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pathologicalreid · 10 months ago

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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

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crescenthistory · 4 months ago

Note

hihi i love ur work sm <3 could you pls do a barty crouch jr sunshine x grump except the reader is the grump? ik barty isnt rlly sunshine like but he seems a lot more outgoing and energetic when compared to the reader. for the prompt could it be a.6 where the reader is just being her usual grumpy self and barty sort of mocks her? if the idea doesnt sound so appealing u dont have to do it i understand !! (also ignore the fact i submitted this earlier but forgot to put the prompt lmfao)

hi sweetheart! first of all, no i will not ignore your earlier ask because what you said about my writing was soso sweet and i think about it daily<33 i am a truther of barty being the sunshine in these dynamics because his chaotic energy needs a bit of a grumpy counterpart which is why i'm also a bartylus truther shhh so i'm in love with your idea, thanks darling xx this was so fun to write, why is he like this

Prompt: A.6 "Aren't you just a sweetheart?"

Words: 2.4k

Warnings: not proofread, fem!reader (she/her pronouns used), you are in gryffindor sorry and marauders!bestie, mostly barty pov so it's sassy and biased, banter/bickering, language, some innuendos/suggestive jokes, they do not kiss physically but are making out in barty's head tbh, jegulus appearance my loves, a little bit of bartylus snuck in there

Note: i love their dynamic here, might write some more blurbs with the same storyline/concept

continuation can be found here <3 and here

Barty could not believe Regulus had betrayed him on such a carnal level.

Becoming chummy with Gryffindors in general should be considered a cardinal sin, but shagging one on the regular? Insisting that shagging was a “crude term” for it and insisting Barty accept that his best friend, stupid wanker, is actually in love with and dating James Potter, the epitome of Gryffindor bravado?

Absolutely unacceptable. Arguably a hate crime, and he told Regulus as much, only to be met with an eye roll as the black haired boy continued to drag him along to where his new boyfriend was sitting in the Great Hall, surrounded by friends.

“Well, if it isn’t Baby Black?” A girl called as Regulus approached the group, hauling Barty along with him. Others around smiled and greeted Regulus – not Barty.

“Shut it, McKinnon,” Regulus grumbled, sheepishly taking the seat on James’s left that he had saved for him. Barty could spot a slight pinkish blush creeping up on Regulus’s cheeks when James murmured a hey love and kissed his cheek.

Barty could puke at the sight.

Nevertheless, he shoved some Gryffindors further down the table to take a seat beside Regulus. For whatever reason, he had believed it necessary to bring Barty with him every single time he meets James’s gnarly pack, so Barty assumed the role of protective friend while still making it exponentially clear that he disapproves.

“No acknowledgement for me then?” Barty looked around the table who were in one degree or another cooing at the fresh couple. All except Sirius, who, like Barty, was faux gagging at the sight.

It’s a new low for Sirius Black to be your one ally.

“Make yourself note-worthy, and we’ll say hello to you, Junior.” The gruff voice came from you, who conveniently was sitting opposite Barty this morning.

You were thus far the most tolerable of James’s friends, mostly because you had yet to be as loud and obnoxious as the rest, despite the red and gold around your neck. You had yet to say almost anything at all, but what you did say had a habit of drawing a snort from Barty. Mostly because it was never particularly kind.

Your eyes didn’t leave the crossword puzzle you were working on as you ate, shutting out the bickering around you, yet somehow picking up on Barty’s comment.

Intriguing.

“I take great personal offence to that, darling.” Barty's voice was incredulous but he sported a contradicting wicked grin, happy at the opportunity to wreak a bit of havoc if he must be seated here.

“Ew.” You looked up at that, eyes narrowing at the pet name he gave you. He decided then and there, that was the only way he would refer to you from now on. “And good. Maybe it can help you build some character.”

“Oh, come on,” James butted in, finally drawing his eyes from Regulus – who he had sneaked an arm around before the boy could protest at the public display of affection – and looking at his dear friend and his disgruntled friend-in-law. “Be nice to Junior, he slithered here all the way from the comforts of his dungeon.”

“So did your boytoy, Potter, so watch your mouth.” Sirius, James and Regulus all winced at the word boytoy, though for very different reasons.

“And so I am being nice to him,” James retorted, squeezing Regulus as he looked down at him. “Aren’t I, love?”

“Shut up,” Regulus whispered.

“You’ve already said that today, Reggie,” McKinnon replied with a sly grin. “Find another comeback, why don’t ya?”

Regulus just rolled his eyes at her while Sirius bumped his shoulder into hers in a sign of approval.

“Anyway.” Barty drew the attention back to him as he spoke up, but his eyes were trained on you. “Build some character you say? What character would you like me to be, baby?"

You sized him up, clearly debating whether to follow James's advice or take Barty's bait. The latter seemed to win.

"Someone less disruptive would be a great start."

"That would hold more bite if you didn't willingly surround yourself with this lot," Barty laughed, waving his arms a bit too theatrically towards your friends, some of which were scowling at him, others nodding in agreement. Barty swore he could hear James whisper fair under his breath.

"Willingly is a bit of a stretch." You side-eyed Sirius beside you with a sly grin, who took a few seconds to process your sentence. Once he realised, he gasped and swatted at your arm for the disrespect.

Barty was enjoying himself much more than he expected.

"Aren't you just a sweetheart?" His grin never faltered as he continued his one-sided staring contest with you. As if you were the only thing in the room of notice, as if your friends weren't right there and needed to be won over by him as well.

“I can be,” you drawled, fighting to keep your face neutral. “You just gotta earn it."

Barty tilted his head, eyes narrowing with interest as he studied you. There was something undeniably magnetic about your sharp tongue, the way you seemed to remain so unbothered by the chaos swirling around the table.

He leaned forward, placing his elbows on the table, inching just a bit closer. “And how do I do that?”

Finally, you locked eyes with him properly, levelling him with your stare. Your expression remained impassive, but there was a flicker of something—curiosity, maybe?—beneath your cold exterior.

"That ship sailed so long ago, you can't even see it from harbour, Junior."

"Good thing I can swim." Barty winked at you, and part of him thought he caught you look flustered for half a moment as his comments grew flirtier by the minute.

“Fine by me, easier to drown you if you jump in the water willingly."

Barty barked a laugh, unphased by your words. "Don't threaten me with a good time." He could feel Regulus giving him a look from his right, but Barty ignored it. He was far too entertained by you now. “Tell me, do you give everyone such a warm welcome, or am I just special?”

Your lips twitched, but you held your ground, flicking your eyes back to the crossword in front of you. “You’re just annoying.”

Regulus groaned softly, clearly wishing he could disappear into the floor. He wasn’t exactly thrilled about having to subject himself—and by extension, Barty—to the whirlwind that was James Potter and his pack of friends, but he also wasn’t blind. He saw the way Barty’s attention had shifted, how your sharp, biting comments had hooked him in a way nothing else had managed to. He could practically feel the chaos brewing.

James, ever the peacemaker, clapped his hands together. “Right, well, now that we’ve all sufficiently insulted each other—again—how about we chat about something less murder-y?”

“No promises,” you murmured, flipping a page of the Daily Prophet as you continued working through the puzzle.

“Good efforts, Potter, but I fear she's just too intrigued by me” Barty sighed, leaning back in his seat as if exhausted by the mere prospect of attention. “I have that effect on people.”

“Oh, sure,” McKinnon chimed in, rolling her eyes. “We’re all positively obsessed with you.”

Sirius, looking entirely too pleased with himself, gave you an exaggerated wink. “I’d pay good money to see her put you in your place, Junior.”

“And I’d pay good money to see you mind your own business,” you retorted coolly, not even sparing Sirius a glance. Neither boy seemed sure if the comment was meant for Sirius or Barty, but didn't let that deter their entertainment.

Barty watched the exchange with open fascination. He couldn’t help but admire how easily you held your own amongst this overzealous group, considering their tendency to overwhelm people with their loud, boisterous energy. You were like a still, cold lake amidst a storm, unbothered by the wind and waves crashing around you.

He leaned closer to Regulus, his voice dropping slightly as he muttered, “I like her.”

Regulus, still recovering from the emotional whiplash of being dragged between Barty and James’s worlds, gave Barty a flat look. “Don’t.”

Barty’s grin only widened. “Too late.”

It became a strange, almost delirious routine for Barty to be swirled into the life of James Potter and Co. He minded it less and less, irritation soothed almost instantly once he saw you.

He sought you out every time Regulus brought him along, plopping down beside you on the common room couches, leaning on your chair at the library, catching your eye in the hallways. You presented begrudgingly, always rolling your eyes and scoffing, but your resolve crumbled slowly and the smile you were fighting became more insistent.

You and your dry retorts, you with your books or puzzles in hand, you and your knowing looks that grew more affectionate.

Barty was thoroughly fascinated.

"Don't screw this up for me please," Regulus would whine as the two of them walked back to the Slytherin dorms with just a few minutes left before curfew. They had dragged out their time sprawled across the couches by the fireplace at Gryffindor.

This time, as most times of late, Regulus hadn't asked Barty to come – he hadn't needed to. While the two usually spent most of their time together, Barty had practically been glued to his side as of late, ready to jump on the opportunity to see you.

"I won't," Barty dragged out the words with annoyance, as if he had said them a thousand times as of late. "Don't worry your pretty head so much Reggie, James won't care that I'm bantering with his bestie."

"It's not just the bantering I'm worried about," Regulus muttered, but Barty caught it clear as day. He gave his friend a look that demanded further explanation.

"You clearly fancy her, Barty!" He just blinked, as if to say and? Regulus groaned. "Just don't mess anything up with her to the point where she gets so angry she doesn't want to see you anymore. I don't want to have to deal with managing my time between you and James because she wants you dead."

Barty sighed dreamily at those last words, whispering wouldn't that be hot? Regulus gave him a corrective slap up the back of his head.

"I won't okay, I won't!" Barty was the one grumbling now, trying to deal with the infatuation in his stomach, just aching to go back and bicker some more with you, while also calming his best friend down. "I don't want to actually like hurt her or anything, I just like getting a little rise out of her."

Regulus paused before the entrance to the Slytherin common room, levelling Barty with a glare. He realised then that he seemed to have a type of person he prefers to associate with, because you had given him that same look earlier when you debated each other about who should get to sit in the comfy chair. He suggested you just sit in his lap in the chair – a great compromise, really – and a beautiful blush crept up on your face when you scoffed.

"If she will make you happy, please do go for it. But be careful, please." Regulus's tone of voice was intent, leaving little room for argument.

Barty still found some, of course, but he was soft for his friend and gave way.

"Fine, don't worry, I've got it under control," he all but whined. "It's not everyday stoic Regulus Black begs me for anything, so fine."

There was a smile on Regulus's face when he shoved him then, finally stepping into the Slytherin dorms to call it a night.

You were in the library the first time Barty got you all to himself.

It was a Saturday afternoon when Barty found himself wandering through the library, absentmindedly scanning the rows of books. He wasn’t really paying attention, more so killing time before his next Quidditch practice and possibly looking for some trouble, when he spotted you in a far corner. Much better.

For once you were free from your larger than life friends, nose peacefully buried in another one of your books as you twirled your quill before your fingers. Barty knew you were waiting to scribble something in the margin, and a surprisingly soft warmth sprouted in his chest when you did. A small smile tugged at his lips as he made his way over to you, leaning casually against the bookshelf beside you.

“Fancy seeing you here, sweetheart.”

You didn’t even bother looking up. “If you’re here to annoy me, I’ll hex you. Finally got some peace and quiet."

Barty laughed, taking the seat across from you without invitation. “You wound me. What makes you think I’m here to annoy you? Maybe I just wanted some quality company.”

“Quality company?” you echoed, raising an eyebrow as you finally looked up from your book. “And yet you chose to sit with me.”

“Exactly,” Barty replied smoothly, flashing you a grin. “You’re the most interesting person in this castle, and I’m bored. I’m sure you can entertain me.”

You gave him a long, appraising look, as if trying to figure out what his angle was. “You really don’t know when to quit, do you?”

“Nope.” His characteristic cheshire cat grin was playing across his features, and you ignored the stirring it caused inside you.

A pause stretched between you as your staring contest prolonged, and for a moment, Barty thought you were going to ignore him, go back to your book, and continue the delicate balance of biting banter and cold indifference that had marked all your previous interactions.

Then, much to his surprise, you closed your book with your fingers keeping your page. You leaned back in your chair as you regarded him with a calculating gaze. “Fine. Though if you’re so desperate for company, then you tell me something interesting. Junior.”

Barty blinked, not having expected you to actually engage. His grin grew and he felt pride bloom in your chest as you began to sport your own.

"Oh, I'll tell you anything you want, if it'll keep your attention on me, sweetheart."

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aethelwyneleigh27 · 9 months ago

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

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rainrot4me · 7 months ago

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₊⊹

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lostinwildflowers · 4 months ago

Text

To Befriend A Dragon

Shoto Todoroki x Reader

Summary: Shoto will always deny his father's wishes to find the rarest Mystery Class dragon out there. You're his long-time best friend, and you happen to have a dragon. Things grow intense as your dragon grows more and more hostile toward your friend.

Word Count: 7.3K (...oopsie)

Warnings: Best friends to lovers, idiots to lovers, fluff, mutual pining, smidge of angst if you look, jealous dragon(think Maximus and Flynn Rider), erm... Enji Todoroki mentioned, like 2 cuss words, and a small cut/blood mention

A/N: Hello my lovelies, I have emerged from my cave to finish this Shoto x HTTYD fic! I have been super excited about this one for a long time(like, April of 2023), and I really do love the plot. Be sure to give me your feedback, and please, enjoy!-Birch<3

Useful Info:

Scauldron

Inspo for wet Shoto(This isn't graphic, this is just a wet Shoto XD)

Part i. Romantic Flight- Katsuki Bakugou x Reader

Part ii. Dragon Island- Eijiro Kirishima x Reader

"Y/n!" the call came. It was light, not angry; soft, and yet still somehow loud enough to hear over the crashing of waves on the old wooden fishing docks.

"Y/n?" the call came again, less sure than the first time. It sounded like an ancient hymn, floating on the ocean's fine mist, disappearing just as soon as it arrived.

"Y/n, there you are," this time the voice was just behind you. It was the voice of someone you could spend your entire life listening to. Deep and rich at the same time, tranquil but firm in its timbre.

Your gaze was fixed on the moving waters in front of you, (colored) orbs scoping out every cresting wave, waiting. The gentle touch of a hand on your shoulder draws your attention away from the sea for a split second, long enough to see who was looking for your attention.

Unnaturally white hair. Unusually bright red hair. The locks were split down the center of his head, messy around his eyes, but delicate braids danced around the nape of his neck. One eye was a deep stormy grey, the other a piercing icy blue.

His smile was as warm as the summer rain that fell in the late morning. His posture was straight yet relaxed, just as he was trained. His presence and demeanor were kind, yet stoic.

Shoto Todoroki. Your long-time best friend.

It all started way back. Even further than the village could remember. Your cradles after birth were almost always next to each other growing up. The two of you spent almost every waking moment together as toddlers, mainly being raised by the village elders.

The pair of you spent hours playing on the light, sandy beach looking for unique shells or conches. Hiking through the woods to find interesting colored stones and lush mosses to build forts outside of your houses became an every-summer activity.

You even snuck out to watch the young vikings train their dragons in the middle of the night with the young Todoroki boy. When the flames stopped dancing in the sky, you both would gaze up at the stars, wondering what your lives would hold.

Yes, you had other friends as well, but none of them understood you as deeply as the two-tone-haired boy who you spent every day with. You were the finest of friends, no one could separate you two.

The one thing that could twist your whole relationship with the Todokori boy was the fact that he was the chieftain's son. The Todoroki Tribe was known for finding and taming the rarest mystery class dragons, the most dangerous of dragons.

Shoto's oldest brother had managed to find and tame a gnarly male Bone Knapper, while his sister gentled a Light Fury while traveling. Even Shoto's other brother trained a Changewing that had tried attacking the village.

But Shoto didn't have a dragon. He didn't want a dragon. He loathed his father for forcing such pressure on him, to find the rarest dragon yet and force it to respect him. Shoto didn't ask to be raised as the next leader of his village.

All he ever wanted was a normal life with you, his best friend.

But while Shoto didn't have his own dragon, which was an ongoing argument he had with his father, you did. Your family loved the sea, building a home on the water's edge so you could grow up right next to its murky depths. When you came of age, it was only fitting that a dragon of the water became your own.

When you were just eleven years old, a Scauldron drakaina laid her clutch of eggs on the beach just down the shoreline from your house. She was a gorgeous turquoise-scaled dragon, and her eggs reflected her light bluish-green colors.

You watched her tend to her eggs for several weeks, even going as far as to tend to her needs. You didn't mind making sure she had enough food, you were right next to the sea. You checked to make sure the eggs were warm enough and in a safe location where they wouldn't get crushed when she left to hunt.

When her clutch finally did hatch, one of them instantly chose you. Storm. He was born a deep, steel grey color when he hatched, and the color of his scales reminded you of a summer thunderstorm.

Over time, Storm grew into a large and strong Scauldron, with thick muscle that grew from his swimming in the ocean and eventual flights with you on his back.

As you grew older, so did Storm, the two of you forming a strong connection and bond as a dragon and rider. From the start, he was always a... well, opinionated dragon.

Yet, through it all, Shoto was nothing of supportive of you and your dragon, knowing that his father would never let him have a common dragon such as yours.

Years passed as you and Storm bonded and grew up, and Shoto continued to spend time with you. He would be there to watch you ride Storm, help you teach him a new trick, or even go fishing for the dragon.

Shoto would spend as much time with you as he could to escape his lessons, being the chieftain's son. Holding a bag of fish for you, helping you fit the saddle to his body, anything he could do to be near you. You and Storm were his escape.

"Y/n, there you are," the voice behind you rings out, and a slow glance over your right shoulder allows you to see Shoto standing still behind you, a small leather bag slung over his shoulder.

"Hey, Sho," you say with a smile as you turn to face your best friend. "Did you bring lunch again?" you ask cheekily, trying to peak into the leather satchel on his shoulder.

Shoto's lip curls into what you can call a smirk. To the outside view, there was no change to the young man's face. A scoff falls from his lips as he moves to sit beside you on the edge of the wet docks, "You could call it that. What were you looking at? You seem kind of distracted, Y/n/n."

And distracted you were. You see, years of friendship with the youngest Todoroki boy did not leave you blind. He transformed from a boy into a teen into a man. His voice deepened, his shoulders broadened, and girls flocked to his door in hopes of catching his attention.

Shoto became evidently attractive, and while you tried to brush it off, he was a deadly combination. Sweet, maybe a little daft, and breathtakingly handsome.

A hand on your thigh catches your attention, and you jump at the warm touch, and you whip around to look Shoto in the eyes. There was concern on his angled features, a gentle furrow to his brow at the unusual scatter-brainedness of your actions.

"Are you alright?" he asks again, his low voice just barely more than a whisper as his bi-colored eyes bore deep into your own (colored) ones.

His grey eye reminded you of the scales on Storm's back. Dark, firm, unwavering. His blue eye reminded you of the sea. Piercing, knowing, deadly.

The intensity of his eyes paired with the concerned look on his face was enough for you to shake off your thoughts, placing your hand over his own. Your fingers graze his, and you take the push to thread them through his long digits.

"Just fine, Sho, I was thinking about Storm. I haven't seen him for a while since he went out hunting," is what you manage to croak out.

Shoto squints at you, uncertainty lacing his gaze. "You're lying," he states blankly as if it's a matter-of-fact statement. You huff at him in an almost-offended disbelief, turning to face the clouded blue water in front of you.

"No, I'm not," you grumble out, "I haven't seen Storm in almost two days, he usually comes back faster than that. I'm worried about him."

Shoto's grip on your thigh tightens a little bit as he squeezes the flesh there and replies, "I don't doubt that, Y/n. I think you're lying about being okay. You've been like this for a while now. What's going on with you?"

Deep down, Shoto was afraid you had found someone, or that your parents had found a nice young viking for you to get married to and you wouldn't see him anymore. You had been starting to pull away, and it scared him to death.

In reality, you were scared to death because you had just started to realize why your hands got shaky around Shoto. You had started to realize why his compliments made your cheeks burn and your voice weaken.

You liked him. But he was your best friend, you couldn't like him. He couldn't possibly like you like that... right?

You stay silent, so Shoto takes a moment to continue, "Y/n/n, I have spent every day of my life with you, I can tell when something is wrong." You regain eye contact with him, your lips parting as your thoughts raced through your head.

You could feel your heart pounding harder and harder with every second, the butterflies building and swelling in your stomach. The words were just on the tip of your tongue-

A roar splits and cracks the air open, an enormous wave of seawater heading directly for you and Shoto. You find the head of the dragon in an instant, and you let out a yell as the icy water coats you and the boy sitting next to you.

Storm lets out another roar, diving back into the water and splashing his tail in your direction, the water smacking an already drenched and shocked Shoto in the side furthest from you.

"What the hell, Storm!?" you screech as your dragon dove back into the depths of the water, peeking his head up above the surface once he swam far enough away he couldn't get scolded by you.

There's one important part about your dragon- he hates Shoto.

From the day Storm hatched, he disliked the two-toned head of the youngest Todoroki boy. Shoto never did anything to make the Scauldron hate him, but the steel-colored dragon always had a bone to pick with your best friend.

As a young hatchling, Storm had a tendency to nip at people who weren't you. It didn't matter if they had food or not, he was always a little tense around others. When you introduced Shoto to Storm, your dragon took it upon himself to launch at your best friend.

He had latched onto Shoto's boot, his razor-sharp teeth cutting through the new leather, and ripping it right off of his foot. Shoto had been knocked to the ground, the air pulled from his lungs.

You had immediately scolded Storm, putting him in a large cage in the corner of your room while you tended to Shoto. His sock had been shredded from Storm's teeth, but otherwise, he was left unharmed.

That first incident with Storm should have been Shoto's first clue that things wouldn't be smooth sailing anytime he tried to be with you.

When the two of you were older and allowed to roam freely, you often took hiking trips into the woods. You both still had the hearts of children, but were more competent and aware of your surroundings.

Plus, you had a dragon.

But, Storm still found a hatred for the Todoroki boy, tripping him when the paths in the woods got rocky. Shoto ended up with several rolled ankles, to which he would tell his father he was training and got hurt.

Your Scauldron would knock Shoto into the water when you would haul in the fishing nets at the end of the day. The air would have cooled off, leaving you chilled if you got wet.

Storm learned that you and Shoto hated it whenever Shoto got soaked. So he did it more and more often.

Shoto somehow put up with it. Ever patient, ever forgiving, Shoto never once tried to put up a fight against Storm or got truly angry with him. He had his moments where he wanted to get the dragon back, but he knew you would be angry with him.

Shoto had such a care for you that he couldn't take out his frustrations on your dragon, no matter how much torture he was put through.

It drove Shoto insane from the inside, but he could never show that to you. Storm was your dragon, and you loved him, and Storm loved you. Shoto knew there was no way he could get between you and your dragon, so he learned to live with it.

Shoto did try to befriend Storm, but he was unsuccessful every time. He would bring the large dragon an extra fish he caught when he dropped by your house. You showed the red and white-haired teen where to scratch the dragon's chin the way he liked.

The boy even went as far as to change Storm's bedding in his nesting stall. None of it worked. So, Shoto did his best to be kind to the dragon while not making it an apparent issue to you.

In an instant, your clothes were clinging to your frame, the iciness of the water chilling you to the bone. You were in shock, first at the surprise of being drenched in cold, salty seawater, but also at the fact that Storm went out of his way to be mean to Shoto.

Your mouth had dropped in surprise, the tang of salt clinging to your lips as you brushed a sopping piece of hair out of your eyes. You turned to look at Shoto, who was in a similar state as you.

His pink lips were parted open, water streaming down his face and dripping off at the edge of his sharp jaw. Shoto's hands clenched at his sides, instinctively trying to shy away from the dragon who sprayed the water in the first place.

"Sh-Shoto, are you alright?" you manage to stumble out, your teeth clacking together, out of your control. He turned to look at you, shock also evident on his features. He just shook his head once, water droplets spraying everywhere, much like a wet dog.

It took him a second to respond, but he managed to murmur, "Yeah, yeah, I think I'm good. I wasn't expecting that at all."

Once Shoto locked eyes on your drenched figure, he swallowed thickly. Every ounce of your clothing was clinging tightly to your body, outlining every curve and dip.

While you noticed the way Shoto grew up, he also noticed how you changed. He saw how maybe your height didn't change that much, but he saw your hips widen and chest fill out.

Shoto saw the way your hair grew longer and your cheeks became less round. He saw the way your lips would catch between your teeth when you were concentrated and the way your eyelashes fluttered when you laughed.

And now, a developed woman with clothes hugging your every curve, Shoto did his best to fight to pink that was rising to his cheeks at his unholy thoughts.

He had to stop those thoughts from swirling around in his mind. You are his best friend, for Odin's sake! He can't be thinking about you like a lover.

Shaking his head less aggressively again to clear his thoughts, he gently urges, "Let's get you warmed up." He pulls his hands from where they were clutching at his sides and offers one to you. You shudder as a chill washes over you, slowly grabbing his outreached hand.

As Shoto pulls the two of you into a standing position, you glance back into the water to see Storm's figure had disappeared. A lump forms in your throat at the cruelness of your dragon for no apparent reason.

Shoto releases your hand, instead, bringing it up to your shoulder. He lightly rubs at it, trying to get your attention, "Come on, grab your things." You turn back toward him and nod shakily, reaching down to grab your own small pack.

How could Storm do that? I know he and Shoto haven't always gotten along, but this is cruel, even for him.

While you got lost in your thoughts, walking up the length of the pier, you missed Shoto falling into step behind you. You didn't even notice him stalling, pulling his drenched shirt off to wring it out over the shore.

Your footstep creaking on a slippery wooden board makes you notice that it's quiet behind you, save for the crashing of waves. You look over your shoulder to see Shoto's back facing you.

Taut, lean muscle laced his back, the skin pale as porcelain, but intricate like a marble statue. Only then do your eyes catch a glimpse of his wet shirt in his hands, drops of water falling from it as his hands worked over the fabric.

Your eyes follow his back to his shoulders, pausing over the bulge in his bicep. He must have really started training hard, the thought races through your head.

Your (colored) gaze flicks up to find Shoto's piercing one already latched onto you.

Shit. He so just caught you staring.

"Sh-Shoto, what are you doing?!" you yelp out as you spin around as fast as you can. The slippery board under your foot gives way as heat rushes to your cheeks at the sight of your best friend undressing.

A million thoughts are racing through your mind as your knee slams into the wet dock, a cry falling from your lips. You don't hear his response as pain takes over as your main concern.

You hear a curse fall from Shoto's lips as he tosses his wet shirt over his shoulder, carefully making his way over to you. His hands, now cooled from the water, reach out to you as he replies innocently to your question, "My shirt was wet, I was trying to remove some of the water out of it."

He then offers you his hand, a kind look on his face. Ever the gentleman, you think to yourself as the pain in your knee radiates and then slowly dissipates away.

You scoffed internally as he pulled you to your feet, How many times have I seen him without a shirt on, and here I am making a big deal out of it?

A moment passes and the touch of his other hand on your shoulder makes you about jump out of your skin. Distracted (colored) eyes lock onto his own bi-colored ones, and you feel like a blubbering mess as your eyes dart between the grey and blue colors, and the toned, naked, chest in front of you.

Once again that day, Shoto has a look of concern on his face as he asks, "Are you alright, Y/n? This isn't all that strange, remember? Your dragon has hated me as long as I remember."

Just as you open your mouth to answer him, a large wave hits the dock again, and a split second later, you feel Shoto being ripped away from you and knocked into the water off the side of the pier. You catch sight of Storm emerging from the ocean, a scowl coming across your face as your lips part in anger.

A yell rips itself from your already opened mouth, and you lunge forward as Shoto is swept away in the current below the docks. His wet shirt landed on the pier next to your feet, thankfully, but that wasn't your main worry.

You were already nervous about it being so cool and then being drenched, but panic overtakes you as you realize what Shoto was headed straight for.

The fishing nets.

Storm flaps up and onto the shoreline a few yards away, looking proud of himself as water slides off of his deep grey scales. You turn toward the dragon, tears of anger pushing at the edges of your eyes as you scream, "Get out of here, Storm! Go away!"

The large Scauldron huffs out an angered roar, but with a few massive wingbeats, hauls himself into the air and flies toward the village. You don't wait to see him leave, instead turning your attention back to your best friend in the water.

Shoto had resurfaced and was coughing on seawater, his arms and legs caught in the holes of the netting. With his limbs tangled and airways full of water, this could be bad. You don't waste any time after that realization, and you dive into the water, aiming to stay away from the net.

Your limbs ache at the instant coolness of the water, and you gasp as you enter the icy sea. Forcing your arms and legs into motion, you aim toward Shoto as you feel your body slow down.

Limbs flailing to get closer, you call to him, "Shoto, hang out!" In a desperate grab, your fingers latch onto the edge of the fishing net, and you use all of your strength to start pulling it to a depth where you can stand.

You manage to take a deep, gasping breath when your feet feel sand underneath them, and you cry out as you tug on the net. "Are you okay?!" You manage as you pull the net through the shallows, still hearing Shoto coughing up water.

Shoto goes to answer you as you see him start to untangle himself, but all you hear is a "Ye-" before a wave crashes into Shoto's bare back. The force of the water knocks him face-first into the shallows, and you lunge toward him to try to help pull him up.

Fingers grasping for his arm, you tug him back up, hearing him spit out more water, exhausted from fighting the net, the salty water filling his lungs, and the effort of his body to keep him warm for so long.

Your fingers, now throbbing from the cold, fumble as you search your belt, the digits slow and uncoordinated. You grip the blade as tightly as you can once you find it, cutting at the tangled nets.

Shoto manages to sputter out, "Y/n, I- I'm o-okay," coughing and trying to regain his air. You finish tugging the final piece of net away from his feet, the two of you heaving yourselves out of the water.

Worry overtakes you as you regard your best friend, "Shoto, are you alright? Oh, my heavens..." Your eyes lock onto his paled face, white and red hair splattered across his forehead.

You lunge forward, catching his cheeks in your hands as your eyes detect pink water trailing down the side of his face. Shoto brings his hand up to push the hair off of his face, a small grunt leaving his mouth when he comes in contact with a scrape hidden on his forehead.

This scrape was the source of the pink water, and even more worry overcomes you, but not before the thought of how oddly handsome he looked at that moment.

Compared to his usual hair styling, the red and white locks were intertwined with each other. Pushed up off of his forehead into a messy comb-over, your breath was stolen for your lungs.

He looked devilishly handsome. It was a terrible thought to have when you should have been rushing him off to clean up his wound and put warm clothes on.

But he did. He looked so good, you couldn't help the way your mouth parted in shock as you gazed up at him.

Shoto, mistakenly thought your reaction was to the throbbing in his head, which he assumed to be a cut. "Is the cut that bad?" he asks daftly, the hand which had been running through his hair coming up to cover one of your own.

His other hand finds its place on your hip unknowingly, stabilizing his unsteady stance. You blink, your mind still reeling as you process his words, "N-no, it's not that bad. Just, uh, caught me off-guard."

Shoto's heterochromatic eyes fix on you, waiting for you to elaborate. It's quiet for a moment, with your hands on his cheeks, his hand covering your own.

He takes it upon himself to fill the silence, his hand moving to cup your own cheek, brushing a stray piece of wet hair away from your eyes. He takes a shivery breath and starts, "Y/n, I-" "Let's get warmed up," you state at the same time.

A flash of an unreadable emotion washes over Shoto's face, and you internally curse yourself for cutting him off. You open your mouth to ask him what he was going to say, but he beats you to it.

"I was going to say the same thing," he said slowly, dropping his hands from your face and side, taking a step back. You instantly retract your hands to your chest, nodding once as you glance at the ground.

Shoto doesn't say anything as he slightly limps back to the pier, grabbing his drenched satchel and his shirt, which is now soaked again. You bring your arms to wrap around yourself as you stiffly cross the beach, heading to the pier to grab your own small sack.

You move to pass Shoto, aiming for where you had been sitting on the edge of the wooden dock, but an outstretched arm stops you. You look up at him inquisitively until he rotates his palm to face you. His fingers open up, his large hand revealing your small leather sac.

"I figured it would save you the hassle," he murmurs lowly, setting it in your awaiting hands. You give him a small nod in thanks, clearing your throat to say, "We can go get warmed up at my house if you don't want your father to see you like this."

Now it's Shoto's turn to nod, gesturing with his chin, he asks, "Lead the way?" You offer a small smile before ducking your head down, trudging your way up the dock toward you home up the shoreline.

It was quiet at your house - it was only you who lived there, after all. You had moved out of your family home once you came of age, but you couldn't bring yourself to leave the shore.

There were still embers burning in the hearth when you pried your door open, Shoto not far behind. The two of you were quiet on the walk to your house, an unspoken tension thick in the air.

You couldn't deny it now. Your dragon was trying to drive a wedge in between you and your best friend.

A sigh falls from your lips as some weight leaves your shoulders upon entering your home. Shoto quietly closes the door behind you as you walk into the living room.

You make your way over to the hearth, trying to keep your teeth chattering to a minimum. Shoto, who was still shirtless, followed close behind.

Your hands wavering and numb from the cold, reached for small logs you had chopped a few days before. They were set off to the side so you could throw them on as needed.

Shivers start racing up and down your body as you fumble with the log, your teeth clacking together unceremoniously. "Let me," his deep voice sounds out, his hands coming into view.

He grabs the log from you, with much less shake than you, and gently tosses it on the fire. Shoto quietly grabs your shoulder, pulling you away from the fire. You willingly let him manhandle you, watching silently as he takes your place, throwing more kindling on the growing smoke, softly blowing to ignite a flame.

"Sh-Sho, y-your head," you stutter out as you catch sight of red leaking down his forehead. With the hair still pushed up out of his eyes, you could see the gash still oozing.

He turns to you, cocking one eyebrow as if to say, What about it? You shift on your feet as you motion shakily to his head, "It's s-still bleeding. We need to get it-t cleaned up. N-no sense in getting dry clothes d-dirty."

You offer him a crooked smile, clenching down on your teeth to stop them from chattering. He stands up and walks over to you, his height looming over you.

"You're cold," he states blankly, noting the blue tint to your lips and the short, shallow breaths you were trying to calm down. But he also knows you won't rest until he's cared for, watching your eyes flit between his and the cut.

Shoto sighs through his nose before whispering, "Alright, work your magic." With a slight roll of his eyes, you drag him toward your table, where you sit him down on a tall stool.

You struggle to take off your vest, which is drenched, but Shoto sits still and watches, his cheeks once again heating up at the way your clothes cling to your body.

You roam around for a few minutes, lighting a lantern to set next to Shoto, gathering a clean bucket of water, some clean towels, and a soft bandage that you could wrap his head with.

The moving around seemed to help warm you up a little, but you were still feeling chills run up and down your spine as you stopped in front of Shoto.

"This may sting a little," you mumble softly, "The seawater probably got dirt in there." It's a bit of an obvious statement, but you didn't know how else to face the tension of Shoto. As long as you've known him, he's been intense.

But he's never been intense like this.

His gaze is sharp and almost narrowed. There is a furrow in his brow that makes you almost nervous, but you know you have no reason to be.

Your own brows knit close together as you regard him, softly urging, "Shoto, is that alright?" His eyes seem to focus on you a little more at that, and he gives you a nod, straightening up a bit on the stool.

You quietly set to work, delicately pushing the hair off of his forehead and dipping a clean towel in the water. As you bring the towel up to his face, you can suddenly hear blood pounding in your ears.

A wave of butterflies washes over you when you realize how intimately close you are to Shoto's face. If he notices your pause, he doesn't say anything.

The towel makes wobbly contact with the edge of the cut, and Shoto draws back with a sharp hiss of pain, his hand reflexively coming up to pull your wrist away from his face.

A startled look comes across your face and you take a step back, trying to pry yourself away from him. Shoto realizes his mistake instantly and rushes, "Y/n/n, I didn't mean to-" "It's fine," you cut him off with a squeak.

Shoto can see the look of hurt on your face, and a part of his heart crumples at the sight. He releases your wrist, but he doesn't let you get away from him. Instead, he grabs you by both hips and parts his legs, allowing you to stand in between his thighs.

"I'm sorry for pulling away, I- I wasn't ready," he says lowly, looking up at you with a sincere look on his face. If you thought your blood was rushing before, now it is roaring in your ears.

You just bite your tongue and give him a small nod of your head, slowly bringing the rag up to clean the edge of his cut again. You feel Shoto tense beneath you with a fast breath, but he transforms his pain from pulling away to a tightened grip on your hip.

His jaw clenches as you work as quick as you can, cleaning his wound before reaching for the soft bandage you had found. Just as you finish securing it around his head, Shoto stops you.

"Do you know why Storm hates me so much?"

The question makes you halt, every part of your body going still. You stare at your best friend, your mind whirring as you wonder where this is coming from.

You shrug and start to dismiss his question, but he stands up, his presence regaining that oddly intense feel. His eyes darken and his voice lowers a notch as he repeats, "Do you know why Storm hates me so much?"

Your mouth falls slack and your mind goes blank as Shoto moves closer and closer to you. As you take one step back, he's already filling the space. Before you know it, he has you backed into a wall, his heterochromatic eyes never once leaving your (colored) ones.

"Sh-Shoto, I don't know what you're talking about," you stutter out, this time, not because of the cold. Your heart is racing, your cheeks are burning, and it's becoming harder and harder to breathe.

A dry laugh falls from Shoto's lips as he rests his arms on either side of your head, trapping you in. "You really don't know?" is all he asks, with no hint of emotion or degradation in his voice.

You shake your head left and then right, feeling an immense amount of pressure on your face. Shoto takes a deep breath to re-center himself before he asks, "Why doesn't Storm hate all of the other guys my age?"

A frown etches itself on your features as you ponder his question. Why didn't Storm hate all of the other guys in the village? Your lips fall open in thought, and you look down as you try to come up with a suitable answer.

Shoto's right hand moves from its place on the wall to cup your jaw, his thumb tucking itself under your chin. He pulls your head up slowly so that you meet his gaze again.

"Why doesn't Storm hate all of the other guys my age? What makes me so different?" he repeats, this time a little more emotion, a little more urgency.

You look at him again, and only one thought comes to mind. I can't. I can't say it's that. I don't even know if that is the reason.

"I don't know, Shoto," you start to whisper, but he cuts you off, "You're lying to me," and this time his voice is thick. You scan his face for emotion, and you finally start to see his walls caving.

His grey and blue eyes are beginning to line with tears as he repeats again, "What makes me so terrible that he treats me this way? Why am I his only target?"

Shoto shuffles, caging you in closer and closer until you have no other option than to answer him. Your mouth parts, your skin burning where his large hand has cupped your jaw, lips loose from the way your best friend is falling apart in front of you.

But he's not really your best friend, is he?

You go to talk, but there is even more urgency when he almost growls, "What did I do to him?! What did I do to you?!" As he talks, his grip on you gets tighter and tighter, and you notice tears starting to fall from his eyes.

Your eyes snap shut as you burst out, "You made me fall in love with you!" A rush of butterflies floods your stomach and you feel like you're about to throw up.

A moment passes and you wait to feel Shoto pull away, you wait for him to pull his hand away from your face and ask you what the hell you were talking about.

But instead, you hear him whisper, "Open your eyes." You tighten them and shake your head once, "I- I can't." You feel him shuffle and his grip on your face loosens, repositioning his hand to brush that wet, stray piece of hair away from your face.

"Y/n, open your eyes, please," he requests, his touch softening and his presence becoming less intense, "Look at me when you tell me you love me, so that I can say it back."

His statement has your eyes opening from where they were scrunched shut, and they are wide as they gaze up at him. Shoto has a smile on his face, tearstains running down his cheeks.

"Shoto, you-" "You made me fall in love with you, too," he murmurs, a soft huff of a laugh accompanying his words. A smile breaks out on your face as you lean into him, your hands coming up gently to brush the tears off of his delicate cheekbones.

Shoto leans into your touch as he explains, "From the moment Storm saw me, he has seen me as a threat. Dragons are much more emotionally intelligent than they let on. He always has known that I-"

And then his voice catches in his throat. Your heart swells at the emotion you hear in his voice, but you don't stop him. Shoto clears his throat as his hand works its way into your hair, "Storm has always known that I love you."

"Shoto, I am so deeply in love with you," you rush out as you lean into him, "I just never thought you would-" "I always have," he cuts you off, his voice rough and meaningful.

Shoto is looking at you like you hung the moon and stars, but as his gaze locks onto your (colored) one, it dips a little lower. Before you know it, your nose is brushing his, Shoto's breath hot on your face.

Butterflies rekindle in your stomach as you lean into him even more. Shoto is no better, his mind is only focused on you, and how badly he wants to kiss you.

Just as your lips start to graze his, there's a knock at the door. Shoto pulls back a few inches and you hear him whisper under his breath, "Fuck."

The curse word coming from your best friend, no, lover, draws a laugh from you, but you can't blame him. You had been dreaming of this moment for years. Then, a pang of nervousness washes over you as you realize - it's probably Enji Todoroki at the door.

"Fuck indeed," you whisper back as you look up at Shoto. Shoto, who is still very much shirtless and in wet clothes. You, who is still dressed in your drenched clothes, pinned against the wall.

You swallow deeply and say, "It's alright, I'll go check the door. I can say you're getting changed in my room. I'm pretty sure there's a spare set of clothes in there."

Shoto nods and begins to pull away, but something changes in his gaze, and he leans back in to press a soft kiss to your forehead. It's not what you had been expecting or wanting, but nonetheless, it makes your heart rate skyrocket again.

Shoto chuckles at the way your brain stalls, and he backs away into your room as you sway against the wall. Another knock sounds out from the front door and you call, "C-coming!"

You can hear another laugh come from Shoto at the waver in your voice. Damn Shoto, now he knows the effect he has on me. Your legs are wobbly as you walk up to your door, and you have to give yourself false confidence as you prepare to face Shoto's father.

You swing the door open and are met with silence. Confusion floods over you as you look to the left and right of your door, and there is no one present.

A frown etches its way onto your features as you call out, "Hello? Anyone there?" A moment later, loud scuffling sounds ring out from your roof, and then, Storm jumps onto the ground outside of your front door.

The large grey Scauldron holds his head low, a solemn look on his face. You let a sigh out of your nose as you look at your dragon, who was bearing the look of a kicked dog.

"Alright, Storm. I get it now. You were jealous because I didn't have eyes just for you. Come here, big boy," you say, opening your arms to his head. Storm swings his long neck and head over to you, cuddling into your frame in apology for his actions.

You hear footsteps behind you, and when you pull away from Storm, you are met with a freshly dressed Shoto. The red and white-haired man looks between you and the dragon, initially with distrust on his porcelain features, but then he gets a good look at your face.

You nod your head toward Storm as if to say, See? It's over now. Shoto slowly walks up behind you, offering his hand out to Storm in a friendly manner. Storm pulls away from you, looking at Shoto in a similar distrust.

I'm not letting this happen again, you think to yourself as you cut in, "Storm, stop it." The dragon turns to look at you, and you take a step closer to Shoto, taking his hand in your own.

"Storm, you are my only dragon," you tell him, and then you glance at Shoto with a smile and say, "But Shoto is my only person. You have to accept that he will be in my life."

Storm stares at you for a second before letting a low roar and breath out. He lowers his head to the ground again, pressing his large skull against Shoto's outstretched hand.

Both you and Shoto can't stop the electric smiles on your faces as Storm pulls away, kindly. The dragon turns to walk away, his wings spreading out on either side. In a couple of large, dramatic flaps, Storm heads back toward the village.

Shoto watches your gaze follow Storm until he disappears, tightening his grip on your hand. "Y/n/n, I think it's time you get changed. I don't want you to get sick because of me."

You turn to look at Shoto, and with a sly grin, you mumble, "But at least I'll have you if I get sick, right?" Shoto shakes his head with a smile but replies, "You'll have me regardless if you get sick."

He then gets shy for a moment as he says quieter, "That is, if you'll have me." You squeeze his hand before letting it go, and you see a moment of panic flash across Shoto's face.

But you wrap your arms around his neck, your fingers threading through the drying locks at the base of his head, finding the damp braids on his nape. You smile up at him gently as you lean into him slowly, "You made me fall in love with you, Shoto. I will have you in whatever ways you give me."

And that was enough incentive for him. One of Shoto's hands finds its place on your jaw, while the other grabs at your waist. The clothes are damp under his touch, but he doesn't seem to mind.

Shoto tilts your head back, moving quickly at first, his mouth chasing yours. But just as his lips go to brush over yours, he slows down. His nose brushes against yours, and a shaky breath falls from your mouth as you await his kiss.

Shoto lets out a sigh, "I will have you in every way, but you need to get in dry clothes first. I have waited my whole life to kiss you, I can wait a few more moments."

A groan builds up in your throat, but you comply, pulling away from him slowly and starting toward your house. You turn and look over your shoulder, calling out, "Shoto Todoroki, you will be the death of me."

Shoto smirks and faces you, calling back, "And befriending your dragon will be the death of me."

-The End-

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moeyynorris · 1 year ago

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

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punished-affection · 24 days ago

Text

☾ — yandere nightmare x reader !

⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ 　　　　　　*　　　　　　　　　　　. .　　　　☾　　　　　　　　　. 　　✦⠀　,　 ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀.　　　　　　　⠀　　　⠀.　　　˚　　　⠀　⠀ 　　,　　　　　　. 　　　　　　　　　　　　　. 　　　　　　*⠀　　⠀ ✮　　　　　⠀✦⠀　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤdivider credit: h-aewo.

notes: this guy is actually based off the guy i keep seeing in my dreams so!! why not turn him into a yandere lol. i plan on making a polar opposite to this guy too thts all soft nd like. a dream, essentially.

warnings: gn reader, yandere content, unhealthy relationships, possessive behavior, fairly detailed nightmares, depictions of death but none of it's real, manipulation, this technically falls into the dark yandere category, forced dependency, intentional sleep deprivation, obsession.

♡ — yandere nightmare who, in the beginning, saw you as nothing more than a mortal for him to mess around with. orion has always viewed himself as better than mortals, considering himself a god, so you were meant to be nothing more than a toy for him. one he'd play with until he got bored and moved on.

♡ — all of your dreams, once nice and pleasant, were now horrific nightmares. if you dreamt of nice childhood memories, it was replaced by the images of your family's faces melting off their skin, revealing demonic monsters hidden beneath.

♡ — orion liked the reactions he got out of you. the way you'd pretend to be brave sometimes, or the way you'd breakdown other times. learning your deepest, darkest fears with each new nightmare, making you suffer in the most horrific ways you could ever possibly imagine.

♡ — it was all entertainment to him. that's all it should've been, at least. but then you started forcing yourself to stay awake, depriving him of your reactions. you're not the first mortal to do this, and though frustrating, he had initially moved on, opting to torment another person.

♡ — but their reactions just... weren't the same. they didn't cry like you did. they didn't put on a brave face. they didn't act like you, and it angered him, and he didn't understand why. sure, orion's enjoyed tormenting certain people more than others, but it's like you just refuse to leave his mind.

♡ — so when you started falling asleep again, orion was quick to return to your side. he had the ability to appear however he wanted, and he'd normally depict himself as a monster. long gangly limbs, bones sticking out of him every which way, gnarly teeth, glowing eyes, the like. but he found himself taking on a human appearance, just for you.

♡ — it wasn't any less unnerving, though. he looked uncanny. if you stared too long, you would start to notice the flaws. eyes too red, skin too smooth. a smile too wide, teeth just a bit too sharp. he didn't speak to you at first, just appearing in the background of your nightmares, watching.

♡ — and speaking of your nightmares... they weren't as... bad as they once were. the stench of rot and burning flesh no longer greeted you every time you fell asleep. instead, you always found yourself in isolated or abandoned places. the monsters that used to torture you no longer appeared. the only other person around, if that's what you could even call him, was the man with deathly pale skin and inky black hair.

♡ — somehow, you found this to be far scarier than any other nightmares. it's just you, and him. and you didn't know him. and he was always watching, observing. and you swear that one time you woke up in the middle of the night to find him standing in the corner of your room. you swear it.

♡ — the paranoia started to follow you into the waking world, much to orion's delight. he couldn't interact with you while you were awake, as much as that upset him, but it made his nonexistent heart throb knowing that you thought about him enough that it had you looking over your shoulder even while you were awake.

♡ — friends and family show concern for your increasing paranoia and lack of sleep, some even speculating that you might be suffering night terrors and to seek some help to try and get some medication to manage it. but deep down, you knew that this wasn't something that would go away with some pills.

♡ — you do try what you can. at first, you forced yourself to stay awake. you were able to go almost a full week without sleeping before your body forcibly shut down. that was when orion started observing you rather than tormenting you.

♡ — then you tried watching meditation videos, asmr, things that were meant to help you sleep. you thought that, maybe, you were just incredibly stressed and that stress is what was triggering these nightmares. but no, none of that helped. that's when you started to suspect something more... supernatural might have been at play.

♡ — online forums were no help, unfortunately. you were able to get a few laughs out from a couple jokes about the hat man, but none of that helped you. so alas, all you could do what... get used to the nightmares, you supposed. it should be... easy, right?

♡ — well. orion thought it was adorable how you were trying to find ways to get rid of him. but as cute as it was, he was growing impatient waiting for you to sleep. it's become a habit of yours, apparently, to put off sleeping as long as you could, and that simply just wasn't fair. it only serves to piss him off more the longer he finds himself attached to you.

♡ — he's no longer satisfied with just watching you. when you fall asleep next, you'll find yourself in an endless void, arms tightly wrapped around you. long black hair draping over your shoulder as he buries his face in your neck, breathing you in. he didn't understand why he felt this way about you, but he knew that he never wanted to let you go.

♡ — but when you do things to piss him off, he'll always make sure to give you horrific nightmares. you wanna spend time with your friends in the waking world more than him? suddenly, you're having a nightmare where you're forced to watch your friends die in slow, excruciating ways. you find yourself developing feelings for someone? he may not be able to kill them in real life yet, but he'll make sure to personally torture a dream version of them until you're begging him to stop, promising to never speak to them again.

♡ — and he'll always shower you in affection after he scares you. his skin was far too cold against your own, but you'll learn to lean into his touch as he wipes your tears away, cooing, telling you that he's just doing what's best for you. he'll do this again and again until it's finally beat into your head that you don't need anyone other than him.

#☼ — the nightmare.#☼ — v's ocs.#not a big fan of how this came out but it'll do for now #yandere oc #yandere x reader #yandere scenarios #yandere imagines #male yandere #male yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere x darling #yandere nightmare

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undead-supernova · 5 months ago

Text

Brutal! / Masterlist / 18+

part 1 / part 2 / part 3 / part 4 / part 5 - tbc

Playlist

pairing: Eddie Munson x fem!reader

plot: it's all fun and games, all soft kisses and gentle words until the past is revealed and new perspectives are learned

contains: talks about past sexual trauma, eddie reliving trauma, confident!reader

note: this chapter is different than the others and it is on purpose. when we erase the stories and feelings of victims, we erase the possibility of recovery and healing. especially those of us who are forgotten amongst recognition.

please do not read this part if the subject of sexual assault is triggering for you

song inspo: Seven by Phinehas

wc: 4.1k

special thanks to @jo-harrington for helping to edit and @littlexdeaths for your lovely divider. i appreciate you both for being so encouraging and lovely friends

You didn’t want to admit that what happened at the party had upset you.

Well, not the part where Eddie made you cum. That had been heavenly—euphoric. It couldn’t even be considered a state of bliss. It was more like an inferno, the lascivious flames pulling you further and further into the blaze.

But there were his words in your head again, the ones hurled at you before he realized his mistake.

Are you using me?

If we even fuck, is that it?

Will the chase be over for you?

The water rushed down your neck, the steam billowing throughout the tiny bathroom as you turned up the heat again. You had to let it scorch your skin, had to let the sting pull you back down to a state of normalcy.

There was a memory that you dared not touch from freshman year. One that still crept up every now and then, in half-asleep states and furious daylight. A growling beast, one with a four-letter name and a specified interest in IPAs as if he was the Christopher Goddamn Columbus of beer.

You shut your eyes, convinced that his hands were pressing in on the grimy tile behind you, stretching the wall to tear the veil and grab you. Like that one scene in A Nightmare on Elm Street, he was always trying to split you in two.

Further and further he pushed, so close to gripping your throat. So close to suffocating you once more and pulling you back down to the shadows.

Knock, knock.

You gasped, jumping back and almost slipping before steadying yourself.

“Hey, Eddie’s here!” Aron called from behind the door.

“Okay!” you shouted back.

You placed a hand on your chest to still your thrumming heart before you really processed her words. Letting out a scoff at your own absentmindedness, you shouted, “Be out in a minute!”

Maybe you always felt like you were being split in two, now more than ever. Having these emotions that you’d pushed down for the sake of survival. Changing yourself to fit the way you wanted others to see you. That mask, all gnarly and scary just to prove to yourself more than anyone that you were no longer the fool.

It made you wonder if you’d been putting this mask on for Eddie. But things would be better with him.

They always were.

It started with midterm study time, you swear. You really tried, pulling up a three hour long video of Cozy Fall Oldies Muffled In Another Room Next to a Fireplace While it Rains to help keep both you and Eddie focused. Going back and forth, you took turns helping the other with flashcards. While you were honing in on 20th Century Lit, he was groaning through his Algebra I equations.

Within twenty minutes, Eddie decided it would be more motivating if you gave him a kiss every time he got the equation right.

Though you rolled your eyes, you indulged him. Whatever got him to study.

“What happens if I get an answer right?” you asked, lifting an eyebrow.

“That’s up to you,” he replied with a shrug, looking back down at his TI-84 calculator. But you noticed the hint of a smile at the corners of his lips as he quickly glanced back up at you. “We could always play Strip Study.”

“‘Strip Study’, huh?” you teased.

“Yeah, it’s a good game. Very helpful in trying times.”

“And what are the rules to this so-called Strip Study?”

“Well…” he trailed, setting the calculator down before shifting closer to you on your twin-sized bed. Counterintuitive to the point of your study date, Eddie pushed aside your textbook and came to hover over you. You refused to move, challenging him with your faux expression of disappointment. It was impressive, seeing him this forward. Above all else, however, you were quite amused.

“If you answer correctly,” he started, slowly pushing you down into the mattress. “then you’ll just have to take off a piece of clothing.”

You snorted, shaking your head at him. He mocked you, shaking his head right back, tickling you with his curls. “And that’s supposed to be for my enjoyment?” you pondered.

Eddie leaned down, taking the opportunity to leave a kiss on your neck. You could’ve sworn you heard him take a deep breath, like he was desperately inhaling your scent. There was a part of you that wished to do the same.

“Fine,” he conceded. “I’ll take off a piece of clothing. How does that sound?”

“Hm,” you hummed as your fingers traced his collarbone before you pushed him back. He shivered as you crawled on top of him, his dominance cracking in an instant. Without thought, you grabbed his wrist before bringing it up to your mouth. You closed your eyes momentarily to breathe in his cologne, his being. You made sure to meet his eyes as you lightly bit down on his skin.

He was opening his mouth to fill the silence, but you quickly leaned down, gently ghosting your lips against his before whispering, “Not a chance.”

Immediately you sat up and scooted away, grabbing your textbook before he could retaliate.

He laid there for a moment, a heavy sigh leaving his lips before sitting back up and giving you a look. Was it annoyance? Disappointment? Who could say.

“You really hate me, don’t you?”

Shrugging, you felt around for your TV remote before turning up the music. “I hate the thought of you failing your Algebra midterm because I gave you a free peep show.”

When you looked back at him, he finally wore a grin. “It would be a metal way to go.”

“Well, maybe if you pass your midterm I’ll let you have a look,” you challenged.

You were amazed when that is what got him to shut up and get back to work.

After a few hours of real studying, Eddie dramatically collapsed on top of you, burying his face into your sweatshirt. He planted a swift kiss over your belly before sighing.

“Okay. Nap time.”

You couldn’t help but giggle. “I think you earned it.”

“I think that’s the longest I’ve ever studied.”

You peered down, watching his mahogany eyes soften, drooping ever so slightly. Without thought, you ran your middle finger across the stray hairs of his now too-long bangs to keep away from his eyes. You pocketed the thought to trim them for him.

“I’m proud of you,” you said quietly. And you meant it.

Though his words had stung, he’d done nothing but apologize for them. You’d had several conversations with him owning up to his mistakes and asking you those questions he hadn’t thought to before. You told him about Sam, about Blake and John and Meghan and Maggie—all of which got a little too close for comfort. Those were the ones who’d actually given you their names, had made it a point to introduce themselves before their hands wandered. Before they called you a slut and walked away.

He’d listened the entire time, nodding while trying to hide his frustration. You knew he’d do anything to avenge you—he said as much before you’d shushed him with kisses. Kisses that promised that he was forgiven. That you were thankful for his efforts. That you were starting to fall desperately in love with him.

There was just one other instance you hadn’t divulged yet.

“Yeah?” he asked.

But that could come later. Much later.

You nodded. “Yeah.” Eddie let out a soft hum. “Get some sleep.”

For now, you focused on the way Eddie’s eyelids shut and the gentle smile on his lips loosen. For now, you focused on someone who you couldn’t quite admit was the most important person in your life.

As Eddie fell into his half-asleep daze, he could vaguely picture a certain kind of monster. One who slips into dreams, coating the edges of the scene with a fuzzy filter. Not Freddy Krueger, per se. One with a better grip on how to lure men to their deaths. Maybe like a siren, with jagged teeth and turquoise eyes that brought sailors to their knees along rocky shorelines and brutal seas.

But what happens to a man when he is less than interested in their attempt at temptation?

Eddie, as steady as his breathing was, began to descend into some dream that felt like a memory inside an alternate reality—could the two coexist? Because there his van was, parked on a beach. The air was thick with salt, digging into his forearms like thousands of tiny push pins scraping along the first few layers of skin. He had enough sense to wait in the back of the vehicle. Waiting for what, he could hardly remember. Waiting for who, well…

The moment the recollection stirred, there was a pounding on the back doors.

“Munson, come on!”

When he looked out the window, he saw Charlotte Stevens. She was a regular, scoring weed here and there when she ended up fighting with her aunt and uncle. He only knew because her parents died in a car wreck only a month after her senior year—Eddie’s second—began. He let her yap off to him about her problems whenever she came by. Some of his “clients” were chatty, growing quiet over time when Eddie told them to go see a different therapist and slammed the door on them.

But it was Charlotte.

She was lonely. Heartbroken. Sure, she was part of the popular crowd, but he knew better after his few interactions with Chrissy Cunningham. A lot of those girls did what they had to in order to survive. It didn’t make them a villain. He really thought Charlotte was the same way. He cut her some slack, watching the light in her eyes wither and die. Saw how the school year thinned out her dirty blonde hair, living off of half-eaten salads in the cafeteria.

After all, he was heading off to college soon without his close friends. Who didn’t need a near-stranger to lean on?

“You’re late,” he said as soon as the door swung open.

He wasn’t prepared for the sunlight pouring in, eyes catching on the sight of pavement and grass. Were they no longer at the beach? Where were they?

And why did it feel so…familiar? Like that day behind The Hideout. It was where she usually met him, feeling too paranoid to do it literally anywhere else. He could vaguely see the rutty door to the bar behind her. His refuge. His escape.

Charlotte huffed, her white tank top clinging to her body while sweat dripped down to her cut-off jean shorts. “As if you have anything else going on.”

“Do you want your weed or not?” he snapped.

“Geez, what’s gotten into you?” she asked as she sat opposite him. Eddie made sure their knees didn’t touch.

He wasn’t one to make connections with these people. The less he knew, the better. Even with someone he took pity on. Because, believe it or not, tragedy never truly made someone nicer. He’d seen enough damage done to the redhead that lived across from him. After her brother died, she changed everything. And she was definitely no longer interested in casual conversations without an insult or two thrown in.

Needless to say, he knew when to leave well enough alone.

“Do you care?” he asked, already knowing the answer.

“Not really.”

Exactly.

“Okay, well, it’s fifty even,” he said absentmindedly, trying to locate his metal box.

“Maybe I could pay a different way.”

Eddie’s eyebrows furrowed as he looked back up at her. Of course she’d try to cheat the system now. “Trust me, Stevens,” he said. “There’s nothing I need more than money right now.”

And when she put her hand over his, he realized just what she was proposing.

“Are you sure about that?”

Eddie pulled his hand away. “Uh, yeah.”

“Come on, Eddie.”

Something evil twisted in his gut at the sound of her saying his name for the first time.

“Hate to sound like a douche, but I’m not interested in you. So, yeah, nice try. I’ll take that fifty bucks. Now.”

She moved suddenly, quick to pounce as she threw her hands on either side of his head, caging him in. Like he hadn’t said a word. Like he was prey.

Charlotte was a siren; he was sure of it. Waiting for him to slip, to give in to some desire that was nothing but an unlikely daydream. Her breath fanned over his cheek, invading his nostrils with the scent of her spearmint. Those teeth, smacking gum as she promised that it would be worth his while. Pinning his hands to his sides as he suggested again that she just pay him and leave. But Charlotte couldn’t take no for an answer, straddling him instead.

“I’ve always wanted to see what the freak felt like.”

That’s when Eddie wondered: what if these sirens didn’t even have tails, had nothing to do with what lied undiscovered and unencumbered by the rules of mythology? What if that was what made them lethal?

“That’s fucking weird,” he replied through his teeth.

“You can’t tell me you’ve never wanted to fuck one of the popular girls. I saw you looking at Chrissy with googly eyes all year.”

He had. He didn’t feel ashamed of that. Back then, he didn’t feel ashamed of much at all. Especially when he was finally escaping this town. Who cared who he did and didn’t fawn over now that he was searching for new faces?

“And you think you’re Chrissy? That’s fucking hilarious, Stevens. Funniest goddamn thing I’ve ever heard,” he growled, fighting against her grasp again. Instead, she moved her hips against him, trying to get him hard.

But it wasn’t working. Eddie was far from aroused. If anything, he felt like he was going to puke. Maybe if he conjured enough willpower, he’d be able to spew all over Charlotte and get her to leave him the fuck alone forever.

“No,” she whispered. “I’m better.”

Just as her hands reached for his belt, there was a pounding against the van. It was so violent, so powerful that the car began to shake. Eddie could’ve sworn they were going to flip before the rumbling stopped and the back doors ripped off their hinges.

Standing there, in a thin black dress littered with glitter and stars, was you. The ends of your nails were sharpened into charcoal claws, one hand wrapped around a bejeweled whip. A shiny crown sat atop your head, gleaming in the scorching sun.

He caught your stare, piercing him with the fierce fury that clouded your eyes. But you immediately looked at Charlotte, frozen on top of him.

“It’s not what it looks—” he choked, trying to catch his breath. But it was failing him. He was failing.

But there you were, cracking the whip before shooting it forward, snaking around Charlotte’s throat and dragging her down to the bed of the van. Her forehead smacked against the metal box Eddie had been searching for.

You let her cough, let her head bleed before curling your fingers into claws.

“You better wake up, Eddie,” you said as you stalked forward.

He watched in horror as you jumped on top of Charlotte, shoving your nails into her wrists to keep her right where you wanted her.

“Wake up,” you repeated.

Eddie jumped out of the van, barely catching a glimpse of you ripping into her throat before the light consumed him.

“Wake up!”

Eddie gasped for air, his eyes flying open to see your face above him, eyes alight with concern.

“Woah, hey,” you whispered, hands coming to pull him back down into your grasp. He immediately relaxed, falling into your arms once more as you began stroking his hair. “Eddie, hey.”

“Fuck,” he said, trying to fight the tears welling in his eyes. “Fuck.”

His vision clouded, the blurry images of his dream flashing each time he blinked. He couldn’t shake what was really there, what really happened.

Because that wasn’t how it ended.

There was no one to save him back then. No Gareth or Grant or Jeff.

No you.

Dragging his hands down his face, Eddie wondered when the distorted voices would dissipate. They came in all crackled, like Charlotte’s voice over the intercom during homeroom. It echoed in his head every other night, locking him in his cage of beige cinder block.

“Hey, you’re okay. It’s just me.”

But here you both were, in your prison cell. And instead of beige cinder blocks, it was decorated. Prints of famous paintings littered your walls, covering up most of the beige with genuine color and vibrancy. It was a museum of your own curation.

“Yeah, you’re right.”

And if it was decorated, then it wasn’t really a cell, was it? No, it was a home.

“Bad dream?”

And he liked the thought of home.

“The worst.”

With you.

“Wanna go on a walk? Sometimes it helps me to just, like, walk around campus.”

He’d give anything to have that forever.

“Sure,” he said. “Why not?”

Campus always felt different after negative experiences. College seemed to darken with something untoward. You started to notice the way your unhappiness contrasted those who walked along the same path with their friends. A pearl of laughter from a stranger on the phone with their mother. The brushing hands of a honeymooned couple. The sight of cackling men throwing a football on a grassy patch.

It could hide that girl hiding her head in the brick to suppress her sobs. The guy running across your path, breathlessly saying Sorry, excuse me as he races to his next class. A certain boy next to you who hadn’t spoken once since you left.

The sun had poked through the clouds, illuminating campus with vibrancy. But when you looked over at Eddie, he kept his head low, fiddling with his fingertips.

He was more solemn than usual, seemingly deflated after the dream he’d had. All you wanted was to grab his hand, keep him from picking his nails or his skin. Remind him that it was just a dream.

Instead, you kept walking. Kept whatever distance he was setting, letting him take the lead. You caught him sneaking a glance at you every once in a while, always returning his somber gaze with a smile.

He never smiled back.

You wound in and out of pavement and grass, looping around the library and the food hall before turning around and heading back. And as you rounded the last corner back to your dorm, Eddie finally spoke.

“How did you…get to be so confident?” Eddie asked.

His question caught you off guard, causing you to stop.

Not only that, but his question caught on a spiral of barbed wire like cloth. The wire that you’d used to cage your insides from anyone and any thing unwanted. It tugged at something you’d been dreading to bring up with him. Especially after the other night.

And just like that, you had to shred what was left of his poking.

“You know men,” you started with a fake smile, letting the mask consume you. “Can’t keep their hands to themselves. No means yes and all that. Nothing for you to worry about.”

You waved your hand around, turning away to keep walking but Eddie caught it, pulling you back to face him.

“Hey, you don’t have to brush that off, you know. You didn’t deserve that.”

His eyes poured compassion into yours, breeding a kind of fear that you’d never experienced before. This exposure to your innermost hurt without even a scalpel. It caused you to wonder if it was even fear. The wire now scraped along your ribs, each stroke against the bone growing gnarlier than the last.

And it was in that torture that you snapped.

“Oh, I know,” you said with a strained chuckle. “You don’t have to act like you know anything about it, though.”

You could tell your harsh tone surprised him, his eyes widening with each word you threw out. But it didn’t stop him from his expression changing, eyebrows narrowing. Something fell over his features, a darkness you hadn’t encountered before. There was decay behind his stare, his gentle nature starting to crack.

“You don’t have to act like you’re the only one who’s gone through something like that.”

A huff left your nose as you jerked your hand away. “Yeah, one in six. I’m well acquainted with my gender’s statistics.”

“At least you have a number,” Eddie fired back before looking at his feet. “At least…at least you don’t drive yourself crazy going back and forth from one in six to one in thirty-three.”

And then it clicked.

Are you using me?

Like, if we even fuck, is that it?

Will the chase be over for you?

“Eddie?” you asked, like the question you wanted to ask had already been spoken. “You’ve…you’ve…”

“Um. Yeah. Some girls aren’t as willing to ask permission as you are.”

And it was in that moment that you both realized how trauma had different effects on different people. Still mirrors, only with different colors reflecting off of your shattered edges. Yours came out all fiery red, all flames and guns blazing. His was something more somber, a devastating blue that desperately hid in the background.

“When…”

“Last summer.”

“Did you tell anyone?”

His furrowed eyebrows softened, eyes turned glassy as he asked, “Did you?”

You were at a loss of words. How could you even begin to think of what to say when all you could picture was the worst. Eddie, suffocating at the hands of a girl. Unable to escape, unable to run. Just like you had.

But Eddie never donned a mask. He’d never truly hidden himself away, not really when you were the one begging him to come out of his shell. And he was always out there, still taking chances on himself. Even when he slipped up, he still found ways to try again.

Could you say the same for yourself?

“Eddie,” you started, closing your eyes to make it easier. “you are so much more than what happened to you. And because no one gives a shit to say this to men, I’m sorry. I’m sorry that you went through something like that. Especially when all of your friends were gone. When I got r—” You stopped yourself, unable to even utter the word. “When that happened to me, I ran into Aron for the first time and she helped clean me up and… Well, I guess what I’m trying to say is you should’ve had someone be there for you. And I wish that person had been me.”

Eddie whispered your name, shaking his head as the tears spilled over. It was a broken kind of sound, like he was pleading for help. Pleading for reassurance, pleading to forget.

“Come here,” you whispered, feeling choked up yourself.

That’s when he fell into you, tightly winding his arms around your waist and burying his head into your neck. You felt the sudden release of tears and snot, the release of something buried down inside him coming to the surface.

You didn’t know what to do, didn’t know what to say. But you went back to that September night, feeling Aron’s arms cage you in as if she could hide you from the monsters that walked amongst you. So you gave that to Eddie. Your hand came up to press his head further in, obstructing any light from either side of you. An obsidian of solitude for him, your fingers weaving into his hair. Scratching down his scalp until you felt him shiver, felt his locked up posture fall into something resembling ease.

“You’re okay,” you cooed. “I’m here now. I promise.”

Another strained cry erupted from him, louder this time. You tried to suppress your own tears, but there was no use. You could still be strong for him and share his sorrow.

“Do you want to tell me about it?” you asked.

He leaned back a fraction, puffy eyes meeting yours. You watched him hiccup, trying desperately to take a deep breath. Moving with him, you exaggerated your breath to help him move with you. His stare continued to pierce through you, indecision falling over his features before something seemed to click.

And with his first successful steady breath, he finally spoke.

“Please.”

If you are a victim of sexual assault, I hope you know that you can love again and that it will get better with time. I'm rooting for you. You don't have to be afraid. And you do not have to shut yourself off from letting love in.

I know I keep popping in and out to post things so thank you for continuing to read if you're still here. I've spent months wanting to post this chapter, but there was a lot of shit going on in my personal life — but I had to return to give y’all this.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson angst #tw sex assault #Eddie munson/you #Eddie x you #Eddie x reader #eddie munson one shot #eddie munson x y/n #Eddie Munson x fem!reader #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson/reader #boring! series

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oinkinpigprince · 7 months ago

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

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ohmanareyoucereal9 · 2 months ago

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Across the Universe (deer!reader x Chris)

*ೃ༄ contents: smut, friends to fwb, sub!reader, softdom!Chris x deer!reader , slowburn, substance usage, fingering, multiple fem!orgasms, squirting, high sex, aftercare, some fluff, no use of y/n, proofread

wc: 4.7k

✰ a/n: this WILL be a series fic, just to lyk. also guys i get that this is quite a niche thing to put into a character au esp for Chris who loves hip hop and rap but i just love the idea of it sm, i hope you guys enjoy. <3

this is loosely inspired by @darksturnz artist!chris character au !

Art school. Hell on earth, you might call it. You came off as an odd soul to others, you always have. Ever since kindergarten. You struggled to make friends with anyone in your class, not that you cared that much, you were used to the isolation.

Around the start of high school, you realised that you didn’t need friends, you made yourself believe they were a waste of time, but deep down, your heart was aching for some sort of special, genuine connection with someone.

You stood right beside the tracks waiting for your train to arrive. This is a new experience for you entirely.

You were content with riding your bike to school everyday, until just a few days ago you stumbled off a curb a bit too aggressively and ended up scraping your knee pretty bad, leaving a gnarly patch of missing skin on your leg that you tried your best to conceal with a large square plaster, bulging weirdly out of proportion in contrast to your cool skin, a pool of purple green bruises surround the wound.

But what upset you the most was the chain broken and the brakes in shambles. You can’t ride your bike for a while, not until it’s repaired.

You start fidgeting your fingers and feet, unsure of how to keep yourself busy while waiting. The grainy and muffled noise of your music blaring in your wired earphones could be heard from miles away. You then start to rummage through your auburn brown rucksack. Again, trying to make yourself look busy.

You were the type of person to overthink every little thing. When your stomach rumbles a little too loud, you panic and wonder if anyone overheard, using your card at the cash register, being too indecisive whether to insert or tap it. And like now, you’re too worried that you look like an idiot standing still, waiting for the train to come.

You start to nibble at the rugged skin around your nails as you disassociate into your own little world, thanks to your music.

“Your music’s a little loud, kid” a dry, supple voice snaps you out of the imaginary dream land you were just in, it makes you jump slightly. You hastily go to grab one of the buds out of your ear and shift your head to see Chris standing there, giving you a lazy smile.

You wouldn’t call Chris your friend. You wouldn’t call anyone that. He was also quite a lonely individual at art school. Which confuses you since you always thought he had such a peculiar charisma to him, and he seemed snarky and confident. You’re not so certain that he cares that much though, like you.

You’re one of the only people he speaks to properly, besides a few acquaintances that he sits next to in class. He gave you his phone number just in case you needed something from him, like help with notes and such.

Chris’ art was beautiful, they really captured all of the right emotions in one single piece. It made you admire him, look up to him like a role model. You were never open about that to him though.

Chris had always had this attraction to you, whether it was platonic or not he always found you so interesting.

The way you always kept to yourself, never spoke up unless asked to, when you sometimes crotchet in pure distilled silence during lectures you had together, your shyness, although you have no fear in killing your hearing by blasting your tunes until your cochlea was about to explode through your worn out earphones. It’s what made you so appealing to him.

You were weird, sure. You had a few peculiar interests that most wouldn’t have, but he liked that about you. He enjoyed having you around.

“Oh, hi Chris” you speak shyly, just slightly above a whisper. You struggle to find eye contact with Chris as your back to staring down, tangling your fingers together nervously. “Hey doll, never thought I'd see you here. You’re always on your little bike” he chuckles softly.

You come to the realisation that Chris has to travel by train. It makes you wonder how close or far he must live from school, maybe somewhere close to you. “My bike broke. I'm taking the train until it’s repaired” you mumble almost incoherently. Your lips barely move to enunciate the vowels and consonants falling out of your mouth.

“Oh, that’s a shame” Chris replies, studying the assorted freckles on your face without trying to make it look too obvious. There’s an awkward, jarring silence between the two of you. It's deafening to say the least.

“What’re you listening to anyway? From what I heard, it sounded nice” he inquired, snapping the uneasy feeling from the quiet. His voice was low and casual, the slight smirk on his face shifts into a kind beam. “J-just Fiona Apple” you mutter.

You’re not sure why, but Chris makes you so nervous whenever he’s around. With others, you’re just distant, emotionally unavailable.

Chris however, makes you feel a weird tingling sensation all around your sternum. Like a cocoon blooming into a hive of butterflies fluttering through your ribcage.

“Ooh, I've never heard of her before. Y’gotta put me on her songs” his voice pours out nice and smooth like silk. The request makes your face flush reddish pink and you twist your head around, completely concealing your embarrassment from him.

Quickly after, you turn back to face Chris and look up at him for a split second through your long mascaraed eyelashes.

“Sure, I can do that” you mumble, a smile creeping up your mouth. Chris’ eyes widen at the subtle but rare sighting of something of a positive expression on your face, which makes his mouth curl into a toothy grin.

“Wow, was that… a smile?” he looks down at your figure, he examines how your chest quickly rises and falls to match the timid giggle at his dry but charming sarcastic joke.

You turn your head to fully face Chris, switching in between his icy blue irises to the train rapidly approaching. “After class, I'll put on one of my main playlists for you. I-i’ll maybe show you more than fiona apple” your voice slowly transforms from a hushed, mousy tone to almost a shout as the train finally comes to a screeching halt.

“Sounds like a plan, you have my number, don’t you? Message me, we can link after class. We can take the train back to my place” he yells, trying to make himself heard to you over the noise of everyone’s footsteps clamoring close to hop on the train.

You opened your mouth to interject and speak up but the doors of the train were already open, Chris swiftly turned forward, breaking the stare he held upon you the entire time you waited together to step on the train. You quickly followed before the doors closed. You decided to give up on trying to debate, you’re going over to Chris’ house.

Class was over, finally. The thought of spending time with Chris at his house so suddenly after only being strictly acquainted jumbled up your thoughts completely. You rub at your forehead and muddle your bangs about as some kind of way to shake the nerves off.

You don’t know why you’re so anxious about the whole idea. It was just a friendly hang out with Chris. Just a friendly hang out with Chris.

You rush to pack all of your pens and pencils back into your rucksack and speed out of the classroom with a gallop in your step. You’re scrambling for your phone after you push your portfolio into your locker to text Chris that your class is over and that the two of you can meet now.

‘i’m out now, where shall we meet?’

read at 12:32 PM

‘meet me outside of the courtyard, i’ll take you home with me afterwards :)’

You’re stuck waiting awkwardly again, until you see Chris’ figure come into your frame of vision. He gives you a benign smile which makes your eyes light up ever so slightly. He nods his head up faintly as a sort of “Hey” gesture. You look up at him with a gentle shimmer in your stare as he approaches you.

“Hey doll, ready to go?” you missed hearing his deep, raspy voice. It had only been a few hours, but you longed to hear it again. You loved the slight growl he adorned in his vowels when he spoke. It was almost primal.

You never thought about it much, but you thought a lot of the things Chris did ever so naturally, were quite attractive. “Yeah, I'm ready”

The two of you stroll side by side in yet another awkward silence. Chris drifts his eyes elsewhere to the foreground of hedged bushes. You however, soaked up the sound of both of your footsteps trudging into the crunchy gravel below.

“So, how come you’re so quiet, kid? I rarely hear you speak. And you’re always on your own at lunch” Chris pipes up. The question snaps you back into reality. Mostly because you were miles away, but also because no one has ever really asked you that question wholeheartedly, just slightly concerned teachers and patronising bullies.

“I-i don’t really know… I don’t have a lot to talk about with others, I guess” your voice is ever so soft to Chris’ ears. “Oh come on, don’t give me that shit. You’re more interesting than that” he scoffs. “‘You think so?” your eyes wide and dilated with curiosity.

“I know so, you need to stop putting yourself down like that. You’re cool”

The whole portrayal of the compliment makes your heart pound inside your chest, enough to make your rib cage rattle. There’s an airy feeling in your stomach which almost makes you feel sick, but not the bad kind. It tells you that you’re enjoying yourself and that you’re excited for what’s to come next.

“How…how about you then? I don’t see you with many people at school either” The question he’s heard oh, too many times, similar to your predicament.

“Ehh, I just don’t fuck with big groups of people like that” he seems truly careless by the way his expression doesn’t move one bit. Whereas you, a feeling of hurt lingers in the hollowness of your bones whenever people stray away from you with looks of disgust. It makes you go green with envy.

You soon make it to the station, no later than that you step on the train alongside Chris. The two of you sat next to each other on one row, your shoulders ever so slightly touching every now and again.

Chris rests into a manspread as soon as he sits, though he makes sure he’s not taking up too much space, for your sake.

You take your wired earphones out of your knitted cardigan pocket to prop the right one in your ear and the left leering around Chris’ face, offering it to him. To which he gladly accepts. He has to inch slightly closer to not put tension on the wires between you two, making his shoulders touch yours indefinitely.

You scroll through your playlists to spot the one you were playing in the early morning. You scroll through the songs to play ‘Across the Universe’ by Fiona Apple.

The somber guitar playing makes you sink into your seat as your head sways to the window beside you, gawking at the grey sky and green and orange pine trees zooming by. You sing the mellow lyrics of Fiona’s winsomely but quietly, perfectly in key. Leaving Chris in a trance.

While you’re looking away, he takes the chance to admire every little thing about you. Your pouty lips smudged with lipstick. The way your ears perk out slightly from underneath your lively, beautiful locks, your collarbones migrating with every rise and fall of your chest, your nail polish chipping off into funky patterns as you fidget with your fingers and bite the cracked, outgrown ends off your nail bed.

The song comes to a close and fades into nothing. You go to press pause before the next song in the queue plays.

“So, what did you think?” your irises huge with passion as you turn to Chris. Who was whacked back into the real world after being heavily enthralled by just your existence.

“It was beautiful, very you” Chris beams a cute smile. Your expression lights up, enough for Chris to notice. He knows you don’t know how to take compliments, but he at least knows your expression is somewhat readable so he knows how you’re feeling.

Chris soaks in the moment and stares down at your lips again, before snapping his eyes up to meet yours. “Not long until our last stop” you maunder.

Chris sighs to himself and rubs his eyes with a quick “yep.” He offers your earphone back as you both stand up and wait for the train to break into a complete stop after a few seconds.

You both hop off and you twist around to find your pocket to put your earphones back in. Chris leers at you with both of his hands in his pockets, waiting patiently as you fix yourself up before walking again all the way to his house.

After natural and laid-back chit chat during slow walking, you finally reach Chris’ house. The door was a dark forest-y green. Which you found quite pleasing to look at.

Chris shuffles in his pockets to obtain his house keys, they jangle about as he carelessly swings it into the keyhole of his door to unlock it. He pushes the door open by grasping the knob and twisting it. He turns to you and beckons you with a sway of his head, manoeuvring you to come inside first before him.

Chris clamours up the stairs and you follow like a lost puppy behind him. He lazily nudges his bedroom door open with his shoulder and face plants into the bed, twisting his head to the side after a minute to let out an exasperated sigh.

You invite yourself to sit on his bed in proper etiquette form, unsure of what to do with yourself while Chris lays still for a second.

He kicks his shoes off and reaches out to his bedside table to grab a small, ceramic pot with psychedelic patterns embroidered into the pottery.

He pops open the lid to take out half a joint. He extends his hand back into his pocket to have a lighter in his grasp whilst the other hand places the butt of the joint right into the opening of his mouth.

You simply do or say nothing but watch. Your eyes follow the way his hands cup the lighter before he realises he needs your approval to smoke.

“Shit- uhm, are you okay with me smoking, doll? I won’t if you don’t want me to” he purrs in a sympathetic tone, half his words muffled by the spliff clasped between his lips. “Oh, no, I don't mind at all. Do as you please”

It was strange because you genuinely didn’t care about him smoking in front of you. You weren’t the type to judge people to do such unfaithful things, like doing drugs, however whenever you were talking to someone who was vaping and they had the audacity to blow it all in your face, making you cough. Yeah, that made you seethe.

But Chris was different. It didn’t surprise you that he smoked, of course. You’re unsure of what this feeling was, but there’s a strange comfort in seeing Chris trust you enough to where he wants to smoke weed in front of you. It made you feel warm seeing Chris in a somewhat vulnerable state.

“D-do you live on your own, Chris?” you inquire, you noticed that no one was home to greet him when you first came in.

“Yeah, I moved out of my family home as soon as I turned 18. Nothing personal, it was just a spur of the moment thing, I guess. I had a ton of money saved up ever since I was, what, like… 14? And I wanted to live closer to art school, so…” he rambles, mumbling with the joint still in his mouth, clicking the lighter alight. Taking the smoke into his lungs.

He pinches the roach out of his mouth as he exhales. A cloud of smoke lingers and the scent of marijuana invades your senses. You don’t complain much though. You think it smells quite pleasant.

He stretches his hand out towards you, blunt in hand. “Want some?” his eyes already low and bloodshot red with that same faint smile plastered on his face.

You hesitate, you glance at Chris’ red orbs then back down to the joint. “J-just one puff. And then I'm done” you snatch the roach off of Chris and take a long drag. You were unsure of how much to take in. A good bunch of the joint fell into your lap in ashes from the amount you took.

“Hey! ‘Fuck you doin’ kid, are you trying t’green out on purpose?” he hisses, plucking the joint from out of your hand. A vast amount of smoke comes seeping out of your mouth and you hum in ecstasy.

“Oh…wow…” you exhale in awe. It hits you like a ton of bricks. Your mouth goes dry and you let out a raspy but loud giggle at Chris’ scolding from earlier.

“Your Bostonian accent comes out a lot when you’re pissed” you snorted, your cheeks hurting from the huge gleam on your face, your high eyes wrinkled. Showing your full set of pearly whites to him. You’re not used to smiling this much.

Chris’ bothered expression softened into a smirk that he tried to hide with a hushed “shut up.” looking away, indistinctly laughing at your snarky, non-sober remarks.

“How did you even know I was from Boston anyway? I haven’t told anyone that shit. ‘You been stalking me? Hm?” he snarls slyly. Squinting his eyes at you with a smirk.

“Uh, no. I just know what a Boston accent sounds like. Don’t flatter yourself” you snap back smiling whole-heartedly, lightly punching Chris’ arm. He fakes being hurt with a hyperbolised “ow…”

You both chuckle at each other’s jokes until it eventually dies down, you rest your head against the wall staring at Chris with your huge blood-like optics. The drug melted away all of your timidness from before, making your nature more carefree in front of Chris. He doesn’t complain though.

You were only inches away from Chris’ stature. You took in all of his features.

His flaky lips that ran dry from cotton mouth, no thanks to the drug. His stubble that rests on the sharp ridges of his cheekbones. His adam’s apple bobbing up and down every time he swallowed. As you soaked in all of his devilish features, you took in your bottom lip in between your teeth. He looked too good to be true.

“It’s rude to stare like that, doll” he coos, inching his body closer and closer to you. You were centimetres away from him. The tip of his nose nearly grazing yours.

“Chris..” you confide, you’re breathless just by sitting still. Chris’ musky, natural scent mixed with the weed drives your head spinning. He replies with a sultry “Hmm?” with a slow tilt of his head.

It was like a time bomb ticking inside of your head. Everything about Chris made you burn up, and you were ready to explode at any second.

All at once, your body moves on its own. Your head rushes forward and your lips clash into his. His body was taken aback by the sudden manoeuvre, his hands knuckled into his sheets behind him. You’re kneeling in between his legs, smothering light kisses on his now wet lips.

No sooner than later, Chris’ shock simmers down. He reciprocates your movements and the intimate moment shifts into a sloppy makeout session. Both of your heads tilting between clumsy kisses to find easier access to one another’s lips.

His slick tongue slips through your lips, prodding at your teeth to invite himself in, which you accept dearly. The warmth of the muscle twisting inside your mouth makes your breath hitch inside your throat and you whine into the soaking kiss.

“Fuck, I’ve been wanting to do this ever since I laid eyes on you. You’re just too cute” Chris sighs, lightly pushing your body back. Your back fully resting into the mattress. The instant motion makes you gasp. Chris reaches for one of your hands and intertwines his fingers with yours, his palm resting on your own.

“‘You okay with this, baby? We can go slower if you’d like” he purrs.

His body fully towering over yours which makes you blush and attempt to look away. His stubble tickling the tender skin on your face, the feeling of his hot breath making you shiver. You say nothing, you simply feed your bottom lip in between your teeth.

Unsure of what to say. Your clasp on Chris’ hands tightens. Telling him that you want to keep doing whatever this was.

Chris moves his knee to rest in between your legs intentionally. He smirks into a sloppier kiss than before. Your tongues twirl and swivel together. Chris whines into your mouth at the sensation. Making the sickly stir you had in your stomach pool down to your folds. Your clit almost forms a heartbeat of its own.

He instinctively reaches up your skirt and you pant breathlessly as your lips are still connected with his. Chris lets go of your hand to adjust himself, he plops down on the mattress next to you. Hand still up your skirt.

The pads of his fingertips rest on the waistband of your panties. Before he takes any more action, he asks for your reassurance and consent. “Do you still wanna do this, doll?”

You nod briskly with a whiny “Yes” full of desperation.

Chris’ enamels sink into his bottom lip, a tent starting to form inside his jeans just at the sight of you vulnerable like this. Aching and twitching for any kind of friction.

He starts rolling his hips lazily against your thigh as he dips his fingers into your panties and sinks them into your slick heat. You let out a loud whimper from the sudden euphoria pulsing all around in between your legs.

“Fuckkkk. Wet already, baby? You jus’ couldn’t help yourself, could you” He coos, peppering a light kiss on your sweaty temple.

Chris swipes his fingertips on your clit swiftly. Your back arching and your hips bucking up, begging for more pressure on your swollen bundle of nerves. You feel Chris’ rock hard cock poking into your thigh through the denim. You hear his breath shudder with faint whimpers every time he presses into your leg, making your slippery cunt wetter and wetter by the second.

Chris slips his middle finger inside the opening of your sloppy pussy. Your body jolts as the pleasure is like electricity zapping across your nerve endings.

“Oh my god” you sobbed. Chris groans low and tired out as he sticks his ring finger inside and curls them upwards, feeling the slight roughness of your tender g spot makes his tip leak a clear liquid through his boxers, seeping into the rough fabric of his pants.

“Chris…” you whimper helplessly, melting into his touch. “Shh… it’s okay baby, I know it feels good.”

His fingers flicking relentlessly inside your sloppy cunt makes your stomach tighten. He can’t help but take in how much you writhe under his touch.

Chris loved making you feel good. He didn’t need you to do anything to him, just seeing you drown in pleasure that he offers to you is enough to get him off. This was also quite an ego boost for him.

The mysterious weird girl, stone cold expression all day long. Keeping her distance from everyone. Her music on blast. Unable to hear the background noise that is her life that she despises so much, now a hot squirming mess just from Chris’ fingers inside her. And he fucking loved every second of it.

“I-i’m gonna cum” you cry out, the knot tangled in your stomach about to snap loose. Chris’ digits pistoning into your soppy heat with constant fervour tips you right over the edge.

“Yeah, c’mon baby. Cum for me. Cum for me like a good girl.” Before you knew it, your pussy twitched open from the release of Chris’ fingers. Spraying out a glistening liquid all over his hand and on his sheets. You let out a pained shriek at the extreme intensity of the orgasm that had just washed over you. Your limbs left shaking and your hips thud back into the soft mattress as you come back down from your high.

“Holy fucking shit… I never would’ve guessed you could squirt. Always the quiet ones, huh…”

Within an instant, you could feel Chris’ fingers push into your sensitive cunt again. Your eyes shoot open and your jaw falls slack, your mouth agape into an ‘o’ shape.

“I-I jus’ came…” you can barely enunciate words properly. The stirring of Chris’ fingers inside your pretty pink hole has you seeing the stars across the universe.

“I know baby, be a good girl f’me and cum again. I know y’got another one in you…” not long after, another orgasm creeps up from the lowest pits of your stomach shooting all the way up to the tip of your skull. Your delicious liquid makes a wet spot on Chris’ sheets once again. Your eyes rolling back whilst your hips shudder from the vigorous pleasure.

“God, you’re so fuckin’ sensitive for me baby, your pussy must feel so good right now huh.” he growls, flattering himself and you by the way you came almost instantaneously.

You peel your eyes open to view Chris sucking on his fingers, savouring your earthy taste. He whimpers with his fingers in his mouth, making a complete mess of himself with his spit smothered all over his puffy lips, before he pulls them out.

“Y’taste sooo fuckin’ good doll” he rasps out, pecking a sweet kiss on your lips. You whine into his mouth. The taste of your wetness lingering on his breath.

“I c-can’t do it anymore, I can’t cum no more…” you sigh. Tears brimming your eyes, staining the black mascara into your cheeks. Chris wipes away the wetness on your face as reassurance.

“Oh, c’mon doll… Just one more? Please, I can’t get enough of it, it’s so hot..” he pleads and begs. His words are velvety and slick, making your clit throb.

You nibble the skin off of your lip and spread your thighs open once more. “Thanks baby, ‘ppreciate it.” He leaves another sweet kiss on the side of your face. Your bangs stuck in strings to your forehead beaded in sweat. Melting half your makeup off.

You looked like a mess. Chris enamored every little bit of it, though. He sinks his digits in, one last time. His cock ached at your teary eyes and the feeling of a pulse inside your puffy pussy. You reach to grab the fabric of Chris’ longsleeve.

“I really like you, Chris…” you murmur. Your voice is sultry but sweet, sticky like honey to Chris’ senses. “I like you too doll, I always have” he leans in once more to give you another tender kiss. This time, it was much more intimate.

Your free hand slithers through his brunette curls. His fingers crimp up inside your heat and you gasp in between kisses.

“I’m gonna cum again…!” You pull away from Chris’ face and grit your teeth. Your knuckles almost go white from clamping down onto Chris’ shirt so tight. “That’s a good girl. Cum f’me one last time…”

Before long, Chris had you cumming all over his bed and on his fingers for the third time. His sheets almost flooded in your liquid. Chris lets out a satisfied sigh as he’s proud of himself for making you cum three times in a row, that and the view he’s getting is fucking perfect.

Your mouth is like sandpaper, your bruised legs still shudders as you’re coming down from your third orgasm this evening.

“How was it, doll? Did I make you too tired?” you nod your head fervorously. Your eyes barely open with your face soaked with tears. You see Chris reach for a bottle of water in your peripherals.

“Drink up baby… you’re gonna need it” he feeds you the bottle as you sit up slightly.

“Oh yeah, can you send me your playlist later, doll? I really enjoyed that song, as much as I enjoyed spending time with you” he brushes your sticky strands of hair out of your face and holds you in his arms, you roll into his embrace lazily. Your voice now replenished by the water Chris gave you.

“Yeah.”

*ೃ༄ a/n: oh my gosh i love this au sm i can’t wait to make a part 2 of this

I love you all sososososo much i love deer!reader soooo much

have a holly jolly christmas !

divider creds: @/cafekitsune, @/dollywons, @/fairytopea

#ohmanareyoucerealfic ꩜#ohmanareyoucerealcharacterau !#christopher sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #matt sturniolo #chris sturniolo #nick sturniolo #chris sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo x reader #sturniolo triplets #sturniolo smut #smut #sturniolo #Spotify

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flaneur001 · 3 months ago

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Pairings- Leon x GN reader x Redacted (Leon and Redacted belong to @14dayswithyou)

Tags- Fluff and Angst

Summary- Tis the spooky season and you're away from home.Your spirits are as low as the cold and crisp fall weather, good thing your friend is coming in clutch with his own set of tricks and treats.

You swung open the building door, breathing a grateful gulp of fresh air after being holed up all day in the office. Fresh being an overstatement, because the air was mediocre, and on good days. Stretching your limbs, you lingered, taking in your surroundings with tired eyes.

A forest of concrete, as far as your vision reached. Rows after rows of buildings, small houses, and shops sat clustered on this street. The car horns, and the general cacophony of a busy neighborhood had become white noise to you. Begrudgingly acquainted with city life now. A far cry from Corland Bay. Your hometown felt so distant, wrapped in the salty breeze and cozy charm of its memories.

The beach, the library, the playground, the lake, your old haunts, and…and…what else

You closed your eyes, heaving in a deep sigh and exhaled. Not today. You wouldn’t go down that road.

The evening sun had already slipped past the horizon, letting its final wisps linger like flickering embers in the sky.

Its crimson, golden, orange hues, shone like faint, still wet brush strokes on the edges of a black canvas. You had a feeling that it was going to be a dark night. The kind with no stars in sight. Perfect for the Halloween enthusiasts, who had littered the pathway of your neighborhood with various kinds of carved pumpkins sporting jarring, lopsided mocking smiles.

It was late. You were late. Or maybe you had miscalculated. Maybe you should’ve left your office earlier—made some excuse, should’ve faked sickness. Anything really, just to avoid this crowd of people that were already out and about. Donning costumes, gnarly makeup, laughing and hollering. The kids, high on sugar, little demons slipped past the grasp of exhausted parents; who flailed behind them zombie-like, carrying fluorescent orange pumpkin baskets, overflowing with an array of candies.

You stood out, in your disheveled clothes and messy hair, walking amongst the dead and undead. Or perhaps you fit right in, with the way people walked past you, without a sparing glance. A ghost. An invisible specter. Didn’t really need a costume for that.

You looked down, suddenly overcome with this unnamed feeling at the pit of your stomach. You pulled at the ends of your sleeves and hastened your pace. Eyes stinging with a slow pressure that built somewhere deep inside your chest. A dull persistent ache.

You turned a corner striding blindly—relying more on muscle memory than your sense of direction—towards your apartment building.

Reaching inside, you mashed the elevator button, repeatedly abusing it, as if willing the old elevator to appear by force. The tacky music grated more on your nerves today.

With a ding, you stepped out. Feet trudging up to your door and stopping in front of it. Yours was the only one to not have a candy basket placed outside. The corridor was deserted too. Silent in the face of the festivities.

For all your fervor to get home, here you were, in a weird stare down with your apartment door. Clutching the key tightly between your thumb and forefinger, you found yourself hesitant, almost appalled by the idea to go inside.

With a weary sigh you rested your back against the door and slid down it. Sitting in a huddle on the floor.

What was it really?

Yet you knew the answer to it already.

Fear. It was fear of what you’ll see when you unlock your apartment and walk in. Or more so, how you’ll feel. Dark room, a small dining table with a single chair, pushed into a cramped corner of your compact kitchen. And a withered bouquet of red chrysanthemums—sent by him, weeks ago— that you didn’t have the heart to discard. It sat wilted and droopy, placed in a cut off plastic bottle for lack of a glass vase. Scattered, sparse furniture and blank gray walls. A visual representation of your own emotions really. Cold. Lonely.

You had never bothered to decorate your studio, afraid that if you let this place feel like a home, it’ll be permanent. So you lived like this. Split in halves. With the other dwelling happily somewhere, in that time, frozen and framed in a cute picture that sat on your nightstand. You and Leon. On a summer-y afternoon, running barefoot across the sandy stretches of the beach.

You closed your eyes, picturing his topaz ones twinkling at you in mischief as he chased after you, amidst playful shrieks and raucous laughter. Hands coming to wrap around your waist as he spun you and dragged you into the embrace of the tides.

You scoffed, tasting the salt of that balmy ocean on your lips, brushing the traitorous tear that rolled down your cheek, with the back of your hand. At last you had lost to the wave of nostalgia that had been threatening to consume you all day. Holidays made you particularly homesick. And it didn’t help that you were miles apart. That you missed his stupid smile, when he called you by that goofy nickname.

You chewed at your bottom lip, contemplating, debating. When your phone screen lit up catching you off guard, making you almost drop it in surprise.

You stared at the caller ID, dumbfounded.

‘Oarfish’ it read.

“Leon? What are the odds…” You mumbled, clearing your throat and forcing on a smile, hoping that some cheeriness masks your heavy voice.

Your fingers toyed with the white beads of your bracelet, thumbing the little fish charm dangling from it. A nervous tic, a comforting fidget. Matching with your childhood friend.

“Heyyy Darl! Miss me?” Leon chirped, voice a bright ray of sunshine splitting through the stormy gray cloud that lingered over your head.

“You know, I’ve got better things to do.” You replied, teasing, imagining the smile etched on the brunet’s face.

“Oh yeah? Better things to do, you say,” Leon intoned. “More important than missing your best mate? Or wishing him a happy Halloween? I’m hurt, Sunfish.” He let out an exaggerated huff, and you could picture the pout he was sporting.

You closed your eyes, chewing the inside of your cheek, feeling that gnatty bit of guilt prick at your heart. It was true. You had been avoiding talking to him. Lying to yourself. Blaming it on your busy work hours, or the timezones. But in reality you knew why. You know why.

“I’m here now aren’t I?”

“Let’s not forget who called whom first, alright?” He retorted, playful banter masking the tinges of accusation and hurt in his voice.

“Fine,” you relented, apologetic and awkward,”Happy Halloween Oarfish”

“See, it’s that easy.” Leon chuckled, “Happy Halloween to you too, Darl.”

You could hear his breaths, soft and steady. The occasional rustle of sheets told you he was in bed.

A beat passed, and he mumbled, “Wish you were here”

You opened your eyes again, head lulling back to rest at the door of your apartment. Your fingers tightened around the fish charm, tugging at it, just like his words tugged at the tangled mess of your emotions.

Me too

“I—How have you been?” You exhaled, skirting past the topics that would make you throw every caution to the wind and pack your bags and buy the tickets to the next flight, just so you can see his stupid face and—

Leon smiled, catching onto your miserable attempt at deflecting. No heart to hearts happening tonight. Got it.

“Same old me” he swallowed, shifting to sit in a more relaxed position, fingers drawing abstract patterns on the sheets.

“What about you? Got any plans for tonight? Any wild Halloween bashes to attend?” He joked.

It was your turn to smile now. Sensing the protectiveness and helplessness that he tried to hide behind callous quips.

“Pfft! Oh you know me! A wild party animal, having orgies left and right—“

“Hang on, wait, did I accidentally ring Teo?” He snorted.

“What, so is he the only one who can be wild?” You grumbled in faux indignation.

“Wild? My little sunfish?” he giggled, “Please, the wildest thing you ever did was winning that Christmas bingo, by nicking my grandma’s winning card. And let’s not forget, you swiped it while she was out cold after three glasses of cheap wine”

“Let’s not forget who goaded me into it—“

“And I felt like such a proud dad doing it—but then, let’s not forget who cried all night after, thinking they’d landed on Santa’s naughty list, and would never get another pressie in their life” He laughed now. A full bellied joyful laugh that made something flutter in your stomach. Making you feel weirdly proud that you were the reason behind it.

“Geez, alright! You win; Teo can be the wild one in the group. I guess I don’t mind being the goody-two-shoes.” You grinned, then added, “the only voice of reason.”

“Uh huh, but you’ve always been the cute one in the group, haven’t you?” he hummed, casually and carelessly.

Recklessly you’d say. Frowning at the rapid thump of your heart.

You let out a dismissive snort and brought your knees to your chest, hugging them. The cold marble of the lobby floor, making you shiver a little.

“And you, the nagging parent”

“Tut tut, is this how you’re gonna talk to your daddy?” He snickered

“You did not just say that.”

***

Hours passed. The conversation hopping from light hearted banter, to reminiscing, to talking about the mundane.

You were stiff and achy all over from sitting on the floor for so long, yet you didn’t want to end this conversation here. Didn’t want to go back to the silence and the voice of your own thoughts.

“So then, I told my mate to stop being such an arse, and suck it up. I mean who doesn’t get a few sprains during a tough game of volley, right?” Leon continued.

“Mmhm” You mumbled in response, forcing your eyes to stay open.

A pause, and you heard a soft ‘pfft’ of an amused laugh on the other end.

“You sleeping on me, Darl?” Leon whispered, “Am I boring you?”

“Huh? No, no no” you sat up straighter, rubbing your eyes, “I’m here, I’m listening”

Leon smiled gently, as if you could see him. His hand was cramping now, holding up the phone for the last few hours. He knew you were enjoying this conversation. It hadn’t slipped his notice how you’ve been avoiding him. And perhaps, he had let you.

You have always been like this. Guarded. And Leon wasn’t one to barge. If you were the kind to build up walls, he was the kind to set up a camp on the other side and wait. Wait through all the seasons of your emotions. Wait until you open up and let him in.

“Sunfish?” He hummed, a soft breath in your ear. A hesitant tap on your walls.

“Leon?” You exhaled, holding up your hand in front of you, as if reaching out to him. The bracelet tinkled, catching the light on its beads and shining like seashells in the sun.

Another pause. You listened. To his breathing, to the susurrus of his sheets, straining your ear to hear the million unspoken things he was too considerate to say. And you, too oblivious to figure out.

“I wanted to say *chrrk* want to *chrrk* meet *chrrk* miss you” His voice broke and garbled as the connection waxed and waned.

You lifted the phone off your ear and checked the signal.

Full bars. Huh, strange.

“Leon, can you repeat that? Your voice keeps cutting out” you asked, standing up to get a better signal.

“Huh? I was saying *chrrk* see you *chrrk* Sunfish—”

Before you could say anything else, the call ended abruptly with a sharp beep.

Your fingers hovered over the redial button, but you were interrupted by a slew of messages that dinged on your phone.

Oarfish- “I was saying, it’s pretty late. You should catch some Zs Darl. We can chat plenty tomorrow.”

Oarfish- “Sweet dreams!”

Oarfish- “PS- I might’ve sent something your way, and no I won’t take it back. Enjoy! xoxo”

Just as you began to type out a response, the elevator at the end of the lobby dinged. You heard footsteps approach your door. You checked the time

1:00 am

Puzzled, you saw a delivery boy look at the receipt in his hand and then scan the numbers on the apartment doors. With a flourish he stopped before you and held out a package along with a clipboard for you to sign.

You quickly signed, took the rather heavy box, and walked into your apartment, closing the door behind you with a light kick.

Impatient like a kid on Christmas, you tossed your bag and coat on the couch, flung the keys on the table, and grabbed a knife from the kitchen to open the mysterious box sent by Leon.

Brushing aside the protective wrapping, you let out a surprised laugh.

“Oh Leon, you little goofball.” You murmured in fond appreciation as you studied the contents inside.

There were candies— all your favorite kinds—that expensive bottle of perfume you’d raved about to Leon once, a small string bag full of seashells, and Polaroids. Stacks and stacks of them. Different pictures of you, through the years. Your life, captured in perfect squares.

But that wasn’t all. As you rifled through the box, you realized the Polaroids were part of a display set: Fairy lights, clips, and a small tool box with an instruction manual.

Yet what made you emotional, was the printed card that lay underneath it all. You smiled, reading the words through tear blurred eyes—

“Since you can’t be home this year, I brought the home to you”

And it was true. The seashells, the pictures, and the candies, from that old store near the beach, were like bits of Corland bay packed in a box.

Giddy you fished out the manual and began reading through the instructions, fingers already untangling the fairly lights. With a gleam in your eye, you approached the blank gray wall in your living room.

Maybe, just maybe, this can be your home away from home.

***

The dull noise of the metal guitar leaked through the pair of headphones buried somewhere under the mess of clothes on the bed. The chair creaked as they rocked, back and forth, back and forth. Long legs crossed and propped against the table in front of them.

It was pitch dark. Yet their azure eyes seemed sharp; staring raptly, unblinking, at the bright glare of the large computer screen before them.

“A little to the left”

“No, it’s still uneven”

They occasionally mumbled, amusedly speaking to the person flitting about on the screen. Slender fingers with black painted nails, twitched as if they wanted to reach out and take the task from your hands, and do it for you.

Later, then. When you’re asleep.

He watched, until you stretched and yawned. Tired feet taking you to your bedroom.

They rose then too. Unconsciously mimicking your movements. He slipped under the covers, in sync with you. Eyes flitting up to the Polaroids adorning their wall. Similar to the ones you put up, moments ago.

They smiled conspiratorially; pleased at the treats he had shared with you. Pleased at his neat trickery.

They didn’t even need to look at the screen anymore, to know your nightly habits.

Changing, Brushing your teeth, hair, fluffing your pillows, lifting the end of your duvet and snuggling up all the way to the left side of your bed. The one lined up against the wall.

He hummed, husky and low. A dulcet timbre, singing the beginnings of an old lullaby. His hand came to rest at the wall separating you. A soft tap. A yearning caress.

Redacted sighed, letting the sleep take him over. They didn’t care, so long as you were near. They were content. They were home.

#flâneur✨#ashewrites📝#my words💜#14 days with you #14dwy #14dwy ren #14dwy redacted #angst #fluff #14dwy Leon #14 days with you Leon #Yandere male #14dwy redacted x reader

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cheriladycl01 · 10 months ago

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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

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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

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starry-eyedblog · 1 year ago

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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

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johnwickb1tsch · 1 year ago

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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.

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