#smiling friends gnarly x reader | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

pathologicalreid · 5 months

Text

don't say nothing | S.R.

gemini part two

who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: smut (18+ mdni) content warnings: softdom!spencer, "good girl" (you can tear it out of my cold dead hands), alcohol, fwb, oral fixation, consent, idiots in love, praise kink, gun violence, jealous spencer? unprotected pinv sex, word count: 3.73k a/n: posting smut twice in a row who the fuck am i?? anyways, everyone's favorite idiots in love are back. i used the song don't say nothing by del water gap to provide me with inspiration.

part one

please say something, cause I've been growing lonesomer each day

Penelope threw her arms up in frustration as you walked through the front door of O’Keefe’s, “I was beginning to think you were ditching us.” She got up from the booth, letting you slide in so that you were next to the wall – across the table from Spencer.

Things with him were as awkward as ever. The two of you were like a rubber band getting stretched, every time the tension became too much, you snapped and ended up in bed together - or in the academy showers, but that was just the one time. Looking at him now, the rubber band felt taut.

“I took the liberty of getting you this,” Garcia announced, a broad smile on her face as she pushed the glass toward you.

Raising your eyebrows, you eyed the beverage suspiciously before taking a tentative sip. An undetermined liquor slid down your throat as you tried to hide the distaste from your expression. Penelope had a taste for sweet, sugary drinks, it was the main reason she usually ended up puking first at girls’ night.

Spencer noted the look on your face, discreetly sliding his glass of water toward you. Thank you, you mouthed to him, earning a slight smile in return. “So, where’s this friend of a friend that you’re trying to set Y/N up with?” Luke asked, standing at the open end of the table.

In your periphery, you saw the smile immediately drop off Spencer’s face. Feeling his eyes on you, you shifted on the supple leather of the booth and looked over at Penelope.

“He said he’d show up later,” she said, lifting her own glass to her lips and sipping out of the straw.

That was enough for you to know that it would never work between the two of you. You needed someone who was punctual. Someone who wouldn’t ghost you at the last moment. Huffing, you sat back in the seat, wondering how long you’d have to stay out before it was socially acceptable to go home.

You took about thirty minutes before asking your teammates to let you out of the booth under the guise of needing fresh air. Luke asked if you wanted to move out to the patio, but you waved him off before walking out the front door.

The spring air kissed your skin as you avoided pedestrians until you made it to the outer wall of the bar, leaning against the cool bricks and sighing.

“Are you alright?” Spencer asked, walking out of the bar, and approaching you.

Avoiding eye contact, you watched people’s shoes as they walked by – heels, sneakers, sandals. “I’m fine, Spence,” you answered simply as your heart begged you to meet his hazel eyes.

You closed your eyes as he reached out, gingerly placing his hand flat on your ribcage. “You had a close call last week,” he said matter-of-factly, referring to a shot you had taken to the chest while on a case last week.

Shrugging, you opened your eyes again, “I was wearing my vest, barely even hurts anymore.” Spencer had been on sabbatical at the time, but he still came to visit you during your overnight stay in the hospital. You were left with a gnarly bruise to the ribs, and Emily had benched you for two weeks.

Tired of your refusal to meet his eyes, Spencer hooked a finger beneath your chin, lifting it until you could make out the gold of his eyes. He looked through the window of the bar, checking for something before he tugged you further from the glass. You didn’t have the time to ask him what he was looking for before his lips were on yours in the alleyway.

Spencer Reid had a habit of kissing you like you were a last meal, with open, messy kisses that made your lovelorn chest ache.

“Garcia’s friend didn’t show up?” He asked, pulling away from you just enough to get the words out.

Shaking your head, you reached up a hand and threaded your fingers through his hair, “Nope.” You cocked your head to the side as the two of you fell into your familiar pattern, “I’m glad I didn’t agree to the date. Could’ve been a fatal blow to my self-esteem,” you told him while thinking of a good way to navigate your current situation.

He also had a habit of making your mind go blank when his lips were on you, and you almost lost it when he groaned against your mouth, “His loss.”

Your breath hitched when he used his knee to part your legs, placing an agonizing pressure on your sex as you resisted the urge to grind on his thigh.

“Hey, Y/N?” He murmured in your ear before pressing gentle kisses on the side of your throat.

Humming, you bit your lip, “Yeah?”

Detaching his lips from the soft skin of your neck, Spencer pulled away to look at you, “Thank you for not agreeing to the date.”

Your body slouched against the wall, “I can’t do this again,” you confessed. The words slipped out of your mouth too easily for it to be a lie, even if you never meant for them to come out.

Spencer took a step back, removing himself from you entirely, “What do you mean?” He asked, watching as you frantically smoothed down the front of your dress and caught your breath.

“Why do I keep doing this to myself?” You muttered helplessly, once again averting your eyes from the man standing in front of you. Taking a shaky breath, your heart pounded so violently in your chest that you thought it might burst.

Catching out at you, he firmly placed his hands on either side of your waist before you could walk away from him. “Baby, what are you talking about?” He asked you urgently.

There it was again, baby. It was like a key in a lock, causing everything to pour out of you. “I can’t stop thinking about you. Isn’t that funny? You’re there, haunting my every move, and none of me occupies even a fragment of your mind.”

Recognition flashed in his eyes as he processed what you were saying to him, “It’s me?” He said, hazel eyes flickering over your face.

“Of course, it’s you, Spencer,” you said exasperatedly, afraid of years of longing coming out in a random alleyway in the district. Tears pricked at your eyes as you silently pleaded for him to say something.

Bewilderment was pasted on his face as he opened his mouth to speak, shut it, and then opened it again. “The person. Your one person that you’d say yes to. I’m your one.” He clarified, trying to get a hold on the situation.

Nodding miserably, you reached up and placed your hand over your heart as if you could staunch your bleeding heart, “You’re my one, and every time we’re together, you’re thinking about someone else.” It wasn’t an accusation; you knew he had feelings for someone else. He had told you just as much at Dave and Krystall’s wedding. Two months ago. Wiping underneath your eyes, you gathered whatever was left of your dignity and walked away from the situation.

As you walked back to your car, you were vaguely aware of people staring at you. You knew that you had played just as big of a role in your own destruction as Spencer had, maybe even more. You never should’ve had sex at the wedding, but you had sought comfort in one another.

Fishing around in your purse, you pulled your keys out, only for them to be scooped from your hands. “Hey!” You shouted in frustration, gaining the attention of passersby as they wondered whether or not they needed to call 911 or stay out of a lover’s quarrel. Shooting daggers at Spencer, you refrained from stomping your foot in frustration lest you look like a petulant child. “Give me my keys, Spencer,” you insisted, holding your hand out impatiently.

“Not until you talk to me,” he responded. He was out of breath, meaning he had run to catch up with you – a feat in and of itself.

You crossed your arms in front of your chest, “There’s nothing left to talk about, Spencer.”

He took a moment to catch his breath before looking around, “There is everything to talk about. I have to talk to you.”

Weighing your options, you reached out for your car keys, which he let you take, and unlocked the car. “Get in,” you offered halfheartedly, wiping your cheeks before getting into the driver’s seat.

Silently, you started the drive, taking a right onto the next street. “This isn’t the way to your apartment,” Spencer observed anxiously.

You shook your head as you turned on your turn signal to merge onto the highway, “No, it’s the way to yours.”

Residences had been off-limits during your illicit affair, but each member of the BAU had the ability to get to each other’s homes. It was more of a safety concern than anything else. Since you’d never been to Spencer’s apartment before, you needed him to guide you through the lobby and up the stairs. To your chagrin, he did that by taking your hand in his and having you follow him.

Looking around once he unlocked the door, the first thing you noticed was that the space was so… Spencer. From the green walls to the stained-glass window to the piles of books, it all just seemed so fitting for him. “Sit,” he said with an authoritative tone as he made his way back to the kitchen, returning with two glasses of water.

“What do you want to say, Reid?” You said, leaning back in an armchair as you looked over at him, taking calculated breaths.

Disappointment filled his eyes, “Don’t call me that.” There was something in his eyes that resembled fear, but you couldn’t quite place the reason.

Narrowing your gaze, you tilted your head to the side and feigned ignorance, “Everyone calls you that.” You challenged, even though you supposed it wasn’t true.

“You don’t,” he responded simply. It was true, over the years you had never called him Reid. Dr. Reid and Spencer Reid, yes, but never just Reid. To you, he had always been Spencer or Spence. “When you do it, it feels so… impersonal. Detached.”

You blinked, not expecting him to have said that. Your relationship with Reid had always been personal. From back when you were just friends to whatever miscellany of emotions you had now. “I didn’t mean for it to be,” you admitted defeatedly, fiddling with the buttons on your cardigan. Although maybe you had intended to detach yourself from the situation by referring to him with a name that felt less personal.

In your periphery, you saw him looking dejectedly at you, but you couldn’t bring yourself to meet his eyes. “Will you please look at me?”

Swallowing thickly, you closed your eyes, “I can’t.” Your voice was no more than a whisper as you admitted the truth, one look in his eyes, and you’d break your heart even worse.

“At first, I thought it was easier for me to just say I was interested in someone else because I was under the impression that you were interested in another man,” Spencer told you candidly. “My idea was that I could keep you close to me until you felt ready to move on, and that would just have to be enough.”

Staring blankly ahead of you, you reached out to grab your water from the coffee table, taking small sips as you struggled to digest what he was saying to you.

You shut your eyes tightly at the vulnerability in the room, opening them to find Spencer knelt in front of you. “What I didn’t realize was that a fraction of you would never be enough, not for me.”

Burying your face in your hands, you avoided his eyes as the gravity of his admission weighed down your shoulders. “Spence,” you begged. He needed to stop. He was toeing the point of no return.

“I am so devastatingly in love with you,” he admitted. “I didn’t know how deeply it ran until the wedding, but I just couldn’t get myself to let you go.”

Spencer pried your hands off of your face, revealing teary eyes. You let your body slide off the chair until you knelt in front of him, knee to knee. Taking a deep, shuddering breath, you leaned forward and pressed your lips to his.

Quickly, he wrapped his arms tightly around you, pulling your body flush against his, “I love you.”

“I love you too,” you answered, surprised at how easily the words rolled off of your tongue. Taking your time, you slung one arm over his shoulder, reaching the other up so you could put your hand in his hair. You relished in his groan as you tugged lightly at the strands.

You couldn’t help the whine that passed through your lips as he pulled away from you. He got to his feet before helping you up, and once you were standing, his lips were back on yours.

Leading you to what you assumed was his bedroom, you felt your blood heat up as he pushed your cardigan off of your shoulders. As you reached up to undo the buttons on his shirt, you grinned against his lips.

Sat on the edge of his bed, you parted your knees and pulled his shirt from where it was tucked into his pants before fumbling with his belt buckle. Disconnecting your lips so that you could look at what you were doing, he took the opportunity to duck his head and take your earlobe between his teeth. As he nipped at the soft skin, goosebumps spread where you were bare, leaving you in need of more. More of him.

Once you got his belt undone, you made quick work of the button and zipper on his slacks, sliding them down over his hips and ass while his hands made their way up your dress. “Spence,” you said breathlessly, trying to push his pants further down. Understanding your plea, he stepped out of them entirely, kicking them to the side.

Spencer drew away from you just enough to tug your dress off of your body, tossing it off to the side and gently guiding you so that your back was flat against the mattress. You watched in anticipation as he pulled his t-shirt off, the movement allowing for the tip of his cock to peek over the elastic of his boxers. “You’re so pretty,” he muttered, the softness of the words taking you by surprise, “Always so pretty for me, baby.” He gently traced his finger over your bruise as a shadow of worry crossed his features, but it was gone as quickly as it showed up.

His words spurred you on to pull at his underwear, trying to take them off, but you simply didn’t have the arm span to do it on your own. “I wanna touch you,” you confessed, “Can I touch you?”

“I need to be in you,” Spencer answered, pulling his boxers off before kneeling in front of you, eyes widening when your legs fell open. Expertly, he hooked his fingers in the sides of your underwear, dragging them off in one swift motion and leaving the both of you completely bare.

Your mouth parted when his hand reached your wet heat and two fingers entered you tantalizingly slowly. “I thought- ah- no touching,” you complained. It was a halfhearted complaint because really, there was nothing to be bothered by.

Reaching down, your hand grabbed his wrist, trying to slow his ministrations. “You’re so responsive for me,” he murmured, continuing to move his fingers in and out of you and watching in fascination as your hips bucked off of the mattress involuntarily.

“Fuck,” You said, screwing your eyes shut as that all too familiar knot started to form in your lower belly. “Spence, baby- I’ll…” A low whine escaped your throat as he withdrew his fingers from your core. “Spencer,” you said in frustration, opening your eyes to see him inspecting your slick that had been left on his fingers.

Like a rehearsed routine, he placed his hand in front of your face, prompting you to incline your head forward and wrap your lips around his index and middle finger. As you swirled your tongue around his fingers, he watched you with an undying interest. “Good girl,” he muttered, the praise causing your sensitive cunt to clench around nothing.

Taking his hand back, you looked down as he used his now free hand to line his cock up with your entrance. Laying one of your hands at the side of your head, he used his other hand to intertwine your fingers before he pushed into you. Instead of tossing your head back like you normally would, you looked up at him, watching as he hilted himself in you. “Spencer,” you whispered.

“Are you alright?” He asked, checking in with you as he placed his free hand on the other side of your head.

You nodded quickly, “It just feels different this time.” Your heart clenched at your own admission. You weren’t using each other as an escape anymore.

Spencer hummed in understanding, leaning down and pressing a tender kiss to your lips. “I love you,” he whispered, “I love you so much.”

Your breath hitched as he tentatively thrust in you like he was testing the waters. “I love you,” you responded in kind, your voice higher than usual.

The response was enough encouragement for Spencer to keep going, he tucked his face in the crook of your neck, gently biting the skin as he set the pace. Small gasps escaped your throat every time his hips met yours.

As usual, your sounds spurred him on, seemingly trying to make you as vocal as possible, he used one hand to reach up and grope your breast. While his fingers pinched at your nipple, you wrapped your legs around his torso, locking your ankles together behind him. He lifted his head, moving his lips against yours in hurried, messy kisses that only aided the knot building in your stomach.

You didn’t have the capacity to warn him before you came undone beneath him, your orgasm coming over you as you whined into his mouth. Your walls clenched around him so tightly that Spencer had a hard time keeping his pace before it became too much.

Sighing contentedly as he filled you, you ran your hands down his back as he continued working through both of your orgasms. You whimpered as he continued fucking his cum into your oversensitive hole until your head went fuzzy, “Spence.”

He stuttered to a stop, staying inside of you for just a beat under he pulled out, causing you to flinch as you were left empty. “Are you alright?” He asked, still breathing heavily – not that you were faring much better.

Nodding, you blinked rapidly as your lungs tried to catch up with the rest of you, “I’m perfect,” you answered dazedly.

Spencer smiled at you, “You are. Perfect, that is.” He sat next to you on the bed, placing a hand on your bare hip, affectionately dragging his fingers over the skin. “You need to go pee,” he said suddenly, furrowing his brows at you.

You couldn’t help it as you erupted in a fit of giggles, resulting in an adorably confused look from Spencer. “Sorry, it’s just you telling me that I need to go pee – it’s funny,” you told him, biting your lip to muffle your laugh.

“Have you not been peeing after sex?” He was clearly appalled as if the idea of you not peeing after sex was abhorrent to him.

Rolling your eyes, you propped yourself up on your elbows, “Of course, I pee after sex, Dr. Reid,” you put extra emphasis on his honorific. “And I will pee just as soon as I’m sure my legs aren’t going to give out of me when I stand up,” you explained to him, reaching out and placing a hand on his knee.

He looked at you seriously, “You know, there are some studies that say the sooner after sex you urinate the less likely you are to contract a UTI.”

“Oh my god,” you said, “Don’t say the word urinate at me while I’m naked in your bed.” You complained, clambering up and making sure you were steady before you walked to the ensuite.

Later on, you were laying in bed next to Spencer, your head was resting on his chest while he kept you tucked into his side. You flinched as a phone started ringing, you sat up and looked around for your phone. Please don’t be a case, you silently hoped as you searched the sheets for your phone.

Once you finally grabbed it, you saw Penelope’s contact flashing across the screen. Swiping the screen, you put the phone up to your ear, hearing loud music on the other end of the call. “Hey, Penny,” you said, smiling as Spencer reached out and pulled you back into him.

You adjusted your t-shirt over your skin, having made Spencer go out to your car for your go-bag so that you could have clean clothes to sleep in. He slipped his hand under the cotton of your shirt, placing his hand flat on your bare skin. You tried to greet Penelope again when she doesn’t respond.

“Hey!” Her voice chimed in through the speaker, “Where’d you go? Jason just got here!”

Frowning, you pulled your phone away and looked at the time – just past eleven o’clock. You sighed, letting your body meld into Spencer’s, “Tell him that someday he’ll find a girl with equally as atrocious time management skills as him.”

You heard some rambling on the other side of the call, and wondered how many members of the BAU made it out this late. “Okay, but where are you?”

Humming, you peered up at Spencer who had, unsurprisingly, pulled out a book to read before bed. “I’m right where I need to be,” you told her earnestly, wondering if she could hear your voice's smile as Spencer kissed your forehead softly.

tagged, if you asked for a part two: @donttrustlove @jumpingjackalope @bippityboppityboob1tch @makingbloodbaths1 @sammyreidslut

@evvy96 @mus3y @nnab @basicallynotbreathing @hell0kitty11

@tatilolz @radioactiveinvisible @lamentis-10 @k-corbett @discotitsposts

1K notes · View notes

aethelwyneleigh27 · 4 months

Text

Cowboy!141 x Noble's Daughter!Reader (My Version of the AU)

(How you meet them)

Synopsis: Being the daughter of a noble is a jarring task as you must be always able to keep up appearances, so what exactly happens when your family hires 4 men? Men who seem dangerous yet you know nothing about, all happening to be part of the same group of people. What happens if they take an interest in you? Someone unattainable, forbidden yet also undoubtedly tempting..

Hi lovelies! Lia here again, apologies for the delay and inactivity, I had exams, projects and the recent release of part one of Bridgerton season 3. Speaking of the series, this was inspired by that and RDR2 (none of the elements are historically accurate, I think?), I genuinely hope this does well because this account has not been doing well as of late. With my mutuals leaving Tumblr and some friends are currently ignoring me, I genuinely don't know what to do anymore. From what I know, @ghouljams was the first one who created content in the cowboy!CoD AU but mine is a lot different? So please don't kill me 😭

This will result in headcanons for the next few posts because my brain is attached to this AU so you will be seeing more Cowboy!Outlaw!141.

(Really FEM!Reader, maybe also Plus-size!(Chubby??)Reader?? I don't even know anymore)

More content: My CoD Masterlist

Bless your noble mother's heart, although your was seen as this very respectable and intellectual man of nobility, your mother had this heart of gold having no idea that these rugged men he has newly hired were outlaws, criminals.. murderers?

Yet your father did, something about him felt sinister, well all noble money comes from not so noble cause.

Although your mother wanted you to get to know and be familiar with the newest staff members who would do all the gnarly, energy consuming and physically challenging tasks, she did not want her daughter interacting with men who would be considered improper like seemingly mysterious men who happened to be from a far town looking for a living.

Well without your father's or mother's knowledge, that rule was thrown out the window the moment you saw one of them carrying over some of the crates that contain given by some men to your father for his services and connections, particularly drawn to the one who never seemed to take off the cloth on his face.

Something about the way he stared at you, not seeing the rest of his face, depriving you of clues as to how he felt upon seeing the only lady of the house. You gave him a warm smile, for a moment you thought you saw his lips through the mask perk up, before walking off to the lounging hall for your tutoring on language.

It was odd, you observed them from afar a lot, your personal garden was your sanctuary and you can't help but do so when they talked so loudly, no sign of inside voices.

They called each other names.. Price, Gaz, Soap and Ghost. The man you encountered was named Ghost? Surely it's some alias. Well that wasn't something you should fixate on anyway so you leave for your tasks.

You find yourself feeling a little out of it after your lessons, hoping that a little stroll through the stables behind your family's estate would either help the information sink in or keep it shun out of your mind. Either way you'd find yourself in tranquil, you heard a thud behind you and turn to find so called "Ghost" behind you.

He had dropped a crate, one filled with weapons and uncharacteristically hastily picked up all of them without paying much attention. Such an action caused him to unknowingly cut his finger on one of the blades that fell out of it's sheath.

Your eyes filled with concern as you rush over to take his hand in yours before he tried to brush off the cut and get back to his duties. You knew it was dumb to be worried over something so small that the grown man doesn't even flinch and yet there you were, practically cradling his hand in yours.

A white handkerchief that was embroidered with your favorite flowers by your own mother, something you held dear and kept pristine.. using it on his finger to keep the blood from further gushing and wipe off whatever of the red residue was left on his hand.

As the blood stopped to your relief, you brought his finger and spontaneously pressed a feather-like kiss on the wound. You were so used to doing that for your little cousins, nieces and nephews that it was just a force of habit, your face flushed the very moment you looked up to meet his gaze, what possessed you to do that?

You placed the handkerchief in his hand and composed yourself, you told him to keep it and to bring the wound to the physician to get some antiseptics before running off to god knows where.

A few days after that incident, you meet another one of them except..

You couldn't help but rush, you were late for this supposedly short promenade your family has spontaneously planned. Your favourite gloves are no where to be found and with the three sisters you have, you checked room to room, seeing who might've borrowed the lacey white fabric with the sewn in bows.

Without looking your body slams into a wall, is it a wall? You softly groan, your delicate fingers brushing on your forehead that felt like it would bruise later on. Your eyes remained closed for a few seconds as the impact caused you to feel shaken, light headed.

You open your eyes to one of the outlaws, you blink up as your vision adjusted a bit, his dark skin against the light from the window really did something..

"Are you hurt, my lady?" He asked, his deep voice was smooth and rich, almost velvety. He held you up from falling.

"N-no.. Thank you, uhh..."

"Kyle, her ladyship can call me Kyle. Although I hope it's not too informal to your status, my lady." You smiled at his words, certainly a respectful fellow despite him and his group's reputation.

You felt warmth on your sides, his palms against the fabric that separates his skin on yours, he was only being kind for steadying you after you almost fell from the earlier impact but his touch felt addicting, too much as it continued to linger.

"Kyle, it is then" You said softly, suddenly a bit more aware of your surroundings.

Fuck. He was sure he felt something just by hearing the way his name fell from your lips. Normally he'd give people, employers only and only his last name. He was so used to having been called by "Garrick", he had no idea his name would sound different, so sweet coming from a pretty maiden's lips.

He stutters for a moment, realizing that his hands are touching a lady inappropriately, something only someone she's married to would have the privilege of doing. He swiftly removed his hands from your waist and formally excused himself from your presence with the excuse of his duties.

The next time you met one of them was through your mother's ball, she was always the first to throw one to bless the upcoming season of hopes that you, your sisters and brothers shall wed soon.

You had no taste for it after having a lord step on your feet at least 20 times and not even bother to apologize with how high of a pedestal he puts himself in, you found yourself escaping through the back of your estate to the gazebo in the center of your beloved garden.

You took your tight, restricting shoes off and felt the grass on your feet as you walked toward the gazebo, now close enough to see that you weren't alone but you still continued, your feet against the cooling marble platform. You sigh as you prop yourself to sit on the stone railing next to the stranger who was currently taking a puff of his cigar.

You turned your head away, you were thrown into a fit of coughs from the strong scent of the smoke while you swatch some of it away. You tried not to heave for actual air to breathe while the man next to you chuckles, making you feel irritable.

"M'sorry love.." his gruff voice whispers which make you turn towards him, the man offering you a comforting smile.

"Shouldn't you be in there with your family, miss?" Price asked. To which you hum, "I wanted some "fresh air" and silence" you answered. Moments of silence have passed, nothing but the sound of wind that rattled the trees a bit and each other's breaths.

You look towards the light of windows of your home, the ballroom filled with laughter and talk of celebration. You sighed, knowing you must return as your parents would come looking for you, also not wanting for them to punish you for sticking around unchaperoned with their new hires.

He knew you were about to leave, it would be rude for a gentleman to leave a lady without help, hmm? He wasn't a gentleman though, an outlaw, one of the worst titles one can ever bestow a man. He was considered to be of low honor but who cares?

He kneels down on one knee in front of you, gently taking your leg in his huge hand using his thigh as leverage so he can gently slip on you shoes. For a moment you felt his forehead on your knee before he pulls away and offers you his hand..

You took it hesitantly as he helped you off the railing, you look up at him meeting his eyes. Something about them burned, making your stomach churn but not in a manner of discomfort.

You watched his back as he walked away, his footsteps on the cold marble the only thing to be heard as the noise died down..

The morning after, you've barely had enough sleep, was it the events of the previous night? Nevermind, at least you had a day or two for yourself after conducting a proposition to your parents. Free time was worth it for the sore feet you had to endure.

Not really in the mood to change into anything tight or itchy, you remain in your night clothes. Finally, some well deserved time alone, comfortable and flipping pages of a book was your type of thing.

Sure, socializing has it's benefits however nothing beats your time alone or so you thought you were alone..

A table and a few chairs were set up by the servants to your request at the gazebo, giving you the perfect view of the greenery that you have planted the seeds of.

You had your head comfortably leaned onto lounge as you continued reading. Buts something was just so distracting, a few minutes of the constant snipping and twigs breaking, you look up wanting to see who was there tending to the garden.

Your eyes widened a bit, it was improper for a lady to stare a man who has very less clothing. Nothing but his jeans, belt and hat keeping his face shielded from the heat is toned, muscular and tanned torso and arms exposed.

A little later, you hear a grunt coming from the man, Soap was it? You can't quite remember much from the night you eavesdropped on them. You heard his footsteps on the grass nearing the gazebo but you didn't bother to look up, not until..

"Ma'am? May I stay 'ere a moment? Afraid the heat is getting to me" You look up from your book and sit up to see the same man breathless. You nodded and watched as he sat on the stairs, hands on his knees as he caught his breath.

"Excuse me.." You said, loud enough to hear and catch his attention, he looks back from his position. You moved one of the chairs to face your lounge, "Please invite yourself here, I can only think of how uncomfortable the floor might be, especially when you are working at a weather like this one" Signaling him to take a seat on the chair you adjusted.

He gets up yet reluctantly makes himself comfortable on the seat, you pick a drinking glass on display from the silver tray and poured some of the cold lemonade into it, you place it down on the table and slide it to him, offering a warm smile. Your fingers on the base of the drinking glass slightly brushing against his as he takes it.

He thanks you for it and you both enjoyed the tranquil and peace.. yet you can't go back to your book, asking questions and being further interested by the man each minute passes.

The way he talked was something else, it was alluring, comforting and oddly lively, he's told you about his "past" and how he used to be a child.

"Was quite the troublemaker you see, though my family was poor and food was scarce, I found a way to feed the street animals I adore—"

You look at him, so invested on what he was about to say next, it was refreshing to have someone to converse with who isn't interrogating you and practically forcing their ideals of how many babies they want you to birth for them, practically wanting you to die for them.

"I used to steal bread from my neighbor, not a very nice man, selfish really. So I'd often sneak into his shack, leftovers, scraps and anything light enough for me to carry. I'd bring it to Lassie, my favorite stray dog. You remind me a lot of her Bonnie" He said.

"I remind you of a dog?" You weren't so sure if that's a compliment, then again he just called you "Bonnie", what exactly does that mean?

"Home, you remind me of home. Can't say I have felt this comfortable in years, friends and I are usually reserved yet you bring this side out of me, Bonnie. So what spell or witchcraft did you use?" He joked raising a brow at you, for a moment his attention falters as he looks down at the soft mounds of skin exposed on your chest.

"Eyes up here, Johnny."

You warned as you laugh at his question, you notice one of the servants coming out from the estate and into the garden, Johnny smiles and tips his hat to you to excuse himself so that he could get back to work.

Well this is interesting.. isn't it?

Taglist: @wishesforyou @puff0o0 @simping4konig @simp4konig @blingblong55 @azereus @rustic-guitar-notes @snowdjinnofpalestine @09maruchan @anonymuslydumb @skeletalgoats @icarustypicalfall @ghosts-cyphera @connorsui @capuccino192 @miss-gms-and-the-rotten-womb @celestialhole @the-second-sage @starryylies @everlastingmoonlightsworld @keiva1000 @iexiam @drewsmusee @konigceo

854 notes · View notes

rainrot4me · 2 months

Text

Better Than Him

Summary: Nina wanted nothing more than to impress Jeff. So, as her best friend, she sought your help on how to get his attention. But when a quick lesson on how to kiss turns intense quickly, you feel it's only right to prove to her she's worth more than him.

Characters: Nina the Killer x Female Reader

SMUT WARNING MINORS DNI

TW: Friends with benefits, humiliation, Jeff is a douchebag, inexperienced, teaching, vaginal grinding, tribbing, eating out, overstimulation, first time, revenge, mention of broken bones

Words: 4.3k

As a creep, you knew all too well the weird tendencies that the other members of the mansion had.

Especially Nina. But she was your best friend, so of course you let her habits slide more than others. But as she lay in your lap, sobbing about how Jeff brushed her off again, you couldn’t help but roll your eyes. It was exhausting, truly. Her every waking thought and action seemed to revolve around the pale killer, but you could never understand why.

Jeff was ugly as shit, face all mangled and gnarly. His personality was a drainer to be around, always cussing you out or telling you how shit you were at something. But the worst thing about him was the constant stench of rot that came off of him, the aftermath of him murdering some helpless guy and never showering after. He wasn’t pleasant to you, but no guy in the mansion was. The only one you could stand was Jack, his quiet demeanor was his only saving quality.

You rubbed Nina’s back, cooing some bullshit about how he would come around eventually and how he didn’t deserve her. You honestly couldn’t care less about him, but it was anything to get Nina to hush. She finally sat up, holding your hands as her highlighted hair sat dishevelled on her forehead. “You have to help me.” She gasped out, eyes frantic as she gripped your hands tight, her neon press on nails digging into your skin. You stared at her, confused. “Help you how?” She smiled, her gapped teeth shining bright.

“Jeff doesn’t pay any attention to me.” You knew that, obviously. “So, I have to impress him somehow. Like, with something he likes.” She grinned, waiting for you expectantly. You tried to wrack your brain of all the crap Jeff has mentioned liking before, but all you could think of was the porn magazines he hid not so well under his bed. You had found them by accident after Jeff stole your guns over some petty argument, that being the first place you thought to look but ending with an even bigger argument than before. It ended with you locked out of his room and his reputation amongst the other guys little to none. But at least you found an answer.

“Listen, Nina, I don’t thi-” She brushed her bangs from her face, eyes wide and pleading. “Oh please, I don’t care. Whatever Jeff likes I’ll be sure to like too.” You groaned, letting go of Nina’s hands and laying back on her bed, her dark room comforting you. Nina wasn’t at all the porn star type, especially not what Jeff was after. He was still mentally stumped as a horny teenager, so any girl wasn’t good enough unless her ass and tits stuck out farther than the rest of her two-inch waist. It was sick, but you knew Nina wasn’t at all what he was going for. The crazy don’t go for even crazier. Nina was just out of cards. You grumbled.

“Jeff is a pervert, alright? Like… only goes after girls that look like supermodels type shit.” You groaned, refusing to look her in the face. The silence was awkward, you only glanced up to see her lost in thought, that same look she got every time she was contemplating something. “Nina-” But she was already up, already pulling her closet open and shuffling through her clothes. You sat up, trying to get a look at what she was searching for before she pulled it out.

It was a tiny pleated skirt, black and leather that was way too tiny for your liking. She tugged down her patterned skirt, your eyes flicking towards the ceiling quickly to not stare as she stripped. When she stumbled over to her full-length mirror in the corner of her room, you glanced back down, cheeks flushing red. She turned in the mirror, getting good luck with the short shirt that barely even covered anything. Her ass was practically out, the miniskirt just centimeters away from showing her clothed cunt as well. Her panties were purple and pink striped, but you didn’t even have to guess. “Oh, this has to work.” She giggled, shaking her tiny ass teasingly as you shook your head, standing up to meet her.

“Listen, Nina-” But she was already rushing towards the door, swinging it open as the skirt swayed against her pale skin. “I’m gonna go look for Jeff. Wish me luck!” Before you could say anything else she was out in the hallway, skipping down the stairs and out of view. Jeff was going to kill her if you didn’t first.

You heard the crying before you even saw her. It hadn’t even been an hour, but you groaned as you sat up on Nina’s bed, already knowing exactly what was coming. You stayed in her room, opting for the comforting space in case something like this did happen.

Bursting through the door, Nina’s mascara-streaked cheeks were flushed from crying. She fell on top of your lap, you were quick to scoop her up and sit her comfortably against you as she cried into your shoulder. You knew it wasn’t going to work, but you were going to kill Jeff anyway. You rubbed her back, shushing her as she sobbed loudly, her tears soaking into your shirt and making you cringe. It was routine at this point. Nina would storm in crying, come up with some new hope as to how to impress Jeff, and then disappear before starting the whole cycle over. But this time, there were no questions of what she should do or pleas for compliments. She only lay there, face tucked into the crook of your neck and crying softly. You continued to rub her back, wondering what in the world had happened to make Nina, the most talkative girl you knew, stay silent.

“Nina?” You cooed, pushing her shoulders back to get a look at her face. Her cheeks were flushed, mascara smudged against her eyes and running, her jagged smile anything but happy. “Wanna tell me what happened?” She wiped her eyes, unzipped her jacket and tossed it onto the floor before laying down on the bed, dragging you down to lay next to her. You held her close, the dark room giving a nice blanket of comfort around the two of you.

“Well,” She started, sniffling. “He liked it, I guess.” You were stunned honestly, turning to look at her face as she continued. “He was in the living room with the other guys, so I walked through, hoping I would catch his attention. It did, and he followed me down the hall, pushing me into the bathroom. I kind of panicked, so I asked him to stop. I pushed him off of me, but he kept grabbing me, trying to pull my panties down.” Your blood was boiling, hands already pressed against the couch and ready to storm downstairs and give Jeff a piece of your mind, but Nina held you close, keeping you down. “Eventually, I guess he got tired of me fighting and shoved me off. He told me I was an ugly… an ugly bitch and that I was lucky he didn’t embarrass me in front of everyone.”

Nina went quiet, holding your waist close as she silently cried. You held her close, staring at the ceiling as anger raged inside of you. You knew Jeff was a prick, but to do this to her was uncalled for. You sat up, brushing Nina off as you stormed to the door, but Nina’s arms quickly wrapped around you, pulling you back to her bed. You groaned, glancing at her as she quietly begged you not to say anything. She didn’t want him more upset than he already was. You wanted to tell her off, but you guessed that was her fangirl talking. But against your better instinct, you sat back down, Nina quick to hold you close again.

Her crying had subsided, small pitiful whines replacing them as she wiped her mascara. It was breaking your heart. “Nina. You have to understand that Jeff is a sick fuck. If you’re not willing to do whatever he says, you’re no good, alright?” You grumbled, rubbing her smeared eyeshadow off of her eyelid. “But you’re beautiful, gorgeous even. You can’t let a man who’s set in his dumbass ways dictate your feelings.” She nodded quietly, staring anywhere but into your worried eyes. You hoped your words had reached her, but as she sat up, determination in her face, you knew your hopes were already useless.

“You’re right. Jeff isn’t going to like me if I don’t like what he likes.” You rolled your eyes hard, groaning into your hands. “I have to show him I can do it!” She was hopeless. But at least the girl had determination like nothing you ever saw. Nina turned to you, wrapping her hands around your shoulders, excitement in her eyes. “You have to teach me how to kiss.”

You were taken back a second, eyes scanning her flushed face for any signs of some joke. But she was dead serious, smile wide and goofy and she held you stiff. “Nina, I-” But she was already pressing closer to you, crisscrossed knees pressed flush against yours. “Listen! You’re my best friend, [Y/N]. I need you to teach me how.” She was pleading, bright eyes begging you. This was becoming awkward, your weight shifting uncomfortably in her hands. But if you knew Nina, she wouldn’t stop, no matter how badly she needed to.

“Fine.” You gritted, her smile lighting up. “But this is it. I’m done with your dumb Jeff fantasies.” You were stern, but it was the only way you knew she would listen. Nina nodded quickly, her body pressing close eagerly. In truth, you had fucked around with some relationships before becoming a full-fledged creep, but you were no expert in the sport. Nina, on the other hand, was completely clueless. As far as you knew, she was a stone-cold virgin, her obsession with Jeff giving her some fucked up chastity belt for the killer. You figured you would rather her go in somewhat familiar with the whole deal than get laughed out.

You brushed your hair off your shoulders, focusing in on her as you spoke delicately. “Firstly, just follow me, or, Jeff, I guess. Don’t try to force anything, just let your lips glide with his. He’s probably going to be pretty rough, but I want you to just learn how to go slow first.” It was like teaching someone how to drive, except you were all nervous and hot. Nina didn’t seem fazed as she mentally jotted down what you were telling her, excitement running through her small frame. You smiled nervously, unsure how to initiate the whole thing. “So, I guess just… uhm…” You sat forward, eyes glancing nervously between Nina’s big eyes and her lip-glossed lips, wrapping your hands around her forearms. From this angle, it was almost impossible not to get a full shot of her panties from the tiny skirt she still wore. You blushed, focusing on her before leaning forward, her eyes flicking excitingly at your lips. “Just do what I do…” You mumbled, your lips inches from hers.

When Nina pressed forward quickly, finally closing the distance, it shocked you. Your heart was pounding in your ears, fingers gripping her arms nervously as you began to slide your lips against her smooth ones. Her lipgloss tasted sweet, both of your eyes fluttering shut as you tried to slowly make out with her. Nina was pressing close, her lips moving just a little too eagerly for your pace, so you had to slow her down. Letting her arms go, you slid your hands on either side of her head, tangling your fingers in her dark hair and angling her head, guiding her lips to move against yours easily. She happily complied, her hands reaching up to cup yours as her lips followed yours nicely. You were making out eagerly, every brush of your lips more electric than you thought it was supposed to be. But you had little time to contemplate your confusion as Nina slid her arms around your neck and swung her leg over your thighs, straddling you as she refused to let off your lips.

This was quickly spiralling out of control, but when Nina’s little breathy whines broke through every gap in your kissing, your resolve was beginning to melt. Your hands slid to her waist, her thin body pressed close onto yours. You were both breathing heavily, chests pressed against each other as you practically swallowed the other in heavy kisses. This was becoming too much for her, Nina’s whines growing louder as you peeked your eyes open, seeing her brows knitted roughly. You slid your hand against her cheek, pushing her back as you both caught your breath, lips swollen and cheeks red. “Uh-” You panted, quickly becoming aware of the position the two of you were in and growing anxious. Nina only smiled, scanning your face as she caught her breath, wiping her lips off her sweet lipgloss. “I think… I think I need one more example.” She giggled, eyes heavy as she leaned back in slowly. You nodded, unsure of what you were even thinking as you slipped your hand into the back of her hair, fisting it softly. Nina smiled back into the kiss, her lips dancing with yours comfortably. You were just helping her learn. So of course you needed to show her every possible scenario that Jeff was going to throw her way.

At least that’s what you told yourself as you gripped your hands under the thighs, flipping the two of you over and pressing her back into the bed. Nina giggled, her arms gripping your shoulders tight as you pressed against her lips hard, roughly tugging her bottom lip with your teeth. “Jeff’s… probably- ah, probably going to be rough. So you gotta… gotta be ready.” You panted against her lips, placing your arms on either side of her head as you nestled between her legs. She nodded, moving away from your lips to press her swollen lips against the corner of your mouth, pecking slowly down to your neck. You gasped, her sweet chaste kisses sending goosebumps against your skin. “Ah- Nina-”

“It’s okay,” She purred, placing her wet kiss under your chin. “I’m just trying to, ah, see what I should try on Jeff.” You couldn’t protest any logical answer as she slid her hands under your shirt, her cold fingers scratching gently and making you groan. “Yeah… yeah that makes sense…” You whined, Nina’s hands pulling your shirt over your head and tossing it to the side. She pushed your shoulders back, rolling you over so she was straddling your lap again, your back pressed against her bed. “Like, I wonder…” Nina’s face was red as she slid down, her lips pressing sweetly against your chest and down in between your tits. “Would Jeff like this?” You glanced down nervously as she palmed your bra, kneading your tits in her delicate hands. Your face exploded with heat, a small gasp falling from your lips as she pushed your bra up off your tits, letting the mounds fall exposed. You glanced at her nervously, unsure if you should draw a line. This wasn’t a learning experience anymore, this was a horny virgin finally getting to release herself. And who were you, as her best friend, to deny her that feeling?

You let yourself relax, reaching behind your back to unclip your bra and sliding it off your chest, Nina’s eager eyes watching closely. “I don’t know. Maybe try and see if he would…” You purred, Nina leaning down quickly to grip your tit, licking your nipple and sighing at the feeling of the nub on her tongue. “I think Jeff would be sensitive… I would like that…” She cooed, rolling your perky nipples between her cool fingers and purring as you squirmed. She watched you closely, her hips slowly beginning to grind down against your crotch as she took your right tit in her mouth, sucking lazily. You tangled your fingers in her smooth hair, tugging lightly as she sucked and nibbled on your already sensitive flesh. She groaned, brows furrowing as she fought to stay sucking on your tit like a kitten. It was overwhelming, your skin hot and flushed as you squirmed under her.

When she finally popped off for air, you took your chance and pushed her up, smashing your lips back against her as you tugged on her hoodie, tugging the purple fabric over her head and smiling when she whined. She wasn’t wearing anything underneath, her bare skin and small tits exposed against her pale skin. You leaned forward, her hands pushing on your shoulders as you kissed her chest, pushing her back onto the sheets. Her dark room made her flushed skin look so pretty and supple under your kisses, her skin coming to life with goosebumps as you kissed down further. That stupid miniskirt was riding up, basically covering nothing as you tugged it down her thighs, tossing it to the floor as you spread her knees, her small whines making you blush. The purple and pink panties she wore matched nicely with her thigh-highs, her pale thighs shaking slightly as you smiled at her already evident arousal. “I think,” You cooed, unbuttoning your pants and sliding them down your legs, your dark panties contrasting nicely with hers. “Jeff would enjoy eating you out… Getting you ready before he fucked you…” You grinned, running your thumb along the wet spot on her panties and making her whine behind her hands. She nodded slowly though, letting your hands press her knees apart as you tugged her panties down, careful to keep her thigh-highs rolled up. Your heart was thumping as you nestled between her thighs, Nina’s already dripping cunt pink and cute, just like her. Your own arousal was pounding between your legs, but as a good friend, you had to put her first.

Rubbing your fingers against her clit, you leaned in, teasing her entrance with your tongue. She was already a squirming mess, back arching and knees clasping together as you licked against her folds, tasting her sweet arousal. You rubbed her clit slowly as you dipped your tongue past her entrance, chasing that addicting taste of her. Nina moaned out, her hands tangling in your hair and tugging as you curled against her walls. Her arousal gushed against your tongue, your own pants mixing with her moans as you ate her out eagerly. You couldn’t think straight, Nina’s breathy pleas to go faster making your head spin. It wasn’t long before you were gripping her thighs, nails digging into her pale skin as you tongue-fucked Nina quickly. You moved quickly between flicking your tongue against her sweet clit and dipping past her tight folds back into her warm walls. Her taste was heavenly, your eyes squeezed shut as you begged your tongue to press further, doing anything to hear her sweet moans ring in your head.

Her hips were bucking, your tongue curling sharply against her tight walls until you felt her cry out, warm arousal rushing against your tongue. You chased her orgasm, lapping up every sweet flavor that danced on your tongue until she was gripping her thighs tightly around your head. You refused to let up, even when her walls clamped so tight you had to move to her clit, you still licked long stripes, relishing in the way her hips bucked against the sensitivity. “[Y/N]! God- please-” She begged, pulling against your hair desperately. But only when you felt like you had tasted every inch of her did you let up, panting heavily as she whined. You slid up her body, wrapping your arm around her waist as you pressed your lips against hers, shoving your tongue into her warm mouth and begging her to taste how sweet she was. “Taste… so good, Nina…” You whined, grinding your clothed cunt down against hers.

Nina sucked on your tongue, swirling hers into your mouth and swapping spit. You were both groaning, hands rubbing against each other’s bodies until your cunt desperately begged against your panties. You raised up, Nina whining as you let off her mouth but smiling when she saw you sliding your panties off your thighs and onto the floor. “I think…” She panted, tugging you closer to her. “That Jeff would want, uh, a blowjob, right? I think it’s time he got a little rough…” She smiled nervously, tugging you to straddle her face. You smiled eagerly, nodding your approval as you positioned your knees on either side of her head, spreading your throbbing cunt with your fingers and watching as Nina blushed wildly. She was quick to wrap her arms around your thighs and pull you down, shoving her warm tongue against your cunt. You groaned, her tongue sliding against your clit and flicking gently. She tried desperately to mimic your actions, sliding her tongue against your folds before pressing into your entrance, moaning at your taste. Sighing, you sat down further, letting Nina’s tongue lap at your sensitive walls until you were grinding down lowly, hands resting against your thighs to keep yourself steady. Nina was kneading your ass, her nails scratching against your skin as she delved deeper, curling her tongue the best she could. It was heaven, your clit throbbing hard as she moaned against you.

As much as you would have liked to let her eat you out some more, you needed to feel her, bad. All sense of what Jeff would’ve wanted to be damned, you needed to feel her yourself. Pulling off of her tongue, she whined, chasing your thighs before you laid back against the bed, gripping her arms to straddle your waist. “Need you, Nina… I mean, Jeff- Ah, whatever. I need to feel you.” You groaned, Nina’s heavy eyes watching you carefully as you spread your legs, pushing her hips back until your folds slid against each other. When your clits bumped, Nina moaned, her hands reaching down to grip your tits, rolling the mounds in her hands. You gripped her hips tightly, tugging her hips to rub her sensitive cunt against yours. “Fu- Fuck me… [Y/N], please…” She ground her hips down, riding your cunt easily. You leaned your head back, watching through hooded eyes as Nina pulsed her hips, your clits rubbing against each other roughly until you were both squirming.

If you had a cock, you’d pound the poor girl, leaving her breathless. But as she stuttered her hips against your soaked cunt, you couldn’t help but push your legs apart further, pressing your hips up against hers. You tugged her hips up off of you, nails gripping her pale skin until you pushed them back down quickly, repeating until you were bounding her hips against yours. Your clits slammed together quickly, both of you crying out at the sensitive impact. You felt her arousal dripping from her cunt, her soaked folds pressing against yours. “Gonna fuck your cute little cunt with mine- Gonna, ah, make you cum way harder than Jeff’s dumb cock could.” You gritted out, every time you pulled her hips down you quickly ground up against her clit, making her cry out. Nina’s fingers fiddled with your nipples, her jaw hanging open as sweet moans spilt from her lips. “Oh, yes- fuck! Make me cum!” She whined, clit bouncing on yours roughly. She was panting hard, her small tits bouncing cutely as she rode your cunt, chasing her orgasm. “Yeah? Go on, Nina. Come on me, let me feel it. Let Jeff know how good it feels.” You coaxed her, teeth gritted as you held her hips down, sensitive nubs rubbing roughly against one another.

Nina’s eyes rolled hard, her back arching sharply until she was crying out. You felt her warm arousal spill down onto your cunt, her loud moans and whines enough to push you over yourself. Stuttering your hips against hers, you held her tight, arousal crashing into you roughly. You both whined loudly, your grip guiding her hips to slowly grind down against your clit, chasing your orgasm.

When Nina finally collapsed on top of you, you both breathed heavily, chests heaving as sweat dripped down your cheeks. Nina’s face was flushed and hot, her heavy eyes laying next to yours as you stared at her, admiring her fucked-out expression. You wrapped your arms around her waist, sliding her off of you and to your side, hugging her tightly against your waist. Finally catching your breath, you pressed small kisses against her cheeks, her skin hot under your lips. She smiled softly, heavy eyes evident of her tiredness. You brushed her bangs from her face, tucking her messy hair behind her ear as she snuggled in close to your side, breathing deeply.

“Get some sleep.” You whispered, pulling the messy sheets over the two of you as your sweaty bodies pressed close. You rubbed her back, sighing as you watched her bright eyes close. Maybe Nina was a hopeless romantic. But as her friend, her best friend, you were always willing to put her first. No matter what.

Nina wouldn’t realize that you had slipped out of bed hours later, her soft snores making you smile as you redressed yourself. She also wouldn’t realize until she woke that Jeff was screaming in agony a couple of yards from the mansion, arguing with you to let him go.

But when he returned to the mansion with a couple of broken fingers and a black eye, she wouldn’t have to guess who did it.

This was an anonymous request!

Comments and reblogs are appreciated! 𐚁₊⊹

403 notes · View notes

moeyynorris · 10 months

Text

Streaming and Daydreaming

Lando Norris x F!Streamer!Reader

Warnings: Just super cute fluff, some fans teasing the two of you, maybe a hint of angst, and mention of being shot at in a video game.

A/N: I’m flirting with the idea of a part 2. Let me know what you think!

Moeyy’s Master List

“Hello everyone, and thank you for joining the stream. Sorry it’s been a little while since I’ve been on, but my day job has been a bit busy lately.” Lando winked at the camera as he addressed his fans. “But, I do have a treat for you lot. One of my dear friends, the ever so beautiful Y/N, will be joining us. You can follow her stream at @ynusername and you will be able to hear her and see her camera on my own.” He grinned, waiting for you to chime in.

“Hello everyone,” you greeted, the smile obvious in your voice. You could feel your cheeks heating up as you stared at Lando through your second screen. You knew you didn’t have stage-fright, so you were hoping the fans tuning in wouldn’t notice.

“Ready to get your ass handed to you at some Fortnite, girlie?” Lando chuckled as he teased you. You sucked in a breath at his smile.

“Excuse me, Norris, but I’ve been playing this game for almost two years longer than you have!” You giggled, then stuck out your tongue at the camera. “You started, what, three weeks ago? Let’s see who has their ass handed to them.”

Lando shook his head, laughing as the chat on his stream went wild. You could see multiple people typing “Lando ❤️😍🥰” and “That smile 😍😍😍”, and all you could do was laugh.

Same, fans. Same.

“Ok, Y/N, get ready and let’s go!”

As the two of you waiting for your game lobby to fill, you greeted some of the fans in the chat. Lando did the same, the two of you taking turns.

“@papayaprincezz1 asks, ‘It’s been all smiles since the two of you signed on. Is there anything going on between the two of you?” Lando froze after he read the last word aloud. He stared directly at the camera for a moment, then huffed a nervous laugh. “Y/N and I have been friends for a while, but there is nothing more between us right now.”

You he glanced to his left, at his second monitor, where he was streaming your stream. You stared up at the camera, offering a smile. The chat started filling up with “right now?” and “what does he mean by that?”

Before you would say anything, your screen flashed to your character preparing to drop into the map.

“Where we droppin’ Lando?” You asking, scanning the map.

“Uhh, let’s do the Peninsula thing next to that castle thing.”

You laughed. “You mean near the Citadel?”

Lando scrunched his nose. “Yeah, that thing.”

“You sure you don’t want to do Slappy Shores?” You offered, preparing to leave the Battle Bus.

“Nah, babe, that place is too hard. People are gnarly there!” Lando followed your lead as he left the Battle Bus.

You blushed at his use of that word, and the chat definitely heard it too. There was another instant barrage of comments about Lando’s choice of nickname, but you tried to ignore it.

mclarengirl04: they would be so cute together! 😍

f1gamergirl0416: he called her babe. There’s gotta be something there between them!

drsdiana55: Lando + Y/N = shipped. 🥰

You glanced away from the chat the moment you heard something whizz by your head. Someone was hiding and sniping at you. You spun your character around, trying to find who was shooting at you.

“Lando, I’ve got a sniper,” you announced as you scanned the land around you. You saw something move in a tree, so you took a shot, and numbers popped up instantly. “I shot him,” you muttered, continuing to aim.

You kept shooting, hitting the player just about every other shot.

“Knocked him.” You furrowed your brow as someone from behind you started shooting at you. “Lando, where the hell are you?”

You glanced up at Lando’s stream and froze. He was just sitting there, staring to his left, at your stream. His eyes appeared to be almost glazed over, like he was daydreaming.

“Earth to Lando Norris!” Your voiced raised a bit, snapping him out of his haze.

“Sorry, I, uh, where are you?”

You rolled your eyes. “Where I’ve been the last four minutes, love.” Your cheeks flushed as the word left your lips, but you shoved your feelings down and focused on the game.

“Right,” Lando muttered, his cheeks redder than you had ever seen them. He nibbled his lower lip as he focused on the screen in front of him.

You sighed in relief when Lando finally came to your aid. You both fought in silence for a few minutes. Then, your stomach flipped as you noticed the chat blowing up again.

formula1fangirl98: I want a man who looks at me the way Lando looks at Y/N.

battlebusdriver249: He’s in love for sure. Ain’t no one look at someone like that unless they in love.

myra_norris: Lando just daydreaming about his dream girl.

Your eyes widened and your stomach tensed as you read the hundreds of comments about you and Lando. There was no way he was staring at you, not consciously. He was probably just daydreaming about something else and happened to be looking at your stream when he zoned out… Right?

One last shot, and you were taken out. You sighed, relaxing your shoulders. Lando leaned back in his chair, his hands cradling the back of his head.

“Well, that was interesting.” Lando yawned, then smiled. “I guess 4th isn’t too shabby.” He peered down at his screen. “Is everyone in the chat still awake? Maybe I should read a couple of these—“

Lando’s eyes widened as he glanced down at the chat, his eyes scrolling over the various messages.

“Oh,” he gasped, glancing back up at the camera. “Uh, I don’t—uh.”

“Are you okay? Did your brain break?” You chuckled. You tried to maintain your cool while watching Lando stumble.

“Well, I think the chat is trying to call me out.” Lando’s cheeks flushed.

“Oh what?” You tried to play naïve, but you knew what they were saying. You weren’t blind.

“Well, let’s see. ‘Lando got those heart eyes’. Oh, and there’s ’His heart exploded and short-circuited his brain’.” He kept reading different comments in the chat, all of them hinting at one thing:

He was too busy staring at you to pay attention to the game.

“Oh,” was all you could muster up. You both stared at each other through the camera, both unable to say what you both knew needed to come next.

You sighed. “Well, are they right?” You winced as the words left your lips. This was not how you thought the day, or stream, was going to go.

“Haha, uh.” He sucked in a breath, then chuckled again. “Well, fans and friends, thank you for joining us today. I hope to be in here soon, and hopefully this lovely lady here will join me too.” He waved to the camera. “Goodnight, or day, everyone. Cheers.”

And with that, his screen went away, leaving just you and your stream. With a reluctant sigh, you said your farewells to your fans, and signed off too.

He just signed off like that? Not wanting to talk? Why would he read those comments off his chat if he wasn’t going to get to the point?

You leaned back in your chair just as your phone vibrated on your desk.

Text Message

Lando 😎🏎️🧡

Can you hop on Skype? I think we have a convo to finish.

You sent him a quick thumbs up emoji and pulled up Skype on your computer.

Within 30 seconds, you were getting a call from Lando, which you quickly accepted. His face popped into view, without his usual grin.

“Hey,” he muttered before letting out a sigh.

“Hey back.” You licked your lips nervously as you waited for his next words.

“Uh, so, sorry for earlier. I got a bit distracted.” Lando fiddled with his fingers.

“Yeah, I noticed. But what was so distracting?” His eyes shut for a moment at your words, then opened again. His gaze locked on the camera.

“You, obviously. As the chat said, I was mesmerized, transfixed,” he admitted. “I was distracted by watching you.”

You huffed a laugh. “By me playing a video game?”

He nodded. “Playing a video game, concentrating, analyzing, smiling, just being you.” Lando ran his hands over his hair. “Y/N, I was admiring how stunning you are. You’ve known me for what, a year now? And every single stream you’re on, I’m there right? Sure, you’re a pretty decent player, but I’m also there because watching you smile and laugh makes my stomach flutter like some stupid fucking romance movie. And for the races you’ve been at, I pushed harder than I thought I could because I wanted to make you proud. Not the team, not Zak, you.”

The only response you could give was a smile. A wide, gleeful grin as you listened to goofy, wacky Lando Norris spill his heart out to you.

“So, you’re saying—“

“I love you, Y/N. I have fallen head over fucking heels for a beautiful, funny, smart, quirky gamer girl named Y/N Y/L/N. And there’s no turning back now.” Lando’s lips finally curled. “And I hope—“

“I love you too, Lando. I knew you meant something special to me shortly after we met. I never thought a Formula 1 driver would have followed my gaming Twitch account, let alone become my friend.” Your cheeks heated while tears welled in your eyes. The man really meant a lot to you, and the fact that he felt the same way was magical.

“And maybe, uh, maybe more than a friend?”

You blinked the tears from your eyes and you chuckled. “What exactly are you asking, Mr. Lando Norris?” He cleared his throat then giggled, flashing that award winning smile.

“Y/N, will you, uh, would you like to be my girlfriend?” You both laughed.

“I would love to, Lando.” You both chuckled again. “And very smooth delivery,” you teased, but offering a wink.

“Ha, thanks. It did the job, didn’t it?” It sure did. You couldn’t argue with that.

When the giggles stopped, you both sat there, not sure what to do next. But, it didn’t matter. You were still swimming in the high of what just happened, that Lando Norris confessed to being in love with you.

Lando sat up a little, a grin across his lips. “Hey, I can ask for an all access pass to next weekend’s Grand Prix. If you would like to come and see it, that is.” That million dollar smile struck your heart as you considered his words.

“An all access pass to the Monaco Grand Prix? I could never say no to that.” You winked. “I heard there’s a really cute guy racing for McLaren.”

“Oh yeah? I’ll have to keep my eye out for him.” Lando smirked as you rolled your eyes.

The two of you continued to plan for the Grand Prix, like when you would leave and where you would stay. Lando beamed as he talked about this race, and you knew it was a special race for all of them. And sure, you had seen him race at Silverstone, Barcelona, and in Miami, but this one was going to be special.

“Hey Lando?” you asked as a random thought crossed your mind.

“Yeah, love?”

You let out a breath, then smiled. “When were you going to say something? You know, if thousands of people hadn’t called you out on it?”

Lando pursed his lips. “Well, I was planning on inviting you to the Grand Prix at the end of the stream. I was hoping to talk to you then. Maybe.” He nodded as he spoke.

You peered down randomly at your phone and gasped at the amount of notifications on the Lock Screen. X, Facebook, Instagram.

“Oh boy, we’re viral,” you muttered as you opened each notification. Most of them were just photos of Lando’s stream, his staring at your stream or blushing on camera. Fans had multiple hashtags, like #landoy/n forever and #flirtingonstream.

You rolled your eyes while Lando laughed hysterically at some of the posts.

“I guess the secret is out now the press are going to have a field day with us at the race.” You shrugged, realizing it may not be a calm little visit like before.

Lando chuckled and smirked. “Well, then let’s give them something to write about.” He winked, which made your stomach swirl.

This was going to be an interesting weekend.

#lando norris #lando norris x reader #lando norris x you #lando norris x y/n #lando norris fluff #lando norris x female reader #formula 1 #f1 #f1 fanfic #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #lando norris imagine

796 notes · View notes

cheriladycl01 · 6 months

Text

In your Dreams - Lewis Hamilton x FrenchOlympicBadminton! Reader

Plot: Lewis loves Golfing, Surfing and Skiing, so you’d think if he’d end up with an athlete he’d end up with one in one of his secondary sports. But no, hes with you on the red carpet of the debut of a movie airing about your life and your struggles before becoming the youngest Olympic Gold Medalist in Badminton, and having the most consecutive medals too.

Warning: lots of dark themes and undertones about your backstory in this one’s, specifically abuse in the system, parental pressures, grooming and SA (by an ex partner) etc

You walked along the red carpet outside the Leicester Square cinema where the exclusive showing of your new movie was occurring.

Lewis couldn’t keep his eyes off of you in that pretty red dress he loved. The moment he saw you in it, his brain had pretty much short-circuited and his only thoughts were off you.

He knew in the red carpet photos you’d be there radiant as ever and he’d be looking at you like some love sick puppy. But he really didn’t care, this was your night and he was here to support you … his fiancé.

“Thank you for being here tonight. I know it wasn’t easy to get time away” you smile up at him, holding him close to you and looking at him with an adoration he saw often. You knew he was busy with the season as it hadn’t started off as Mercedes Gad expected and he was under a lot of pressure from Toto that he’d been feeling overwhelmed most days.

“You know I’d do just about anything for you my Cherie” he said using the nickname you loved.

“I needed you here tonight” you smile pulling him into a kiss, the camera flashes instantly picking up speed and consistency making you giggle into the kiss.

“I know darling” he says keeping his hold on your waist tight as you walk past the photographers and paparazzi posing every now and then when they ask you to stop.

You eventually get to the people interviewing you, happier to be in a calmer than the one at the start of the carpet.

“Y/N it’s amazing to have you here tonight on the premier. Feeling right now?” She asks and a grin comes into your face.

“Amazing, honestly to have my personal story but out in such a raw and public way is such a helpful step for people who maybe or may have suffered the way I have an gives a message of hope to anyone who has ever felt the way I did that the road doesn’t end there!” You nod loving that you will be helping millions of people who have shared the same experience as you.

“So before we go in, tell us a little about the film!” She probes.

“Well, it’s starts on the note of me growing up pretty tough and with no outlook for my future, being tossed from foster to foster home, the hard times and abuse I went through there before I come across Patrick DuPont, who we know very well as my trainer and the main reason I ended up where I am today. It moves through my teens and realising I’m talented and some things and how I was naive enough to not see the manipulation and abuse I was put through as a result of that and how I was used by many. It guides you through my most important relationships with people both the most gnarly and the most pure. It’s a really moving and emotional movie that I know will being lots of people including myself to tears” you explain the rough synopsis to her, making her nod and check her pad in-front of her that an assistant was holding out for her.

“And obviously adding onto those relationships, who will we be seeing a lot of?” She asks and you nod.

“Obviously towards the start in my early childhood, you’ll see a lot of my foster parents and my childhood best friend Emilie Bustlen, as I grow up you meet Patrick and my main foster family. For legal reasons we had to change names around because of this so they are know as the Laurent’s before we meet Hunter Goshill, my ex partner and some of my competitors. Before we finally find a safe haven, in this man right here beside me” you smile pulling Lewis forward and closer to you, he looks a little shocked that he’s now in the full shot of the camera rather than off the the side and has a mic code to him.

“You guys met when Y/N was 19 and you must have been what 25, 26? How did that work in 2011?” She asks knowing that’s when you met.

“Obviously I met Y/N at a race, she was there alone walking through the paddock and I just fell in love with her. Once I worked out who she was having an Olympic gold medal I was introduced to her by my then team principle Martin Whitmarsh and I proceeded to win that race. Was Germany! Obviously the year after she was travelling to London for the Olympics and as my home country of course I came with her as it tied in nicely to my summer break. After that she was the one that convinced me to make the move to Mercedes and apart from proposing to Y/N that’s probably the best thing I’ve ever done” he admits.

“Woah, what a lovers story obviously prior to that, Y/N you were in a if you don’t mind me saying quite a pressured and dare I say toxic relationship with ex partner Hunter?” She asks and you nod looking down for a second before feeling a squeeze on your hand in reassurance.

“I mean it shows it better in the film that I can get into words, but I was very young and naive. I looked for anything that would give me the slightest bit of affection which I would often just confuse with attention. And of course that came from someone who was older than me, and knew how to take advantage of me, without it ever feeling like he had I’ll intentions because I was so desperate to feel. Lewis has thought me many things but being loved the right way is the best thing” you smile looking to your soon to be husband with pure love, no other intentions just two souls mingled together as they should be.

“Really a beautiful couple and a beautiful story, just is heartwarming finding out what you’ve been through and how Lewis has helped break those walls you spent years building. I’m so excited to see this movie, and everyone at home watching this is your sign to get to your local cinema and buy a ticket for In your Dreams: The Story of Y/N Y/L/N ” she smiles.

You nod beofre saying a polite goodbye and heading off.

You answer some more questions, some about the movie some about your goals for 2024 in Paris if you’ll get your 5th gold medal for Team France, some were as trivial as what and who you were wearing.

“God, I just want to go home to Roscoe now” you sigh as you enter the theatre, going to get some treats for you and Lewis while the movie is on.

“I know baby, just a little longer. Then we can get started on our wedding planning hmmm?” He asks looking over you and making you smile and pull him into a passionate kiss, teeth clashing and you pulling him in by the nape of his neck.

You walk past some critics giving them smiles and some small talk before they let you on your way.

You eventually sat with Lewis at the front row will all the cast and directors next to your guys as the film came up on the screen.

It was everything you’d envisioned. Tear jerking, heartwarming and moving. Lewis was brought to tears and many others in the theatre who didn’t know the full extent of your story were coming up to you after the film talking to you about your life and how your success had a whole new meaning to them now.

y/user

Liked by lewishamilton, nicorosberg and antonia.desplat

y/user: I’ve loved you since I was 19, now that I’m 32 and engaged to you, I wouldn’t want my life any other way. I love you Lew ♥️.

Thank you so much for paramountpictures making my story come to life in the new movie In your Dreams: The Story of Y/N Y/L/N

Tagged 12 People

View all 872 comments

paramountpictures: truly amazing to bring your story of strength, resilience and success to life.

-> y/user: thank you for putting your heart and souls into this project it really is magical 💥 Also thank you too, all of the actors and actresses in the movie antonia.desplat who did a fantastic job!

-> antonia.desplat: thank you for giving me this opportunity. This movie has been my big break as a struggling French actress! Merci Du Fond Du Coeur 🇫🇷♥️🥐

lewishamilton: I love you with all of my heart. I’m so proud of everything you’ve achieved this far and am proud to say I’ll be in your life for the remainder of your future successes and achievements. Je vous aime! 🐻❤️

-> y/user: Sir Lewis Hamilton - the man you are 🫶🏼

nicorosberg: that picture is so old, I took this years and years ago!

-> y/user: Nico Rosberg the OG Y/N-Hamilton shipper 🫶🏼

Instagram Story Caption:

Back on the grind 😮‍💨

Taglist:

@littlesatanicassholebitch @hockey-racing-fubol @laura-naruto-fan1998 @22yuki @simxican @sinofwriting @lewisroscoelove @cmleitora @stupidandunnecessary @clayra-g @daemyratwst @honey-belden @moonypixel @lauralarsen @vader-is-hot @ironcowboycopnickel @itsjustkhaos @the-untamed-soul @beebo86 @happylittlereader @ziejustme @lou-larcher5 @thewulf @purplephantomwolf @chasing-liberosis @chillyleclerc @chanthereader @annoyingmoonballoon @summissss @evieepepi08 @havaneseoger08 @celesteblack08 @gulphulp @fandom1ruined2me @celebstories @starfusionsworld @jspitwall @sierruhh @georgeparisole @dakotatankbig @youcannotcancelquidditch @zzonsbeek @tallbrownhairsarcastic @mellowarcadefun @ourteenagetragedy @otako5811 @countingstacksandpanicattacks @peachiicherries @formulas-bitch @cherry-piee @hopexcroc @mirrorball-6 @spilled-coffee-cup @mehrmonga @bigsimperika @blueberry64857959 @eiraethh @lilypadlover @curseofhecate @alliwantisadonut @the-fem1n1ne-urge @21stcenturytaegi @dark-night-sky-99 @spideybv28 @i-wish-this-was-me @tallrock35 @butterfly-lover @barnestatic @landossainz @darleneslane @barcelonaloverf1life @r0nnsblog @ilove-tswizzle @kapsylia @laneyspaulding19 @lazybot @malynn @cassielikereading @viennakarma @teamnovalak @landosgirlxoxo @marie0v @jlb20416 @yourbane @teamnovalak @nikfigueiredo @fionaschicken @0picels0 @seomako @urdad-hot @formula1mount @tinydeskwriter @butterfly-lover @ironmaiden1313 @splaterparty0-0 @formula1mount @styl1shl1v

#f1 imagine #f1 x reader #formula 1 x you #formula 1 #formula one #formula one fanfiction #lewis hamilton x you #lewis hamilton x reader #lewis hamilton fashion week #lewis hamilton imagine #lewis hamilton fanfic #sir lewis hamilton #lewis hamilton #lh44 imagine #lh44 x reader #lh44 #team lh44 #mercedes amg f1

224 notes · View notes

starry-eyedblog · 7 months

Note

Request for a prnaddict!reader x ghost? You two just became pretty good friends, sharing things about yourselves. Simon shares his recent addiction to cigarettes when you just casually drop that you have a prnaddiction.

side note: Just left a function and its 2am. overheard this scenario unraveling in a balcony earlier. Am too tired to be horny so i left and now leaving this for u if you'd like to :3 goodniiiiiight~

oooo this is such a juicy idea!! also disclaimer, i ken that this probs wouldnae happen in the military where they restrict other soldiers on personal things like smoking but this is FICTION so i dinnae care :3

warnings/tags: simon x gn reader, smoking addictions, porn addiction, smut

it's a friday night, and the bar you are sat at is bustling with bodies. it was starting to get too much so you decided to step out for some air and a tipsy smoke. as you push the heavy door out, the nippy air sweeps in and instantly cools your flushed skin.

a soft sigh leaves you as you step around the corner and pull out your packet of cigs, sliding one out and holding it between your lips as you search for your lighter. once you feel it in your back pocket, you fish it out and spark it up. as the flame lights up your face, this is when you notice the mammoth of a man stood next to you, desperately trying to flicker his lighter to life.

he curses quietly and you look away, lighting up your own fag before silently passing over the lighter to him. he looks up, a black surgical mask hooked beneath his jawline and showing off a pretty gnarly scar across his face. "cheers, love." he grumbles, taking the lighter from you.

you nod silently with a soft smile before taking a long drag from your fag, holding the smoke in your lungs before slowly exhaling. you watch the smoke dance up into in the air for a moment before turning to the man next to you who's chuckling softly.

"like an angel sent from heaven, don't know what i would've done if i couldn't find a lighter." he mumbles as he brings the fag to his lips and inhales. you laugh quietly at his words, taking the lighter back from him.

"no big deal, glad to be of service." you joke with a smile, gently tapping the ash off your fag with your fingers. "i'd be the same if my vibe charger died." you mumble out, but the mysterious man hears you.

"that so?" he questions, and you blush as he turns to you with the fag hanging from his lips. "uh, uhm yeah. all got our own sin or poison, or whatever the saying is." you say, taking a long drag from the fag. he asks for your name, which you give him before asking the same.

once the two of you exchange names, you prompt him about his smoking. "so, addicted to nicotine huh?" you ask, watching him take a long drag from his fag. he nods silently, looking over at you as he slowly exhales the smoke.

"calms my mind and gives me something to do," he shrugs, watching the way you look away from his eyes. "and what about you? can't get enough of a wank?" simon teases and you snort.

"guess you could say that, is it a crime to love porn?" you question with a flushed face, unable to meet his eyes as the two of you smoke outside of the bar together and chat about your addictions.

simon looks back up at he night sky, staring at the bright stars before responding. "didn't say that love," he mumbles before continuing. "each to their own."

months down the line and the two of you are helping each other out - in reality you are only helping the other further aid their addictions.

simon is unable to bring fags now when he gets deployed as they pat him down and confiscate them. a mark now on his file from price to not let him smoke since he's been caught out on his addiction.

so to help, you'll send parcels with fag packets in bulk that he can hide in his room. he has a few secret smoking spots on base where he is sure to be alone and left like that for hours.

when he's back, you'll have him over and fuck him while watching porn together. he indulges in you, sometimes picks out videos that he likes and wants to show you which rots your brain even further.

oh and he fucks you so well, one of the best fuck buddies you've ever had. makes you cum multiple times before he's even got his cock stuffed into you. he likes to grab your jaw and force you to keep your eyes open while watching video after video.

it's a perfect little transaction almost that the both of you have, and no one bothers you about your addictions now. both of you realise that it's unhealthy and if others found out, they'd be disappointed but screw them.

#anon ask #thanks anon!#simon ghost riley #simon riley #simon ghost riley call of duty #simon ghost riley cod #simon riley call of duty #simon riley cod #ghost call of duty #ghost cod #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x you #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #gn reader #gn reader smut #tw nicotine #tw addiction

204 notes · View notes

johnwickb1tsch · 8 months

Text

bittersweet ~ a yandere!John Wick x fem!reader sunshine/grump coffee shop AU... Part 12 all chapters

- Lunch is a lovely affair in a quaint little trattoria that has been making world class dishes since the turn of the previous century. It seems like every inch of this city is steeped in history. The prices on the menu would blow your whole daily budget on one meal. But the scampi alla Veneziana is out of this world, and you force yourself to eat slowly, and not just inhale the perfectly prepared shrimp and noodles with a delicate lemon olive oil dressing.

John's friend, Julius, is a kind and utterly elegant older man who accepts your presence at the table with kingly grace. They speak in a mixture of Italian and English, the latter you think is for your benefit. John very generously includes you in the conversation, telling Signor Castellari that you are an artist, talking you up to what you feel is an exaggerated degree. Julius asks to see your work, and you let him flip through your new sketch book. Your drawings are a mixture of studies and whimsical travelogue, and it feels like you’re baring a piece of your soul, but he’s so gracious you feel you can’t say no.

There is more than one sketch of Mr. Wick in those pages you did from memory with an aching heart, but the old man is kind enough not to call you out on it, or even draw John’s attention to it. You think if he did, you would simply crawl under the table and die of embarrassment.

He exclaims over an ink and watercolor pencil plein air you did in Rome of a sunset over St. Peters with the Sant’Angelo bridge in the foreground, saying it reminds him of a special day when he was a much younger man. You offer to let him keep it, and he seems truly delighted.

You watch with some surprise as John produces what looks like a razor-sharp knife from seemingly nowhere to carefully cut the page from your book. Julius accepts it like a precious treasure, and you are flattered to your toes.

Then John and Julius chat about older books, and Julius produces a very old looking volume, handing it over for the younger man’s perusal. As he runs his hands over the leather cover John’s eyes shine with an almost childish delight—its utterly adorable.

While they are gushing over the antique tome two intimidating men in dark suits approach the table, fixing John with a hard look. One of them has a gnarly scar bisecting his brow. They say something that sounds none too friendly. You catch the name d’Antonio—but John waves them off with a glare, insisting, “Sono ritrirato.”

You’re pretty sure that means I’m retired.

Julius watches the exchange with a sadness in his eyes you don’t understand.

Finally after some grumbling the tough men go away. John watches them with eyes sharp as a hawk’s, and something in the back of your brain titters a little warning. But you’re having too lovely of a time with Signor Castellari, so you ignore it.

When you part ways Julius kisses your cheeks and takes your hands in his. “Be good to him, bella,” he says with a glance to John. “No one I know deserves happiness more than him.”

You don't want to contradict him about your actual relationship with John, so you just nod.

Later you ask, “Did you tell him we're...”

“No, but even if I told him we weren't, he wouldn't have believed me. Sorry. I hope that didn't make you uncomfortable...”

“It's fine,” you say, not offended in the least.

It’s more than fine.

It's incredibly flattering, really, that he thought the two of you could be a match. You're fairly sure you look like an unsophisticated street urchin next to Mr. John Wick.

“Where would you like to go now?” John asks with a little smile, as though he knows you've been hopelessly turned around for the past two days. You’ve managed to find the big landmarks, like the Piazza San Marco and the Doge’s Palace. It’s the smaller sights that have escaped you.

“Let’s go for a walk,” you suggest, wanting to see the city, and knowing you will finally get to do it unmolested with the forbidding figure of John towering at your side.

You are standing on a bridge, watching gondolas go by, when he asks you, “If I told you I have a reservation at Casa Nova, would you have dinner with me?”

You press your lips nervously. Lunch is one thing, you know, and dinner something else entirely. Two people alone together in an intimate setting, sharing a meal over candlelight with good wine...the thought sends a thrill to the tips of your fingers that’s so intense it’s almost painful.

“I don't have anything to wear to a place like that,” you admit. You read about it in a Condé Nast magazine on the plane, and you’re pretty sure it has at least one Michelin star. “I'm backpacking. My dresses are literally all rolled up in a bundle.”

He chuckles at that, a low sound that tugs at your abdomen. He leans a little closer on the railing, and not for the first time this day you just wish he would kiss you.

“What if...I took you shopping?”

You raise an eyebrow to that. “Are you trying to be my sugar daddy, Mr. Wick?” You mean it as a joke, but suddenly there is something electric in the air between you. John's initial embarrassment sharpens to something almost…predatory.

It catches your breath in your throat.

“Do you want a sugar daddy, y/n?”

You laugh it off nervously, your heart skittering about in your chest.

“Very funny.”

You have a feeling he wasn’t joking at all.

However, like a gentleman he lets you have the out, but doesn't drop the shopping offer.

“Let's go to the Calle Larga,” he says, and out of pure curiosity you agree.

John's idea of shopping is taking you to Gucci.

The impeccable store is filled with beautifully crafted but honestly kind of boring goods, arbitrarily priced at a thousand dollars or more a piece. John fits in perfectly with the smartly dressed clientele, but you? You feel so incredibly out of place amidst the filthy rich people in the shop, and when you look at the price tag on the only dress you vaguely like you think you might break out in hives.

“John...”

You don't recognize it just yet, but you call him John when you're agitated, and Mr. Wick when you're feeling playful.

He senses the desperation in that one word, and he takes you by the hand, leading you outside.

“I'm sorry...” you say, because you feel stupid, and not posh enough by half to pull off any of the clothes in that high-end boutique. You are a bonafide gremlin, compared to the unearthly creatures in there. You do not belong, and maybe you’re a coward, but a part of you wishes John would just let you go back to your own plans for the evening. A long solo walk, a cheap slice of pizza, inevitably get lost in the maze of streets and canals, draw a little or read some of your book, before returning to your hard, lumpy hostel bed alone, where you can’t make a fool of yourself.

“Don't be,” he says with an amused little smile that makes your tide of panic recede a little. “I like it that you know this stuff is bullshit,” he soothes you.

“I just...it’s so out of my wheel house.” You could have paid nearly four months rent for what that dress had cost.

He nods. “It takes some getting used to,” he admits. “I certainly wasn't born into this.”

You wonder if he’ll ever tell you about his earlier life, but sense this isn’t the time or place to press him.

“I just don't want you to spend your hard-earned money on stupid things for me.”

“I’m not saying I didn’t work hard for my money…” he offers with a wan little smile. “But it would make me happy to spend it on you. If it would make you happy.”

You look at him for a long time. He meets your gaze, not flinching. There’s something different about him here. He’s more…open with you, perhaps? It takes some getting used to. He’d never outright admitted his interest in you before, always circling around it, and you wonder what’s changed.

Maybe not even John Wick is immune to the romantic atmosphere of il bel paese.

“Why are you being so good to me?”

“I like you, y/n. If you haven't noticed.” The corner of his mouth quirks at that.

It makes you sigh.

“I like you too, Mr. Wick.”

He makes a small sound in the back of his throat.

“You can call me John.”

“But do you want me to call you John?” you tease.

He moves a fraction closer, looming over you, and for a heart stopping moment you think maybe now he might finally kiss you?

“Depends,” he admits, his voice gone a little rough, but he doesn't elaborate further.

You feel as though you have a live electric wire sparking under your skin.

He steps back a little, and again you feel the loss of him like an ache over your heart. You continue to stroll down the street. You are not entirely sure how your hand ends up in his, only that it is there, and you are content.

None of the high fashion shops really interest you, until you pass by the window of Dolce and Gabbana, and your feet involuntarily slow as you take in the maximalist riot of glitz and color on the mannequin. You've always admired their wildly bedazzled designs, flaming hearts and candy colored jewels with copious gold embroidered trim. Maybe you’re just a crow-brained peasant who’s impressed by shiny things, but they look so fun.

John smiles a little, as though he’s finally answered some question to himself about you. “Aha,” he says teasingly, and you sigh, restraining yourself from pressing your nose to the window like a child outside a candy store.

“Can we just…look?”

You are trying to be reasonable.

“We can.”

As it turns out, you want one of everything in the store.

It's all so over the top, the designs are so artistic and ridiculous and unabashedly joyful, from bejeweled purses to crown-adorned headphones, loud floral dresses and majolica printed silk scarves, and you fight not to betray which pieces catch your eye because you're afraid John might buy them all.

He is drinking in your enjoyment, looking utterly pleased.

Even just the store itself is utterly breathtaking inside, crystal chandeliers, inlaid marble floors and stone pillars. Gilded crown moulding and inlaid wood trim. You could just sit and look at this place like it’s a museum, you reckon.

John is not looking at the building though. He watches you browse with eyes that miss nothing, and it makes you squirm a little. You feel so seen. You’re not sure you like it, like you’ve been caught in the act of enjoying something that you know is absurd.

You feel absolutely silly.

“Try something on,” he urges you. To be practical, you decide to try on a black lace dress. Just in case you might like it. And a pair of black platform wedges printed with crimson red roses…because you can actually walk in them, so it makes sense, you know...

When you exit the dressing room John's gaze darkens, his pupils blown wide with desire, and once again you sense that predatory edge in him. If you had any sense you might have been scared, or at least cautious—but all it does is give you the most exquisite chills, an aching sense of anticipation, and an excess of moisture pooled between your thighs.

“That one,” he confirms, and for the way he looks at you, like you are a bunny in the woods he'd like to eat up whole, the outrageous price of the ensemble seems like a bargain.

#john wick #john wick x reader #john wick x y/n #john wick x you #keanu reeves x reader #john wick fic #keanu reeves #bittersweet john wick imagine #john wick imagine #i couldn't find julius's last name?#anyone kno?#yandere john wick

277 notes · View notes

oinkinpigprince · 2 months

Note

hihhi!! (^u^/) may I ask for a request?? grim and gnarly (separately) with a fem reader who's hyper feminine and likes fashion a lot and always looks so stunning (i love girly girls ♡♡) have an awesome day!!

of COURSE you can :DD (⺣◡⺣)♡

VERY feminine reader

Grimm

He lowkey hates you at first, he hates everything positive and pretty so he makes very mean assumptions about you

But he has to admit, once he got to actually know you you aren’t THAT bad (he’s literally obsessed w/ you)

Most of it was just him feeling shitting he was so nervous around you so he tried to make himself feel better, dudes insecure as HELL and took it out on you(WHICH IS VERY BAD >:(( )

Your outfits are very flashy and stunning which he both loves and hates, cause on one hand people are gonna stare at you BUT that means that they stare at YOU instead of him which he likes

If you ask him to brush your hair he’ll grumble about it at first but eventually cave. It actually becomes a night time routine of sitting on the floor then letting him brush through your gorgeous locks of hair

You two will always fight about decorations, he hates bright colors and prefers dark desaturated colors. So unless you can compromise, your guy’s place is gonna look pretty barren. I don’t think he’d mind a mostly black house w/ color accents

Loves more gothic fashions, so if you want to broaden your fashion horizon that’s a good place to start! He gets very bushy and shy seeing you in dark gloomy colors

Gnarly

You two have very polarizing aesthetics, he’s very punk and dirty while your outfits are clean and thought out! It’s the mutual respect that lets your relationship flourish

He hella respects the whole girly girl thing and happy you found a way to express yourself!(he calls you a normie and cringe, with love)

It’s sorta a beauty and the beast trope, except Gnarly doesn’t need to be fixed and you two just love each other :33

Gets very protective and can be quite intimidating, he gives you a lot of scary dog privileges lol. Serious make sure he doesn’t have access to weapons

Kinda emotionally closed off but you’ve always just seemed to know how he feels. It’s like you two are in-tune with one another

Really loves the dresses you wear, he thinks the spins you do to make it poof up are really fucking cute! No matter how much he tries to act nonchalant

He’s really good at eye liner and eye make up so sometimes you let him do your eye makeup and it comes out REALLY good

#smiling friends #smiling friends headcanons #smiling friends x reader #smiling friends x reader headcanons #smiling friends grim #smiling friends grim x reader #smiling friends grim headcanons #smiling friends grim x reader headcanons #smiling friends gnarly #smiling friends gnarly x reader headcanons #smiling friends gnarly headcanons #smiling friends gnarly x reader

21 notes · View notes

floral-force · 1 year

Text

Breakfast in Bed

Simon "Ghost" Riley x F!Reader

summary: Simon, the man you met at the bar and kissed good-bye, stays true to his word and visits you the next morning. Little do you know, you've been on his mind as much as he's been on yours, and he wants to devour you.

words: 7.2k+

warnings/tags: EXPLICIT, 18+ ONLY. piv (unprotected), praise kink, pet names, very light consensual choking, d/s undertones (barely), ghost is def an ass and thigh man and you can't change my mind, fluff, banter, a cute ending

a/n: this is a long-awaited part 2 to american hospitality! it can be read as a standalone, but I highly recommend reading AH just for the ambience and more sexy, flirtatious banter (and drunk tf 141)!

masterlist | read on ao3 | taglist

You woke up with a groan, rolling over onto your side. A bright ringtone blared in your ears and sucker punched your hungover brain; you must’ve drunkenly set a morning alarm last night. So, you snatched your phone off your bedside table to silence the offensive, repetitive notes, but paused when you saw that it wasn’t an alarm at all—it was Simon, calling you.

You quickly answered the call and cleared your hoarse throat. “Hello?”

There was an amused rumble on the other end. “Had a good night, did’ya?”

“With no thanks to you,” you jabbed, rolling onto your back and closing your eyes.

“Not gonna show a little appreciation to the man who paid your tab, love?”

“Not when my head hurts this fuckin’ bad,” you groaned, fingers rubbing your temple as you clutched the phone and held it close to your ear.

Even if his deep voice was a bit tinny through the phone, you wanted to hear every single syllable, hear every single breath. That was one thing you wouldn’t forget—the way Simon had held your waist in his large hands and bent his head to talk into your ear, pushing the blaring bar music aside so he could heat your skin with every dulcet innuendo. His delicious British accent would haunt your ears for years to come; you don’t think you’d ever forget it.

Simon clicked his tongue. “That isn’t very hospitable of you, is it, sweetheart?”

You bit your lip and smiled, suppressing a girlish giggle at the way the pet name sounded rolling off his tongue. “Maybe not,” you shrugged, opening your eyes and staring up at the ceiling, “but I hope you can forgive me.”

“If you ask nicely, baby, I’ll consider it.”

You sucked in a breath. This Brit had you horny at ten in the goddamn morning. You hadn’t even had a sip of the Pedialyte stocked in your fridge for gnarly hangovers like the one slowly rearing its ugly head as you woke up more and more.

Simon said your name. “Hm? Will you do that for me?”

“I’ll give it a try.”

“Good girl,” Simon purred. You could hear the smile on his lips as you shakily exhaled, rubbing your thighs together after a needy pulse from your cunt. “When will I see your gorgeous face today?”

Your heart skipped a beat. “It’s a ‘when’?”

“Thought I made that pretty clear with th’kiss I gave you before you got in the Uber.”

Your fingers graced over your parted lips. How could you have forgotten that magical, drunken moment? It almost felt like a dream; too good to be true; except it was, and Simon was there, facing you as your friends and his laughed under the streetlights. Simon was there, and he was gripping your waist, large fingers tracing up the back of your skull as you watched him lift the edge of his balaclava up just enough to meet your waiting lips with his. You remembered tasting vodka and sugar and a hint of smoke as he coaxed your lips open to swipe his tongue across yours before pulling back slowly, staring down at you with heady brown eyes.

Another low, satisfied rumble in your ear as you struggled to respond. “So, when am I meeting you at your flat, love?”

“Shit, what time is it—ten?”

“A quarter past, yeah.”

You rubbed your bleary eyes. “Gimme, like, half an hour. I need water and Pedialyte.”

“I’ve got’ya covered there, pretty girl.”

“What d’you mean?” you asked, your brow furrowed.

“I mean—”

You nearly screamed when your door creaked open, sitting upright as a pale elbow pushed it open to reveal familiar broad shoulders and mischievous brown eyes. One hand held a phone to a red-tinged ear and the other curled around a plastic Pedialyte bottle, its pink liquid and condensation a bright contrast against the tattooed forearm and the black shirt and dark denim jeans leaving little to the imagination about the toned body underneath.

“—I’ve got it, sweetheart. Don’ even have t’lift a pretty little finger.”

You were too stunned to speak, lowering your phone to your lap as Simon stepped into your room. It took him only a few wide strides to reach your bedside—this was the one and only time you’d be grateful for your small room. He stuffed his phone into his pocket and stared down at you, the rest of his pale skin below his eyes hidden by a black fabric mask looped around his ears. His neck was exposed, and if it weren’t for your dehydration, you’d be lunging for it. Instead, you stared back at him, narrowing your eyes.

“You have blond hair,” you commented, kicking yourself for letting the stupid observation slip out.

The corners of his eyes creased with a hidden smile. “Figured I’d let it see the Chicago sun at least once before I leave.”

Your mattress dipped with his weight when he sat at the foot of your bed, back curved as he rubbed a hand over the back of his neck. You crossed your legs under your comforter and gave him a smile, leaning forward and running your fingers through the short, sandy strands. He closed his eyes at your touch, leaning his head back just enough for you to notice, even with sleep still clouding your eyes and your head spinning—from one too many vodka crans or arousal, you couldn’t tell.

“I like it, Simon.”

His eyes fluttered open—such a delicate movement for such an imposing man—and stared at you as you gave his head one last pet before withdrawing and taking the Pedialyte. You opened it and dramatically sighed in relief before taking a long gulp, the sticky-sweet fluid a balm to the consequences of your actions, but not to the heat pooling in your belly. There was only one thing that could fix that—well, four things, to be exact. You’d fallen asleep thinking about i

“Fuck, that’s good.” You sighed. “Do you have this across the pond?”

“Across the bloody pond, fuckin’ hell.” Simon mocked you, and you gave his muscular bicep a playful shove. He let his body sway with it, shaking his head. “No, but we’ve Dioralyte.”

“Maybe I’ll try it someday,” you said, taking another sip.

He shrugged and nodded. “Yeah, love, maybe.”

Simon’s eyes darted to the floor, then back to you, the hand on his thigh wandering over to rest on the mountain your knee created poking up under the comforter. You licked your lips and ran a finger over his tattooed forearm, stroking up and down, gently scratching your fingernail across the inked skin, inching down past his wrist and over one of the bulging veins on the back of his hand. It was almost enough to make you forget about the way the room spun around his head and the somber tone of his response.

You shook your head and scooted closer, careful not to jostle the half-empty bottle. His warm hand snaked up your covered thigh, and you were able to smell the smoke and vetiver wafting off his body and able to see amber flecks glinting in his curious eyes. He was intoxicating, and you needed to drink as much as you could before he was gone for good. Simon was intimidating and commanding; but the blush sneaking up towards his eyes, and the way his eyelashes fluttered against his cheek with each pass of your fingers through his short hair exposed something tender under his brooding brow. There was something soft in Simon despite the skull jaw printed on the black fabric mask encircling his head and neck below dour brown eyes.

But now was not the time to poke and prod, to try to stab at the chinks in Simon’s armor.

No. Right now, you needed to wash your face, drink some water, and figure out what to do about the wetness between your legs.

“So,” you said, breaking the silence that had settled in the room. You walked your index and middle fingers up Simon’s arm, starting the playful journey at his wrist as you spoke. “What did you have in mind for today?”

“You’re not going t’ask how I got in your flat?” he asked with a raised eyebrow.

You shook your head as your index finger stepped over the bend of his arm, your middle finger landing on his thick bicep. “Doesn’t matter to me.”

“I could be a murderer, sweetheart.”

“At least you’d be a hot one.”

He tutted at your coy indifference. “Thought you Chicagoans were keen to threats.”

“We all have our weaknesses,” you breathed, your fingers reaching their destination—the edge of his mask. Your nose was inches from where his lifted the fabric covering it, your head spinning with lust and not your hangover, shifting your left side down to set the Pedialyte on the floor so you could place your hand on his chest and feel his heart hammering under your palm.

“You are a goddamn minx, love, fuck,” Simon rasped, his right hand wrapping around the side of your neck, the tips of his fingers trailing up past your hairline, the heel of his palm ghosting over your esophagus. Your blood pulsed through your jugular as he leaned in closer, his black pupils blown as he stared you down. You closed your eyes and shakily exhaled, your heart skipping a beat as the fingers pressing into your left thigh tugged the comforter down, bunching it up at your knee. You couldn’t hold back the quiet, needy sigh when his warm hand touched your bare thigh and squeezed the fat of it, massaging it under his palm as he inched towards the bend of your hip and the edge of your pink panties.

Simon leaned in and the fabric mask brushed against your hot cheek as he purred into your ear, “You have no idea what I want to fuckin’ do t’you, pretty girl.”

You gently shook your head, sharply inhaling as the hand around your neck slid down to rest over your breast, his middle and index fingers catching on the stretched hem of the oversized shirt covering it.

“You’re right, Simon, I don’t.” You mimicked his movement, dropping your hand over the crotch of his jeans, smirking when you felt his erection under your palm, stroking up his length where it strained against his jeans. Your breath hitched at the sound of Simon’s throaty groan.

“Bloody hell, baby,” Simon murmured, pulling back and cupping your cheek, his left fingers toying at the hem of your panties, “you’re fuckin torturin’ me.”

“Sorry, I’m not giving you the warm Chicago welcome I promised last night,” you smirked. “But it is very American of me to give a British man a hard time.”

The double entendre made Simon shake his head and chuckle. “When will you Yanks let that shite go?”

“When pigs fly,” you bit your lip and giggled, “or when you fuck me so good I can’t remember how many colonies you lost a war to.”

“I’ll do far more than that, love.”

“Yeah? Prove it, British boy,” you teased.

You gasped when Simon pushed you back into the mattress, your head landing on your pillow, your eyes fixed on the chestnut ones glaring down at you. You kicked the comforter down and off your legs, shivering when the cold air whipped against your bare skin and shivering at the way Simon was looking at you, something dark and hungry lurking behind his eyes and waiting to strike, waiting to hit you with something that only he could give to you.

“You really want me to, pretty girl?” he asked, his growl laced with uncertainty.

You nodded emphatically, reaching up to wrap your right hand around his left bicep, digging your nails into the fabric of his shirt to leave crescent indentations on his skin. You wanted to leave marks all over him, wanted to let everyone know that the Chicago girl he fucked was as feisty as her city, wanted them to know he’d had the best pussy of his life in the windy city.

“I want—I need to hear you say it, baby.”

You smiled at the needy word that slipped out of his seductive mouth. “Yes, Simon.” You snaked your other hand under the hem of his shirt, splaying your fingers over his defined abs and parting your lips at the way he groaned. “I need you to give me the best cock of my life.”

A moan slipped out of his mouth, the whine filling the late morning air as sunlight illuminated his tawny hair. “So certain it’ll be th’best, are you?”

“I dare you to prove me wrong.”

His eyes snapped open, his eyebrows knitting together and eyes creasing with a devilish smile. “I plan to, pretty girl.”

You laughed when he flipped you over, his strength startling and thrilling you. Your panties were soaked, your cunt pulsing with need—need that had been delayed for far too long. You lifted your ass into the air with your knees and settled down onto your forearms, spreading your knees a little further apart, ready for whatever may come. You turned your head and pressed your right cheek into your pillow, closing your eyes and sighing as you let yourself begin to fall down the rabbit hole of pleasure that had been teasing you since he’d barged into your room earlier.

The mattress lifted when he stood with a huff. You heard the old wood floor squeak under his heavy steps, the scratch of denim being forced to the ground, the hurried toss of fabric on the ground.

He breathed your name. The mattress gently dipped behind your feet. “Fuckin’ hell, look at you.”

You yelped when Simon’s calloused hands grabbed your waist and tugged you to the foot of the bed, your feet dangling off the duvet. He gruffly tugged your shirt up to your neck with both hands, exposing your torso to the chilly apartment air. He ran his large hands down your bare spine absentmindedly with a rumbly, deep sigh, the sound and touch making you shiver. His hand landed on your hip, stroking up and down over the thin fabric barrier hiding your hot skin from him.

“Was thinking about this all goddamn night,” he mumbled lowly, his fingers tugging at the elastic band of your panties.

“Me too,” you breathed, neediness edging your voice.

You arched your back, twisting your neck to get a glimpse of the masked man. Your eyes met his for a moment before they flicked down to take in his toned body, his defined muscles like that of a god’s in the morning light. You ached to run your tongue along every crevice, gently drag your fingers down his sternum and sashay them across his impressive abs, murmur sweet nothings into his pale skin.

“That’s it, love, arch that back for me, show me that gorgeous arse of yours.” His hands jiggled your ass as you did as told, and he hummed in approval. “There y’go, good girl.”

His purred praise and needy groans as you settled into a deeper arch made your walls quiver. As much as you wanted to lavish Simon with your own devotion, you were content to be at his command. For now, you were content to simper and sigh as he ran his hot hands up and down the sides of your torso, following the curve of your body and squeezing the skin and fat under his fingers. For now, you were content to give in to Simon’s desires, because you knew that the lust that filled his head also filled yours; the heady desire that made his cock throb also made your cunt pulse.

You gasped and scrunched your eyes closed when he clapped a hand onto the fat of your one of your cheeks, playfully huffing when he let out an amused chuckle. He forcefully exhaled and clicked his tongue.

“You are a goddamn minx, love,” he growled, the floor squeaking underneath his words. You jumped when you felt his hot exhale against the back of your sensitive thighs—he’d taken off his mask, you realized. He slapped your other cheek, kneading the meat in his hand as he exhaled in awe. “Christ, look at this fuckin’ thing.”

You giggled, pleased with the maskless exhale and with the admiration lacing Simon’s deep voice. “You like it?”

“Like it?” he asked incredulously.

Simon chuckled and yanked your panties down to your knees. He desperately worked them off your legs and then spread your knees a little farther apart, exposing your dripping cunt to the cool air. His ragged, hot pants against the suddenly sensitive skin of your left ass cheek made you shudder—he’d taken off the mask. Your fists curled into the duvet, and you bit your lip as Simon pressed a fingertip against the top of your mound, then hissed as he delicately stroked it down the seam of your folds. The care he took to avoid touching your soaked sex drove you wild, sent shocks down your vertebrae, made a delicious heat gather in your gut, and you heard an embarrassing whine slip out of your swollen lips and fill the room.

“Oh, baby girl,” he crooned, pressing a burning kiss into the back of your left thigh under the curve of your ass, “I fuckin’ love it.”

Your proud chuckles were cut short when his thumbs pushed into your folds and spread them open. His tongue licked a sloppy circle around your dripping entrance and his fingers dug into the bottom of your cheeks as you rocked your hips back to experience more of his hot mouth. The fact that he was tall enough to kneel and still be able to eat you out made you go slack-jawed; what else was he capable of doing with size alone? Simon’s nose nudged into your crack and you whimpered the rest of your coherent thoughts away into the duvet when he nudged the tip of his tongue into your aching hole, jumping at the sensation.

He pulled away and released his thumbs, wet lips smirking against your thighs when you whined and pushed your ass back, silently begging for more.

“I knew your cunt would taste delicious,” he groaned, suddenly licking a quick stripe across your hole. “It’s jus’ begging for me t’fuck it.”

Simon continued his quick, teasing ministrations, lavishing your soaking core with his deft tongue. The man took his time, winding you up with each sudden suck on your folds and making you simper whenever on obscene slurp filled the air. He had you nearly howling as the morning light began to shift and heat your already-scorching skin with its rays. Your bones softened with every bit of praise murmured into your slick and sweaty center; each accented and heady “good girl” was a promise of even more sweet nothings yet to come from his wet British lips. Your head snapped up as he abruptly pressed the pad of his thumb against your hardened clit, drawing circles with delicious pressure that had your core tightening and begging for the sweet release Simon had been building up within you with every swipe of his tongue.

“F-fuck, Simon—” you hissed as his tongue nudged into your quivering entrance once again, cutting you off—“baby, please don’t stop.”

You heard him groan and felt the vibrations against your sensitive, swollen folds. “I don’t intend to,” he mumbled, his thumb never slowing and his other hand’s fingers kneading your thigh. “I feel you gettin’ close, pretty girl. Whenever you’re ready, I want you to cum on my fuckin’ tongue.”

You whimpered and shook at his statement, moaning as he continued to fervently lick your cunt, driving you towards that heavenly edge with determined circles and stripes. You noticed yourself languidly rocking your hips, adding a new, delectable motion to the drawings on your clit. Simon kept murmuring your name and nodding his head with muffled praise—“So fuckin’ good for me, such a pretty girl, fuckin’ stunning”—as your whines increased in pitch and volume.

Your thighs tensed and your core tightened, your hole clenching as you whispered, “Simon—fuck—I’m gonna cum!”

“Do it, lovely, I want this cunt wet an’ ready for me,” Simon growled into your cunt, punctuating his command with furious laps and twists of his tongue.

You repeated your last three words over and over, his dulcet moans harmonizing with them as the holy refrain crescendoed into a glorious orgasm that made you shake and grit your teeth and pant his name. All the while, Simon slowly circled his tongue around your dripping hole, moaning and slipping his thumb off your clit and gliding it slowly up and down your saliva-slick seam.

You shivered and squirmed at the stimulation, and he pulled back with a low, amused exhale, pressing a wet kiss onto your sweaty thigh as you began to come down from your heavenly high.

“You taste so fuckin’ sweet,” Simon mumbled. “I bet you feel even fuckin’ better.”

His hands curled around the front of your thighs before sliding back and up over the curve of your ass. You took one last shuddering breath as the floor creaked with his movement, and jumped when you felt his hard, hot cock rest above your crack. From this position alone, you immediately knew this man’s cock was going to destroy you, and your cunt quivered in anticipation of the tight squeeze.

You hummed and sighed. “Your tongue was fucking incredible,” you panted, wiggling your ass against his length, wet and loose and ready for him.

“Best you ever had, love?”

You nodded emphatically, twisting your head back around to try to give him a satisfied smile. You could only see the left half of his face with the awkward and sharp twist in your neck, but you did manage to catch the corner of his pink lips quirking up into a smile, his ivory cheek flushed pink. You got a glimpse of the bridge of his nose—straight and sharp, a perfect companion to his focused brown eyes. Fuck, he was gorgeous.

“Absolutely, daddy,” you added cheekily, noticing his eyebrow raise.

Simon hummed in approval and chuckled, bending down and pressing his warm skin against yours, placing his right hand on the back of your head. Now, the features were a bit clearer as he tilted his head to the left—the sharp, angular jawline; that strong, straight nose; those thin pink lips that were swollen with arousal.

“Keep callin’ me that, and you won’t be able t’move when I’m done with you, love,” Simon crooned, petting the back of your head as his tangy breath filled your nostrils, your juices still coating his tongue and lips.

“That’s the idea,” you replied with a giggle, batting your lashes. “I wanted that from the beginning, daddy.”

He clicked his tongue and gave you a wry smile as your eyes gorged themselves on his unique facial structure, cutting off your visual feast with a teasing thrust that sent his thick cock between your legs and pressing up against your sensitive folds. You nudged your knees apart a few more inches and readjusted your back, lengthening and stretching it. You settled back into a deep arch with a mischievous shake of your ass accompanying the movement. Now, you could only hope this new angle would allow his thick cock to slide deep inside your slick cunt.

“Can’t wait to feel you around me, love,” he rasped, running a knuckle gently down your temple to the middle of your cheek. You closed your eyes and smiled coyly, biting your lip and wiggling as you folded your arms underneath your head. Simon’s warm hand dragged up the curve of your back and came to rest on your hip, the other wrapping around his cock, his knuckles pushing up between your folds and into your slick heat. You whined when he swiped the fat head of his cock against your dripping entrance, huffing at his mirthful chuckles.

“What, does my baby need this cock?” Simon purred. You nodded, and he clicked his tongue, tapping your cheek with the pads of his fingers. “Use your words, darling. Daddy can’t hear you.”

His words made the walls of your pussy quiver and pulse, his deep voice penetrating under your skin and tickling your brain and clit at the same time. The man was making you fuck-drunk already and he hadn’t even notched the head of his cock inside your needy hole yet.

“Please, daddy,” you begged, all shame about your pathetic whines gone and replaced with a burning desire to be claimed. You were breathless as you panted, “P-please, Simon—I need your cock s-so fucking bad.”

“That’s my girl,” Simon hummed, tapping your cheek and then withdrawing his hand to place it on your ass, fingers digging into the meat of it and making you hiss as he dragged his head up and down your seam, circling over your clit and cruelly nudging at your needy entrance. The sudden and subtle rough kneading and pressure hinted at his growing need, and you shivered at the thought of what was to come.

All the air was expelled from your lungs and your fingers dug into the duvet when he forced his thick length inside of you with a sharp thrust and grunt. Both of his large hands grabbed the fat of your hips as he rocked his, nudging himself deeper with each languid roll. A cry got caught in your throat as you felt your cunt clench around him and suck him in for more. Simon obliged, moaning your name as he bottomed out.

“You take me so fuckin’ good, baby girl,” Simon groaned, inhaling sharply along with you when he pushed in just a little more so his head could gently kiss your cervix.

He dug his fingernails into your skin as he slowly pulled out, holding you in place when you unconsciously followed his movement so he wouldn’t leave you empty and needy. You whined and cried and wiggled, but you were held still by his large, warm hands as he pulled out completely, leaving your pussy gaping and clenching around nothing.

“Fuckin’ hell, love,” Simon mumbled as he gently eased your lifted ass and arched back forward so you could rise to your hands and await his cock on all fours. He traced a thick thumb around your gaping hole and snickered at your needy whimper. He gently flicked his thumb up and gathered some of the arousal leaking out of your throbbing center, then swirled it around your slick inner folds and hole. “Your cunt’s already cryin’ for me and I haven’t even properly fucked you yet.”

The mattress dipped on your left; looking down, you saw a muscular leg settling in near your waist as Simon urged you to crawl up a bit towards your pillows with a playful tap on your ass. A few seconds later, Simon’s right leg moved the mattress and his muscular thigh brushed against yours. You shivered when Simon’s bare torso fell upon your back, his searing skin colliding with yours. He had caged you in, trapped you underneath his broad, toned body and in his strong arms. You were at his mercy, stuck in the storm, and entirely helpless as he growled and groped you, his hot hands traveling up your soft torso to massage your breasts.

“Then do it already, Simon,” you urged, your pent-up lust infecting your tongue and tone. “Take me, daddy, please.”

“Jus’ wanna play with my pretty doll a little bit first,” Simon husked. When you groaned in frustration, he shushed you and kissed the back of your head. “Patience, love. Daddy’s gonna take care of his doll soon enough.”

You rolled your head back when he bit into your shoulder and rolled your hardened nipples between his thumb and pointer fingers. Simon soothed the nip with a soft kiss you didn’t think he was capable of before his left hand gently curled around your neck, his hand hovering, waiting for your consent or denial. With a huff, you quickly lifted a hand and pressed his shaking hand against your throat and grinned when he groaned and pulled you up to your knees and into his chest, his cock nestling itself between your folds and brushing against your sensitive clit. Simon’s right hand was splayed across your waist, his fingers trailing over your right ribs as his left wrapped around your neck effortlessly.

You closed your eyes and leaned back, giving him control as you raised your left arm over your head to find his and thread your fingers through his hair. A tangled moan escaped Simon’s throat at your touch, and you smiled. Yes, he was big and bad and built like a god, but you could bring him to his knees just by petting his soft hair. The strangled cry returned when you slipped your other hand down to where his cock bobbed up against your slick folds and graced your fingertips up the shaft and along the fat head’s weeping slit.

“You’re driving me fucking mad,” he growled into your temple.

“Now you know how I fuckin’ feel,” you quipped, earning a playful pinch in your side that made you giggle and squirm in his firm grasp.

He hummed and moaned your name as you kept teasing his throbbing cock with your featherlight touches. In retaliation, he gave your neck a gentle squeeze, then settled his thumb and first two fingers over the pulsing veins on the sides of your neck. The pads of his fingers pressed into your jugulars, and the arch of his hand came to softly rest over your trachea to enhance the heady rush that you got from being choked. The pulsing, breathless desire was even more delicious since the man behind the hand was incredibly hot and rocking his hips up and brushing the leaking head of his cock over your sensitive bud, smearing precum over it with the help of your fingertips.

“You are beyond perfect,” he declared, pressing a kiss to your temple. “I wanna look at your gorgeous face while I destroy you.”

Your cunt throbbed and you nodded enthusiastically, swirling needy circles over your burning clit.

“Would my baby girl like that?” Simon asked with a squeeze.

You nodded and he released you, a sly chuckle in your ear right before he flipped you down to the mattress on your back, your tits bouncing from the impact as you giggled and tried to grab at his arms with your eyes closed. Your bedframe creaked in protest underneath Simon’s deep, amused hum, but you had a feeling he was going to leave it with a perpetual creak—or just break it entirely.

When you opened your eyes, you took in the man staring down at you as he stroked his cock with his left hand, the muscles under his tattooed left arm rippling with each restrained stroke. Simon’s brown irises were black and blown with lust and need, his cheeks pink like his swollen, thin lips that curled into a smug smile. You made a note to kiss his strong jawline and find out just how sharp it is while running a hand through his tawny hair and clawing at his thick pecs with the other.

The morning was in full bloom, its bright light illuminating the sweaty dew on Simon’s chest and forehead. Simon stared down at you and let his hand wander all over your body as one of yours worked needy circles around your clit. He shook his head and spit in his palm, and your lips parted as he wet his cock with it before placing his hands by your ears, caging you in. He nudged your legs further apart with his knees, the head of his cock teasing your throbbing entrance. Simon’s hungry eyes never strayed from yours, even when you closed your eyes and begged him to fill you again.

“You’re a needy little thing,” he muttered into your cheek, the chain of his dog tags brushing across your chin as the tags fell flat in the divot between your clavicles.

“Please,” you breathed, driving your body down to try to notch him inside of you, but he just clicked his tongue and moved along, denying you the relief you craved. “Stop teasing, daddy.”

Simon drew back and pinched your chin between his fingers. “Such a whiny girl.”

You rolled your eyes, the Chicago fire within you blazing to the surface. “I wouldn’t whine if you just gave me what I want.”

Simon raised an eyebrow, curious and amused. His hand wrapped around your throat, and he applied a little more of that exciting pressure than he had before, your lips splitting into a grin. He shook his head and released your neck, spitting into his palm and then slipping his hand between your bodies.

“You’ve got a mouth on you, don’t you, princess?”

“And what’re you gonna do about it, daddy?”

Simon tilted his head and smiled sardonically down at you. Before you could tease him for his silence, two of his thick fingers forced themselves inside of you, twisting and pumping in and out. You jumped and cried out, digging your nails into his forearms. He repeated your name three times with a condescending tone, chastising you as your pussy squelched with each delicious pump of his fingers.

It was embarrassing how close you already were to a second orgasm, but the shame disappeared when Simon leaned down and pressed a kiss to your lips. You parted after a few seconds, only to catch each other’s swollen lips once again in a hungry, sloppy kiss as his fingers continued to work you open in preparation for his throbbing length. Simon’s thumb began to press circles into your clit as his fingers curled in and out of your clenching cunt, making you moan into his mouth with each pass of his fingertips over that hidden sensitive spot inside your cunt.

Simon pulled away and gave you devilish smile, his lips wet with saliva.

“I think I’m gonna fuck that American attitude right out of you, lovely.”

You bit your lip and nodded. “I’d like that very much.”

He kissed you and withdrew his fingers, leaving you achingly empty again. Your whine was quickly replaced with a heady sigh as he rubbed circles around your clit again with his cock. He dropped to rest his left forearm on the mattress, his sweaty abs brushing against your damp skin, his eyes locked on yours.

“You are so fuckin’ perfect, baby,” he murmured, his hand wrapping around the top of your skull as he pressed a needy kiss into your wet lips.

It was while your mouth was occupied that he slid inside of you, making you gasp and grab at his shoulders. He raised himself up off his left forearm—damn, this man was strong—and planted his right hand next to your ear again as he slowly rocked his hips. His strokes slowly went deeper and deeper; Simon was playing with you like you were his own personal doll—and part of you didn’t hate that thought as you met his eyes and felt your heart skip a beat at the way he was looking at you with lust-blown pupils and a determined brow, his lips slightly parted for hot breaths to escape and blow across your dampening forehead.

Simon was a god in the bright morning light, illuminated and sparkling. But with the way he set his intense gaze on you, the way he stared at your body with reverence, how he worshipped your wet, throbbing pussy with every fluid stroke, you’d think that he was the servant, and you the goddess whose altar he devoted his life to tending. Your name was like a sacred hymn to him; he choked and held back until your pussy began to spasm ahead of your building orgasm, and then he sang it out, filling your room with his musical moans.

You dug your nails into his carved shoulders, gripping him for dear life as you bent your knees and moved them up. Simon pulled out with a growl and then straightened, grabbing your thighs and yanking you towards him so your ass was in his hands.

“Put your legs up on m’shoulder—that’s it, good girl,” Simon husked.

He pressed a kiss to your knee and notched the head of his cock at your soaked hole. He shook his head and gave you a soft smile—yet another thing you didn’t think he was capable of, but maybe the mask and tough exterior had you fooled—as he stroked your cheek.

“You feel amazing inside of me, Simon,” you sighed, smiling back up at him. “I’m literally about to cum again.”

He seemed to perk up at that. “Is that so, princess?”

You nodded, and he kneaded your ass before leaning over you and planting his hands by your shoulders. You let your legs fall open a bit more as his cock slipped inside of your aching cunt, a tease of what was to come.

“I want you to ruin me,” you pleaded, raking your hands up and down his sweaty back.

“Keep your eyes open while I do it then, pretty girl.” Simon shifted and pressed a kiss to your shin with a wink. “And tell me when you’re goin’ to cum again for me, princess.”

You nodded, then let your mouth fall open as he thrusted into your needy cunt, bottoming out with a groan. Simon began to fuck into you, his hips slamming into the fat of your ass, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the air along with the dirty symphony of moans and whimpers. You did as told, your eyes never leaving his as he fucked you without mercy. The muscles in his back flexed and strained underneath your hands as he began to speed up, his erratic pace and rhythm revealing how needy he really was under the surface.

He tilted your ass up a little bit and you cried out, scrunching your eyes closed as your abdomen tightened and fire began to spread throughout your cunt.

“Si-Sim-Simon, fuck! I’m gonna fucking cum!” You shouted and licked your index and middle fingertips, then started to rub furious circles around your clit, the fire of your orgasm about to engulf you.

“Oh, good fuckin’ girl,” Simon groaned. “Look at me, baby, keep those eyes open.”

You blinked your eyes open and were met with a proud smile from Simon as he continued to pound into your squelching cunt and slam into your cervix.

“That’s my pretty girl,” he purred.

You whined and rubbed your fingers around your white-hot clit even faster, your circles turning into furious swipes from side to side as Simon’s thick cock split you open. All you could do as your climax began to burn you up was stare into his eyes and whimper and moan in absolute pleasure. Your entire body was heavy with arousal and lust, but you somehow started to curl up off the bed as your abdominal muscles tightened in preparation for the eventual scorching fire.

“Go on, love, cum for me—make daddy so fuckin’ proud,” he coaxed, gritting his teeth as his own orgasm started to approach. “You can do it, princess, y’look so fuckin’ beautiful when you do—”

You cut his praise off with a shout of his name as your orgasm burnt you alive, and Simon immediately followed you off the fiery cliff with a thundering moan and one last, sharp thrust as he filled your spasming pussy with his spend. For a little while, all you could do was twitch and take deep, shuddering breaths as your orgasm continued to pulse through your cunt. Simon was hunched over you, a few drops of sweat landing on your sticky skin as you finally gathered the strength to wipe your sweaty brow with a shaking hand.

You slowly lowered your upper back and head back down to the mattress and wiggled your toes; your orgasm was so intense that you’d curled up and were still shaking from the force of it. Simon shuddered when he pulled out of you, giving you a concerned look when you winced in pain.

You gave him a reassuring smile and sat up. “I’m okay. I’m just—ah—” you winced as you swung your legs to the side of the bed and stood up on wobbly feet— “gonna be sore for a day.”

“Well, that’s a shame.”

“Why?”

“I was going to—erm—” Simon cleared his throat and rolled his neck out before continuing. “I was going t’ask if you’d be so kind as to take me around on a tour of the city.”

You grinned, plopping back down and ignoring the sharp pang from the impact of your sore, leaking cunt against the mattress. You looked into Simon’s brown eyes, finding something a little shy. It was endearing, even if you knew that today would be the last time you’d ever see him. Realistically, nothing could come of this—an international hook-up caused by a spilled drink—but you’d try your best not to think about that while showing Simon around Chicago. Instead, you’d try to focus on how he scrutinizes everyone around him, how he could potentially make taking the city’s public transit easier, and how you could maybe get to hold his hand if you play your cards right.

He called your name, snapping you out of your somber thoughts. Simon was standing now, tugging on his underwear as the sun lit his toned body up and made your spent pussy throb again when your eyes landed on his perfectly illuminated bulge.

“So?” he asked, looking at you with raised eyebrows.

“As your unofficial Chicago ambassador—”

“S’you’re an ambassador because you took a mingin’ shot with me?”

“Yes. Hush.” You stood and closed the short distance between you both, shivering when he wrapped his warm arm around your still-bare body without hesitation. You looked up at him and took a breath. “As I was saying, since I’m you’re Chicago ambassador, it would be my honor to be your tour guide, Simon.”

“I don’ think I’d be able t’find one prettier than you, love.”

Simon bent his head down and tilted it, his nose inches from yours. You felt your cheeks grow warm and your heart skipped a beat when he lifted your chin up with his fingers, the tip of his thumb dusting over your bottom lip. Now, with a less-clouded head and vision untainted by sex, you could see the finer details of his skin—a jagged scar a few inches long stretching up his cheek starting at the edge of his upper lip on the left, two tiny, brown dots right below the curve of his right eyebrow, a fine line in his forehead from age or stress—and appreciate it fully in the clear light of the morning.

“There are plenty of girls in Chicago,” you murmured, trying not to get lost in Simon’s handsome features or swept away in his arms.

He shook his head and parted his lips slightly. You moved closer to him and brushed your nose against his and placed a hesitant hand on his broad, muscular chest.

“There’s only one American lass that I want,” Simon insisted. He looked into your eyes and his lips brushed against yours as he whispered, “You.”

masterlist | join the taglist!

a/n: it felt so good to finish this after being blocked for so long. I hope you enjoyed; please reblog if you did, it's how us creators get exposure!

taglist: @tizylish @dheet @sinfulsalutations @oliviagreenaway @johfaam0 @sofasoap

#simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley fic #ghost x reader #ghost x you #simon ghost riley smut #cod fic #call of duty modern warfare #call of duty modern warfare 2 #call of duty fic #simon ghost riley x f!reader #simon ghost riley #my fic

482 notes · View notes

hunnysnoops · 3 months

Text

₊˚｡⋆❆ 𝔹𝕦𝕣𝕟 𝔸𝕝𝕚𝕧𝕖 ❆⋆｡˚₊

Chapter One: Wolves Without Teeth

Kenny McCormick x fem reader

You hover like a hummingbird, haunt me in my sleep. You're sailing from another world, sinking in my sea. You're feeding on my energy. I'm letting go of it, he wants it.

Also available on Ao3 and Wattpad!

Premise: A collision at the ice rink leaves you with a gnarly bruise and a hockey player who is quick to be infatuated. Kenny McCormick takes it upon himself to be the first to break you out of your shell.

Warnings: brief mention of injury / crude language

MASTERLIST

Moving to the middle of the rink, you and Craig get ready to begin your routine. As the familiar song begins to play, you inhale deeply and pay attention to the beat. Craig looks up at you and nods reassuringly. Everything about this has been overdone to the point it doesn’t make you nervous: the rise and fall of your chest, cold air stinging your skin, the only warmth in the arena rests between you and Craig. With a series of elegant moves, you start off by cutting smooth lines into the ice with your blades. Every motion is intentional, a precise dexterity you attain from day after day trying to reach something close to perfection.

As you glide into the first lift, you feel Craig's hands firmly grasp your waist. With a practiced ease, he lifts you high, and you stretch your arms and legs, creating a perfect line. You savour the feeling of weightlessness so you might taste it later. He lowers you gently, and you land seamlessly, continuing into a series of synchronized spins.

"Nice," Katya calls from the side of the rink where she watched the two of you with her arms crossed, picking apart each and every movement. She was an ex-champion from Sweden, and now she coached figure skating in Colorado "Craig, get your knee deeper."

Barely even thinking, Craig does as he's told and lunges further. You had been skating with Craig for the past nine years though you didn't talk much he was what you considered to be your only friend who was your age. He had been the sole human to show up to your barren birthday parties since fourth grade. All of your trust poured into him, with every leap and scratch of your blade slicing across the ice.

Each step of the routine builds on the one before it with ease. You perform a sequence of deft footwork, your blades clicking quickly and rhythmically on the ice. Craig perfectly mimics your movements and stands by you, steadying you with his hands. You two loop around the rink, hitting every mark of the choreography with ease.

As the music swells, you prepare for the jump sequence. You've practiced this countless times far too many times to hold any nerves over it. "Don't rush it, hold your edge longer," Katya shouts, accent thick. You approach the takeoff point, feeling Craig's presence close beside you. With a powerful push, you launch into the air, twisting and turning with grace. The landing is smooth, and you immediately transition into a spin, feeling the centrifugal force pulling at you.

Craig moves into position for the final lift. You gather your strength and leap, offering your faith to him completely. His hands are strong and steady as he lifts you high above his head. The audience, though imaginary today, would be breathless. You extend your arms, holding the pose for a beat before he brings you back down.

The routine ends with a dramatic flourish. You and Craig strike the final pose where his hands are secured on the small of your back as you lull backwards until your head is inches away from the ice, breathing hard but exhilarated. The music fades, and the rink is silent again. You catch your breath, face red, Craig skates in a little circle, one hand gripping his black hair.

"Good job," You smile holding your hand up for a high five. Craig eyes you for a second before caving and gliding over to land his hand over yours.

"Beautiful work," Katya smiles brightly at the winded pair of you. She looks down at her watch biting her lip "I wanted to do some strength work but we went a little over time so just do your cooldowns and head out, we'll pick this up tomorrow."

"Craig's strong enough," You tease though Katya doesn't seem to take it that way.

She shakes her head "There is always work to be done. The day you stop pushing yourself is the day you fail."

"Oh," You glance at Craig "Um, okay." You probably spoke more at practice than you did anywhere else which wasn't saying much as you preferred to keep your thoughts to yourself on most days.

You move into a series of gentle stretches, reaching down to touch your toes, and feeling the pull along your hamstrings. The cool air of the rink mingles with the heat of your exertion. You extend one leg behind you, leaning forward to stretch your back and shoulders, thinking back to the routine you performed only minutes ago you think of all the things you could improve on and make a mental list that you will soon put onto paper.

You had butchered your cool down, trying to leave as soon as possible. Right after your nightly sessions a group of rowdy hockey players would swarm the rink careless of whether you were still in there or not and it wasn't particularly something you were fond of.

Craig, on the other side of the rink, begins his own routine. He skates slowly, his strides long and deliberate, a stark contrast to the intense moves from earlier. He stops and bends down, touching the ice with his fingers, and stretching his long legs and back.

You notice Craig moving into some balance exercises, lifting one leg behind him and holding his arms out for stability. It's a simple move, but one that requires focus and control, skills he's perfected over years of practice. You can see the concentration on his face, and the way he fine-tunes his posture and alignment like the world would end if he stumbled.

You slink off the ice and slip guards on over your blades, not wanting to risk any damage from the rubber or accidentally set your blade on something one of the hockey players left behind. The walls are adorned with colourful banners celebrating local hockey teams, figure skaters, and upcoming events. Scuffed benches line the corridor, providing a spot for spectators and players to rest or lace up their skates. As you peer down the corridor, your fears are proven to be true.

Sitting down long rows of benches or standing up and blocking the halls is the hockey team that you were so careful to avoid. Quickly you begin to unlace your skates, hurriedly grabbing your duffle bag from your locker and tucking the skates inside.

Of course, they line themselves up perfectly to block the entrance. It wasn't the people themselves that you were irritated by but how loud they were when they were all together. Even when your headphones were in and the volume turned to the max you could still hear them yelling and cackling no matter where you were in the building.

The best part of winter was how the snow acted like soundproofing for the whole world and made everything really quiet though the hockey team was quick to cancel that out with their crude jokes. Aside from Craig's boyfriend, you hadn't spoken to anyone on the team as far as you knew.

Their bulky gear makes the narrow passage even tighter. You adjust your bag on your shoulder and take a deep breath, weaving your way through the crowd.

"Excuse me," you say politely, trying to slip past them. The boys are engrossed in their conversation, their roughhousing spilling over into your path. One of the boys pushes his friend onto you and has you stumbling away, trying to keep your balance.

Just as you think you've made it through, one of them swings his hockey stick at the punchline of a joke, not noticing you. The butt end of the stick catches you squarely in the stomach, the impact knocking the wind out of you. The pain is immediate and intense. It's not just a surface-level ache but a deep, visceral throb that spreads outward from the point of impact. Your breath catches in your throat, and a gasp escapes your lips as you double over instinctively, clutching your stomach.

The laughter stops immediately, and the boy who hit you looks horrified. His blue eyes are filled with instant regret as they draw wide. "Oh my god, I'm so sorry,” he exclaims, rushing to your side. His friends gather around, awkwardly glancing around at each other.

"It's fine," You say through laboured breaths. It definitely was not fine.

"Are you okay?" he asks, his voice laced with genuine worry. You nod, still trying to catch your breath. He gently helps you up, his hands finally finding a firm grip on your arm and shoulder. As you stand, you notice the way he's looking at you, his eyes studying the features of your face.

For a moment, he's stunned, his gaze locked on your face. In the harsh fluorescent lighting of the hallway, he takes in the delicate curve of your jaw, the light glinting off your eyes, and the way your hair frames your face, slightly disheveled but pretty nonetheless. He seems momentarily lost, his apology stuck in his throat as he's struck by you up close.

He recognized you as Craig's partner and the girl he passed in the hallway who wouldn't spare him a glance, he tried to approach you on several occasions but your headphones were always in and you didn't even notice him trying to talk to you through the music blasting in your ears, leaving him humbled. He had his eyes on you for a while, you were what his little sister referred to as a hallway crush- someone he thought was attractive when he saw you in passing but had never properly spoken to.

The pain and shock have left you somewhat dazed, and his sudden proximity only intensifies that feeling. You pull your arm away from his grip "Please don't touch me."

"Do you want-

"No," You dismiss him before he even starts "It's fine." Despite the pain gnawing at your stomach, you manage to shoulder your duffle bag and hurridly stagger out of the exit

Kenny blinks, snapping out of his daze and running a hand through his blonde shaggy hair. "I'm so sorry," he calls after you, his voice more earnest now though his eyes travel down your body and take in the way your leggings cling to your legs.

Stan abruptly smacks him on the arm, it is still felt through the padding "You are such a dick, Kenny."

"What?" He swerves his head to look at Stan "I didn't mean to."

"You didn't mean to stare at her ass?"

"Um, yes?" He had spent months trying to talk to you when you didn't have headphones in, and now that moment finally happened he had fumbled so badly that it was over before it even started.

"Kenny, that is not what happened," Stan calls out his friend's incredibly incorrect account of the night before. The school hallways were far from barren, students rushed back and forth, slamming their lockers shut and hunting down their friends.

"So what actually happened?" Kyle asked, digging through his locker, back turned to his friends.

"Kenny hit her," Stan says.

"Why would you hit her?"

"I didn't mean to," Kenny retorts, "I was making a joke and I accidentally hit her with my stick."

"He was making a joke and fucking winded her," Stan corrects.

"She was not winded-

"She was keeling over, clutching her stomach, and coughing." He remembered getting sucker punched by Shelly right beneath his ribs and imagined that you were feeling something similar when you were hit. "Oh and then she asked him not to touch her."

"I wouldn't want this freak touching me either if I were her," Kyle shoves a textbook into his backpack and zips it up.

"What do you mean by that?" Kenny furrows his eyebrows though is question goes unanswered.

"Hey Slumlord, Jewrat, Stan," Cartman disrupts the conversation, joining their little circle in the hallway "What's going on?"

"Kenny hit a girl," Stan says.

"Nice man," Cartman gives Kenny a firm pat on the back, leaving Kyle to wrinkle his nose in distaste.

"Dude, stop, I actually feel bad about it," Kenny says, chewing the inside of his mouth, thoughts focused on the little glimpses he caught of you.

"No, you don't," Kyle slings his backpack on after grabbing his phone from a pocket "You just want to get laid."

"Why can't it be both?" He was almost wistful.

"Who's this chick you're in love with?" Cartman asked. Lately, he wasn't as up-to-date on his friend's matters as he'd like to be, being left out of an inside joke to him was a fate worse than death.

"This girl who skates with Craig," Kenny shoves his hands into the pockets of his old warn jeans. Part of him was regretting leaving his jacket in his locker, winter in Colorado was cold no matter if you were inside or not "And I'm not in love with her, I just like looking at her."

"Maybe talk about this with someone as gross as you," Kyle doesn't bother to look up from his game of Candy Crush, he had an addiction though he would never admit to it. He would act oblivious whenever someone asked him if he was playing it.

Something catches Kenny's eye, you brush past the group without even casting them a glance. Kenny excuses himself and trails behind you, trying to catch your attention.

As you stand at your locker, the music blaring in your ears serves as a shield from the outside world. The thrashing guitar drowns out the noise of the bustling hallway, wrapping you in your own private bubble of sound. You were preparing yourself to spend your lunch period studying and trying to ignore the ache in your stomach from the night prior.

Unbeknownst to you, Kenny approaches, his footsteps barely registering over the music. He hesitates for a moment, watching you carefully as you focus on organizing your books and belongings. His lips move, forming words he hopes will reach you through the barrier of your headphones.

"Hey," he says, his voice gentle but unheard amidst the din in your ears.

You continue to rummage in your locker, oblivious to his presence. Kenny clears his throat softly, trying again to get your attention. He gestures towards you, a small smile on his face, but you don't notice.

He takes a step closer, his hand hovering near your shoulder as he tries to catch your eye though he retracts it after recalling the way you shook him off previously. "Hey," he repeats, a little louder this time.

Finally, you glance up, startled to see Kenny standing there, a grin playing on his face. You quickly pull out your headphones, and the music is abruptly silenced. You stare at him, silently waiting for him to continue.

It takes him a beat to realize and then he picks up where he left off, "Just wanted to say I'm sorry about last night."

"You already did."

"Uh, yeah," he chuckles, rubbing the nape of his neck. You were now getting a good look at his face. He had a nice smile, dimples, most notably a faint little scar over the bridge of his nose and a silver piercing through his right eyebrow "I just felt really bad, let me make it up to you and buy you lunch?"

"I packed my own," You said flatly.

"Do you like coffee?"

You didn't even think about entertaining this idea, you swiftly shook your head. "I'm not good company," Before giving him another chance to speak, you put your headphones back in, moving past him.

Kenny had been rejected a handful of times, namely in middle school, but yours hit him the worst.

You weren't one to recklessly date or recklessly do anything really. All that mattered was achieving a top ranking in your country and eventually making your way to the Olympics, everything else was an afterthought or a stepping stone to get there.

There were some days when you would eat lunch with Craig, though with Tweak being so jumpy, you spent most days you did as you are doing now. Eating lunch alone in your English class. As you push the door open, you see Mrs. Miller typing on her laptop, she looks towards the door and gives you a little smile as you enter.

She was a middle-aged Filipino woman with the most beautiful black hair you had ever seen. It fell down to the small of her back and shined like silk under the harsh lights in the school. You first had her as your teacher in the ninth grade, after writing a paper about skating she told you that she was once a skater. Mrs. Miller quickly became your favourite teacher. You were now in your senior year and still you spent lunch wallowing in her classroom.

Pausing at her desk, you unzip your bag and pull out a little package wrapped in parchment and secured in a bow of twine. She looks up from her papers, her warm smile inviting you to continue. "It's a cream cheese pound cake. I made it last night."

Her eyes light up with genuine appreciation. "Thank you, this is my favourite part of the day." She takes the pound cake from you, her smile growing even wider. Being as avid of a baker as you were, there was far too much excess to leave to go bad, you didn't really have friends to give them to so you let your step-dad bring it to work though you always brought a little bit for Mrs. Miller as a little thanks for letting you stay in her classroom.

You sit in the corner of the classroom, no one dares enter during lunch, you always thought that the students must have feared the written word. The usual hum of voices and clatter of footsteps is replaced by the soft rustle of pages as you study. Your lunch, a simple sandwich and an apple, rests on the desk beside your notebook, untouched for now. The sun filters through the windows, casting a warm glow on the bookshelves lined with classics and contemporary novels.

As you take a bite of your sandwich, somewhat disappointed in the combination you had chosen. Your eyes flittered to your phone rather than to your work, in mere moments you had abandoned studying in favour of looking at baking recipes on Pinterest, saving the ones that caught your eye and humming quietly to your music.

Which recipe would you make that night to settle after skating? Your mom loved lemons but your step-dad was a die-hard chocolate guy though he would really eat whatever you baked and brag about it to his friends at work.

"Mrs. Miller?" You take your headphones out and look at her.

"Yes?" She looks up from her papers, her warm smile inviting you to continue.

"Would you rather have lemon loaf or black forest brownies?" Some might think it sad that you only had two friends and one of them was your English teacher but you didn't find an ounce of loneliness in it.

"Hm," She leans back in her chair, thinking long and hard over it before coming to her conclusion "Oh, both sound great, but I think I gotta say black forest brownies, never had them before."

You answer her with a little thumbs up and scribble it down in your notes. Sifting through the internet for a recipe, you find one and start tweaking it to your liking, After crossing out measurements and ingredients and then filling them back in, you snap a picture and send it to your step-dad.

New Message- FIFA man

You: Thoughts?

FIFA man: Looks awesome kiddo 😎❤️😘

FIFA man: I'll pick you up from skating ⛸ tonight 🌃

You: Is mom working tonight?

FIFA man: Yes 👍

FIFA man: Do you need a ride 🚗 there?

You: No, Craig's driving me

FIFA man: Cool 😎 tell him I say hi 👋

FIFA man: Do you want takeout 🥡 or chicken 🐓 and veg 🌽🥕🥦🥬???

You: Chickens good

FIFA man: Awesome 😎🤠🥰😇

FIFA man: I need to grocery 🍎🥐🥩🥬🥑 shop 🛍 tomorrow

FIFA man: Send me a list pls 📝

You: Okay

FIFA man: Love you 🤬

You: ?

You: Are you mad?

FIFA man: No 🥶

You: Why did you use the cursing emoji?

FIFA man: I thought it was kissing 🤔 LOL IJBOL 🤣🤣🤣🤣

Todd overused emojis to the point his texts were hard to read, but you always caught yourself giggling at them. You turn up the volume on your phone, letting your favourite music fill your ears as you take another bite of your sandwich. The melody shifts your thoughts back to the ice rink. You can almost feel the cold air and hear the sound of blades cutting through ice. Figure skating has always been your escape, a separate world where a blade stood between you and the ice. You remember the exhilaration of landing a perfect jump, and the applause from the audience, it was like a drug, little hits of dopamine each time you heard that familiar cheering from strangers in the crowd, it was the only loud sound you wanted to hear.

As the song plays, you imagine yourself skating to it. Each note guides your movements, from the elegant arcs of your arms to the powerful sweeps of your legs. You visualize the choreography in your mind, picturing how you would translate the music into a captivating routine. The swells of the hymn dictate your jumps and spins, while the softer passages call for graceful glides and delicate footwork.

You were really one to dream away your time. Every program you watched, you imagined what it was like to be them, to feel what they did, to see what they did. It consumed you entirely.

Mrs. Miller had always tried to get you out of your shell, pairing you with the loud kids in class, and assigning public speaking assignments, but you always wound up coming back into her classroom to soak in the quiet soft scribble of her red correction pen.

Kenny was never keen on waking up early. Though he had recently been inclined to pick up more shifts at work, meaning he would be skipping several practices and had to make up the time elsewhere. He dragged his hockey bag behind him as he entered the rink. In the winter, it was dark almost all of the time, by the time he reached the arena, the sun wasn't even out yet.

He checked the time sheet posted upfront to be sure no one had booked the ice time, luckily he was in the clear. Kenny didn't bother to put all of his gear on, he just shed his thick coat, leaving him in a hoodie and sweatpants while he laced up his skates and shook the now-melting snow from his hair. There was no need for all of the padding when he would be the only one in there, boring himself to death doing technique work.

"Kenny?" Coach Trevor pokes his head out of his office. His face splits into a smile when he spots Kenny on the bench "Good seeing you buddy, didn't expect you to be here bright and early."

"Me neither," He shakes his head slightly.

"We missed you last night at practice."

"Uh, yeah, sorry, I've been working more, I'm just trying to juggle everything right now." Kenny stood up and shifted his weight, fiddling with the worn tape on his hockey stick.

Trevor's brow furrowed in concern. "I understand the need to work, Kenny, but your performance on the ice is slipping. You're falling behind on your drills and your conditioning. It's not just about showing up; it's about being present and giving it your all."

"I'll, uh- ask if they can switch my schedule around," He lied through his teeth. Kenny couldn't quit his job to play hockey or cut down his hours, he wouldn't even be able to afford to play hockey if he didn't have a job.

"Okay," Trevor gives him a thin-lipped smile and a firm pat on the shoulder "Let me know how it goes and we can work something out."

"You got it," He returns the smile, giving the coach a little thumbs up. Trevor retreated back into his office as Kenny entered the abnormally quiet rink. His brief conversation with Trevor was enough to make him want to lie down on the ice and wait until the cool air of the rink froze him whole.

That feeling of desolation melted away the second he saw you on the other side of the arena. Across the rink, you are engrossed in your own world, skating solo on a secluded patch of ice. Your headphones are in and you're buried deep in concentration. You execute each move with precision, lost in the rhythm and flow of your routine.

Like a shot of caffeine, he suddenly didn't feel tired, straightening up his posture as he stepped onto the ice. The first few glides were always the most exhilarating, a reminder of why he loved the sport like he was weightless.

If you had noticed him enter, you gave no indication, not even a quick look in his direction. It was just you and your music, shifting gracefully along the sleet. Your arms swayed above your head, controlled and elegant like the wings of a swan.

First was the axel. You skated backward, building up speed before launching into the air with a powerful push from your right leg. Your body rotated mid-air, arms tucked in tightly, and time seemed to slow for a moment. You landed smoothly on your left foot, the blade biting into the ice, a soft scrape marking your descent.

Next, you transitioned seamlessly into a toe loop. You approached the jump with a series of elegant crossovers, each movement precise and calculated. Planting the toe pick of your right skate into the ice, you used it as a pivot to leap into the air, your body spinning in a controlled rotation. The landing was crisp, your knees bending slightly to absorb the impact. With every movement, you thought of each correction Katya had given you.

With barely a pause, you moved into a sequence of spins. Starting with a camel spin, you extend your right leg behind you, your body bending forward in a perfect horizontal line. The spin began slowly, the centrifugal force pulling at your outstretched limbs, then gradually sped up as you pulled your arms and leg in tighter. The world blurred around you, the only constant the center of your spin.

Kenny found himself in awe of your movement. He had never seen you skate and frankly hadn't expected you to be so good. He tightened his grip on his stick, pushing off with purpose and shaking the thoughts from his head. Kenny was here to practice, not to watch you run a routine.

However, as he skated, his eyes kept drifting towards you. You were in your element, gliding effortlessly across the ice, your movements fluid and precise. The sight of you skating with such grace captivated him, drawing his attention away from his own drills.

Without realizing it, Kenny's focus wavered. His skates lost their cadence, and his mind wandered as he watched you execute another flawless turn. He failed to notice the approaching sideboard in that split second of distraction.

Suddenly, reality snapped back into focus as Kenny collided hard with the sideboard, the impact jolting through his body. He winced in pain, clutching his shoulder where it had taken the brunt of the crash. His collision echoed through the rink, drawing your attention at last.

Maybe it had been karma for hitting you so hard the night but good lord, he was hurting. "Are you okay?" You take out one headphone, sliding into a stop to watch him

"She speaks," He says, somewhat winded but his voice carries a teasing lilt. You just stare at him, waiting for a proper answer, not feeling pressure to push further for one. Kenny uses the sideboard to yank himself up, wiping the shavings from the ice off him and then looking at you "Yes, I'm okay."

You nod in the slightest, moving to put your headphones back in but in the seconds before it connects to your ear, he seized the moment.

"I'm Kenny."

"Yeah, I know."

"You know?" He asks, a lopsided smile on his face "How?"

"You're-" You pause, you didn't exactly know how to phrase it but you had seen him in the halls with his friends, screaming in the locker room, and hitting up girls. If anything, you were an observer, a wallflower as opposed to a Venus fly trap.

"A whore?" He asks. You open your mouth to speak but close it right away, letting the words die in your throat "Oh, jeez, you really think I am?"

"I was going to say, you talk a lot" You say, politely.

"Well, compared to you, yeah." He waits another beat for you to respond but is met with nothing but a blank stare. Kenny let out a breath, a little cloud escaping from his mouth "Nah, I get it, you're shy."

"I'm not shy," You say, feeling yourself cringe at the word. You hated when people called you that, they tended to be the same who treated you like a pet since you couldn’t fit a word in between their constant back and forth "I just like my-" You rack your brain for the right word "Aloneness."

"Then I will leave you to your aloneness," He says, reaching back for his stick and turning away from you. Kenny weaved through invisible cones with the puck like he was actually practising with his team, focusing on control and precision. He kept his eyes up, forcing himself to rely on his peripheral vision to navigate.

You really didn't care what he did, without another thought you unpause your music and go back into your movements. You changed into a sit spin and sank yourself into a low squat without slowing down. Your arms made a graceful arc above your head, and your left leg extended in front of you, toes pointing. The sensation was both thrilling and disorienting as the ice whirled beneath you during the quick and low spin.

You changed into a layback spin as soon as you got out of the sit spin. Your back arched flawlessly, head tipped back, eyes closed, the ceiling of the rink a faraway haze. Your free leg was raised slightly behind you as your arms softly curved around your head.

Finishing your spins, you took a moment to catch your breath, the music in your headphones guiding your next movements. From the corner of your eye, you see Kenny doing the exact opposite of what he said. He's staring at you from the other side.

His eyebrows furrow deep, the way you twist and turn your body replaying in his mind on repeat until he notices you watching him, crossing your arms "How do you do your crossovers like that?"

You stare him dead in the eyes and point at your figure skates, a different type of blade entirely.

"Yeah, figure skates, I know but my crossovers are so clunky and yours are just- clean." He knew how you did yours, probably hours, weeks, and years of practicing longer and relentlessly than he did. Also, the fact you were trained for grace and agility while he was trained for speed and strength. He just wanted to dig for ways to get you to talk to him.

"Show me how you do yours," you say, tone flat. "Forwards and backwards."

Kenny took a deep breath, positioning himself on the ice. He started his crossovers, his movements stiff and deliberate. His knees were slightly bent, but his weight seemed unevenly distributed, causing his skates to scrape awkwardly against the ice semi-purposefully. He plays it up in hopes that you'll correct him.

"First, bend your knees slightly- not too much. Keep your core engaged and your weight centred over your skates."

Kenny bent his knees a bit more and adjusted his posture, arms out at his sides. "Like this?"

You bite your lip, wanting to cringe at his positioning though you were raised too well to do so. "I- Can I show you?"

"Be my guest," There it is, just what he was looking for. You skated to his side, demonstrating the correct posture. Kenny studies your form, attempting to mimic it "Better?"

"No," you said bluntly. "Not like that." With a sigh, you skated closer and placed your hands on his shoulders, adjusting them to be more relaxed. "Relax your shoulders. You're too tense."

Kenny's breath caught slightly at your touch, but he quickly tried to hide it. "This good?"

"Yup," you replied, moving your hands to his hips, guiding his posture. "Now, shift your weight over your skates, keep your core engaged. Feel the balance." Skating felt like the only thing you could talk about. Usually, you just didn't speak when you had nothing to say but skating gave you purpose.

Your proximity made the air between you feel charged, and for a moment, Kenny forgot he was supposed to be pretending. "Alright, I think I've got it."

You step back slightly but still close enough to correct him if needed. "Now, when you cross one foot over the other, push off with the edges of your skates. It's about finding a fluid motion."

You showed off a couple of crossovers, and you moved with ease and fluidity. With elegance, your left foot crossed over your right, and you leaned slightly into the turn while keeping perfect balance.

Kenny tried again, this time paying more attention to your instructions. His movements were still awkward, but there was a noticeable improvement. He looked at you for validation.

"Better," you said, your tone softening slightly. "But you're still too stiff. Relax your upper body more." You placed your hands on his shoulders again, gently pushing them down. "Let your legs guide you."

Kenny nodded, feeling the warmth of your hands through his hoodie. He took a deep breath and tried again, bending his knees, relaxing his shoulders, and tilting into the turn. This time, his movements felt smoother and more controlled. He could feel the fluidity you had described, he didn't come into this actually intending to learn something but he stood corrected.

"Listen to your skating, if it looks like this," You sweep your leg back, pushing off the ice to demonstrate "And it sounds like that, you're using one leg, it should be two. You should hear the rip on the ice, go again."

Kenny does as told and you see him implementing what you had said "Looks good," you nod, already skating away to continue your routine. Kenny watched you for a moment, admiring your skill, feeling the lingering warmth of your touch.

He skated closer, a playful glint in his eyes. "I think I need a bit more help. You know, hands-on guidance really works for me."

You look back at him, putting your headphones in as you do so "I think you're fine."

Every minute you spent on the ice that morning, you savoured it like you would never have it again. It was easy for you to ignore Kenny's staring, it was just like a miniature audience. Having eyes on you never hindered your performance and maybe that was why you found it so easy to ignore people.

Unfortunately, you had to leave the rink eventually. While you didn't mind school, you weren't thrilled for it- particularly the awkwardness that came about when you had to pick partners. Your grades weren't by any means perfect but you managed to keep your above water just enough to skate as often as you did.

You begin the ritual of unlacing your pristinely kept skates, Kenny sitting on the bench across from you doing the same. You slip your shoes on, tucking your skates away and look up at him "Have you had breakfast yet?"

His head shot up, face lighting up. His lips curved into an easy, charming smile and you could understand how he drew so much attention without trying "No, do you wanna get some?"

"No," you said, curtly.

"Oh," his face dropped but he still kept a staggered smile, watching you reach into your bag.

"Do you want these?" You pulled a box from your tote bag, holding it out to Kenny. "They're brownies, I made too many," That was only half true. You made a lot, figuring your stepdad would take them to work for the staff to munch on but he insisted that you should bring them to school and hand them out like high school students initiated friendships by passing baked goods back and forth.

"Don't you wanna give them to your friends?" Kenny asks and you shake your head. You had already set Mrs. Miller's brownie apart, wrapping it in parchment like you always did and most days you didn't see Craig until you skated at night. "Sweet," He muttered reaching over to take the box from your grip.

"You can share them with your friends," You say slinging your duffle over your shoulder and holding your tote bag in hand. Kenny wasted no time digging into the brownies, he had the box on his lap one brownie in hand as he sunk his teeth into it.

"Hell no, they don't deserve this," he says between bites "I'm keeping this to myself."

There was always that little sense of pride when someone was enjoying what you baked. Usually, you would eavesdrop on your parents while they ate your baking to be sure they genuinely liked it. Kenny's reaction almost had you smiling. Almost.

"Are you leaving already?" Kenny asked as you walked away, headphones back on and deaf to whatever he was saying "Okay, bye.”

A/N: I rewrote this a bajillion times and I’m still not happy with it but I don’t have the strength in me for another rewrite so here she is ✊

#south park #south park x reader #south park x y/n #kenny mccormick #kenny sp #craig tucker #sp kenny #south park kenny #kenny mccormick x reader #kenny mccormick x y/n #kenny mcormick x reader #kenny mcormick headcanons #kenny mccormick headcanons

82 notes · View notes

heavennumber2 · 3 months

Text

My Shadow Knows Your Shadow

Francisco Morales x f!reader neighbor

Summary: Somnophilia and Frankie’s shadows. You shouldn’t be okay with it, but you are

Warnings: somnophilia, Feral Frankie, unprotected PIV, f receiving oral, break in, Frankie getting sober, no current wife but he is a girl dad. Short and sweet. Both reader and Frankie are recovering addicts.

Anyone who wants to extend on this, be my guest! Just please no age gap with reader, that’s a gnarly trigger for me.

——-

As an overworked, underpaid, exhausted researcher, you like to sometimes decompress with your nice next door neighbor, Francisco Morales. You notice you share a lot of shadows from the past. It’s nice to be understood.

You drink coffee together on your porch on Sunday mornings. He shows you pictures of his daughter and you note she has his smile. He gets to see her every other weekend, and he’ll be granted partial custody after 6 months of sobriety. He’s on month four. You’re on year two. You congratulate each other and then talk about desserts.

You never share touches outside of a pat on the shoulder. He’s made it clear where his boundaries are and, though disappointed, you respect them. You joke about your idiot research advisor and he shares stories of his military friends.

You’ve become something between friendly neighbors and close confidants. It’s nice.

One night, you wake up with his face between your legs. He feels desperate, lost, *hungry*. You’re about to yell at him, ask him how the hell he got into your house, who the hell does he think he is, before your orgasm strikes you dumb.

“I’m so sorry, Hermosa,” he mumbles between frantic laps, “I just need… I’m so sorry”.

You get it.

You start to leave the patio door unlocked.

There’s no schedule for when he comes. He’s at the mercy of his demons and you’re at the mercy of his uncontrollable appetite.

You never talk about it. You wave to each other every morning as you head off to the university, he helps you when your car acts up, you share the breakfast muffins you made because he can’t keep living off of take out. He smiles at you like he doesn’t split you open in the shadows. You smile back like you’ve never gushed on his tongue. Or his fingers. Or his cock. You never talk about it, opting to discuss the surface levels of your life. You like horror movies and he has a deep hatred for one particular soccer team.

But sometimes at night, you wake up with him pushing inside you, frantically apologizing, tears drenching his cheeks. You always soothe him before you cum.

And then he’s off. The only proof you have is the soreness in your core and your shared cum staining the inside of your thighs. He stopped pulling out a few escapades ago, so now it just leaks and you sometimes leave the stains on your sheets to prove you’re not imagining it.

The next morning, he always brings your garbage cans in. As if he knows you’re a bit too sore for extra labor.

He disappears for two weeks.

You worry. The nights feel empty, the mornings are joyless. You tell yourself he wouldn’t dare relapse, he’s too close. You sometimes cry in the middle of the night, not just for your loss, but the possible loss of a little girls father.

You’re dragging yourself into the last working day of the second week. You’re so tired of the sexism in your field, the denial of your work, and the fact that you can’t drown yourself with liquor anymore. You sleep out of pure defeat.

You awake when the blanket is ripped from your body. You couldn’t bring yourself to wear bed clothes in case he returned, so there you are in all your naked glory. Your eyes meet his; he’s darker tonight. Aged. Famished. His face is clean shaven yet he looks more ragged than ever before.

He says nothing before prying your thighs open and diving into your cunt tongue first.

He says nothing when you lace your fingers through his curls to pull him closer.

He says nothing until after he drinks every drop of your second orgasm, until he drags himself up your quivering body tasting pieces of your skin along the way, until he rests his hips between your thighs and pushes the thick head of his cock in your warmth.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbles into your cheek and he pushes pushes pushes every inch of himself into you and you feel your body shifting to accommodate “I’m so sorry, hermosa, I just need.. oh, I’m sorry”.

You soothe him by pulling him closer.

He pounds into you mercilessly.

You get it.

———

Im not much of a writer but I enjoyed this little dabble.

Think you can write it better than me? You probably can. Go for it.

Love you!

#pedro pascal #francisco catfish morales #francisco morales fanfiction #frankie morales #pedro pascal fanfic #frankie morales x reader #frankie catfish morales #frankie morales smut #pedro boys #pedro pascal character #frankie morales x you #francisco morales x reader #frankie morales fanfiction #francisco morales

65 notes · View notes

smutburn · 7 months

Text

'my boy'

Pairing: Oliver Quick x Transmasc!Reader

Summary: Invited to Oliver's birthday party by one of your close friends, you find yourself alone in the so-called 'green room'.

Warning(s): Transphobia, dysphoria, t slur drop, but like this is all just for plot then it goes away and ur reaffirmed lol

Smut! Warning(s): Smut [p in v], praise AND degrading kink, bit perv!Oliver, dom!Oliver, uhhh fuck idk man sex?!? scary!!

A/N: first smut FANFIC guys kinda nervous

Your childhood friend, Annabel, had invited you to the birthday party of one of her classmates. You were always a huge fan of parties, but would never dare to go alone, you and her would be inseparable at every single goddamn party.

That is, until, you began to transition.

Annabel would never be transphobic towards your face, but behind your back? She'd say the most gnarly backhanded shit possible. You didn't know this of course, you had started transitioning after she left for college. She was a year above you.

Once the news had gotten to her, she couldn't help herself from secretly deadnaming you and misgendering you, often times introducing you as her "tranny friend" behind your back, whenever you had finally gotten into Oxford.

At this point of your transition, your body had grown to be more masculine, your veins became more prominent, your voice dropped octaves, and you had even grown yourself some lovely stubble. You believed to be semi incognito, when it came to transitioning.

Accepting her invite, she had ordered a driver to pick you two up and escort you to Saltburn. Neither of you had been there before, but according to Annabel? It was the party house.

You both arrive to the front stairs of the estate. Music blaring from inside the place, despite its large size, somehow reeking of booze and weed. You two walked into the party, with flashing lights and the place packed to the brim, you could only imagine how many people were in one room alone.

Annabel took your hand, and quickly found your ways towards to bar. This was her secret talent, always identifying wherever the fuck substances could be found. She grabbed a bottle of Malibu Pineapple for herself, and Malibu Watermelon for you. You two had always bonded over Malibu in high school. She knew you so well, didn't she?

As she walked away, you felt no choice but to follow her. You didn't know anybody at this party, so who would you have gone to anyway? You trail behind her, closely, as to not lose her, taking swigs of your Malibu as you go. Stopping abruptly when she meets her friends. One of them notices you behind Annabel, and yells to you.

You feel like your world stops as you hear your deadname drip from the lips of this girl you've never met. The music is too loud to make out the rest of her sentence, but no music can drown out the syllables of your deadname. Your heart drops to your stomach, Annabel's head whips around, looking to her friend, then looking to you.

You smile weakly and shout an excuse along the lines of, "I have to use the restroom", before quickly walking away. You feel your heartbeat inside of your ears as you exit the main party room. You continue going through this labyrinth of rooms before stopping in a green room and plopping on the couch.

You could still hear the music, but luckily, you felt more of the vibrations than the music. You bring your knees to your chest and bury your head in between them. Stifling your sobs, you try to breathe as you recollect what just happened. Questions were swirling through your head at 180mph that your brain felt like it was larger than your skull.

"Hello?" A low voice says, causing you to look up as the room becomes so silent you could swear you heard your blood stop pumping.

Your eyes meet with a boy who's kneeled in front of you and the couch. Your instant reaction is to put your feet on the floor and sit up. This changes your eye level, which then causes the boy to look up at you.

"Hi." You mutter. You clear your throat before looking back down at him. The only shred of light on his face being the moonlight from the window.

"Are you alright?" He replies after a beat. You can't bring yourself to lie to this man, so you simply try to smile and nod. He places his hands on your knees and continues, "Are you sure? You can tell me y'know. Wouldn't want anybody that isn't me to be having a bloody bad time at my party."

"Are you Oliver?" You manage to say without thinking. "Yes, I am, so you've heard of me?" He chuckles to himself, as if he's the funniest guy alive.

"Yes..? Kind of.. I mean, this is your party, it'd be a lil embarrassing if I'd show up to your party not knowing at the very least, your name."

"I suppose so, dear." He looks up at you as he slides his hands further up towards your thighs. Your face flushes as your body instinctively twitches at the sudden change of touch.

Oliver looks down to your thighs, and back up to you. "Some nice jeans you've got here. Not quite on theme. Expensive?"

"No, I.. I'm not like rich.. Or anything..." You break the eye contact, looking to your side. "I know you probably think that's like.. Lame.. I mean you're having this cool party in this mansion and I'm just, here."

"Oh no, no darling. This isn't even my home. I'm not quite rich either."

A beat.

"Oh."

"Oh what?" He stands up in front of you, holding your chin up to look at him.

"I just.. I didn't- know..." You stutter out, feeling flustered from his bold advances.

He leans in closer to you, bending over to almost, barely, touch your lips to his. In less than a second, he's able to scoop you up, turn himself around, placing you on his lap as he takes your seat on the couch.

"You're quite handsome, you know that?" He states, trailing kisses down the side of your neck. Biting and nipping gently, sliding your white tank top down your shoulders as he gets to your collarbone area.

You're unsure how to react to this, but there is one thing you are sure of. You are enjoying this.

You open your mouth to speak but he quickly hushes you.

"Ah ah ah, let me adore you." He places an arm around your waist, pulling you closer. A hand begins traveling south, first visiting your thighs before reaching towards the zipper of your jeans.

"Oh- Uh- Ollie.. Stop.." You quickly spit out. He immediately moves his hand away from your zipper and rests it on your shoulder.

He kisses your neck and whispers into your ear. "What's wrong darling?"

"Nothing I just... I'm not.." You can't find the words to tell him who you are. A tranny, Annabel would probably say.

A man is showing interest in you for the first time since you've transitioned to male. He knows you as a man, and only a man. He doesn't know the 'girl' you used to be. Revealing this could ruin it all. You've never gotten the surgery, you never planned to, which you knew was okay. But would this boy still continue to pursue this experience with you if you had told him?

"If you're not ready, I understand dear. We don't have to." He turns your cheek towards him and gives it a peck. "I just thought you're quite cute." He taps on your left thigh.

"I- No I.. I want this I just.. I'm..." You let out a sigh before muttering your reason. "I'm not.. a real guy"

"What? Of course you are dear, how could you not be?" He plants a kiss along your shoulder line.

"No it's.. Oliver I'm.. Trans I..." He shushes you again.

"Do you really think that's something I'm concerned about?" He nibbles at your ear.

You hear your heartbeat in your ears. You've got no idea how to react to this.. Besides reaching for his hand and placing it back towards the zipper of your Goodwill jeans.

Undoing your zipper, he reaches down tugging at the elastic of your boxers. "Is this okay?" You nod in response, but he doesn't move.

"Yes." You confirm verbally, causing him to slide his hand down into your boxers, placing his fingers onto your wetness. You gasp out of shock.

He begins using the pad of his fingers to rub up and down your wet folds.

"What a good boy.. So wet f'me already, hm? I've barely touched you, slut." He whispers as he slips his middle finger into your entrance. Causing you to mewl in pleasure, adjusting your hips as he hooks his finger inside of you. "Aaah.. O-oliv..er..."

He plunges his ring finger inside of you without a warning, slowly sliding his digits in and out of you. He adds his thumb, rubbing soft circles on your clit. You grab for a pillow. You release a loud moan as he plunges his fingers inside of you, hooking against your walls, sending your hand straight to your mouth to muffle the sound. Oliver moves your hand away and holds it down.

"Bad bad boy. You need to let people know how much of a dirty fucking slut you are f'me. So let whoever passes by hear your beautiful moans. You're mine right now, alright?" He whispers against your skin, almost threateningly.

"Ha..aaa.. y-yes.. fuck-" You agree. You begin grinding yourself against his fingers, essentially riding his hand to increase the pleasure you're feeling. You can feel as Oliver grows beneath you.

"F-fuck.. Oh.. Who's a good boy? Hmm? Who's my good slut?" He mutters into your ear, your grinding against his fingers is also rubbing his hard-on he has. You whimper in response as he continues to fuck you with his fingers even harder.

"Speak up, I don't understand whimpers and grunts."

"Fuck- I... I am.."

"Good boy."

As you feel that familiar knot form in your stomach, you clench around his two fingers, riding the feeling even harder, causing him to pull out. You mewl in response, your body instinctively chasing for his fingers again. "O-oliver.."

He pats your thigh twice, signaling for you to stand up. You stand in front of him.

"Take them off." He leans forward and tugs at your waistband of the jeans. You push them down off your legs as quickly as you can, then following with your boxers, discarding them somewhere to the side.

You watch as he pulls down his white suit pants, which you've now noticed has golden embroidery, and boxers, his hard cock springing out against his stomach. Leaking with pre cum, he uses his hand to gesture you closer.

"Sit down baby."

You follow his orders. Climbing onto the couch with your knees, you line your wetness with his tip, before slowly plunging down. You hiss in pain as he guides your hips down.

"I know, I know, but I promise it'll feel good." He continues to lower you down before your cunt swallows his length.

"F-fuck... Yeah.. That's my boy." He allows you a moment to adjust to his size. "Go when you're ready."

After a few moments of you digging your nails into his shoulders and burying your head in the crook of his neck, you begin to push yourself back and forth. He holds you by your hips, guiding you and he throws his head back.

"Ahhh... Yeah.. Fuck... God, you're such a slut f'me. Just fucking yourself on me, hm?" He teases. He places his other hand on the back of your neck, almost to your head, and pulls you in for a kiss. It's intimate, passionate, hot, and every other possible word you could think of to describe a good kiss. The way he glides his tongue against your bottom lip, asking for permission to enter your mouth before you part your lips. He plunges his tongue in, exploring your mouth and the tastes of you. He can taste the rum you had earlier.

Placing both hands on either hip, he rocks you on top of him even faster, causing him to groan out of pleasure. Which then, in response, causes you to mewl as his hard cock twitches inside you.

Like earlier, he picks you up swiftly, without breaking connection, he lays you on the couch, propping your ankles up above his head, as he continues fucking you. The new position allowing for more pleasure for the both of you, a new stimulus hitting your g-spot, you can feel yourself getting closer and closer to release.

He picks up the pace, both of you moaning harmonically, to where it sounds almost scripted. Using a hand to hold your head up, he forces you to watch as he slams his dick in and out of you. Throwing his head back, he becomes a moaning mess, his cock throbbing and twitching inside of you, he feels his own release on it's way.

"Fuck... You wanna be a good slut for me? Hm?" He looks down at you predatorily, you nod and try to get out a yes, but it's interrupted by another slam inside of you, which you then moan out in response.

"I want you to come on my cock. Can you do that? Can my boy do that for me?"

"Y-yes O..Oliver..."

"Good."

He continues to slam himself in and out of you, the sound of his skin hitting your skin, your moans filling the room, you arch your back as you feel yourself finally release for him. Your legs twitching and your back arched, he fucks you slower, allowing you to ride out your high, before he pulls out, and comes onto your stomach.

"Fuck..."

Your breathing is heavy, you've only just noticed that.

He slides his finger up your stomach through his cum, and plunges the white substance into your mouth.

"Good boy. Cleaning up my mess f'me. Slut."

You nod as he continues feeding you the white ropes he let out onto your stomach. He stands up to leave for a second, before returning with a warm rag, rubbing your stomach, core, and thighs down.

"You did so good for me." He praises you as he continues cleaning you up. Using a dry towel to dry the sweat thats collected in areas of your body. He plants a kiss on your forehead before helping you into your boxers. He picks you up and leads you to a bedroom, tucking you into the bed, he climbs in next to you.

He cuddles up to you, and plays with your hair until you've fallen asleep. Planting gentle kisses onto you and whispering sweet nothings.

"Goodnight y/n," is the last thing you hear before you've fallen victim to a deep sleep. The only thought you had last was how he could've known your name? You don't recall sharing it.

#barry keoghan x reader #oliver quick x reader #oliver quick #saltburn #barry keoghan #im so sorry Barry Keoghan #trans!reader #oliver quick x you #oliver quick smut #saltburn smut #saltburn fanfiction #first fanfic guys #meow #saltburn 2023

100 notes · View notes