon, feeling betrayed by herself.

- I mean as a date, y/n. If you wanted to meet, I would do it in a heartbeat just to see you again. We might have to hide, you know, so people don’t see us, me, around… don’t feel pressured to say yes this time, I just want you to know that I like your company before anything else.

She looks at him, wondering if she should believe him. While it sounds sincere it also seems impossible for them to become something. He grabs her hand and kisses it, soft warm lips getting in touch with her cold skin.

-We could try… Sunghoon, is safe to say that I love you… as an idol, and I don’t want to kill that version of you. A man who’s so passionate and caring about everything he does… please don’t hurt me and make me hate you…

-I would never do that, ever. I swear to you, y/n I’ll take the chance and never let it go… just, let’s try. Okay?

He holds both her hands now. And with that “okay”, she feels she could trust him. Now she feels like it was meant to happen, giving him her number, picking up the phone call… everything is connected.

She gets closer to him and gives him a kiss, exciting Sunghoon who suddenly deepens the kiss, like a starved man that has been waiting decades for it. She reciprocates, minutes of the most loving kiss any of them have ever had. And of which there will be many more in the future.

#enhypen hard hours #enhypen smut #sunghoon smut #sunghoon x reader #enha smut

638 notes · View notes

mistydeyes · 1 year ago

Note

So we had soap cousin how about ghost cousin x tf boys Hcs? She’s older than Simon and the two are super close. She would’ve been a barrier between him and his dad growing up. I can picture him being the least pissed at Price, meanwhile he’d be raging at Gaz and Soap. Soap would call her a milf and Simon has to be held back like a rabid dog

I’d love to see your take on this 🥰

ahhh I love this idea so much! thank you for reading my post about soap's cousin and requesting this :)

last name: riley

┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊

summary: Despite Ghost trying to keep his family history secret, he can't avoid it when you, his older cousin, is transferred to his base. Now he has to keep his team in check as they want to get to know you more ;)

pairing: Task Force 141 (except Ghost) x fem!Reader

warnings: swearing, mentions of emotional abuse/trauma

┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊

following the briefing, Gaz and Soap exited and invited Ghost to join them at the mess hall

however before Ghost could leave, Price stopped him at the door

"Can you stay back, Simon?" Price asked and everyone immediately knew something was up

especially when first names were used

being the nosy sergeants that they are, Soap and Gaz waited by the door and tried to listen in

after 10 minutes, Ghost emerged and looked surprisingly calm

"What was that about?" Soap asked as he tried to keep up with Ghost

"My cousin is getting transferred to one of the unit's on base" he said plainly and he was bombarded with questions

both Gaz and Soap were amazed that he had a cousin, especially one who he didn't seem to hate

eventually, Ghost slams his bedroom door on him and they're both left wondering what you're like

"God I hate the English weather," you complained as you arrived by helo to your new home

after months abroad, your captain decided to reassign you to the UK

you were initially upset but when you learned your cousin was also stationed there, your mood changed

"Is that little Simon Riley I see?" you exclaimed, seeing your cousin standing a few meters away

you slung your duffle on your back and ran towards him

despite being a good half foot taller than you, you hugged him tightly

"It's good to see you, Si," you said as you couldn't remember the last time you saw him

he returned it awkwardly as you took a look at his attire

"Still wearing that awful mask I see," you joked, lightly punching him on the shoulder

as you were chatting on the way to your quarters, you could see a man around your age leading two sergeants behind him

despite the captain's stern look, the two sergeants walked up to you and bombarded you with questions

"Sorry ma'am, they heard you were the Lieutenant's cousin and were trying to sneak out to meet you" he apologized and you laughed heartily

"What a welcome committee!" you smiled before looking back at them, "I'm Captain Riley."

as you introduced yourself and got to know Simon's team, they noted how you and Ghost shared different hair colors but the same piercing gaze

they also noted how you looked like you should be on the army's website with your light hair and hazel eyes as well as your fit physique

you also were much kinder than their Ghost and your smile brightened the drab hallway

"Riley?" one of them asked and you nodded, "our dads were brothers."

queue more questions about Simon's family history

while he tried to silence them, you were more than happy to answer a few of their questions

"Our dads were absolute arseholes, he sent me to live with Simon and I'd get into screaming matches with his old man," you explained

Simon remembered the times you were sent to Manchester and how you were the only one who could keep up with his father's insults and emotional abuse

despite being 5 years younger than you, he would follow you around and act like your best friend

you were surprised when you saw him after he joined the army and he was pure muscle (no longer the small boy who you would sneak out to get sweets with)

"His dad made basic seem like holiday" you joked, trying to lighten the mood

you answered a few more questions about you previous post before you began to yawn due to the jet lag

"Well it was a pleasure to meet you, Captain Riley," Price said shaking your hand

"Glad to see Simon is doing well here," you beamed, "now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to find my quarters"

As you walked away you could hear Gaz and Soap chatting with Simon. "You didn't tell us your cousin's a bonnie lass," Soap exclaimed, a little too loud for Simon's comfort, "she got a mans in Manchester?" You smiled at the compliment, making sure to walk extra slow to hear it all. While both sergeants were undeniably attractive, plenty of men had acted the same way to you during the course of your career. Before Simon could reply, you could hear Gaz interject. "How old is she?" he asked innocently. "Too old for either one of you," Price interrupted, "and she's a captain so that's far above your ranks." Out of Simon's task force, you assumed you were the closest in age to Price. You tried to do the mental math being 5 years older than Simon but decided it wasn't worth it as Simon would never let any of them speak to you again. As Gaz and Soap groaned lightly, you thought the conversation was over. However, Soap had one last thing to say. "That's a proper milf if I've ever seen one," he mumbled before you could hear Simon let out a string of insults and swears. You smiled to yourself, "guess Si finally learned how to stand up for himself."

1K notes · View notes

lavenderlacedquill · 2 months ago

Note

Angst idea: Will and Y/N are working on an investigation together and she gets seriously hurt. Since they had a heated argument before, she tries to hide her injuries but eventually feels dizzy due to the blood loss and he gets startled and rushes to help her.

˚ ༘ ⋆｡˚ 𝐁𝐮𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐭 𝐖𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐬 ˚ ༘ ⋆｡˚

Pairing: Will Graham x Reader

Trigger Warnings!: Blood, injury, guns

This request has been sitting in my drafts for WEEKS waiting until I could properly dedicate time to it. This angst piece was so fulfilling to write and I hope it was everything you hoped it would be!

Will Graham Masterlist <3

Navigation Page <3

✧˖°

“No, absolutely not!” Will’s voice rang through Jack’s small office on desperate ears. His eyes meet yours, filled with a sad craze as he directs his attention back to you. “You cannot seriously be considering this!”

Your heart lurches in your chest, because you completely understand where he is coming from. What Jack is asking from you is no small ask. Your eyes fall to the floor as a whisper leaves your lips hurriedly, “What other choice is there, Will? He’s going to keep killing unless it’s me who goes in.”

The man’s eyes whip to Jack’s, his hair ruffled from his stressed hands running through it. Will’s calloused palms run stressily over his face, covering his eyes as he speaks through them to the Agent. “I’ll do it,” He begins, desperation laced in every word because how could this really be on the table right now? “Please, Jack. Just let me go in instead. Do you know how dangerous this is going to be?”

Jack gives out a hefty sigh. This wasn’t an easy decision to come to. Putting you in a direct line of danger was not his first choice, but it’s the only way that he knows will draw out the unsub. The threats the FBI has received over the last few weeks were alarming, each one bigger than the last. You’re the one he wants, and he won’t settle for anything less. The perfect crime.

“I need both Graham’s on this. End of story. I’m not going to let anything happen.” His measly attempt at reassuring the frazzled man before him doesn’t make a dent, but the Agent walks out of the office without another word, making intense eye contact with you just before the door closes.

Your eyes dart from Will to the ground, your arms wound tightly around your middle as you sway softly where your feet have planted themselves. “I don’t like this either, Will. But we have a job to do.”

You hear the soft padding of his footsteps for only a moment before his arms find their way around you, taking you into a soft and protective hold, almost like he’s shielding you from an invisible force. His stubbled cheek meets your temple as his rough whisper sounds, “Using you as a pawn is never going to sit right with me. Jack doesn’t understand just how dangerous this is. He could-”

You step out of his hold quickly, cutting his words short, “I’ll be okay,” you begin, your hands coming up to hold Will’s face. “You’ll get to me before anything happens. Then it will all be over.”

The wheels in Will’s brain begin to turn, you can see it as his eyes almost begin to tremble in their sockets while he looks over you. He leans in, closing the small gap between you two, a soft kiss burning into your forehead for only a few seconds before he moves towards the door.

It’s go time.

............

The back of the unmarked van that Jack and Will are cramped in grows mustier as they both breathe, Will continuing to get more and more anxious as he waits for Jack’s queue to burst onto the scene.

Your voice sounds in the headset he has practically pasted to his ears, but all seems to go quiet for only mere seconds as the weight of this entire fucked situation hits Will. You’re in the hands of a killer. One that has murdered anyone that he could get his hands on that bears any resemblance to you. He’s got you. No vest. No gun. The FBI, Jack, handed you over willingly.

Thank you for all of your notes. I looked forward to them everyday.

You did? Really? I was so scared you wouldn’t get them.

I did.

Your conversation with the unsub snaps Will out of his trance, Jack grabbing his arm as they both listen intensely to each word. He can hear you trying to keep your tone even as you speak to him, but he can hear its subtle tremble. You’re scared and it’s killing him.

I’m sorry I had to kill the others. I didn’t want to, I swear. You’re just…perfect. Getting to you was impossible.

Each word the unsub speaks grows sinister, his voice dropping to a whisper as he approaches you. The agents can’t see it, but he’s got you sat at his dinner table, your hands bound by a zip tie. Can’t let you get away from me now!

Pictures of you litter the entire thing, moments you didn’t realize were a victim of watchful eyes. Moments of you coming and going from work, intimate moments you shared with Will in the safety of your own home, pictures of you changing in your bedroom. Pure terror has you paralyzed. Jack knew it was bad, so did Will. But no one could have prepared you for this.

Beyond the table, the images cover the floor in a disgusting blanket, bloodied footprints gluing them to the linoleum below. The walls are covered in a layer of red haphazard writing, crucifixes hanging in any empty space. Every light socket is filled with a shattered bulb, the room dimming as the evening sun begins to set. A stench of dead lingers in the air, thick and musty in each breath you force your body to take.

WIll can hear your struggle from his headset, his eyes catching Jacks in a desperate attempt to get the go ahead to rush onto the scene. He just wants this to be over.

Let’s take a field trip. I’ve got something to show you.

The agents hear your chair scrape against the floor, with only their imagination to guide them as a sliding door sounds through your mic. They hear you wince softly as you stumble and hit the ground.

You silly girl! Always been so clumsy.

Will’s own breath begins to quicken as he grabs Jack's shoulder intensely. “We need to go in. Now.”

Crawford only sends him an intense glare before turning his attention back to the feed from your mic. He hasn’t gotten what he wants from the unsub yet, so interfering would only put you in more risk.

You're dragged harshly by your arm as he pulls you up from the ground, a scrape on your side burning from air exposure, hot with running blood. The world seems to be closing in around you as he brings you to the edge of an empty swimming pool, the bottom completely covered in lit candles and splotched red splatters. He leans down, speaking directly into your ear. The disgusting heat of his breath spreads across the side of your face.

You’re the last piece. My sacrifice to Him before I can finally ascend.

You break at his words, everything feeling suddenly too real as you hear a gun cock just inches from your head soundtracked by his maniacal laughter. A quiet sob escapes you, sending a dagger through Will’s stomach as he hears you continue to break through your mic. He throws the headphones off, sending them clattering to the van floor as he straps on his vest, gun in hand.

Jack tries to protest, but Will shrugs him off, opening the van door and jumping out. “It’s done!” He yells back at the agent, slamming the door behind him as he slowly treds across the street to the unsubs yard. A fence is all that blocks him from you as he approaches the backyard.

Will listens carefully as the exchange continues between yourself and the man they’re trying to apprehend.

It was always you, my dear! And now we can finally be His forever.

The cold metal of the barrel meets a small patch of exposed skin on your stomach. You try to move away as best as you can, but the man only grips you harder, pressing the gun deeper into your belly.

“Please! Please, you don’t have to do this!” You sob, any ounce of hope leaving you as the metal grows warm against your skin. He laughs behind you again, shaking your body as it only grows more intense.

That’s where you’re wrong, silly thing.

BANG….BANG

The gunshots sound through the air, leaving Will Breathless as he breaks through the fence. Only, who’s eyes he meets aren't the assailants, no, they’re Jack’s. His shock only takes over him for a moment before he hears a soft whimper emit from the ground, a pained cry he would recognise anywhere.

Everything goes quiet at the sight before him. The unsub lays dead, facedown in the grass, his blood seeping into the dirt. The second gunshot, Will will deduce later, caused by Jack, who went around the other side of the house. But only a few feet away from him lays your trembling body, your hands desperately trying to hide your gushing wound.

You almost look dead, your skin growing pale against the bright green grass, life slipping through your trembling fingers.

Jack calls for medical as Will collapses onto the ground beside you, his own hands frantic as they try to remove yours from your stomach. “No no no no,” you call weakly beneath him, trying your best to conceal your wound from him, almost as if to undo it, “I’m ok-okay.”

Tears trail down the raw skin of your cheeks as Will pries your hands away, peeling his own jacket hastily from his shoulders to press onto your wound, a pained cry escaping your throat at the pressure.

“I know i know i know,” You feel Will’s palm wipe the tears from your eyes as he tries to comfort you amidst the pain, his head dipping down to rest his forehead on your own, “I’m sorry, baby. I know.”

“I-it hurts” your lips quivering at the admission. Your form begins to tremble in his hold, blood loss weighing heavily on you. Jack watches as his fellow Agent begins to break above you, his own shoulders beginning to shake. He hears the distant calls of an ambulance, rushing to the street to guide them back to you.

“Stay with me,” Will moves to pull you into his lap, holding you still from your shakes to prevent any jostling of your wound. Your head rests in the crook of his neck as his palms continue to press into your middle, warm blood covering his hands. “Please. Stay awake for me. You’re going to be okay.”

He pulls your head from his neck as he speaks, eyes searching yours for any sign, but he only finds you teetering between consciousness. Your head lulls back to its spot, a soft cry of Will’s name leaving you before he feels you go limp against him.

“JACK!” The broken man cries, gripping your body to his, as if he could pass some of his life into you in this moment. His lips find your temple, kissing you softly, like you’re one crack away from breaking into millions of pieces.

Somewhere in the mix, paramedics arrive, peeling your tattered body from Will’s hold, his begs of them to be careful and gentle with you are heard by every official on sight.

They strap you onto the gurney, loading you up into the back of the ambulance before eagerly preparing for departure. You needed a hospital, and you need one now.

The paramedic signals for Will to load himself into the back of the vehicle, knowing that he won’t respond well to having to travel separately, but before he can step inside, Jack’s hand grabs his shoulder.

“Will, I’m-”

“Don’t.” The man shoots back, red eyes intentionally dodging Jacks before the door is closed between them.

Will settles in on the small bench inside of the ambulance, his hand holding yours in his own. Your skin has begun to cool, your color drained as the paramedics begin working. His grip tightens over every bump in the road.

5 minutes passed before he felt it, the softest grip your own hand returned to his. He is immediately on alert, leaning closer to your form as he watches your eyes open against the bright lights of the ambulance.

You groan at their brightness, your voice hoarse as you try to call for Will, confusion laced within as you take in the unfamiliar surroundings. He hears the fear in your voice, immediately answering and bringing your hand to his lips. “I’m right here with you,” he whispers chokingly, his free hand coming up to rest on your cheek.

Your head whips around to meet his gaze, relief dawning on your form at the sight of him. Will’s stomach pangs at the sight of tears welling up in your tired eyes, lip quivering as you look at him with intense fear.

He feels your weight shift as you lean your head against his knee, his own adorned with a messy mop of curls coming down to rest on yours carefully. “Will,” you hushedly sob, his soft lips meeting your forehead in response.

“I’ve got you, I promise”

✧˖°

AAA THIS ANGST PIECE WAS SO DIFFERENT!! I hope you guys enjoyed <3

The gif I used is from a set made by the lovely @hughdancybabyface

My request box is currently open, lovelies! Feel free to drop a request in there (or just Hannibal chitter chatter) just please read my guidelines first :)

#my works #will graham x reader #nbc hannibal #hannibal x reader #will graham fanfiction #hannibal fanfiction #hugh dancy #hugh dancy fanfiction #hannibal lecter #x reader #imagine #fanfiction #will graham #request #hannibal tv show #hannibal tv series #angst #angst fanfic #angst writing

252 notes · View notes

more-hysteria-things · 5 days ago

Note

BEGGING FOR SOME LIKE JACK FLUFF FROM LIKE A ROUGH DAY ON SET AND HIM JUST BEING SWEET TO US!! (my first scenario🥳)

ROUGH DAY

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: jack champion x fem!reader

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: it’s one of those days on set, and jack is not having it. even worse that it’s his birthday, the day when it’s supposed to be fun and carefree. then, you come along to truly show how much he means to you.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: none! just tooth rotting fluff :)

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1,224

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫’𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: FIRST JACK FIC LFG.

also, since this is my other account for non-sturniolo fics i’m still putting the same tag list. if you would like to not get tagged for this blog, just let me know!

shoutout to bbg @venusbabysblog for helping me get started🥹

𝐁𝐄𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐀𝐍 𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐎𝐑 𝐈𝐒 𝐀 blessing. it’s a job where you have great opportunities to meet amazing people and be in hit films, but sometimes it’s a struggle. jack opens the door to his trailer with a clenched jaw, shutting the door as he looks around. his eyebrows twitch in confusion, noticing how you’re not in sight.

your boyfriend loves to bring you along to wherever he goes for filming. one reason being that he honestly can’t live without you, but also because you’re his biggest fan and will support him through anything. usually, you’d be watching him act from afar or you’d be waiting in his trailer by watching TV or keeping yourself occupied in general. however, you’re nowhere to be seen.

he’s on a long break until later tonight, which annoys him. he just wants this day to be over. “y/n?” he calls out, peeking his head into the small bedroom. alas, you’re not there.

alarms start to go off in his head, although it’s silly. you can’t really go anywhere, but since you’re not in your usual spot, the caring boyfriend in him makes him worry that something bad has happened. especially since you didn’t text him that you were going somewhere or anything.

then, a giggle is heard along with the opening of his trailer door, and he turns around to face the noise. he takes a small sigh of relief when he sees you beaming from ear to ear holding a present bag.

while in the middle of a scene, jack texted you about the day he’s having—lines he couldn’t nail, and a director who seemed impossible to please. you frown slightly when you see his semi-disgruntled face, shuffling over to him excitedly to wrap your arms around his body in an embrace he desperately needs. he exhales deeply, bends down to nuzzle his face into your neck, and kisses it softly.

“sorry, i was hoping i’d be back before you were, but your mom and i got stuck in traffic,” you say in his chest before pulling away after long seconds. trying to make the atmosphere more positive, you smile and extend your arm with the bag in hand. “happy birthday!”

the smallest smile appears on his face, grabbing your hand to head over to the leather couch to sit down. he places the bag onto the floor, removing the tissue inside of it to reveal his presents. his eyes widen in surprise, seeing more than he thought you’d get him. “you didn’t have to do all of this...” he says, a small blush forming on his cheeks.

he pulls out the first thing that sits on top of the rest, which is a homemade birthday card out of construction paper in his favorite color. he lets out a chuckle as he looks at the front of it, seeing two drawn stick figures that are supposed to be you and him holding hands with the title in big writing: HAPPY BIRTHDAY •ᴗ•

opening the card, there’s a bunch of words scribbled on the right side.

jack,

*queue song* happy birthday to you!

i am so incredibly proud of you watching the way you chase your dreams. here’s to many more birthdays, memories, and quiet moments in between the chaos. no matter how many lights and cameras around, you’ll always just be jack to me. the one who laughs too loud, holds me close, and somehow manages to make me feel like I’m the only girl in the world.

i’m so grateful to be apart of your story.

always, y/n ❤︎

p.s. like what your name implies, you are indeed a champion.

his heart jumps with joy, closing the note and leaning in to peck you on the nose. your face turns red as you try not to beam with happiness, tilting your head to the bag. “there’s still a lot more.”

he nods, placing the card aside as he grabs a leather journal, specifically personalized for him. the border of it is embroidered with eye-catching detail, his initials JC in big cursive letters in the middle. you know jack sometimes likes to scribble lines down in between takes in a way to remember, or something to put his ideas in for fun. he flips through the pages rapidly, the gust of air flowing on his face as he smells the paper and leather mixed.

you watch his every move, nibbling on your bottom lip excitedly when he pulls out a small, navy blue box. inside of it is a chained necklace with a small pendant of a waxing crescent. the moon phase the day he was born.

scratching the back of your neck nervously, you speak. “this one’s a little girly…” you trail off. “you don’t have to wear it, you can hang it up or something for decoration. i just thought it was pretty.”

he nudges your arm with his elbow. “stop that. it’s beautiful; i love it.”

jack carefully takes it out of the box, undoing the chain and reaching behind his neck to clip it. the length is perfect, and the accessory oddly suits him. “thank you.” he says softly, running his hand over the moon and reaching into the bag once more.

this time, he pulls out two things. another book along with a film camera on top of it tied in ribbon so both items can stick together. while untying it, he notices the scrapbook underneath.

THE STORY OF US…

he glances at you as he starts to look into it. the pages are filled with film photos, ticket stubs, and little mementos from your favorite times together. you’d written little captions under each, capturing inside jokes and sweet moments. it was something he could flip through on hard days.

however, each left page is blank. “you can add to it whenever you have the time. it takes two people to make a love story, you know.” you explain, feeling somewhat cheesy and cringy at the saying, but you mean it.

last but not least, the last few items are snacks. homemade cookies, energy bars, and even a small container of his favorite food.

he feels overwhelmed by all of the gifts but in a good way. nobody has ever shown him this much adoration before, and it’s obvious how much he means to you. “y/n.” your name rolls perfectly off of his tongue, his eyes not leaving the presents now scattered on the couch cushion. “i love it all so much. genuinely, thank you.”

you place your hands on the sides of his neck so he can look at you, kissing him full of love. he cherishes you, and he couldn’t ask for a better girlfriend. he’s always so grateful that he met you that time in his hometown. you made his 𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐆𝐇 𝐃𝐀𝐘 turn around completely.

“how’d you even do all of this?” he adds, starting to feel dumbfounded about how you did all of this under his nose without him knowing.

“i don’t kiss and tell.” you say with a smirk. “but also with the help of your mom.”

laughing, he grunts as he lays to rest his head on your stomach, your hands finding way into his wavy hair. “i’m so in love with you.” he mumbles, grabbing your hand and kissing the back of it.

best. birthday. ever.

𝐭𝐚𝐠 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭!

@bunbunbl0gs @lexisecretaccx @thy-mission @angelic-sturniolos111 @sophssturn @moncherriis @janiellasblog @blahbel668 @meg-sturniolo @mattslolita @sturnbaby @imwetforyourmom @tillies33ssss @sturnifyed @raysmayhem-72 @ripmattitude @p1xieswrld @alorsxsturn @multiluvr @delilahprentiss @tworosesblackthorn @gnxosblog @junnniiieee07 @flowerxbunnie @imaslut4kehlani @sturniolosandmoree @hearrtsturns @freshsturns @etershine @sukiipjs @h3arts4harry @sturnioloblogs @creamoncreamoncream2 @ivyyyyyysposts @iluvm4ttsturni0l0 @mbsbaby @mattsdollie @thesturniolos @nononopenono1 @bitchydragonparadise @hrt-attack @dwntwn-strnlo @venusbabysblog @meerkatzthings @bernardsbendystraws @hoes4matthew @deareststurns @starz4star

#jack champion #jack champion x reader #jack champion imagine #jack champion fanfic #ethan landry #ethan landry x reader #ethan landry imagine #scream #scream six #scream 6 #ghostface #{ 𑁍ࠬܓ } : requests!

134 notes · View notes

hazbinhazmeinachokehold · 9 months ago

Text

Alastor + apprentice!child!reader

A/n: this is some practice to get a footing in his character. (Also slight practice on husk as well.)

Reader is kinda scary but means well overall

Not proofread

Y/n ever elusive. Alastor would randomly mention your name in conversations. References your rampages and your sweetness in the same breath. But when anyone would try to quiz him on you further he would act like he didn't know what they were talking about. He might try to claim it's for privacy but it's pretty obvious he just likes messing with hotel members.

Charlie was especially sad that she might never get to meet you. If Alastor was to be believed you seemed really sweet! (And easy to rehabilitate *cough* *cough*) Also cool! You seemed to be an absolute powerhouse. After Al mentioned you Charlie got somewhat mopey. Until he mentioned you visiting the hotel, which piqued everyone's interest.

When you finally showed up, people's interest was at an all-time high. But now it was because the fabled y/n was a child. "It's a pleasure to be meeting everyone!" You were looking at Alastor but were speaking to the whole room. "I've heard so much about all of you!"

"They've also heard much about you too, dearie." Alastor bent at the waist down to your level. "You've become quite the hot topic here!"

As if to prove his point Charlie picked you up and spun you around almost hitting Alastor in the face. He glared at her but remained calm. "Welcome, welcome! Do you want to choose a room to stay in?"

"Sorry, but I'm not planning to stay."

"I know but just for the time being." Charlie clarified. To that, you nodded. Husk snapped his head toward The Radio Demon once both you and Charlie had left.

"Did you really stoop low enough to make a deal with a child?" He was just barely containing his anger. While he didn't particularly care for those he didn't know at least somewhat personally, taking a child's soul was a place he drew a thick line.

"Why of course not!" He said sounding offended but clearly, it was to mock Husk. "They are under my guidance purely by choice!" Vaggie and Husk both said some version of 'you're a liar' in unison. Alastor simply tsked as he walked away.

Niffty seemingly appeared out of nowhere. "Was thas thay y/n?"

After the crew (excluding Husk) let out a yelp, Vaggie spoke, "Yep."

Niffty let out a villain-esque laugh, though that was just her usual laugh, "I've been meaning to talk to them since they scared off a group of bad boys~" She flashed her sharp teeth and held a knife. Angel grabbed the knife and her before she could get very far.

Back with you and Charlie Alastor materialized next to you and you waved at him.

"Hello, sir!" You saluted him as a joke.

"Hello to you too! Have you found a room?" You nodded and entered said room. Charlie looked at him, her face painted with a confused yet kind look.

"They're the one who hurt so many people? Are you kidding? They are so nice."

"You've never seen them in danger." Suddenly as if on queue an explosion was heard. You shot up from your surprisingly comfortable bed and ran downstairs. Pushing both Charlie and Alastor out of the way while also throwing a quick ‘sorry’ their way.

Once you got downstairs the bad boys that Niffty mentioned earlier were spouting something about you. Once they looked at you they pulled weapons out. You grew and your arms turned pitch black with a slight claw shape. With your new size, you were just big enough to grab them to the point of almost cracking bones. Almost.

"Leave." You said with a deep booming voice that came with the size. You threw them and they scrambled. Once they were gone you shrunk back down to your normal size. Niffty pouted and stamped her foot.

Once you turned everyone had varying looks of shock on their face except Niffty and of course, Alastor who was instead proud. "Congrats dear! Would you like some jambalaya?" You nodded.

As you were walking with him Husk grabbed your shoulder, "Um good job kid... If he ever offers you a deal, don't take it." He felt obliged to warn you. If Alastor's moral code was against recruiting kids, he probably would have pounced on the opportunity to take your soul once you were an adult.

You smiled, "I know I know. But what could I even gain out of any deal with him?" You laughed and walked back to Alastor. Huh. Well, you certainly were being tutored by Alastor.

A/n: Y/n got kinda of edgy at the end-

#hazbin hotel x reader #alastor x reader #hazbin hotel alastor x reader

420 notes · View notes

lnfours · 1 year ago

Note

Hi so I’m just wondering if you could write some fluffy smut with lando (if that makes sense) and I love your work it’s my favourite ❤️ have a nice day!

i’m not okay. i need this man in ways that would set back feminism 100 years.

i got carried away 😅 smut warning

lando brainrot? lando brainrot.

the sun had set hours ago, the city lights of monaco and the moonlight lighting up the bedroom through the half closed curtains in your shared bedroom. the room was silent apart from the giggles and soft moans as your boyfriend hovered over you, his lips attaching to the skin on your collarbone.

you were sure it was going to leave a mark, but you didn’t care. you couldn’t care, actually. everything about what he was doing to you just felt too good and it had been way too long since he touched you like this.

but it wasn’t the hungry, needy kind of sex that normally unfolded whenever he came back home. this was the heart clenching, soft and giggly kind of sex you two loved. the kind where you just cared about taking care of the other, subsiding the urge to get off.

your hands were in his curls, still damp from the shower he had taken after getting home from the airport. you twisted them around your fingers, his lips traveling down your stomach as they reached the top of your pajama pants. you caught the glance he sent your way, blue eyes with a hint of green meeting yours as they squinted, the silent queue telling you that he was smiling against your skin.

sure enough, the suppressed giggle sounded through the room as he continued kissing your skin, leaving little marks here and there as a reminder that you were his. something he didn’t do often, but enjoyed doing. he loved looking over your body in the morning and finding the love bites he had left the night prior, a reminder of what the two of you had done, which never failed to get him worked up.

you lifted your hips up as he pushed the material down your legs, tossing the pants to the floor as he backed down the mattress, spreading your thighs, “missed you so much,”

you let out a content sigh, a smile on your face as he peppered kisses on the insides of your thighs, “missed you too, baby.”

he groaned, the pet name being his weakness, especially when it was falling from your lips in a soft breath with his head between your legs. it was his favorite thing. the best ‘welcome home’ he could ever get.

he didn’t waste any more time, his lips kissing on your core as you breathed in a shaky breath, stomach clenching at the feeling, “i love you.”

“i love you, too,” you smiled, watching as he dove in. his tongue separating your folds as he licked a stripe up your cunt. you let out a moan of his name, which only got him more worked up as he moved to spread your wetness with his fingers.

he carefully slid a finger into you, your back lifting slightly off the bed as you moaned, “god,”

“yeah, baby?” he hummed, finger fucking you as his lips brushed against your clit while he talked to you, “doesn’t feel as good when you do it, does it?”

your mind went back to the week beforehand when you had him on the phone, the line filled with pants and moans and whispered dirty words as you chased your highs together. you had told him how much you missed his fingers and mouth, wishing that the ones that were pumping in and out of you quickly were his. how you wished it was his tongue on your clit instead of your own middle finger.

he had said similar things, wishing it was your mouth on his dick instead of his hand. wishing it was you who was getting his dick wet rather than his own spit. he was craving you more than ever and he was making it known when he whimpered your name through the phone.

now you were here, your boyfriends face between your thighs, a smirk on his face as he leaned back down to your core. his tongue found your clit with ease, having your body memorized like the back of his hand. you moaned when he slipped another finger in, filling you more. he curled them up, hitting just the right spot as his other hand traveled up your body, twisting one of your nipples between his fingers.

“lando, fuck,” you couldn’t form a complete sentence, “gonna— shit… gonna come.”

“yeah, baby, c’mon,” he continued thrusting his fingers, moving up to meet your lips in a kiss, “come all over my fingers.”

it didn’t take much more before you were clenching him, his lips smiling against your neck as you shook under him. he loved watching you like this knowing he was the only one who was able to give you this mind blowing of an orgasm.

once you came down from your high and he had gently removed his fingers from inside you, you grabbed his face, kissing him passionately. he hummed into the kiss, letting you push him down on the bed as you placed your hands on his shoulders, hovering over his frame as he smiled up at you.

his hands were on your hips as you ground down on his dick, a moan pushing past his lips as he moved you against him, “shit— wanna ride me?”

you nodded, “yeah,”

you lifted off him to let him get rid of his boxers, which also ended up somewhere on the hardwood floor. you rocked your hips back and forth, grinding against him as you spread your slick over him, letting him help you before you lowered yourself down onto him. the moans that left both of your mouths were almost pornographic when he finally bottomed out.

you smiled, slowly starting to rock your hips back and forth to give yourself some more time to adjust, “you’re so pretty like this.”

“shouldn’t i be saying that to you?”

you shrugged, “maybe.”

he laughed softly, “well, then you’re gorgeous like this.”

you smiled, leaning down and meeting his lips in a kiss as he helped you rock back and forth on him. you leaned back, hands on his knees as you started to slowly bounce. his face had contorted at the new angle, mouth hanging open and eyebrows furrowed before his fingers moved down to connect with your clit. you moaned, eyes rolling back as you sped up slightly.

“fuck, you’re so tight,” he moaned, “so fucking hot and taking me so well. you’re mine.”

you let out a moan when he slapped your ass, grabbing it after as he kneaded the skin. he drew tight circles around your clit, your moans only encouraging him to meet your hips up in thrusts.

pretty soon, you were clenching around him for the second time. he helped you though your orgasm, the moan of his name that you let out pushing him over the edge. he came inside you, riding out your highs before you gathered up the strength to get up.

he didn’t waste any time, his hands finding your sensitive core again as he spread your legs wide. he watched his cum slowly start to leak out of you, his fingers moving to collect it before fucking it back into you softly. you moaned, “fuck-“

he smiled softly, “don’t want to waste any of it, baby.”

you nodded in agreement, “keep fucking me like this and i don’t think it’s gonna take long.”

he laid between your legs, head resting on your stomach as you played with his curls, “doesn’t matter, i just can’t wait to see how gorgeous you look while pregnant with my kid.”

you laughed softly, “excited for the mood swings and weird food cravings that come with it?”

he nodded, “everything’s worth it for you,” he met your eyes now, his head adjusting to properly look at you, “and for hopefully our little family one day.”

you smiled, hand caressing his cheek, thumb tracing over the small freckles and moles that littered his face cutely, “one day, babe. hopefully one day soon.”

you couldn’t wait for that day to come.

#lando norris #lando norris x reader #lando norris x reader smut #lando norris x reader fluff #ln4 #ln4 x reader #ln4 imagine #ln4 fluff #ln4 fic #ln4 x you #lando norris smut #formula one #formula 1 #smut #mail time #new moon #requested

599 notes · View notes

syoddeye · 3 months ago

Text

consequence / ink

price x f!reader | 1.6k words series directory tags: alcohol, miscommunication (resolved) a/n: john is a down bad, as the youths would say. thank you to my beloved @/pfhwrittes for britpicking. ☕

her cast is gone. a sleeve hides the arm, but it’s clearly off.

john holds the door for a customer, unsure if he ought to take another step or retreat while he can. he tried to compose a text on the flight, on the drive, in the shower. a heads-up, a ‘hello, i’ve returned, i’m sorry, don't worry about my face when you see it’—but he couldn’t. somehow, he thought simply turning up would be better.

when she spots him, the look on her face says a text would’ve been the right call.

ah, well.

she glares over the other man’s shoulder as he pays. he’s truly awful because it only makes him happier to see her. if she didn’t care, her face would be a blank slate.

the man takes a short eternity to move to the end of the bar. john checks to ensure he isn’t holding up a queue he knows isn’t there, if only to buy another second—

“yurbeck.” she blurts out.

“sorry?”

slower, she repeats herself, “you’re back.”

“i am. you’re healed up.”

“you’re not.”

the black eye he sports is ugly but faded. yellowish, with ugly splotches of blood still pooled beneath the skin. he’d like to say, you should see the other guy, but the bastard’s probably jaguar shit by now. instead, he shrugs. “looks worse than it feels. can we grab a drink when you’re off?”

she glances and frowns at her coworker, who’s clearly listening in over the noise of the espresso machine and sighs. her uncertainty is as plain as day.

“no.”

alright. damage control. he can fix this, he thinks, heart crashing into his gut. he didn’t leave her on bad terms. “listen, i know—”

she interrupts a second time. “we’ll go to mine.”

his mouth shuts, teeth clacking. he won’t argue with that.

before you leave the café, you check your last exchange.

>> thanks for dinner the other night. i had a wonderful time. unfortunately, i won’t be by for a bit.

> ominous > prison?

>> not quite. work. i won’t be able to text.

> well don’t be gone too long > i might forget your order

it’s ridiculous, in hindsight, all your worrying over a man you assumed ghosted you. a regular you took a stupid leap of faith for. the shopping trip was a way to test the waters, and despite an awkward intensity he seemed desperate to hide and his bad jokes, john charmed you. even when you extended the exam to your place, he passed. no snide comments about cece or the decor. he helped with cooking without being asked. washed the dishes. it was a wonderful time. he said it. you believed it.

but two months isn’t ‘a bit’. it’s a disappearing act.

you say as much, as annoyed with yourself as you are with him. he quietly concedes he could have explained better. you tell him friends don’t go MIA for weeks. he laughs.

“funny you should say that.”

“what?”

john stares hard at her profile as they walk. this part is always hard. pivotal. he puts it simply: “i’m in the military—special forces. that’s why i was ‘MIA’, as you put it.”

her brows raise, but she doesn’t falter. “oh.”

his lip curls. he’s been cussed out, fawned over, and ditched entirely for sharing his profession. no one usually reacts so little. it’s a divisive topic. everyone’s got an opinion.

“that’s it? oh?” john echoes, trying to tease something out. he once listened to her harsh critique of the illegibility of packaging at the café—he cannot imagine her indifference as genuine. “you can ask questions, y’know.”

“okay. where were you? what were you doing?”

crawling on my belly through mud and fending off giant cockroaches. shooting. getting shot at.

“seeing the sights, meeting people.”

that withering glare returns, but it’s shorter-lived this time. she huffs. “see, i assumed ‘special forces’ means it’s the type of military business you don’t get answers about.”

“yes and no. i can’t compromise my clearance.”

“what can you tell me?”

he smiles when she sneaks a look, irritation giving way to curiosity. “i sunburn very easily.”

she snorts. “no way, not with that complexion.”

“and, i have thirty, forty mosquito bites where the sun doesn’t shine.”

john’s bruised cheek hurts from grinning as she laughs. this is the first time he’s heard it uninhibited, neither bitten back nor politely smothered by a hand. he needs to brush up on his humor. he needs to hear that sound more often.

“sorry. i’m a mess.”

john aligns their shoes and removes his jacket. it’s hardly messy. her flat appears mostly unchanged, except for the small mountain of citrus on her dining table. a single banana. she starts to sweep it into a plastic bin, but he catches a stray orange, and his thumb drags over an odd indentation. he turns it in hand, eyebrows pitching at the sight of a rose etched into the skin.

“is this…?”

he watches her press a machine into a foam insert, then hurriedly zip a case shut. the look on her face clearly says he wasn’t supposed to see that.

she takes the orange and shrugs. “something i’m having fun with. a new hobby.”

“solid work for a hobby.”

“don’t tease.”

“you’d know if i was.”

she excuses herself to change after setting the bin aside, stepping over a wary cece. the cat stands guard at the mouth of the hall. unimpressed. he can practically hear the and where have you been?

john gives the cat a fond but tight smile. he’ll need to get in good with her again, too, it seems. he checks the water bowl before settling onto the couch. cece follows to investigate, her tiny black nose tapping his knuckles when he offers a hand.

her aloofness swiftly melts after he coaxes her into his lap, though he suspects that the subsequent stabbing of her kneading paws is her brand of punishment. little thing seems to relish it.

“you can move her if she’s too much.”

his face lifts, and he wonders if the cat feels the palpitations in his chest.

given what he’s only just learned, he shouldn't be surprised, but the patchwork tattoos decorating her arms steal his breath anyway. the impulse to touch is instant. to trace every fine line and jealously ask where she had them done and by whom.

he grips the arm of the couch hard, and cece pauses her biscuit-making, eyes half-lidded and judgmental. dismissing the cat, he nonchalantly places a throw pillow over his lap and scrubs a hand over his face.

the plot thickens.

“nice ink. didn’t realize you had any. makes sense.”

“yep. twenty-one. mm. no. twenty-two.”

far more than what the shirt shows. “any damage?”

her head tilts as she cracks the refrigerator, pulling two bottles by their necks. “nope. don’t got anything there.”

john takes a beer as she plops down. she tucks her legs beneath, and he studies the artfully drawn black shapes on the one arm: a network of barbed thorns and flowers, a woman contorted into a skull, a mouse sleeping in a sardine tin, a stamp, and several stars.

“do you have any?” she asks, taking a swig.

nothing as lovely as hers. the first and last instance john had time to sit for a piece, he was clean-shaven and further from the thick of it. but she’s shown him hers; returning the favor is only polite. “one.” he sets the bottle aside to ruck up his left sleeve. she shifts, and the tips of his ears redden. fuck he wishes it wasn’t so—

“traditional. ha, had you pinned for the type. cute.”

cute. the ink has faded into muted tones, the lines softened. the mermaid’s once coy smile blurs into a vague shape, and now that he looks at it, the anchor’s shank is slightly crooked. the subtle, natural distortions of time make the mermaid perched in the curved arm of the anchor appear as aged as his face.

“can i?”

she extends a hand. has she touched him before? intentionally?

“yes.”

her fingers follow the lines without an ounce of hesitation or hovering. the corner of her mouth quirks when john instinctively squeezes his bicep, the mermaid’s blue tail flexing under her thumb. he can’t tell what she’s thinking despite watching her pretty eyes. he simply laments he doesn’t have more to show her if only to keep her this close.

john’s focus narrows to the heat of her hand as it moves. he imagines five perfect ovals burning into his arm hair where she grabs and adjusts her view. that his skin might melt, and her palm would graft to his limb for all time, barring surgical intervention.

the first words out of her mouth in a minute are a bucket of cold water.

“six inches, right?”

“what?”

her gaze flicks up. “from the tip to the base?” a prolonged beat passes before she adds, “or, i guess, to the fins of her tail?”

she’s gonna be the death of me.

“i think so.”

“it’s aged well.”

“ah. you’re taking the piss.”

“you’d know if i was.” she echoes. “i’m serious. i’m guessing it’s fifteen or twenty years old? it could look worse.” her nails scritch in a tight circle for a half-second, long enough that he might combust, but she pulls away and swirls her beer. “why’d you stop at one?”

“busy schedule. and i don’t want to be too identifiable.”

“yes. the chops are the subtler choice.” she smiles behind the bottle. “now i’m taking the piss.”

john thinks of precisely three responses to her cheek, none of which make it to his tongue. he sips slowly, catching on a slip of skin when she stretches, the hem of her shirt lifting just so. a tempting black line practically hooks his eye before it disappears.

“oh, you’re funny. got me curious, though. which one was your first?”

her legs straighten, and she pushes to her feet. “it’ll be easier if i show you.”

#price x reader #price x f! reader #john price x f!reader #john price x reader #loser barista

283 notes · View notes