#WHAT THE FUCK WERE THEY ON ON THIS SEASON WHY DID IT TURN A CORNER SO ABRUPTLY

[el-im]

Star Light, Star Bright - May 21, 1966 (1992) dir. Chris Hibler

- Scientists are objective--you aren’t being objective! - Are you kidding? If scientists were objective, we wouldn’t have the lightbulb!

#ql #'al--thank god you're here.' 'huh-oh. good to see you! :)' ITS CUTE #'beam me up scotty' ok thats funny for three reasons #1. scotty bakula #2. scott bakula was in star trek #3. DEAN STOCKWELL WAS IN STAR TREK #'dont call him an old coot' 'ok hes a young coot' #i am fucking FREAKING OUT thsi is such a good episode #the al/sam dynamic is RIGHt back to where i like it #the psychiatrist/soldier in the car together going back and forth #the DIALOGUE IS SO GOOD?!!! #HELLO #WHAT THE FUCK WERE THEY ON ON THIS SEASON WHY DID IT TURN A CORNER SO ABRUPTLY #THIS IS MY QUANTUM LEAP #BACK FULL FORCE BABYYYYY #'dya see how they gang up on me?' 'it takes a gang to get through to you.' damn. #hello twilight zone reference. which dean was ALSO in #'pop--you are the original space cadet' #'these men are part of a special government project' 'yeah watergate was a special government project too' #i love al. king of not trusting the government for its secret projects while working on a secret project... for the government. #'doctor jekyll and major hyde--listen--try to find em you slime buckets' #'hop aboard sam. the old man's about to have the ride of his life' #JIMMY?! OF JIMMY FAME?! HELLOOOOOOO #oh its cuteee. its so cute #quantum leap

[kneelingshadowsalome]

Oh GOD, breeding kink with Ghost but he's actually determined to get his darling pregnant because after everything they've been through together, how much he loves her and vice versa? I could go on but it's just something to think about. I also strongly believe he'd be that kind of girl dad heheh

Couldn't Love You More (Ghost x F!Reader)

Left pic credit: @ vhenan_virabelasan on IG

Word count: 3.7 k

Tags/warnings: Tooth-rotting FLUFF. Mild, soft smut 🔞, crying (from joy), breeding kink (obv), comfort no hurt. All the softness and love.

A/N: Excuse me, more soft!Ghost coming through! I hope you like this take anon 💕

"I'm tired of using those things."

Simon rarely whispers, hardly ever murmurs, and never coos. But this time, his voice is deliberately soft. 

You sigh and put the condom package down on the table. This evening had been a nice change, a pampering for your poor, stressed-out nerves. He had done his best to take your mind off work ever since he got home: he took you out for a 3-course dinner – which reminded you of the early days of your dating – and it was all supposed to end in a good stress relief of a fuck.

You'd sent him suggestive texts all morning, knowing he was coming home today. Those messages were extra naughty because you happened to be ovulating, and juicy, and horny as hell.

And you know he has waited for this moment as well. Which is why you can't get your head around why he wants to raise the subject of using other methods of contraception right before you're about to have sex. 

Why would he suddenly start complaining when both of you are already naked – practically seconds before you're about to roll down the condom for him?

"You know I've tried, Simon," you sigh again – you don't even bother to disguise the annoyance in your voice. After all, you've tried basically everything to make it more pleasurable for you to make love without the risk of getting knocked up. You hate the rubber between the two of you just as much as he does, if not more. Apparently you need to remind him how the last attempt with the pill went.

"I become a bloated monster," you say, realizing you're pouting only when he laughs.

You absolutely love it when he does: it's a rare thing, even with you. Even after all these years of love and dedication, the warm, husky chuckle at the back of his throat makes your heart flutter and your head feel dizzy.

"That's not what I meant."

"Then what did you mean…?"

The man has a tiny twinkle in his eyes, and the flutter in your heart turns into something heavier, more serious. He looks you up and down as if to weigh whether you're ready to take in what he's about to say.

"How about we just ditch the bloody things?"

Your heart is truly getting it today: it skips a beat or two from what he says. From what he implies.

"But you…” you whisper, still unsure if you're truly discussing the same thing here. “You said that kids are a bad idea." 

"They are." 

The twinkle in those eyes turns into an amused gleam, the corner of his mouth lifts up a bit from seeing you so shocked. 

And Simon never said he didn't want children.

It's just that he has avoided the subject like it's a seasonal flu he doesn't want to catch. 

He would make the perfect father: you just know it. Sad to say, but it was one of the main reasons you fell for this man. It's stupid, but it's true: women look for these things. They can tell if a guy would be a good choice for a father. They notice safety, security, the willingness to support and provide.

Biology and instincts be damned, you simply can't deny that Simon is the first man who made you think about what it would be like to have children. And of course the perfect candidate for a father thought that kids were a bad idea…

It seemed like a cruel joke, the way he brushed you off when you first approached him with your shy request. You pussyfooted around the subject, were as delicate as one can be, knowing it might make him uncomfortable. 

And it did. It more than just did.

He freaked the fuck out, went to work, and worked himself nearly to death – literally almost got himself killed, and you understood that this was serious. His childhood, his past, the dangers of his work – of course he thought himself unfit for the role.

Infuriatingly, it only made you more convinced that he was the perfect choice. The man was just so fricking responsible.

You barred your mouth shut after that. Instinct told you Simon might just leave if you continued the talk about having kids. Not because he couldn't take it, but because he would want to give you a chance to find someone to raise a family with before it was too late. 

It was his view of unconditional love: he was ready to let you go if need be. He would set you free if he suspected it would make you happy.

But then you saw him look at tiny kids – usually the ones that had just learned to walk – with a fleeting longing in his stare. It always turned into a withdrawn sulk, the gaze of a man who has accepted his fate.

He seemed to have the softest spot for little girls, especially when they were laughing and giggling or being unruly rascals, and sometimes flinched when a baby started to cry in the store. He looked a bit distressed for a second, and not because of the noise – but because he couldn't locate the immediate source and go and calm the baby. 

That's when you realized he actually wanted kids. The biological clock on this man was ticking just as furiously as yours. 

Years passed, and you silently buried your dreams of raising a little family together. He was enough for you, more than enough: you would not break up because of this. No man could ever replace Simon. 

But it still hurt. It was like a wound that never healed.

Until this night…

This night, it seemed he would not only cure it but heal it so well it wouldn’t even leave a scar. 

You suddenly find yourself under him – his moves are so quick that it's almost like you're teleported there. He sometimes does that: lets you play with him for a while, have your fun on top before reminding you who is in control here.

And this time, he won't even let you play.

"Simon, what are you doing," you sigh with barely concealed exhilaration. 

As if you didn't know exactly what he is about to do. 

He looks at you with that possessive look he sometimes has when you two have been apart for far too long. And there's something more behind that stare. It tells you that this is serious; this means business. The package you placed on the nightstand remains unopened and, apparently, will be the witness to his mission tonight. 

Serves the damn thing right…

You take in the absolute beef of this man: the bulk of pecs above you, the wide, solid middle that nearly swallows you every time you're under him.

You almost disappear between him and the mattress when you two are doing missionary, and it's one of the best feelings in the world. You've wanted to sink your teeth in to those huge, solid shoulders for god knows how many times. Once or twice, you actually did give him a little bite, only a nib, really, during a good pounding – and giggled at the breathless grunt of "Hey" that followed.

The trail of hair, darker in tone compared to the hair on his head, spreads over his abs which rest under a thin layer of fat. The happy trail, as you call it, runs down until it meets the heavy cock that always makes your mouth water like it's your favorite meal.

His hand is weighty, adoring when it comes to rest on your waist – the callous of his palms feels just the right kind of rough as he gives you the softest squeeze and a caress.

And he must know from the wanton looks you gave him all evening that he can just walk right in. Probably knew from those texts already that you've been wet all day long.

You try to spread your legs wider than they can go as he grabs himself to be positioned to your entrance. The fat tip of him feels heavy on your folds as he lazily slides himself up and down your slit, teasing the opening but not going in. It feels heavenly to sense him, all of him, with nothing there between you. There's no lifeless rubber: just his thick velvet meeting your wetness and silk.

The darned man won't even answer your question… Probably knows it's not really a question, just an astonished sigh of love.

"It's…not safe," your head falls back as he pushes the first few inches in – teasing you still by not giving you the full length and thick of him.

"Tired of safe, too," he rumbles softly above you, feeds more of himself in, and you tighten around his cock: receive him with fierce love and yearning. He groans at the sensation – it must feel divine for him, too. It must feel like it's meant to be this way. Now and forever.

You sigh as he starts to move, slow and intense, just the way he knows you like it when there's been too much stress and life has been a bitch. He always makes you feel better, always makes you melt in his arms when you run to him from the unfair, fucked up world. 

He's got some bad days too, and that’s when you ruffle his hair, scrub his back in the shower, give him a sloppy little blowjob, or make him his favorite dish, anything to make the tension in those mountains of shoulders disappear. 

You two worship each other; there’s no question about that. 

"Simon–ah… Truly, are you serious…?" 

"Hell yeah."

The idea of him cumming inside you is thrilling enough, but it's not just about that. 

You're ovulating, and he's a man in his absolute prime. He reminds you of mountain lions and snow leopards, living their life in harsh conditions and in wandering solitude until… Until the perfect companion comes along. He's simply the most virile male there is; broad, wide, and heavy, always ready when you are.

A man like Simon just cannot be infertile.

His eyes are half-lidded already, and those pale eyelashes make you bite your lip and grab his butt like it would be a life or death situation if he chose to withdraw.

And you know he loves it when you grope his ass and try to assist him with the thrusts. 

His little helper, indeed…

"Bloody fucking hell, you feel good…"

His head rolls back, exposing the tendons on his neck, thick, like the rest of him. Everything in this man is thick and broad and good – and fuck – he glides in and out like a dream. Somehow the extra layer of rubber has taken the brunt of his thickness away, but you feel it now, all of it, and it's something you could die for.

He grunts and thrusts, then halts for a while, chuckles all breathless…

"It's gonna be one hell of a show, sweetheart."

He's talking about what comes after. How it will be when there's a new addition and not a crew of two anymore. It brings tears to your eyes to see how he's already thinking about the future – and how he does it with a smile and a pleased chuckle.

"I'm used to sleepless nights," he reminds you softly. "You're not."

Ugh – he's thinking about your well-being when it would only make you the happiest woman on earth to take care of his children. Your children.

"I'll manage," you whisper.

"I know you will."

The tears are so close now; he’s simply the one and only person in this world for whom your love is boundless. It’s endless, overflowing.

He pulls back a little, raises your legs to rest on his shoulders, then crawls forward – he’s about to go deep, and the indecent but insanely sweet position makes you quail from him at first. It’s just too much all of a sudden.

"Wait–"

"The boys said this'll do the trick," he explains, waits until you adjust under and around him.

"The–the boys?"

He had been discussing this with his workmates…? 

Discussing which position is the best to help conceive?

"Yeah. Wanna do this properly."

This man might actually be serious… He just might be serious about this, and you still have difficulty grasping it.

"I can't believe you want this," you whisper, still trying to catch your breath on what's happening.

"Believe it or not, it's gonna happen now."

The smallest tear escapes, and you purse your lips, shut them tight to prevent a tiny little bawl from erupting. 

"I've always wanted you, Simon," you breathe into the air between you as he starts to make love to you, fill you with intent. "Just you, all these years…"

He rarely whispers, but this time, his voice is the softest hush.

"Right back at ya, darling."

"I–I want to give you… want your kids," you whimper, tears coating your voice as he continues the torture while the sweet, tight love surrounds you both.

"I want a family, Simon," you pant weakly, almost distressed. So urgent, desperate, like the wound is yet to be healed. You've never said those words to him before because you were afraid he might leave. 

"Love… fuckin' hell."

He has to stop to catch his breath, to catch the truth. Of course he has known it all along without you telling him, because he simply has those instincts of a wild animal. 

But words are powerful… They are magic. And this magic wants itself spelled out.

"I'll give them to you," he promises. "All of it. I swear."

Your eyes drift closed from the full wave of his vow. This mission is a crucial one, then, one of his most important ones. The man loves challenges; he loves when you up the stakes. Perhaps that's what this is about: he doesn't want to be a coward about the thing you both want. 

The skulls, the brass and death that always surround him can't take away the fact that he's a lifegiver. No matter what anyone says, men can give life, too. He has already given you so much, and now he's going to give you children.

A few more tears push through, and it's one of the sweetest things in your life: to get fucked by him so good while you're crying from joy.

"Luv. You trust me?"

You open your eyes again, and the sight of him is crystallized through tears. It's the most beautiful thing. 

"I trust you," you answer with a shaky breath.

Your trust is even more drugging to him than the tightness of your cunt, it seems. The corner of his eye twitches once, his brows knit together, and a pained look passes in his stare: but it's the sweet kind of pain, just like yours is.

"Feels so good," you whisper, looking up at him with devout love. "So, so good…"

"You're damn right," he sighs, panting with strained, short breaths. "Never felt this good."

He rocks you like you're under the sea, at the bottom of the ocean where the waves are mellow and the seabed is made of the softest sand. You're squeezed between his arms, tightly; he pins you to the bed with his body. The flutter of those pale lashes with every thrust is illegally sweet.

Your lips are bolted shut from the raw sensation, the swelling waves, but when a noise finally erupts, it does so with force. 

You know it makes him wild whenever you cry and plead under him. You know it sends him straight to the edge, too: when you moan and tighten around his cock, spread yourself for him to plunder while you're clawing at his back. You were so embarrassed the first time you noticed the red marks on his skin after your little sessions, but he was only pleased and said you should never apologize for that. His body is full of past pain and torture, and still, still, he allows, even wants you to destroy it even more.

"Faster, Simon, please…" 

"Yeah, that's it. Beg... Beg for me, love… "

And damn right, he's eating up your wrecked state like it's time for Christmas dinner, and the table is brimming with his favorite food. You're close, so close it would be torture, devastation if he stopped. 

"Ya want me to give it to you?" His voice is more rough, more commanding. God, he's close too.

"Yes–give it to me, please–"

Just don't stop, whatever you do, don't stop…

You beg some more, but it's incoherent. Just the way he likes. 

Simon–fuck…

There's no reason to it, just ah's and fuck's and love's, all knit together in a sweet, heady mess as you come– 

Fuck–!

…the orgasm is so intense it points your toes, makes you wrap around his middle with what little strength you have in your arms and fingers and those tiny little claws. Your nails sink in, somewhere between his shoulder blades: he's so wide you can't quite reach to hug him, but you latch onto him like a drowning person nonetheless.

"Oh–oh fucking god…!" 

He comes, right after, buries himself so deep that it stings a little, but you would never, ever complain. He pumps you full, doesn't even move, only arches his back to go even deeper, although he's already buried there to the hilt.

And never has he in all your years together sounded so vulnerable. He usually just grunts and huffs when he comes, but now you get a whole string of words and a fragile, broken pitch. He sounds as if he's near the point of breaking into tears. 

It must feel divine to cum inside you instead of a condom, and what's even more, with the intent to fulfill a mission with that shot. Give life.

If you don't get pregnant from this, well… you doubt you ever will.

He's lying on top of you in a heavy, panting heap, sounding like he's just done ten deadlift PRs in a row. You can't help but laugh, breathless, too, and caress him as he comes down from his sex high.

"You can let me go now," you ghost your fingertips up and down his back when he still doesn't move. It's not that you want him to release you, but he's simply too heavy to be lying all over you like this for long periods of time.

"Nah not yet. Gotta make sure..."

He thinks you want him to pull out, and you giggle some more.

"You're crushing me," you laugh. "And we can do this all weekend, silly. If you want to make sure."

His middle contracts with a silent laugh, too.

"Got a fair point there, love."

Finally, he lets you out of the spread. He pulls out, too – that's not necessarily what you wanted, but when he takes you in his arms, you don't complain.

"That was… so nice," you say, suddenly shy. As if this was the first time he wrapped himself around you in a post-coital embrace.

"That was the best."

He's so warm, and the arm around you is heavy, even when lax. Especially when lax. You feel soft and sweet in his hold made of pure strength.

"I'd be surprised if not. You were very determined."

"You think that did it..?"

He's suddenly shy, too. You could swear he has never asked such a fragile question during or after a mission.

"No half-assing with my sweetheart."

One could say he really used his whole ass on this. You know it, because you're the one who spurred him on with weak but eager hands.

"...but I think it would be best to try again tomorrow. Just in case," he suggests, and you can hear the smile. God, that you love him.

"I wouldn't say no to that."

You imagine him waking up to your baby's cry with a sigh and a jaw-dislocating yawn, hushing you back to sleep by telling you it's his turn to go. He would finally locate the source of crying and make it his mission to cradle the little breadcrumb back to sleep, too. You just know Simon would sometimes fall asleep on the sofa while the baby is still in his arms, sound asleep just like their dad.

And you also know the child would make him laugh more. He would have the greatest time hearing all the silly (not to talk about the clever!) things the kid comes up with once it started talking. Simon would listen with a straight face, at first – out of respect – but then he would come to you with an unrestrained smile and a comment: "Did'ya hear what that little thing just said? Unbelievable..."

Whenever the kid had a tricky question, you would send them to Simon. It's decided already. You imagine him explaining things to the child with his steady and calm briefing voice while you're trying to keep your giggle in.

And when the little one was big enough to run around and poke things off the shelves, Simon would embrace you from behind while you're pouring some morning tea and say: "Should we make another one, hmm?"

After all, your little troublemaker would also need a friend to play with...

There's a gigantic, peaceful smile on your face, and Simon should be snoring by now… But he's still awake, and the arm around you draws you closer. He even tucks his hand partly between your body and the mattress. It's the sweetest prison from which you never want to escape.

"What if… What if I get grumpy when I'm pregnant?" You start to chit-chat nonsense while he holds you against a solid chest. You know he will fall asleep soon, and you wish to voice some fragile concerns before he does.

"I'll bring you ice cream to keep you nice and calm," he mutters in the back of your neck, sounding drowsy already.

"What if ice cream won't help?"

"I'll bring you chocolate."

You smile at him having a solution to every problem, no matter how minor. 

"You're really not afraid…?"

"Of you being grumpy? Nah I don't think so."

"No," you laugh at him joking around. "Of… changes."

"After all that we've been through? No." He brushes his lips over your neck, and you turn a little to look at him.

"Simon... What made you change your mind?"

He thinks on the answer for a good ten seconds. You know that inward look, which is both a gaze to the past and a shaky, hopeful glimpse to the future.

"Don't wanna die without knowing how our kid would look like. What they would be like."

You swallow past sorrow – it's such a beautiful thing to say that you have to catch your breath for a moment. Then you put your hand over his arm, the one keeping you close to him.

"Guess I got tired of living in fear," he sums up the change of heart, and you have to blink back more tears.

"I'm tired of living in fear, too," you whisper, and he entwines your fingers together. The kiss that follows is like a seal to your change of plans. It's pure hope.

"Could you... Could you say that we'll be fine?" You speak on his lips as softly as you can. You sometimes worry that he's annoyed by your constant need for reassurance, but he sounds as solid as a soldier can be.

"We'll be fine like always. Promise you that."

He doesn't seem to mind: if anything, you could swear that giving you encouragement only makes his chest puff up a little. The man gets satisfaction from you needing him in your life like this.

"Don't worry. I'll take care of us."

You ease fully into his embrace. He has said he'll take care of you many times before, but now your world is changing. It has changed already; you just know it. There's no more you and him, a team of two. 

There will be a tiny little breadcrumb too.

#simon ghost riley #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley fluff #simon riley smut #ghost x you #simon riley x you #simon riley imagine #soft simon riley #soft ghost #fluff and smut #call of duty #mw2 fluff

[buckyarchives]

second, first meeting | chishiya shuntarou

spoiler warning for ending of aib season 2

after the meteor, chishiya notices the all too familiar person. their a pull towards you - like maybe you’ve met somewhere? (gn reader)

words - 1.1k

a/n: WOW AIB 2 FINALLY OUT AND THE ENDING WAS REALLY GOOD I THINK. anyways arisu and usagis ending was so cute and i needed literally the “have we met?” scenario with ALL of them. and i’m a weak so i made this, very shoot, not beta’d, just a small and sweet drabble. enjoy reading!!!

—

Chishiya is alive.

He sure as hell didn't feel like it, but he was. The meteorite took a lot out of him, physically and mentally. Waking up in the beeping hospital room with a sudden new look on life, and he was going to do something about it. No more being a messenger for bad news, slowly tearing down people's hope one referral after another.

Dozens of people just experienced the same pain and trauma as he walked around him, some looking better than others. A girl with an amputated leg, a man in a coma as he passed by his room, and a girl and boy walking hand in hand with injuries littered over them. Humanity– always finding love in terrible suitaions.

Chishiya stood in one of the hospital common rooms, people-watching as he always does. God– it feels like a lifetime had passed since the meteorite. Chishiya was familiar with the whirring and beeping sounds of hospitals, people chatting and crying, and the strong smell of disinfectants and bleach. He was a doctor, all these things filled his life to the brim, it was familiar.

Even you.

You, who stood across the room; tucked into a corner (like chishiya), people-watching, snacking on crackers, and keeping yourself comfortably hidden. Yes, you’d caught his eyes. But something felt off deep inside his stomach, something was off about you. Almost like you were too familiar, chishiya could see a lifetime in your eyes and this is the only time he's ever seen you. Maybe, it wasn't?

Chishiya knew better than to laser focus on one person in the room, because your head perked up. Right into his direction, but chishiya’s gaze didn't falter– he couldn't even if he wanted to. The pull towards you was too intense, it made him dizzy. shock, confusion, remembrance? Flashed across your face, similar to him.

A small, sweet smile grew on your face. Fuck, what medication did they put him on? That meteorite really did a deal on him because suddenly he can’t breathe. For a moment he thought maybe his stitched came undone, half expecting to see blood soaking his scrubs when he looked down. But no– it was just you. Chishiya’s has never seen a smile so familiar, yet foreign.

Your eyes narrowed in his direction, like you were trying to read him. Something many people found difficult in the past, Chishiya didn’t put up a fight or a stone-cold face. Chishiya narrowed his eyes back, like a challenge.

So wrapped up in you that he didn't see the teenage boy wheeling a little too close to his toes in a wheelchair. “Ow!” chishiya yelped.

“Ah! I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” the boy began to spew out a plethora of apologies, frantically bowing his head to the elder.

“It's okay!” chishiya reassure, the sting in his toe had already been subdued– an easy injury compared to the bandaged and stitched-up ones he gained a few days ago. “Seriously, it’s okay.”

The boys' apologies slowed and he wheeled off, practically still bowing. Chishiya chuckled under his breath at the gesture. Looking back up to find you again, weird– what's got into him? Your spot ghosted empty and chishiya’s eyes frantically searched for you, only to find your back now turned to him and trudging down the hallways. Right as his eyes landed on you, your neck turned and you glanced back at chishiya.

A challenge indeed.

Chishiya curiously cocked his head, looking something like a cat. And then one foot in front of another, chishiya was following you down the hallway. He wasn't sure why, maybe he didn’t need a reason. I mean, he almost died, chishiya felt like he didn’t need a solid reason to do anything anymore besides what he wanted. And he wanted to follow the beautiful, mysterious, and weirdly familiar person around in a hospital. Like cat and mouse.

And that's how chishiya ended up in a quieter, more intimate area. Middle of a hallway, near a set of tables and a vending machine. Usually, where loved one would sit weary-eyed and waiting for good news. You came to a halt, chishiya stopped. You turned around slowly, that sweet smile that made chishiya’s stomach feel weird (apart from the wounds.)

“You're following me.”

Something that would so usually sound like a question, was a statement. Because it was meant to be, because you knew he was from the beginning. You intended on it. Chishiya already likes you. And hell– your voice almost gave him whiplash, so silk and sweet. Echoing distantly in his head, like he's heard it a million times before.

“And you wanted me too,” chishiya replied coyly. His voice felt so scratching and his throat burned as he spoke, being without water and unconscious for too long. Shoving his hands in his pockets, leaning back slightly. Even half dead he must keep up his cool-guy image.

You didn’t reply, only a wider grin growing on your face. And chishiya found it hard to bite back one of his own. How so uncharacteristic of him – he felt so warm.

“Maybe.” you finally said.

Chishiya hummed, beginning to close the distance – one foot in front of another – between the two of you.

You watched him intently, chishiya knew it. Normally he’d perceive this as someone sizing him up, but your eyes told a different story as they trailed up his body. Something that'd make his ears hot and red.

“Meteor?” you asked, gesturing to his wounds. Chishiya nodded. “Me too.”

It was awkward for a moment, but not uncomfortable. The silence was deafening as if it wasn't meant for the two of you. Like there were so many words only on the tip of his tongue, words unsaid, words he didn’t even know – but they were begging to be spoken.

You were the first to break the silence, stepping closer. Now only 2 or 3 feet in front of him. “Have I, sorry, this is weird– but, have we met before? Like even passed each other on the streets.”

“Not to my knowledge.”

You hummed, looking around to avoid the intense eye contact that tugged you closer, and closer and–

“Would you like to know me?” chishiya said, his eyes not leaving yours. A weird sense of home lay in your eyes, chishiya was ready to jump fully in.

You tried to cover the eagerness in you, waiting a moment. Dramatically tapping a finger to your chin as you thought. “I think that’d be nice.”

Chishiyas lip quirked up, following yours.

He may not know you the way he feels, but he will.

#alice in borderland #chishiya shuntaro #chishiya alice in borderland #chishiya imagine #i want to smother chishiya #chishiya x male reader #chishiya x reader #aib chishiya #chishiya headcanons #aib #alice in boderland x reader

[astonmartingf]

ADORE YOU ; KR7

kimi raikkonen x mclaren driver!reader

. . . your relationship with kimi was always civil, not too close like friends, but not too far apart like strangers. somehow you got stuck in a situation leaving both of you confronting your feelings for each other.

amgf still one of the best things i wrote, ever. this is my baby, the time i spent making the radio graphics was all worth it, i love this so much ughh

death of a bachelor ; masterlist

Getting called in for a private meeting with the team principal is always worrying. Usually you’re called for one of two reasons, either you’ve done exceptionally well or if you’ve fucked up. With how things are looking up, you’re clearly called in because you’ve fucked up and one of the sponsors has found something to complain about.

You were used to it, sadly. And despite his constant reassurance, you know Fernando doesn’t have that much power to help you. Paired with his recent win in the driver’s championship you kept your mouth shut from the pressure held on you.

The last thing you want is to take away the spotlight from him, it was his win after all. Despite the number of news outlets questioning his position, and the ambiguity of it all with you in the center of controversy.

All because of some harmless photos with Kimi, one that caught him off guard. Not because he was unknowingly involved, but with the fact that he only knew then just how many people loathe you in the industry who are constantly waiting for you to fuck up.

Breathing out, you shake off the million thoughts running in your head. There’s no use overthinking what has been done, standing in front of the team principal’s door you brace yourself for the worst that could happen.

Thinking to yourself that maybe this is the end of it all, that maybe they’ve finally succeeded in leaving you without a seat for the next season. The worst that could happen is Renault pulling out your contract early, and you were preparing for the worst.

The person out of your equation is Kimi Raikkonen himself- the first person your eyes landed upon entering the room. Looking around your eyes scan the room, your teammate nowhere to be found. It’s just you, Kimi, and your team principal.

“Good Morning.” You’re voice curt and short as you feel the dry scratch at the back of your throat. Sitting beside Kimi you lean towards him whispering, “What are you doing here? Did McLaren form a complaint?”

Next to you, Kimi shrugs his shoulders equally unaware. “I was called in when I arrived earlier, I thought you were the one with the complaint.”

Brows raised, you let out a small sigh in disagreement, “I don’t think I’m in a position to complain, you on the other hand, God knows what people are saying.”

You don’t notice the frown forming on Kimi’s face, his brows furrowed in annoyance, “How are you empathizing with me right now? God knows how much worse you’re having it, and here you are worrying about me. I don’t care what they say about me, as long as they don’t involve you in it.” Kimi scoffs, watching the corners of your lips curl into a small smile.

“You must hate being involved with me that much.” Teasing him, Kimi shakes his head with his eyes rolling back.

A cough breaks your attention away from Kimi, reminding you that you’re here for a serious meeting with your team principal. Turning your head you see him with a big smile on his face.

Huh.

“Do you know why I called you here?” His voice reverberates in the room, leaving your throat dry. Your eyes widen, gulping before attempting to answer.

“No, you don’t have to answer.”

Pressing your lips, you shrink down back in your seat feeling the drops of sweat press against your team shirt. Your eyes widen, avoiding contact, you prepare yourself with the worst anticipating the next words out of his mouth.

“It’s all going well in fact that I’ve decided myself to let you continue with what you two are doing.”

An audible gasp left your lips, “But there’s nothing, we aren’t doing anything,” quickly defending yourself from your team principal’s accusations.

Bewildered, a loud cackle escapes his lips leaving you and Kimi in confusion, “That’s even better. Honestly, you don’t have to date each other, just continue what you’re doing.”

Kimi shakes his head, “Doing what exactly?”

“Listen, all you need to do is be seen in public. Think of it as a fake secret relationship. Just like you said, if there’s nothing going on with you two then there is no need to confirm it. Just to keep the sponsorships happy, and free publicity for both teams.”

You share a look with Kimi, gauging from his reaction he doesn’t seem to mind. Then again it’s not like anything is happening between you two, it’s like hitting multiple birds in one stone. You can keep being friends with Kimi, you keep your seat, and you keep the sponsors happy with the advertisement.

Clearing his throat, Kimi speaks up first, “You know if you don’t want to-”

“I don’t mind.” Giving him a small smile, you assure him of your consent, “I’d rather it be you than someone else, plus we get to hang out more often. Unless you don’t want to, then we don’t have to-”

“I’m okay if you’re okay with it.”

Clasping his hands your team principal is smiling over the moon, at least someone is happy with the situation,

“Well if you have no other questions, you’re free to leave Kimi.” Your team principal dismisses the Fin, leaving an uncomfortable taste in his mouth.

“Why? If you have something to say to Y/N you can say it to me as well. What are you going to scold her for? You should’ve been there to defend her against the comments, I won’t leave. Whatever you say to her, I will be here and listen.”

His sudden outburst caught you off guard, uncharacteristic for Kimi to go over his emotions like that. Though his outbursts are short it’s usually directed out of frustration, but this was out of nowhere. Your eyes dart back and forth Kimi and your team principal with conflicted feelings.

While you feel proud that Kimi defended you, on the other hand you grimace at the sight of your team principal, still and speechless.

“Well, you’re more than welcome to wait for Y/N outside but Fernando is coming along in a while- we’re having a team meeting for the next season.”

“Oh.”

“I’ll guide Kimi on the way out, you know in case he reads any of our world winning strategies.” Standing up swiftly, you pull Kimi’s arm, dragging him away from the office and out to the paddock.

It wasn’t until then you realized the awkward silence looming between you two. Looking up to his eyes, you stare at his blue ones, getting lost into the deep hues akin to a storm. In the silence, a mutual understanding was built.

And unbeknownst to you, it was the beginning of a deeper relationship with Kimi.

You were on your way to Maranello when the announcement of your transfer was released. Sinking in your seat you close your phone, thankful to be on a plane avoiding the constant ping and ringing of your phone.

It was a short-lived moment of relaxation, not long after the seat beside yours was occupied. Observing the person, your eyes squint at the sight of a familiar face.

"Kimi? I didn't know you were on your way to Italy as well."

Turning around, Kimi blinked slowly taking in your presence. "Was staying with me that bad that you need a different vacation?"

Scoffing at him, you shift in your seat facing his, "As much as I want more time for vacations unfortunately I'm going to Italy for work."

Kimi tilts his head, "Didn't know Renault moved to Italy. Are you going over factories?"

You still yourself, contemplating telling him the truth or getting away with a little lie. Not in the mood for conversation, you chose the latter.

"Something like that. They want me to check something personally. My manager arranged it for me so, I really don't have a say."

Kimi nods again leaving you to do your own things, something that you appreciate when you're with him. There's no need for small talk, it's always comfortable silence.

A few people you feel comfortable being with for long periods of time, it's either him or your teammate Alonso. Contrary to popular belief, there's no "feud" between the three of you– more on the two of them, you were somehow stuck in between their "rivalry" and just how the company milked the media for more coverage.

Truthfully faking a secret relationship with Kimi was one of the easiest things you had to do last year, purposefully being seen hanging out, going on "dates" and vacationing together without having to confirm anything, you were winning.

And the end of it all with you getting a seat with Ferrari. It was a whirlwind of emotions, not just for you but for your teammate Alonso who was poached to McLaren.

A secret you had to keep from Kimi while vacationing together. You did carry a smidge of guilt hiding him from his new teammate, but vacation meant time away from work and racing. And one thing you learned about Kimi is that he hates race talk at the dinner table.

You sit in silence catching the last hours of sleep. By the time you wake up, the plane has already landed. You feel the seatbelt around your waist, scouring the area you look for Kimi.

"You were asleep the whole flight, I put on your seatbelt for you." You blink your eyes, in an attempt to keep yourself awake.

"When did we land?" Your voice is croaky and dry, you squirm in your seat yawning and stretching.

A small smile can be seen from Kimi's face as he hands you bottled water. "We just landed, you want to go now or wait for a little while?"

A small pout forms your face as you unbuckle your seatbelt, grabbing the bottled water from his hands you take small sips feeling more awake by the minute.

"I want to go now, I want to change clothes before going to the factory." Grabbing you things you stand up leaving the plane with Kimi beside you.

"Is someone picking you up or do you want me to drive you to your hotel?" Kimi offers, putting his bags at the trunk of a Ferrari 599. The way his arms flex, as he pushes his weight, leaning upon the frame of the trunk.

You shake your head off your thoughts, "You don't have to, someone is picking me up. I guess I'll see you around then." Frankly, you booked a one-way ticket to Emilia-Romagna as soon as your break with Kimi was over.

Spending your vacation with Kimi was one of the best things you've done, but the longer you stayed inside the bubble that is Kimi Raikkonen, the more you realized your conflicting feelings towards him.

And that is something you're not prepared to confront yet.

Nonetheless it seems as though the universe has a way of bringing you together— it comes in the form of sitting beside each other on the plane ride, and now seeing him through the glass window in Ferrari's headquarters.

#f1 smau #f1 x reader #f1 fluff #kimi raikkonen smau #kimi raikkonen x reader #kimi raikkonen fluff

[majesty-madness]

"Stop Doing That" - Bucky Barnes x reader (semi-nsfw)

Summary: Y/N has this habit of biting her lip, and at first, it is all unintentional. But when she figures what it does to her usually stoic boyfriend, she just can’t help herself.

Word Count: 800+

Warnings: TFATWS Spoilers, mentions of the Blip, cursing, teasing, sexual tension, established relationship (Bucky & reader), a bit of Dom!Bucky, slight manhandling, kissing

a/n: This is sort of a last minute seasonal gift, so Merry Christmas! Or Happy Holidays! Hope you guys have a good weekend!

Main Masterlist

She was doing it on purpose, she had to be. There was no other reason as to why she wouldn’t stop doing it. 

Every chance she got, she bit her lip and it drove him fucking crazy. 

Despite knowing her in the span of a couple of years (minus the Blip), he hadn’t paid much attention to it, but now that they were dating, it was all he thought about. 

Whenever Y/N was deep in thought, her teeth would tug on the skin of her lower lip before letting it slip back into place. 

Or like now, as Sam, Zemo, and he were trying to figure out how to track down the Flag Smashers, Y/N was intently listening to what they were saying. She only provided input when she thought it necessary, and when she wasn’t she was biting her damn lip. 

This had been going on for weeks, weeks worth of her ordinary habit, weeks worth of her teasing. 

Bucky could not keep his eyes off her, she just made it so difficult to think straight. However he managed in front of Sam and Zemo. Though he was pretty sure that Sam had noticed his languid stares, and chose not to say anything. 

“I may know where we can find Donya, but first it would be best if I changed.” Zemo said, already walking away from the kitchen island and to a back room. 

“Do you really think he can find out where Donya is?” Sam asked no one in particular as he sat at the corner of the glossy kitchen island. 

Bucky, standing diagonal from him; hands planted on the counter, sighed. “I have no idea.”

Sam huffed before getting up from his seat and also walked out of the room, leaving Bucky and Y/N alone. 

She had opted to stand instead of sit, and now she had her back leaned against the counter, arms crossed over her chest. 

Bucky’s eye flicked over to Y/N, observing her closely. “You gotta stop doing that.”

The statement startled her as she looked over at him, lips jutting out from under her teeth. “Doing what?” 

No sooner had she finished that sentence did she automatically do it again. Bucky took a sharp breath, blue eyes turning dark. 

“That.” He stated gesturing up to her mouth, voice deep and raspy.

For some reason, she smirked. 

She unfolded her arms and turned to face him, one hand resting lightly on top of the smooth surface. “What? Biting my lip?”

Bucky made no movement, choosing to follow her figure as she took a methodical step forward.

He felt a heat race up the back of his neck coupled with a fluttering feeling of excited anticipation center in his gut. 

“Does it bother you?” She openly teased that time, biting her lip for a split second.

She took another slow step closer, letting her hand slide against the counter as she did so.

They were only a few inches apart from each other, and Y/N was dangerously closing that distance. 

Bucky, again, chose not to act. He simply let Y/N think that she had the upper hand though with how he was reacting, he thought maybe she did. 

“It doesn’t bother me.” He finally said, his husky voice laced with a primal undertone. 

Y/N took one more step forward, the mere inches separating them now disappearing into nothingness. “Then what does it do to you?”

Suddenly he pounced; grabbing ahold of her face with his gloved hand, yanking her to him, and shoving his lips against her’s. 

She inadvertently moaned into the kiss, her hands coming up to rest on his arm as he shoved his tongue in her mouth.

He continued the onslaught, keeping Y/N in her place even as she attempted to move closer to him. No, she was gonna learn real fast that she didn’t get to tease without consequences. 

And Y/N didn’t fight his dominating tongue ravaging her instead she let him take exactly what he wanted, let him make her dizzy with heat and lust, let him claim her; just as she had hoped. 

Several weeks ago, Y/N had picked up on how affected Bucky became whenever she bit her lip and while she had initially done it out of habit, once she learned how Bucky felt about it, she couldn’t stop. 

Every day she made a point to do it at least once, gauging his reaction to see what he’d do. 

Up until this point, he had sat back quietly while she teased him relentlessly. Today was the first time he said something about it, let alone done something about it as well. 

They aggressively made out with each other for a couple of more minutes; their tongues dancing against one another before Bucky pulled away with a wet smack of their lips. 

Y/N tried to kiss him again but he tilted his head back causing her to whimper with need. “Bucky…”

This time, he smirked. 

“Don’t worry, Baby…” He leaned in, lips barely grazing the shell of her ear. “I’ll take care of you real good later, but you better stop teasing me or I’ll do much more than kiss you.” 

“Like what?” Y/N asked breathlessly. 

“Keep doing what you’ve been doing, and you’ll find out.” 

#marvel #bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky x female reader #bucky barnes x female reader #female reader #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes blurb #winter soldier #winter soldier x reader

[cinewhore]

The Only Exception

Pairing: Michael Berzatto x fem!reader

read extended cut here [x]

Word Count: 2.6k 

Warnings: mentions of drinking, toxic family dynamics, smut 18+ (groping, male receiving oral, penetration, unprotected sex, facial cumshot). fluff and some angst! 

A/N: girlies, the whore jumped out! Takes place during episode 6 season 2. Credit to the gif creator! I hope y’all enjoy it. 

Nothing ever goes smoothly with the Berzatto’s.

Why you thought this holiday dinner was going to be any different was beyond any rational comprehension.

Trying not to be a complete klutz and ruin the side dish you’ve been working on the entire day, you delicately balance it in your left hand while adjusting your scarf tighter around your neck with your right. Putting a pep in your step, you round the corner from where you parked, spotting the stoop instantly.

It was a rare sighting to see all three of the Berzatto siblings together. With Carmy being away at culinary school, Mikey doing his own thing with the restaurant and Natalie living her life, one person always missed the other. It warmed your heart to see just how much they cared about each other, even if they didn’t show it in a normal or healthy way.

“Is that who I think it is?” Mikey’s voice booms over the light traffic passing by, handing Carmy the cigarette he was puffing on.

You crack a smile, despite it feeling like your lips were stuck together due to the cold weather. “Sorry, I’m a bit late. Fuckin’ cat had my keys.”

“How many times did I tell you to get rid of the cat?” Mikey leans down to kiss you but you turn your head, forcing him to peck you on the cheek instead.

“C’mon, baby.” he drawls, throwing you a bashful smile.

You huff out a sigh, lowering your voice. “You know I hate the smoking.”

Mikey nods, face fading into something serious before vanishing. “I know you do. You didn’t bring fish, did you?”

Side-stepping the tall Berzatto, you get pulled into a hug by Natalie, followed by Carmen.

“Hello, gorgeous! It’s so good to see you!” Natalie kisses you on both cheeks before making the move to grab the dish out of your hands. You pull back, shooting her a look.

“Nat, please. I got it.”

“Are you sure?” you watch as her bottom lip quivers a bit. You steal a glance at Carmy, who just shakes his head.

“Fuck. How bad is it?” you gaze at the disheveled trio, awaiting an answer.

Finally, Mikey breaks the silence.

“It’s at a five. Six, at best.”

You lick your lips, rocking back and forth on your heels. “That’s not too bad, right?”

“Right.” Carmy agrees, with Natalie humming in agreement.

“Just don’t fucking ask if she’s doing ok.” Mikey glimpses at his sister, placing hand on your lower back to guide you into the house.

You take a deep breath and exhale through your nose, plastering a smile on your face before entering the shit show.

You’d only been there an hour and you were called the wrong name three times, objectified, cursed at and now Fak was trying to get you to put up five hundred dollars for baseball cards.

Listening with great intent, nodding at all the right times and twirling the wine glass in your hands desperately wanting to get another refill had your social energy spent.

“We could make you a lot of money, cousin.” Fak goes on, nudging his brother for support.

“Yeah-yeah! Think about what you could do with fifteen hundred bucks! Cold hard cash!” the lookalike chimes in.

“Wow, no, yeah this-this sounds like the opportunity of a lifetime.” you murmur. Don’t take it the wrong way, you loved Fak. His personality was infectious, you’ve never seen him get overly angry despite the other guys giving him shit constantly and he genuinely goes out of his way to help everyone. Back when you first started dating Mikey and moved apartments in the city, Fak volunteered to make sure your place was in tiptoe shape and refused payment.

Just then Steve, Michelle’s husband, passes by and you seize your opportunity.

“Steve! How are you?” you beckon him over, scooting over on the tiny couch so he could sit beside you.

“Ah, yes. Mikey’s girl who we aren’t sure how he managed to snag. Good to see you again.”

You brush off his comment with a tired smile, gesturing to Fak and his brother. “So, these guys have a proposition for you, right?”

You nod enthusiastically with them, giving Fak a secret wink.

“Oh, yes! Yes! Do you like baseball cards, Steve?”

“On that note,” you stand up and maneuver yourself out the nook. “I’m gonna go get a refill. Leave you gentlemen to handle business.”

Mocking a military salute, you dash towards the kitchen bypassing other members of the family.

Donna flurries around the kitchen, shouting instructions to no one in particular. You didn’t greet her as soon as you came in, knowing how she gets around this time of the year. To be honest, you were sure that she didn’t exactly like you.

“Donna, my goodness! You look wonderful.” you lay the complement on sweetly, smiling brightly. If you don’t wilt in her presence, she wouldn’t be able to smell the fear on you.

Donna swivels her head to look at you, cigarette dangling from her lipstick smeared lips. Eyes lined in thick mascara, her disapproving expression ripples through you. You smile wider.

“I brought over a little casserole. I figured it would compliment the fish nicely.”

Shifting to face you fully, Donna crosses her arms. “Casserole? What casserole?”

You point to the tin foiled dish. “That one. Mikey brought in, did he not tell you?”

She scoffs. “Yeah, just like he told me about him breaking things off with what’s her name.”

“Anna.” you mutter, swallowing the lump that quietly made its way up your throat.

“Yeah, Anna.” Donna turns back to the task at hand, haphazardly swinging a knife about. “I liked her better.”

Forgoing your much desired glass of wine, you stalk out of the kitchen. On the outside looking in, the Berzatto’s appeared to be your average family. The warm glow of the lights shining out into the frost covered sidewalks invited you in all those years ago and once inside, you then realized why people were so hesitant to accept invites or why Mikey refused to bring up his past.

You didn’t have this growing up. Your family life was much quieter, mom and dad both kept to themselves. Distant cousins never visited for the holidays and you were an only child so there weren’t any siblings to fall back on.

It was boring.

Drove you crazy.

So when the Berzatto’s welcomed you in with open arms (well, some of them) you threw yourselves to the wolves willingly. It helped you grow a thick skin, talk over people and man handle the biggest guys in the room. For that, you were thankful.

A hand reaches out and grabs your wrist, dragging you away from everyone and up the stairs. Mikey is headstrong in his quest to get you alone, not caring to see if you were keeping up the pace. You both stagger inside his room, the door shut soundly behind you, followed by the lock turning.

Mikey doesn’t give you a second to react, mouth leaving open tongued kisses along your jaw and collarbone, hands working at tugging up your skirt.

“Mikey, baby, baby, wait-” you plead, backing up to create space between the two of you.

He flops onto the bed, hands on his knees, fingers raking through his hair again and again.

You’re careful as you sit next to him, scratching your own fingers along the center of his back. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” is all he utters.

“Bullshit. Talk to me.”

He doesn’t have to say anything else, you get it. The party continues below you both, profanities and insults flying like it's nobody's business. It was too much. For Mikey, Camry, anyone. The more time you spent with his family, the more you realized why Carmen never came back to visit. Why Michelle skipped out of town and up to New York. Anything to keep the family an arms distance away. 

Why Mikey feels trapped.

“I know.” you whisper against his shoulder, mouth pressing in tiny kisses. You lift his head up with both of your hands, cradling his face gingerly. The tiredness exudes for nearly every crevice, eye bags worn and solidified. You use your thumb to smooth out his forehead, laughing softly when he wrinkles it more.

“You’ll always have me, Berzatto.”

“I don’t deserve you. Never did.”

You tut. “That’s not true. You’ve always had me. From the moment you sold me that greasy, sloppy sandwich down at The Beef. I was a goner.”

Mikey chuckles, leaning into your hands more. “I got you something.”

Your eyes go wide, brows forming a skeptical look. “Is that so?”

Mikey flickers his eyes down to his pants and you scoff.

“Wow, Michael. Are you gifting me your penis? Again? I must’ve been too nice this year.” you gently slap his face in mock anger.

“Haha,” he deadpans. “Try my pockets, detective wiseass.”

You let go of his face and rummage through his pants pocket, producing a ball of torn tissue paper, kept together by a single piece of tape. Confused but curious, you unwrap the gift, facing dropping as your eyes find his.

The tissue tumbles to the ground, revealing a necklace. At the bottom of it dangled a charm of…cheese?

“I remember the first day you came into the shop. Like a goddamn bat outta hell. Never seen anything like it. You ordered a grilled cheese sandwich and asked for, um, what was it?”

“Havarti-”

That’s right! Fuckin’ havarti cheese! What the hell even is that?”

“How do you own a sandwich shop and not provide a variety of cheeses, I don’t understand it.”

Mikey gawks at you. “Babe, we’re called The Beef. Not the cheese. But you wanna know what I did?”

You encourage him to finish, as if you didn’t know the rest of the story.

“I told you to wait and-and I was gonna go check in the back. I booked it out of the back door, all the way down to Malik’s corner store and bought the most expensive cheese he had. I rush back to the shop and guess what?”

“You made the sandwich.”

Mikey’s face cracks into the biggest grin you’d ever seen, eyes crinkled at the corners. “I made the goddamn sandwich. Brought it out to you myself. Told you that we didn’t serve grilled cheese but for you, I’d make an exception.”

Your eyes well over in tears and you blink rapidly to keep them from falling. “That’s the sweetest thing anyone has done for me, ya know.”

“You’re telling me all I had to do was buy you some cheese to get in your pants? Hot damn.”

You playfully shove Mikey back against the bed, crawling over to straddle him. “Well, it worked after a while, didn’t it?”

Mikey thrusts upwards, growing erection sliding against your damp underwear.

“It sure did.”

He grabs the back of your neck, surging up to slot his mouth against yours. You aren’t delicate in the way you claw at him, nails digging into his tanned flesh. Pushing up your skirt, Mikey palms your ass, stroking it before landing a hard smack against it. You moan into his neck, biting down.

“Perkiest ass I’ve ever seen, baby, shit.” Mikey groans, voice an octave deeper.

“And it’s yours. All yours.”

Mikey secures the back of your head as he flips the two of you over, pushing you down on your stomach. You do the rest of the work for him, sticking your ass up, and curving your back into an arch.

Mikey readily pulls down the zipper of his pants, hands readjusting his briefs until he is able to free himself. Spitting obscenely in his palm, Mikey shoves your panties to the side and rubs his saliva across your slickness. You buck back into him, whimpering when he graces you with a lone finger to loosen you up. You whine and wiggle your ass some more, ready to receive all that he was going to give you.

“Gonna give my baby what she wants, don’t you worry.” Mikey purrs, aligning himself to enter you. He slides in easily, the strained sigh as he fully situates him inside you never ceasing to make you wetter.

You pull yourself up so that you were resting on your hands, peeking over your shoulder to catch a gaze at Mikey as you begin to fuck him. He was enthralled at the sight of his cock pumping in and out of you, the way you were able to handle him without saying a single word.

He would love to take his time and thoroughly explore your cunt but time is of the essence. Wrapping his right hand around your neck once again, he yanks you up into a deeper arch, left hand on your hip in a deathgrip. He meets your thrusts with his own, dropping his left leg down on the floor to gain some balance.

Between the familial bickering creeping up the stairs, all that could be heard was the squelching of your pussy and the labored breathing of Mikey, muffled praises spurring you on further.

He slaps your ass again and you tighten around him, eyes rolling to the top of your head as you attempt to hold onto his arms for dear life.

“Mikey, oh fucking god, baby you’re gonna make me come so hard. Please, please, please!”

He answers you by sticking his fingers in your mouth and you automatically clamp down on them, sucking and gagging until spit dribbles down the side of your mouth.

Mikey picks up speed and the coil inside you breaks as you reach your peak, legs stiffening as you rear back against Mikey. He continues to fuck you, albeit at a slower tempo, humming as you spasm against him.

“That’s my girl, my favorite fucking girl. Where do you want mine, huh? Tell me where you want it.”

He removes his fingers and lets them trail down to tease and pick at your hardened nipples that now poke through your shirt.

“I wanna taste. Want it in my mouth.”

“Fuck.” Mikey lets you go and you catch yourself before you fall completely face first into the bed.

“Get on your knees, now.”

You do as you're told, scurrying to position yourself on your knees in front of Mikey. Mouth open and head tilted back, you let a hand caress your breast as the other slithers up his thigh.

Mikey is affectionate as he goes to grab the back of your head, other hand tirelessly stroking his cock. A vein pops out of forehead as he grunts, a few milky droplets coating your face, before steady ropes accompany it. A few of them land in your mouth and you swallow it all eagerly.

Mikey tries to calm his breathing, watching you with hooded eyes as you lick at the tip of his cock, cleaning up the remnants of yourself off of him. You take him down all the way to the shaft for shits and giggles, pulling off of him with a low pop.

“Goddamn devil.”

You wink, swiping at the mess you could feel dripping on your face. Mikey helps to clean you up, both fixing each other’s clothes to appear less wrinkled. Seemingly ok with your appearance, you start to head downstairs but Mikey stops you.

He steps behind you, lifting up the necklace he got you. He fastens it, walking to your front to admire it.

You grab his hand and bring it to your mouth for a kiss.

“It’s you and me, Berzatto.”

“You and me.”

Exhaling heavily, you open the door to reenter the Berzatto family chaos, a new found confidence lighting your path.

#Mikey berzatto x fem reader #Michael berzatto x reader #Michael berzatto x fem reader #the bear fanfiction

[artists-ally]

I think Harvey would be thw type of person who makes love specially when he’s feeling sad. Like he needs comfort and to be as close to his s/o as possible, fingers intertwined and all that nice shit. How do you think reader would comfort him after he had a discussion with someone of his family?

{Oh, My Human Heart} Harvey Specter x Reader

So my mind went to [SEASON 8 EPISODE 5 SPOILER WARNING] where Harvey went up to Boston to defend his brother against his wife's divorce. That shit crushed my soul man, so this is based on that! Enjoy!! Title is a lyric from this song.

Word Count: 3,191

Warnings: fluff, hurt/comfort, angst, smut, Season 8 Episode 5 Spoilers

Summary: When Harvey returned home from visiting his brother unexpectedly, there is an obvious weight to his shoulders as he slumps inside. And it’s your mission to find out what it is and wipe it from his memory.

Tagging: @kjbg-fantasymoon (your request is next babes <3)

~~~~~~~

The door slammed. Hard. Concerningly hard. 

“Harvey?” You shouted out into the kitchen, taking off the towel from your shoulder and set it on the counter. No one responded. Worry coursed through you, and you grabbed the knife from the cutting board. Just in case. 

Your husband rounded the corner and you jumped, but let the fear drain from your held breath and set the knife down. “Jesus Harvy, you could’ve… hey, what are you doing back here?”

Harvey looked indecipherably pissed. He had hard creases in his face and his lips pressed in that flat line that meant someone was about to see that side of him that meant he was gonna raise hell. He opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out, and he let his hands fall to his sides. 

“Okay, okay come sit, love,” You reached for him and guided him to the island. “Do you want to talk about it? A distraction? To be left the hell alone?”

That communication strategy had worked wonders when Harvey came home from a lethal case. All the details you knew about this one involved his brother and a divorce from his wife. It had already shattered Harvey’s heart to hear they were splitting up, but this was… this was rage. Raw fury. 

“I am going to open my mouth and let the floodgates go with it, and I just need you to try and make sense of it. Because for reasons only known by Jesus-fucking-Christ himself can this be possible.”

You just nodded, letting Harvey take some deep breaths. You noticed his hands were shaking. He was shaking. What the fuck happened in Boston?

“Marcus called me up there to represent him for his divorce,” Harvey started, thumbs in his eyes. “He told me that it was because she had an affair. I was ready to go kick down her door and take their kids away myself. Turns out, he lied to me. She was divorcing him because he started gambling again and he told Haley not to tell Katie.”

Your blood ran cold, all remorse leaving your body for Marcus. How could he fucking do that? 

“So, tell me this Yn. Why would my own god damn brother, who I spent my money on to build him a dream restaurant, lie to my fucking face? Not once. Not twice. Four times. Four opportunities he had to tell me and he waited till the last fucking second. I-I can’t even begin to describe how sick it makes me feel to have Haley be put in that position.”

“It is wildly unfair for her, and for their son,” you felt awful for them. They were the sweetest kids and didn’t deserve to have that weight on their shoulders. 

“I mean, was he not apart of the fucking family when mom did that to me? Did he suddenly just show up on our doorstep one night looking for a place to sleep like a stray cat? No, he didn’t. He’s my fucking brother. He was there when mom did it to me. And he saw what it did to our family. What it did to me. He was the one trying to fix our fucking fucked up family. To piece it together after the fall out and he expects me to do the same when he did the one thing worse than practically fucking cheating on her.”

“Harvey I think that's a little-”

“Now he’s destroying his own life. No, not even destroying, destroyed. He has ruined all chances of working things out between him and Katie and honestly, I can’t be fucking bothered to watch it crumble to the ground. And the worst part of it is he had the audacity to ask me to win this case. He doesn’t deserve to win let alone ask me. What a selfish, lying son of a bitch-”

“Harvey,” you placed a hand on his shoulder to keep him from walking away. He had been moving around animatedly, now up out of his seat and waving around. “Take a deep breath. Please.”

He did.

“Good,” You smiled softly. 

He took another. And another. “Sorry… just- sorry.”

“It’s okay,” You came and stood in front of him, hands flat on his chest. “Let’s go and get you changed and we can keep talking through it. If you’d like.”

Though Harvey’s eyes were harsh, that anger wasn’t directed at you. You’ve dealt with him like this on more than one occasion, and you’ve learned to recognize the difference. He didn’t dare look at you the way he is now.

After taking his hand and leading him up stairs, you took your time undressing him so he could be more comfortable. Once upon a time he had told you that the feeling of your hands on him could make him forget anything and everything. It was only in your best interest to do that for him now. To calm him so he could see the full picture.

Starting with his tie, you walked to the closet and hung it up in the empty space from where you picked it out this morning. Much the same with the jacket, tossing his still crisp white-shirt in the laundry. He handed you his belt and shoes, and while you put them away, he took off his dress pants and put on sweats by the time you came back. 

“Better?” You asked, placing his hands across your middle. 

He smiled, “Better.” 

Harvey was still sitting, but he rested his forehead against your stomach, just breathing. With calm hands you massaged his scalp and neck, his shoulders and arms. It was important to give Harvey his space at times like this, letting him speak when he wanted. Otherwise he’d just get defensive and shut down. That was not beneficial to either of you.

“I’m so fucking mad at Marcus, Yn.”

“I know, my love. I know,” You spoke softly, kissing the top of his head. “So am I.”

“I just don’t understand how he could do that after what mom did to me. I thought- I thought we were brothers again.” 

His voice cracked, and you could feel the first tear drops soak through your shirt and cool your skin. Your stomach clenched and dropped. You know Harvey and Marcus have been rocky for decades, but since he forgave his mom and started rebuilding their relationship, things naturally got better with Marcus. 

So much for all that hard work. And you had been so proud of him for taking those steps. And you knew the toll it took on him. Now it was all back at square one. 

“I am so sorry, Harvey.”

“What the fuck do I do?”

You paused for a long while. “I don’t know.”

When he looked up at you, eyes all red and bleary, you wanted to fly to Boston and smack Marcus yourself for putting Harvey right back where he was when he was sixteen. He may not have been the one asked to keep a secret this time, but he knows what it’s like to be in that situation. To feel so pinned and powerless. The looming decision of whether he should betray his mom or dad, a constant threat, and either outcome will ruin the family. 

“Are you up for listening to my ideas or do you still need to get things off your chest?” All you got was a shrug and a few spilled tears. “Okay, there’s no rush.”

“I just don’t know what to do, Yn. I have no fucking clue what I’m supposed to do. I want to beat him into the dirt the most. I want to hold Haley and tell her that none of this was ever her fault and she is not the one to blame. Goddamn do I want to hug Haley right now…”

You had to close your eyes. You didn’t want to see Harvey in this position, especially because you knew what this did to him. It stirred up all those memories and emotions from decades ago. Now they were all at the surface, controlling every one of his thoughts. And there isn’t a whole lot that you can do to get them to stop.

“I think you’re angry.”

“You’re goddamn right I’m angry,” Harvey huffed, making you let out a weak chuckle. 

“And I also think that I know you when you’re angry. And that you don’t think clearly when you are. So, how about we distract you for a while and then we get some sleep. Then, maybe in the morning, we lay it all out again and go over what we know. Look at all the facts and whatnot. Because, despite your very much warranted anger towards Marcus, he is still your brother. And family means more than anything to you, Harvey. I can’t let you spend the next thirty years in regret for not trying. You owe that to yourself. Not anyone else.”

“I don’t even know where to start with all this bullshit.”

“That’s where I come in,” You smiled, sitting in his lap with one leg on each side of his. “Look Harvey, you have every single right to be upset. I am pissed at Marcus for doing that to Haley. But I will not let this drive another cavern between you and him. The two of you have been through enough. He fucked up, and he knows it because you’re Harvey goddamn Specter and you told him he did. But you forgave him once. And you forgave your mom. It is worth a shot to hear him out, and I’m not saying it has to be right away either. Just eventually.”

Harvey’s brown eyes darted around your face, that tight line still on his lips. When you tilted your head and batted your lashes, he sighed out, nodding. “Okay, okay fine you’re right.”

“Of course I am,” your smile made him finally unclench the space between his brows. “It’s because I’m really good at knowing who you are, and knowing how to approach a situation. You’re good at being a kick-ass lawyer and I’m good at taming that kick-ass lawyer.” “You love it when I let that animal out of the cage,” he smirked, hands stroking down your thighs. 

“If you refer to yourself as an animal in a cage again I will walk out that door and spend the night at Donna’s.”

“Okay okay,” he grinned ear to ear, pressing kisses on your cheek, then down your neck. “I’m sorry for being so… hostile. Thank you, Yn. For calming me down.”

“You’re welcome, my love.”

“I don’t know what it is that you do, but you make it all disappear.”

“It’s my secret,” you whispered, kissing his lips. “And I won’t ever tell.”

“I bet I could make you tell me,” Harvey winked and grabbed around your waist, taking you with him when he leaned back. 

“Oh, is that a fact?” “No, but it is a challenge.” 

He tangled his hand in your hair, bringing your mouth to his. He tasted like whatever cheap whiskey he had on the plane and mint. You let your body form to his and didn’t mind the way his tongue found yours. Harvey’s hands were gentle as they peeled away the cardigan on your shoulders, tossing it away to be picked up later. 

He took his time, slowly stripping you and easing you on your back. You wrapped your legs around his waist and needed to have his mouth on yours again. He was such a good kisser. So thorough and precise with what he wanted to do to you. 

And he was always very thorough. 

Harvey placed kisses down your chest, down your stomach and to each hip.

“Babe-”

“Shh,” he hushed. “Just let me do what I want. You just lay back and look pretty. Fuck do you look pretty, my love.”

Your heart melted. Normally he had a wicked, dirty tongue but tonight was obviously different. He wanted something to focus on, and if that was going to be you, then so be it. You surely weren’t going to stop him from spreading your knees and tucking his head to your core. 

If Harvey could do one thing for the rest of his life, he’d sure have a hard time picking between you and the law. While he loved his work, your mind and body were two things even the high of winning couldn’t compare to. Harvey loved you. Ferociously. With every part of his body he loved you. 

His tongue circled your clit, and your hand went in his hair to keep him there. The laugh that tumbled from him was nothing short of star-seeing. One thing about Harvey is if you weren’t satisfied and thensome, neither was he. He loved making you cum on his tongue, loved how you tasted. 

It wasn’t long before you warned him you were close, and he just hummed into you, vibrations making you arch up off the bed, tugging equally as hard on his hair as you did the sheets beside you. 

“I will never get sick of making you feel good, Yn. I love that I am the one who gets to spend these moments with you.”

“Harvey,” you swooned, cupping his face to bring him back up so you could kiss him. Your scent was strong on his lips and made you only need him that much more. All it took was a few impatient grabs at his shirt to make him take it off so you could finally get your hands on that body of his. 

All that time in the boxing gym surely paid off. 

Harvey brough your knee up and pushed it flat on the bed, pulling the other one around his hip. He pushed in, chest to chest with you as he sat still for a few moments. 

“I love you so much, Yn,” Harvey whispered, thumb training down your cheek, your neck. He slid it all the way down your arm and laced your fingers together, kissing them as he pulled back. He wouldn’t leave your lips alone, not that you wanted that in the slightest. He was all soft words and pleas of desperation. Telling you how good you felt.

It was like your wedding night all over again. When the two of you met, it had been in a fury of hands and tongues. All fast because there wasn’t a second to waste when it finally happened. But on your big day, he laid you down, just like this, and worshiped you all night long. 

Every word from his mouth was just him telling you how much you meant to him, his body seconding that omission. He was so dedicated to you, to making you feel good. It was all long, smooth strokes of his body inside yours, the warmth of your combined breaths. Swallowing each other's noises of pleasure.

“I am so in love with you,” Harvey smiled. “I am so fucking in love with you.”

You couldn’t hide your smile if you tried. It wasn’t rare that Harvey was affectionate– per say– but this was an illusive moment. He wine and dined you whenever you asked, you were always his plus one anywhere in the world. But it was these small, yet enormous moments of intimacy that you cherished the most. This was a side of Harvey that took a very long time to bring to the surface. And he too realized the weight of just taking his time and being soft with you. 

“I love you too, Harvey,” you whispered against his face, his mouth now busy with the side of your neck. Harvey couldn’t keep his hips slow for long, and they snapped to yours. Air pushed out of your mouth and right into his ear, right where it drove him crazy to hear what he did to you. 

“Fuck, my love, if you keep making those sounds this isn’t exactly going to be how I-”

“Now it’s my turn to take care of you,” you responded, locking your ankles together behind his back.

A shiver ran through his shoulders and he dropped to his elbows, hips driving into you faster and faster. Harder. It didn’t take him long to reach his high, fucking you through it. His heart pounded underneath his skin so hard you could feel it. A slight sweat at the back of his head where hair met skin. 

When he lifted his head, his eyes looked less… weighted. He looked much more himself. Muc more like Harvey and a little less like Mr. Specter. 

You mentally patted yourself on the back. 

There wasn’t anything you could do to convince him to not drag you into the shower down the hall. The warmth of the water, the heaviness in your body only made his fingers on your scalp that much better. He kissed all over, giving your ass a loving smack when getting out before wrapping a big towel around the both of you. 

“Promise in the morning that we can do this all again and then I can make you a big breakfast?”

“Only if you promise that there will be sausage and bacon,” your eyes were droopy, but the smile reached them anyway. 

“Good thing Postmates will go to the grocery store nowadays,” Harvey slipped one of his shirts over your head, straightening it out over your body. “You look so adorable in my clothes.”

“I know, why do you think I wear them when you’re gone?” “You wear my clothes when I’m gone?” You pff’ed out some air, “Don’t act like you don’t notice the suspiciously large pile of your laundry in the hamper when you come back.”

“I don’t think you know how happy that makes me, Yn,” Harvey’s smile was nothing short of pure adoration. He was never short on pure adoration when it came to you. 

“Yes I do,” You smiled, wrapping your arms around his neck. “Why do you think I do it?”

“Because you know me. Really really well.”

“That I do.”

Harvey breathed out, shaking his head. “Thank you.”

“You don’t need to thank me for something anyone would do for their husband.”

“Well, in my experience, most wives aren’t nearly as observant or as dedicated as you are, Yn. And I want you to know how much I appreciate you and everything you help me through when I don’t know how to help myself.”

Your eyes melted, much like your heart when he hugged you. Nice and tight and just how you liked them. You always felt impossibly safe with him, and his hugs were impossibly your favorite thing in the world. 

Harvey would listen better in the morning. Especially after a good night's sleep. You just hope that all your efforts will lead him in the right direction. And that direction isn’t the clearest right now, and that’s okay. Both of you know it’s okay to not make a decision as big as something like this.

But you know Harvey will try. And that is all you can ask of him.

#harvey specter #harvey specter suits #harvey specter x reader #harvey specter smut #harvey specter fanfiction #suits smut #suits fanfiction #suits fanfic #suits tv #suits

[kmartinswife]

kate martin x reader

heyy!

this is my first ever post on tumblr after being on here for 2 years... this is also my first attempt at a one shot/fic so please give me any pointers or critiques!!

———

words - 1050

a bit angstyyy but not really

warnings? just maybe alcohol and kissing.

Two weeks had passed since the end of your undefined relationship with Kate, and it had taken a toll on you. While spending countless hours together, flirting and being more than friends, it suddenly came to an end over some miscommunication. You didn't understand why she flipped out over nothing, and the pure dramatics she showed scared you from trying to reconcile. Both of you decided whatever you had was done and assumed it was over. 

Since both of you play for the Iowa Hawkeyes, you see her every single day. To the best of your knowledge, the rest of the team never caught on to the shared laughs, sneaking around, and secret glances. Your eyes still linger on Kate longer than anyone else, especially when she's laughing it up with Caitlin and Gabbie for what feels like hours. You wished it was you that was making her eyes light up and her smile wide, not Caitlin. 

You had tried to stay upbeat and confident, but it was hard when Kate paid no more than necessary attention to you. All you wanted was to reverse back 14 days and fix your fight. Apologize. Make her listen. Anything to get her back laughing with you and hanging out whenever you didn't have classes or basketball. 

At the 20 day mark, Iowa had come back winners from a home game, and the team decided a karaoke bar was the best idea for celebrating. You had played an amazing game, putting up your best numbers of the season. Kate hadn't even batted an eye. The press conference was a joke to you, reporters congratulating you and asking you how good it felt, but in all honesty you felt like shit over an ex-situationship. 

Hannah had to practically force you into coming to the bar after telling the team you had too much homework to party. This is how you ended up in your tiniest top and best-fitting jeans slouched on the bar alone, watching Kate flirt with a random girl. Jealousy filled you. Could she not do this another time? Why did it have to be when you were watching? 

"You played pretty amazing out there tonight," Gabbie approached you and took a seat, "and it's clear you dressed up a bit more than usual, but you're still sulking in a corner. Tell me what's up. Please?" 

You sighed and turned to look her in the eyes. Her eyes looked soft back at you as you stayed silent. You slowly gazed away and back toward Kate and her new girl. Gabby must've caught on. 

"Caitlin and I know about you two. She wants you back, if you can't tell," Gabby told you, "she was a mess before the game tonight. She's been a mess."

You guys discussed it, and you both were going to keep it a secret, you don't understand why she told multiple people. You finally found your voice, "It doesn't seem like she gives a fuck about me anymore. Look at her. I don't know if I ever made her as happy as that random drunk girl is," you stated.

"Come on, you know she missed you. She regrets walking away like that. Just talk to her, please?" Gabbie pleaded. 

Kate had left the girl and was now standing alone at the bar. She was leaned up against it, staring at Gabbie and you, displaying an unreadable expression. She was wearing dark black jeans, and a tight halter tank. Kate's hair was in a low bun, with chunks pulled out to frame her face. She looked hot. No wonder that girl flirted with her, Kate was astonishing tonight. 

"Gabbie, she's ignored me for the past few weeks. What do I even say to her?" You asked, nervous because of Gabbie's pressure. 

"Tell her how you feel. I am one hundred percent sure she will open up to you. I hate seeing you both like this," Gabbie replied. 

"Okay," you replied, and Gabbie gave your back a quick tap before turning away to play a drinking game with most of your teammates. 

You sat with your thoughts for a moment. Of course you forgave her, she was Kate after all, and it was really just a heated moment. Neither of you made a move to sit beside the other. There was a good chunk of room separating the pair of you, far enough you could hardly see her in your peripheral vision. You didn't believe you had the confidence to face her right now. 

Busy in your thoughts, you didn't realize Kate had plunked herself down right beside you. Neither of you looked at each other, rather choosing to remain cold and stare directly forward. She nested a rum and coke in her left hand, slowly pushing it around, revealing her rings decorating her fingers. The rings you used to love so dearly. 

“I should have stayed,” she started, “I’m sorry.”

You sat with it for a moment. Not daring to look at her. You knew you forgave her, so why was it so hard to get the words out?

“I really disliked not being listened to, Kate. It really hurt,” you said. You felt mature, putting your feelings out for show, “I want to understand you, that's all I ever wanted. But I cannot understand why you stormed out.” 

She turned to you, “In the moment, I was upset. I've run it through my head hundreds of times. I was unsure of what to do, so I left. I don't think I was ready to have a relationship-level fight with you. I just didn't want to hurt us. I want us back to normal — actually, I want more than normal with you, I don't want us to be a secret.”

You huffed and took a sip of your drink, “I understand. Thank you for apologizing,” you replied and turned toward her, looking into her caring blue eyes, “oh my goodness, I have missed you.” 

You leaned in for a hug and Kate accepted gratefully. You both missed each other so much. The embrace lasted as you were reminded of her simple, yet perfect, perfume, and the warmth of her skin. God did you miss her.

“You played so well tonight, it was amazing. You're amazing,” she told you as you leaned out of her embrace. 

A wide smile grew onto your features and you knew you were back on track, “Want to get out of here?”

#iowa wbb #kate martin #kate martin x reader #iowa hawkeyes

[runnning-outof-time]

happy 3.5 k you 100% deserve it !!!! please could i put forward 33 . "are you jealous" with john shelby tysm have an amazing day

@henrywinterluver Thanks so much for your kind words and also for sending this request in! I’m sorry it took me so long to write it! I hope you like what I did with the prompt you chose! I envisioned this as season 3 Michael…after he started acting cocky haha. Enjoy! :)

I’D LOVE TO KNOW WHAT YOU THINK! - YOUR COMMENTS & REBLOGS HELP ME WRITE!

Part of my 3.5k Celebration - find more stories here!

Run in with a Cousin

John Shelby x Reader

Warnings: language

Word Count: 1170

Summary: Michael hits on (Y/N) one night at the Garrison. Michael doesn’t know that (Y/N) is John’s girl. (Y/N) tries to figure out why John reacts the way he does…in the process she learns of a family member she didn’t know John had.

(Y/N) was waiting for her drink at the Garrison’s counter when she felt someone slide into the empty space beside her. At first she ignored the person, wanting to get her drink and head back to the corner table she’d been occupying while she waited for her partner and his brothers to finish talking business. But the feeling of the man’s eyes lingering on her made her turn to face him just seconds later.

“May I help you?” she asked politely, wondering why he’d been staring at her.

“You might be able to,” the man said with a grin. (Y/N) tried so hard to keep her grimace internal.

“Oh yeah, how so?” she asked, deciding to humor him.

“I just couldn’t help but notice how bloody beautiful you are…and then when I saw that you were sitting here alone. I figured I’d come over and introduce myself,” he answered, inching closer to her as he spoke.

“Well thank you,” she accepted his compliment, still playing nice while making sure to add, “I already have someone though.”

The young man pursed his lips together at the added information before he looked around the room. “I don’t see him anywhere,” he commented on his observstion.

“Oh he’s here,” she assured him.

“Doesn’t mean I can’t still buy you a drink,” the man’s eyes were back on her as his grin returned, “nothin’ illegal with buying a pretty girl a drink…and maybe then we’ll see where that goes.”

A look of surprise flooded (Y/N)’s features as she heard what he had to say. “I think I may be a bit too old for you,” she pointed out. It wasn’t hard to notice that this man looked to be in his early twenties.

“Age is just a number, darlin’.”

(Y/N) didn’t know what to say back to that. So instead she just pursed her lips and nodded.

The young man was about to speak again when she caught a glimpse of her partner over his shoulder. Within seconds, John Shelby had approached them. She could tell by the scowl that had formed that he’d clocked the man she was talking to. (Y/N) tried to withhold her grin…things were about to get interesting.

“Hi, love,” she greeted him in a soft voice as he stopped by her side. He wasted no time in slipping his arm around her shoulders as she pressed a quick kiss to his lips.

“Who’s this?” he asked, nodding his head to the man that was on his right. He still hadn’t looked in his direction yet.

“Just someone I’ve been talking to,” she answered, glancing between the two as she spoke.

“This must be your man that you spoke about,” the man made his observation known.

“It is,” (Y/N) nodded.

Then John looked to his right. “Michael?” he said the name as if there was posion laced into it.

“John?” the man’s response was full of shock. “Fuck,” he breathed then, dropping his gaze to the floor.

“You were out here trying to get with my girl when you were supposed to be in the snug discussing business?” John questioned.

“I wasn’t, I didn’t know, I…we were just talking,” the younger of the two struggled to think of an answer.

“But she had to tell you that she had a man,” John pointed out.

“She’s a pretty girl!” Michael admitted, throwing his arms outward in exasperation.

“We’re leaving,” John said to (Y/N) then, his arm dropping from her shoulders to hook around her waist before he looked back to the man named Michael, “and you’d better think twice before trying any of this shit ever again. Got it?”

Michael nodded in response, clearly looking like a child who had just been scolded. Well that’s what he was though, right? He was basically still a child. That was all John needed though to turn and lead (Y/N) out of the pub.

It wasn’t until they made it to her home that someone spoke again. “I can’t fucking believe that happened,” John grumbled as he swiped his peaked cap from atop his head so that he could throw it down onto one of the chairs in the living room.

(Y/N) spun to look at him, immediately noticing that his deep scowl was still very much present. “We were just talking, John,” she told him, trying to get him to lighten up.

“Yeah, but he was talking with the intent of picking you up.”

“But he didn’t.”

“Because I came out and put an end to it.”

“You don’t think I would have put an end to it myself?” (Y/N) inquired, her eyebrows raised.

“I’m sure you would have, but that’s not…” he trailed off with a huff, running a hand down his face before he waved it out in the air, “that’s not the point, (Y/N). I just can’t fucking believe he tried that.”

(Y/N) studied her partner’s mannerisms for a few moments, wondering why this measly conversation had got him so worked up. Then it clicked. “Are you jealous?” she just had to ask him.

John’s eyes immediately snapped to her. “What?” he just had to ask, wanting to make sure he even heard her right.

“Are you jealous of me talking to him?” she repeated her previous question. “Because that’s all we were doing. Talking.”

“Fuck no, I’m not jealous of him!” John exclaimed in an incredulous manner, “why would I be jealous of my little shit of a cousin who’s got absolutely no chance with you?”

“He’s your cousin?” (Y/N) asked with wide eyes, completely shocked by this new information.

“Yes, he’s my cousin,” John answered with a nod.

“How?” the word left (Y/N)’s lips before she could think of anything else to string with it, “I mean I know how, but like…through who?”

“My aunt Pol. He’s her son.”

“I didn’t know that.”

“It would have made things much easier if you did.”

“Well if you would have told me…” (Y/N) trailed off, her eyebrows raising again.

“It never came up!” John defended himself, “and besides, I’m not the problem here, he is.”

“It’s not even a problem though, John,” she sighed in response, wishing he’d let the minuscule issue go.

“I’m gonna tell Pol about it…then it won’t be a problem anymore,” he decided how he was going to remedy the situation.

“That might make it more into a problem,” she couldn’t help but giggle slightly as she thought of her partner, who was very much an adult, going to his aunt to tell on her son - who was also very much an adult.

“It’s what he deserves,” he stayed steadfast with his idea, nodding once after he spoke, as if he was agreeing with himself.

“Whatever you think, John,” (Y/N) appeased him, deciding to let the matter rest…although she knew that this wasn’t the last time she’d hear about this situation.

**tags in reblog so that hopefully they get sent out

MASTERLIST

#john shelby #john shelby x reader #john shelby x y/n #john shelby x you #john shelby blurb #john shelby imagine #john shelby fanfic #john shelby fanfiction #peaky blinders #peaky blinders x reader #peaky blinders x y/n #peaky blinders x you #peaky blinders blurb #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders fanfic #peaky blinders fanfiction #fanfiction #fanfic #k’s 3.5k celebration

[heliads]

there's things i want to say to you

No one on this earth can get under your skin quite like Lando Norris. It would take something insane for you to be able to move past that. Maybe realizing that Lando's crazy for you would do the trick.

masterlistT

You have one mission for this particular race weekend, one mission alone, and that is to not mess up. On the track, off the track. Don’t fuck it up. This isn’t unusual by any means– flying around corners and down straights at such tumultuous speeds typically means you aren’t angling to make any mistakes anyway, but this weekend in particular needs to be perfect.

Everyone’s on edge right now, not just you. This is the time of year when contracts start expiring, when what had seemed like a decent season might end up being your last. It’s all on the wire, and at last it’s occurring to you, and everyone else for that matter, that their entire career is up to whatever they do on the track.

You’ve already sat down with your PR manager several times to discuss how you should handle this weekend, as well as the next few weekends until you can get a contract renewal locked in. You have no reason to doubt your current team, you’ve been delivering the results as asked, but there’s always the small voice in the back of your head wondering if you haven’t been picking up on the warning signs. You’ve heard of drivers getting blindsided before. Why couldn’t it happen to you?

So yes, although you’ve been just fine since your last contract signing, drivers have been let go for smaller offenses. That’s why you need to be damn near perfect this weekend. If you get through this latest race with no mistakes and some good points, you’ll be just fine. Once you’ve signed to your team again, you can relax. Up until that time, though, your behavior needs to be as proper as you can make it.

You’ve been managing such a task pretty well this whole weekend. Thursday you were nervous but in control all throughout the interviews, Friday landed you some good practices, and you did well enough in Saturday’s qualifying that you have nothing to lose sleep over yet, at least. You just need to get through today, and then luck will be on your side even more than before.

The race will start in less than an hour; you’re wandering the grid in the throngs of other drivers and team principles and spectators. At some point soon, you’ll have to head over to listen to the usual bungling of the host country’s national anthem, but until then, you’re putting on a good face. Your PR manager is flashing you discreet thumbs up whenever you see her. Life is good.

You weave around the various cars, not so close that you’ll be accused of spying but just close enough that you could, you know, if you wanted to. No one minds getting a better idea of their opponents’ sidepod designs anyway. Above all else, you keep an eye out for camera crews; Martin Brundle’s here somewhere, interviewing some poor sap, and you’d like to keep out of his way lest he turn to questioning you instead. The guy’s got a knack for getting under anyone’s skin, you don’t much feel like an interrogation today.

In fact, you can see him right now, eagerly thrusting his microphone towards some hapless driver. You see the papaya cap first, then hear the grating voice, and– well, maybe you’ll drift a little closer than before, because watching Lando Norris get picked to pieces by Martin won’t be the worst start to your race morning after all.

In single-seater racing, everyone is your enemy. At the end of the day, it’s you versus all nineteen other drivers on the grid. This means that you should have no particular arch rival, but if you were going to hate someone more than anyone else like that, it would be Lando by a long shot.

He’s just infuriating, that’s all. It’s like racing with a kid, he never learned to grow up, and every time you have to talk to him, you walk away wishing you could throttle him. Lando annoys you to death, and worst of all, he’s quite aware of it and proud of it, too. Usually, you go out of your way to avoid being near him, but you can make out the displeased look on his face from here, and if Martin Brundle is tearing him to shreds, well, you’d like to hear that more than anything.

You casually adjust course so you’ll be passing behind Lando. It looks like nothing at all, just you trying to navigate the packed grid, but you can hear every word of the conversation happening between Martin and Lando now.

You can’t help but smile as you hear Martin questioning Lando.  “McLaren hasn’t had as good of a weekend so far as they’d like, I think,” Martin is saying, “What’s your strategy to turn that bit of bad luck around?”

Lando’s grin is frozen on his face like plastic. “Uh, we’ll definitely be gunning for whoever’s in front of us with everything we’ve got. Best strategy is to just go for it.”

Martin nods. You’re close enough now that you’re about to walk straight behind Lando, close enough that you swear Martin sees you just before he asks, “Anyone in particular that you’ll be going for?”

“Yeah,” Lando says, scratching his head absentmindedly, “Y/N L/N.”

Perfect timing. The cameraman quickly pans his camera between Lando’s deliverance of this answer to you, right over his shoulder like a devil. The worst part is that you genuinely don’t even think Lando knew you were there or planned it like that. He just likes throwing you under the bus for fun.

Martin chuckles– this must be the best thing for him all morning, really, drama like this gets him talked about like nothing else– and addresses his next question to you. “So, Y/N, what do you think about that?”

Lando turns around, evidently startled, but you just plaster on a smile. “He can try his best, but I won’t be letting anyone through today,” you tell Martin, and leave as soon as you can.

You can sense the cameras following you no matter how far away you go. Damn. And, as you walk further towards a group of your race engineers, you remember the most important part of your PR manager’s advice for this weekend:  avoiding trouble, not just putting on a good face. That hasn’t worked out so well for you now. You do very well in that race, but what the Internet focuses on the most in the days to come isn’t your result but endless gifs of your irritated face in the background of Lando’s interview when he says he’ll be targeting you.

It’s not the greatest, to say the least. So much for playing it cool before a contract is signed. Oh, PR’s going to have a holiday over this one. You’d almost be surprised with the speed at which they suggest a media activity to wipe the slate clean, except for the fact that they’ve probably been counting on you messing something up this weekend so they had to have backup plans. Always nice to be trusted, isn’t it?

The event actually isn’t that bad. They’ve gotten a good amount of you together for some manner of charity work/awareness raising/well intentioned propaganda nonsense. They love putting F1 drivers together on a program outside race week, like it’s some kind of proof they can point to when the press conferences seem more awkward than usual. See, they hang out all the time! Of course they like each other!

(They do not like each other. Not at all. Some do, but. Most are not some. You are not some.) 

Today, drivers will be in pairs, volunteering with children so motorsport can accrue a younger fanbase. Normally, you love events like this, the kids get so excited to talk to an actual live Formula One driver as if they’re typically just in display cases or something. Things will go wrong, fun times will be had, and your PR manager will ease off for a day or two provided that you do a good job. Not the worst thing in the world.

Usually, the organizers of such image-boosting nonsense at least try to put friends together. Quick camera cuts and a good deal of B-roll can only do so much to cover up the missed jokes, the cruel laughs. You’re with your teammate more often than not, a unified front, or else with one of the drivers you’re closer to. It’s easier that way. The smiles come more quickly.

That’s what you expect when you show up. Instead, you glance at the email telling you the place and the name and the time, and you see that you’ll be stationed with– no, no please– Lando. Lando Norris. Lando, the one boy you can’t stand more than anyone.

They know that. Of course they do. It is physically impossible to avoid that fact. As if you haven’t seen the YouTube compilations of terrible moments between the two of you, the Instagram posts with the hateful stares, the TikToks with captivating audios of every time you’ve slighted each other in the paddock or during interviews. You’re a bitch, he’s an ass, and neither of you get to be the good one coming out of those fights, but more often than not, it’s him.

There’s nothing you can do about it now. Causing a kerfuffle will only turn the organizers against you, and you refuse to show weakness in the face of British children, drivers or otherwise, so you keep your smile fake and your mouth shut. This is a good cause. You can hold your tongue for a few hours. The kids will, at least, appreciate it. Hopefully.

Lando’s already at your assigned station when you get there. He’s spinning aimlessly in one of the chairs they’ve given him, and you have to fight to hide your laugh at his rotation speed.

“Trying to train for G-Force, are you? I’m almost impressed with your dedication to the sport, Norris.”

Lando looks up with a start when you speak, and he hurriedly puts his feet down to stop his frenzied spinning. “You’re impressed with me? Glad to hear it.”

You roll your eyes, taking a seat on the chair next to him. “Oh, always. Do you know who put the two of us together on this activity? I want to have words with them.”

Lando snorts. “Not me, definitely. Whoever it is, they’re probably in witness protection at the moment. You look like you’re going to murder someone.”

“It might be you,” you tell him.

He groans. “Come off it. What have I even done to you? Can we not go without fighting for, like, five minutes?”

You scoff. “You’re the one who went after me on live television not three days ago.”

“Oh, you mean the interview with Brundle? That was so not my fault. He tries to trick you into going after other drivers, you know that.” Lando argues.

You arch a brow. “So he specifically tricked you into naming me as your first target? I didn’t know he operated at that level of mental warfare.”

Lando has the grace to look somewhat ashamed. “No. Uh. That may have been me.”

Thankfully, you’re interrupted by one of the event organizers coming in to tell you that the kids are arriving shortly. They pour in soon enough, about dozen children all thrilled to death about the fact that they actually get to talk to you and Lando. You’re soon distracted by the flood of questions directed towards you, ranging from kids wanting to know which drivers you’re best friends with to what superhero is your favorite.

You answer each question with equal solemnity, and before long you’re laughing with ease. You’re meant to be doing crafts and questions, so you help the kids make plastic beaded bracelets while you talk about the different colors of the flags and tyres. All in a day’s work.

Surprisingly, the fact that you have to do all of this with Lando right there beside you isn’t the worst thing in the world. He seems content to just watch you have fun with the kids with this weird, quiet smile on his face, and when everyone’s making their crafts, he’s bent over a project of his own, one that he refuses to let you so much as peek at.

At last, Lando straightens up and presents the finished product with a flourish. “It’s for you,” he says proudly, “Consider it a peace offering.”

You stare at it. He’s made a bracelet for you, complete with the same brightly colored beads that the other kids are using. Except, in the center, he’s spelled out a message—

You frown at him, confused. “This just says ‘driver.’”

“You are one,” Lando points out helpfully. 

There is a fight to not roll your eyes, and you are on the losing side. “Incredible.”

“I also made it in your team colors,” he says. He’s smiling at it. At you. Fondly.

It’s not an expression you usually associate with him, but you’re smiling too, aren’t you? You can’t seem to stop. It’s just— you’re here with him, and instead of fighting, he’s gone to the trouble of making you this. Your colors, your message. Fuck. 

You slip it onto your wrist before you can stop yourself. “Thank you.”

Lando’s grin broadens. “Does this mean I’m forgiven?”

You let out a frustrated huff. “You’ve ruined the moment. Stop having an agenda.”

“You’re still smiling despite my agenda,” Lando mentions. 

He’s unreal. It’s not as bad as before, though. Not that you’d tell him that much. 

Just in case he actually has ruined the brief moment of peace, Lando raises his hands in mock surrender. “Fine, then,” he says, “I’ll be better. Name one thing I can do to make this easier on you and I’ll get it done in a heartbeat.”

He’s expecting you to tell him there’s nothing he can do to improve himself in your eyes. It’ll make him seem like the bigger person and he’ll have the upper hand, then. Instead, you tilt your head to the side, considering him, and then at last point your finger at the offense on his chin.

“Shave the half-beard,” you say, “Please. It’s an eyesore.”

“Will that get you to stop complaining?” He asks, mouth twisting up in an amused grin. 

“Nothing can,” you argue back, “I thought you knew that.”

If anything, Lando only seems more pleased by your response. “I’m starting to learn.”

He’s stubbornly unwilling to argue with you. It would be infuriating, but for some reason, it still makes you smile thinking about it hours after you get back home, rubbing your thumb over the beads on the bracelet he strung for you. 

And, when you see him at the paddock for the next race, he’s fucking clean shaven. Not a whisper of a beard in sight. He spots you looking and winks. What the hell. 

It makes no sense. None at all. He doesn’t say a thing about it, and if he won’t, then you can’t either, because you’re not entirely sure that this isn’t just all in your head. Maybe he felt like shaving anyway. Maybe a girlfriend put him up to it or something. This prompts a frantic research session, and after perusing many F1 WAGs Instagram accounts, you’re certain that Lando isn’t dating anyone at the moment. This isn’t important information, of course. You’re just, you know, curious.

You keep the bracelet on. Tucked under a sleeve, always, no one needs to know and least of all Lando, but it stays on. You’re not entirely sure why. Luxury brands have offered you diamonds, but Lando made this for you, and for some reason, that makes it far more valuable in your opinion than anything else. It’s silly, but it’s yours. That’s all.

No one has picked up on the war waging in your head. Your PR manager mentioned once that she was glad you and Lando weren’t actively fighting anymore, and it took you a few moments before you realized she was right. Not only have you stopped sniping at each other in interviews, but a couple races now, he’s actually approached you in the paddock to talk, and what’s more, you’ve let him.

It’s stupid, and unreasonable, and definitely not something you should be devoting so much of your life to thinking about, but now that the seed has been planted in your head, it’s kind of impossible to ignore. Lando gets you water on hot weekends. He helps you avoid Martin Brundle when the commentator is out doing his grid walks. You seek him out to talk through race results. You laugh at each other’s misfortune, but it doesn’t sting like it did before.

He’s insufferable. You love him. 

You love him. 

It’s the first time you’ve admitted as much to yourself. You have a feeling that it won’t be the last. There is much more to you, to him, than just the fighting, so much more that you want to explore and express and linger over, but—

But Lando doesn’t want that, does he? Lando is a spoiled brat, a young Prince Charming who is very used to getting what he wants and not at all acquainted with people contradicting that. It’s why the two of you clashed for the first time. If he had wanted you in any sense of the word other than as an enemy, he would have done something about it at the start.

Even now, the two of you have been drunk in clubs before, have walked back to hotels alone in the middle of the night. If Lando wanted something from you, something more, he could have taken it. He hasn’t, so the awful truth you must admit to yourself if this:  he doesn’t want it at all. He’s studiously neutral, but nothing more than that.

It’s starting to gnaw away at you. Lando isn’t the only one who likes getting what he wants. Now that you’ve stopped hating each other, he’s closer to you than he ever has been, but yet it still isn’t enough. You can stand right next to him, can even lean against his shoulder, but it all means nothing.

It’s infuriating. It makes you act up, act out. Your shared friends on the grid invite you out to some gala, and you go because you know Lando will be there, and you leave early because you want him to follow you out. He does, and you two argue the whole way back, because if you can’t have him as you want, maybe you should push him away. It’ll certainly make things easier.

The two of you are squabbling in the back of the taxi about something unnecessary. Probably something he said and you escalated, if not the other way around. At last, you can’t take the weight of his disapproval anymore, and you ask the driver to let you out. It’s close enough to your hotel that you can walk, anyway. Lando can stay in the car and go back to his place. Problem solved.

It is, at least, until he chases you out of the car as well. He’s saying something about how you need to get back in the car, something about an approaching storm. You look up at the darkening sky and realize what he’s talking about. You had half thought that the distant thunder had been in your own head instead of across the city, but storm clouds are descending upon you now.

Lando shakes his head exasperatedly, hurrying you towards the door of the hotel. It really isn’t that far, but he still threatens to carry you there at least twice. His temper only grows more taut when he starts seeing lightning in the distance. It isn’t even raining here yet, but he doesn’t relax until you’re both through the door and out of harm’s way.

You, on the other hand, only freeze up when the roof is at last over your head. It occurs to you, not three steps into the shelter of the lobby, that your wrist is bare. Underneath your jacket, you reach over to scratch absentmindedly just beneath your other palm, but instead of hitting plastic beads, they touch only blank skin. You freeze in place, gaze swinging wildly to your forearm, but it’s true, the bracelet is gone. You don’t remember it coming off, but it’s gone now.

A frantic search of your pockets reveals nothing; as if they’re deep enough to hold anything, anyway, least of all this all-important thing. The bracelet was on your wrist when you left the cab, so it must have been lost while you were outside. It wouldn’t have been that long ago now. You could still find it.

Lando groans in irritation when you immediately make for the doors once more. “Y/N, come on–”

You’re ignoring him, though. Lando’s going to think the worst of you anyway, and you want your bracelet more than you want his incensed remarks about how it’s such a bad idea to stay out in this weather. The storm is hurriedly dawning upon you, and the trees lining the walkways shake as if with fright or chill, but that doesn’t stop you from retracing your steps, silently praying that you’ll find the one thing you cannot bear to lose. You can buy an awful lot back, misplacing jackets or other jewelry isn’t that big of a deal, but that bracelet– well, Lando only made one of those, and it was yours.

You didn’t walk that far when you were out here, all things considered, so you’re able to pinpoint the possible bracelet locations quickly. Either here, behind the flowering tree, or there, along the stone walkway—

Lando has followed you out, raising his arm over his face to protect from the spattering of raindrops now starting to fall from the sky. “Y/N, come on, I’m serious, we have to go in.”

You hold up a finger, still looking only at the ground. “Just give me a second.”

Lando heaves another tremendous sigh. “What are you even doing?”

“Trying to find something I lost.” You have to raise your voice to be heard over a clap of thunder which, although isn’t necessarily nearby, still makes Lando flinch as if the ominous sound came from overhead. 

“It isn’t worth it,” he says, “we can find it later, I promise. Just get inside, will you?”

“No!” You shout back.

Lando casts a frantic look up at the approaching storm, then rushes over to stand in front of you, blocking you from moving any further. “Y/N, please. What could possibly be important enough to stay out here? You’re going to get struck by lightning.”

You try to escape past him, but Lando stays firm, refusing to budge until you tell him what the matter is. At last, you give in. “Fine. It’s your bracelet, the one you made me. You made it for me, I’m not losing it. You may not like me, not like– Not like I like you, but at least I can have that. That’s what I want.”

Lando’s face goes blank. Whatever he was expecting to hear, it wasn’t that. The naked surprise in his expression makes your stomach twist with shame, and you turn away, headed back to your search once more. Lando was caught off guard by your answer, so he isn’t able to stop you.

You hurry away from him. You don’t know what he’s thinking, or, hell, why he even made you the bracelet in the first place. Maybe it was for a specific reason, but it was probably just supposed to be a joke, something to be used against you, but you kept it anyway. You kept it, and you treasured it like gold.

You run further into the storm, away from him. The rain starts to fall even more than before. Maybe it’s okay, though. If the storm carries you away, if it drowns you in the flood, at least you won’t have to face him again. You look from side to side, searching for any pocket of plastic colors, but nothing, nothing.

Nothing, and then Lando’s voice, faint because of the storm, but still there somehow. Still there, despite everything you’ve said to him.

“I wanted you,” he calls back, shouting to be heard over the ever quickening wind. “I wanted you, but you hated me, and I thought it was better if we were enemies than nothing. At last then I could still talk to you.”

You feel as if you’ve been struck by lightning. The shock of it freezes you in place, even as the rain pounds down in sheets around you, chilling you through skin to bone and blood. It is only now, once your frenzy has been replaced by sheer immobilizing surprise, that you stand still long enough to spot the bracelet at last, tucked inside the cup of a stone on the walkway.

You reach out to pick it up, but your hand meets someone else’s before your fingers can close around the beads. When you look up, it’s him, it’s Lando, just as soaked from the rain as you, but here. Still here. Still here, for you.

He slides the bracelet over your wrist, then leans closer, just enough that you can feel the reverberations of his whispered hurry as he whispers it to you before urging you back towards the hotel once more. He’s pulled off his jacket and holds it above the two of you to protect from the wind and rain. It forces you to run so close to him that you can feel the heat radiating between the slim space from his ribs to yours. 

You feel it still, even after you make it past the threshold of the hotel and stand there, shivering, just behind the glass doors. You can see the storm wild outside– so crazy to think that you’d just been out there, with the wind tearing at the trees and the rain so devastating– but in here, it’s calm, completely still.

Lando remains just a breath away, slowly lowering his dripping jacket away from your head. “It’s you,” he repeats, “It’s always been you.”

After all of that, all of those revelations and discoveries, he still has it in himself to surprise you. The kiss is unexpected, but not unwelcome, and warms you head to toe despite the cold of the rain still pressed deep within your bones. It’s welcoming, inviting, and it tells you that despite everything, every fight, every reason not to stay– it will only get better from here.

f1 taglist: @j-brielmalfoy, @juphey

#lando norris #lando norris imagines #lando norris x reader #lando norris oneshot #f1 #f1 imagines #f1 x reader #f1 oneshot #formula one #formula one imagines #formula one x reader #formula one oneshot #lando #lando imagines #lando x reader #lando oneshot #f1 lando #f1 lando imagines #f1 lando x reader #f1 lando oneshot

[chellestrash]

Birthday Girl

Mikey Berzatto x Female Reader 

Summary: You show up at The Beef on your birthday, a bit earlier than Mikey was expecting you. But that's alright, you'll still get your birthday gift, dont you worry.

Warnings: explicit language, explicit sexual content, oral sex, unprotected sex, public sex, creampie, teasing, praises, pet names

Word count: 4.1k

A/N: Hi hellooo! So, this is a late birthday gift for my sweet @chelseasdagger because I know how hard she fell for Mikey, especially with how he looks in season 2? The beard?! I mean we all love it right? Thank you @suitsofwo3 for proofreading this mess and I hope those of you who choose to read it will enjoy it. This is my first time writing for Mikey so I hope I did him justice but if I didn't...dont tell me, thank you. 

@chelseasdagger Pea I hope you’ll like this, this is all written with you in mind, and I know we talked about a lot of different ideas for birthday fics over the year and this is I guess a bit different but I hope its still okay. I love you, happy birthday!

You straighten up the dress one last time and clear your throat, mentally preparing yourself for the chaos that's about to ensue the moment you step through the door of the Berzatto restaurant. You loved The Beef, of course you did. You enjoyed most of the time you chose to spend helping around the sandwich shop, but you also knew how overwhelming it could get.

Pushing the designated staff door on the back of the building, you step inside.

“CORNER!”

You jump at the sound and smile at Richie, waving your hand as he sets down the tray of dirty dishes and makes his way over to you the moment he notices your presence.

“Well, well, well, look who it is.” He starts, his arms spread open and a big, welcoming smile on his face as he looks you up and down quickly, nodding his head in approval. You can't help but smile, pushing a strand of hair behind your ear.

“Happy birthday sweetheart.”

“Thanks Richie! I look okay?” You ask, after he hugs you tightly, quickly getting rid of the jacket to fully present your outfit.

“Well, I'd say, fucking great actually, not okay. Okay is not…” He steps back, gesturing over your body, and you shake your head slightly amused, waiting for him to finish the thought.

“Okay is not…doesn’t do it justice, actually.”

You let out a chuckle, rolling your eyes at the compliment.

“What doesn’t do what justice?" Marcus pops his head in from around the corner, and you watch how his face lights up the second his eyes are on yours.

“Oh shit, look who it is!”

“I said that already.” Ritchie points out, and both you and Marcus breathe out a soft laugh.

“Good to see you.”

You step further into the restaurant, meeting him halfway, before he pulls you into a big hug. Brushing his hand over your back, he holds you there for a little longer before finally letting go.

“Happy birthday, that was a special birthday hug.” He announces, and you nod with an impressed expression.

“Yeah?”

Marcus agrees, doing his best to look completely serious before you ask.

“What makes it special?"

Your eyebrows pull together as you watch him attempt to come up with some serious explanation before he shakes his head.

“Can't tell you.”

“And why is that?”

“A magician never reveals his secrets.”

You blink, not knowing what answer you were expecting, but it obviously wasn’t anything along those lines. He winks, a big smile on his face as you both step into the kitchen now and you’re left with no other choice than to just accept the explanation.

You walk past the stoves, careful not to disturb the somehow chaotic but still functional ecosystem the Berzatto brothers managed to create within the restaurant.

“Behind.” You rest your hand on Tina's shoulder, and she turns around quickly, her whole face lighting up, her arms almost immediately wrapping around you as she pulls you into a hug.

“Ayyy my Love, happy birthday!” She cups your face, kissing your cheek before letting go.

“Thank you, Tina, thank you.” You hug her back, and she nods, the smile never leaving her face.

“How are you, how's the birthday girl, huh?” She asks, glancing over your outfit, clearly impressed.

No one here has ever really seen you dressing up like this. Today was…a bit of a special occasion.

"Weird. Tina, Richie, gave me a compliment. Richie! You believe that?"

“Ey!”

You hear the man's voice from the other side of the kitchen, and both you and Tina turn in the direction of the sound.

“I'm being nice!”

“I know!” You shout back, ducking under Ebra's arm when he walks past you. Smiling from eye to eye once he notices you, the man stops for a moment.

“Beautiful.”

“This?”

He nods, showing you he means the dress and the way you look in it.

“Beautiful.”

You nod with a smile, thanking him for the compliment, before he quickly wishes you a happy birthday as well.

Walking around the restaurant, you quickly greet everyone working today. Passing by Sugar and Syd you stop to talk to them for a little bit and they both give you their best wishes and compliments on your outfit as well. Stepping away after a moment, you look around the place with an intention of eventually finding your boyfriend out there but bumping into the rest of the crew you’re unable to complete your mission.

Fak, in a typical Fak fashion, stands in front of you with his mouth wide open the second he sees you, clearly impressed by your chosen look for this special evening.

“Oh my god, you look so pretty!”

You feel your cheeks heating up, not even trying to hide the way the compliments got to you any longer.

“You think so?”

Twirling slightly, you show off the way the dress moves with your body, the silky, soft fabric contrasting with the harsh, industrial interior of the restaurant kitchen. You feel out of place but at the same time, somehow they all make you feel like you’ve never fit in better anywhere else.

“Yeah, you look like a freaking princess!” He continues, walking around you in a circle before turning to face the rest of the crew. “You guys seen this?”

They all nod, smiling and glancing in your direction, and you feel so thankful for all of them in that moment.

“Seen what?” You hear the familiar voice behind you and quickly turn around to face Carmy. Stepping into the restaurant, most likely after a smoke break, he sees you for the first time that day.

“Hey!” You smile.

“Heyyy, yo…you look great, holy shit!”

Pushing his hand through the mess of blond curls, he scratches the top of his head, quickly glancing up and down your body before shaking his head softly.

“Sorry, happy birthday.”

You both smile as he pulls you in for a warm hug.

“Thank you bear.” You mumble quietly, your hand rubbing up and down his back a couple of times before letting go.

“Course! You need anything?" Carmy asks after you two step away from each other.

“Mikey.”

“Oh right, yeah. Office.” He points in the direction of the small room right by the “employees area” and you nod, thankful for the help.

“Thanks.”

You turn back and wave at the few people still looking at you before crossing the hall in a couple of quick steps.

You push the door open and step inside the small, mostly dark room. It's messy, very busy and there's hardly any rhyme or reason to the way the space is ‘organized.’ It screams ‘Mikey’.

You watch the older Berzatto brother while he talks on the phone for another moment, before turning to face you at the sound of the door closing behind you. You wave, not saying anything as you do not wish to interrupt any, possibly, important business. A quiet laugh still slips past your lips, when you watch his eyes open wide at the sight of you.

You gesture over the dress, pushing your hip out to the side before posing. Mikey sinks his teeth into his lower lip, nodding his head to the quiet words on the phone as if the person could somehow see him.

“Hey, I'm gonna have to call you back, man.” He finally speaks up, and you glare at him with a confused expression.

“What? Yeah, emergency.” He lies before hanging up and quickly throwing his phone onto the desk.

“Holy…shit.”

The way his eyes shine when he looks at you makes you feel like your insides are doing jumping jacks. You try your best to remain looking completely unphased but the way his eyes skim over the dress, the way his expression softens and his body slumps slightly, simply just from seeing you there, makes your knees weak.

“Holly Fucking SHIT!” He looks away but quickly turns back to you, squinting his eyes with his head tilted to the side, he attempts to take in the whole picture one more time.

“You like it? Looks good?” You ask, your cheeks aching from the constant smiling, as you feel, possibly, the best you’ve felt all day.

“Good?!” Mikey almost shouts, offended that you'd even try to use such an underwhelming word to describe yourself.

“You fucking-” He starts, taking a step in your direction before you push your leg out, the dress lifting up your leg slight, and he lets out a whine and a grunt before kneeling on the floor right in front of you.

“Oh Mikey come-” You try to stop him, but he doesn't move.

“Holy fuck baby what-you're tryna kill me here i-” He asks, hands already reaching up, longing for the feel of your body against his palms.

You feel yourself getting warmer, the excitement making your heart pound harder in your chest when you glance down to see your boyfriend, Mikey Berzatto, on his knees for you.

“Can I touch you, babygirl? Hmm?” He asks, and you nod, somehow managing to keep your cool and not completely lose it over the way he acts when it comes to you.

“Oh fuck, yeah? Can I touch you here?” His rummbly voice rings out in your head when you feel his fingers brushing the sides of your hips over the fabric of the dress.

“That okay?”

You nod quickly, quicker than you'd like, quicker than a completely composed and not freaking out at the moment person would do.

He hums quietly, tracing over your body for a moment before letting out a loud sigh. Tilting his head up, he stares at you in silence for a couple seconds before speaking again.

“Don’t think I can do it.”

“Don’t think you can do what Mikey bear?” You ask, pushing your hand through the thick dark hair, and you watch him hum quietly after he leans into your touch.

“Don’t think I can wait…till after dinner.”

You pause, pulling your hand away, and fight back the smile when he looks up at you, completely serious.

“Mikey.” You start, but he continues.

“You look too fucking good baby, how the fuck do you expect me to keep it together for another.-" He glances back at the small, long broken clock on the wall of the small office before turning his face back to you. “Couple hours."

You breathe out a quiet laugh, shaking your head in disbelief, and he wraps his arms around the top of your legs, right under your ass. Pulling you closer, he rests his head against your lower stomach, following the action up with a theatrical sigh.

“It's too good.”

“I mean you told me it's a fancy dinner Mikey, you shot yourself in the foot.” You talk back, and he thinks it over for a moment, ultimately deciding that you're probably right.

“Yeah well…" He mumbles under his breath, pushing his face against your body again, he leaves a kiss right between your legs through the soft fabric of the dress.

“Fuck baby.”

You feel his hands again, feel how they slowly travel lower and lower down your body, his fingers tug at the hem on the bottom of the dress before you feel his touch on your skin. Brushing his fingers up and down your skin, Mikey keeps his head up, watching your face for ques and indications, a confirmation that this isn't something only he wanted.

You agree, encouraging him with a small nod and a quiet hum, the gentle feeling of his fingertips on your skin makes your body relax, and you take a deep breath in, closing your eyes for a moment before leaning back on the door.

The sensation of the soft silky fabric grazing over your skin as Mikey pulls it higher up your body makes your hips inch forward. Pulling the dress the few last inches up, he stops suddenly.

“Shit.” He whispers, his warm breath glides over your skin, and you glance down to check on him.

“Hey baby? Remind me please…is it your birthday or mine?”

The question caches you off guard, and you bunch up the dress, looking down at him slightly confused.

His eyes are fixed on the cute pair of panties you chose to wear, they were new, he hadn't seen them yet, it was going to be a surprise…later.

He pulls the fabric a couple inches away from your body before suddenly letting go, the waistband snaps back in place, and he looks up at you with a sly smirk.

“Lucky me, huh?” He teases, and you feel your legs pushing together, the way he was able to turn this whole thing around, to get you wet in a matter of seconds was basically like a special skill of his.

Mikey ducks his head under the fabric of your dress and after a moment you feel his warm kisses press against the skin right above the waistband of your underwear.

A gasp slips past your lips when his fingers hook over the hem, and you reach to lock the door behind you.

Both of you knowing what's about to happen.

"Mikey.” Your attempt is unsuccessful, and he chuckles, seeing your efforts after popping his head from under the dress.

“Yeah no that doesn't—it's busted baby, can't do shit about it now, you'll have to be quiet. Think you can do that?”

You nod, eagerly waiting to feel him on you.

“Yeah? That’s my girl.” He smirks, holding you a little tighter before he ducks his head under the fabric again.

You feel his lips on your skin again, the kisses travel from your lower tummy, over your panties and down to your thighs. The familiar warmth between your legs feels almost burning hot when you feel his fingers brush over the fabric in the most sensitive spot.

He has your full attention, all your senses focus on him to the point where your brain tunes out your surroundings. The small room feels darker now, somehow more secluded, the background

noise of the busy restaurant disappearing almost completely as you let your body relax into your boyfriend’s touch.

Mikey slowly gets rid of the cute pair of panties, pulling the fabric down your legs, following with a trail of small kisses before finally letting go, allowing them to fall to your ankles.

A quiet moan slips past your lips when he pushes your legs open slightly, his face so close to your core now, his warm breath feeling almost electric on your skin.

Mikey works around you for a moment, his tongue following the path his lips create with the kisses over your pussy, on your highs and right under your tummy. You feel his fingers digging deeper into your thighs and ass before he finally pulls you even closer. And with a satisfied hum, he pushes his tongue against you.

You whine quietly, and he breathes out a little laugh, continuing to work you over and over again while you pull the skirt up and off of his head, so you can bury your fingers in his hair again. Your hips buck forward, working as a cue for him to keep going. Your head falls back, and you bite your lip in order to somehow attempt to keep quiet like he instructed you. The sweet combination of licks, kisses and Mikey sucking your clit into his mouth making it almost impossibly difficult, and some part of you keeps telling you Michael Berzatto was fully aware of what he was doing.

“Mmmm-mikey-“ You start. Feeling your body slowly giving into the pleasure, despite you trying to last longer.

“Mmmhh” He hums gently against you, the rumbly sensation causing another moan to slip past your lips. Mikey knew what he was doing, he knew you, he knew your body and most importantly, he knew what you liked, he knew how to make you feel good. You’ve explained it to him before, and he proved to be a great listener.

With your clit in his mouth, his tongue flicking against it repeatedly, Mikey looks up at you, watching the expressions on your face change, your body move as you start to feel yourself getting closer.

Your breathing shallows and you can feel your heart pounding faster now that he’s gotten you to this point.

“Oh fuck!” You gasp, gripping his dark hair tighter when you feel your body twitch at the feeling.

“Yeah?” Mikey pulls away finally, his beard wet from you, shining in the dim light of the desk lamp, the only source of light in the small room at this moment. His fingers fill in for his mouth as he continues to work over your center as he talks.

“Yeah? You want it, baby?”

You nod, closing your eyes and biting down on your lip when he pushes his palm harder against you. Rocking your hips back and forth you add onto the feeling and when the heel of his palm hits your clit you whine out, louder than you would’ve liked.

“Shit, you sound so pretty baby, you know that.” He praises, not trying to tease you in any way anymore, clearly wanting this as much as you do. Your little sounds of pleasure making his jeans feel so incredibly tight, he could swear he feels himself getting lightheaded.

“You wanna feel me, baby?” He asks, slipping one finger inside you, but you both already know the answer.

Nodding energetically, you feel yourself clenched around his two fingers.

“Oh fuck, you're so perfect.” He mumbles, his voice almost breaking when he realizes if you keep this up, he most likely won't last much longer.

“Tell me what you want, baby. Tell me what you need.”

Unable to fight your own body, you lower yourself on his fingers, the wet sound filling the room for a second before you somehow manage to speak.

“I want to feel your-, Mikey, I need-”

The whine bounces around inside his head when he slips his two fingers out of you. He stands up quickly, his hand on the side of your face as he tilts your chin up and his lips press against yours.

Led by him, you stumble towards the desk, not wanting to break the kiss, you lick over his lips, tasting yourself on him for a second before he spins you around.

“This what you want? Hm?” He asks, already bunching up the fabric of the dress, and you buck your ass into the bulge in his jeans as a response.

“Fuck.” He grunts, gripping onto the edge of the desk to hold himself back for a second. “Fuck, that’s my girl, so fucking perfect.”

The repeated praise makes you feel lightheaded, you can barely hear him unbuckle the belt and pull the jeans down before pulling himself out of his boxers.

You look over your shoulder watching him work over his length a couple of times and reach back to do it for him. He grabs your hand, moving it back to the desk before holding both of your wrists above your head while you bend over the wooden counter in front of him.

“No, baby, today is about you. Got it?”

You nod, feeling the tip of his cock tease your entrance.

“Good girl, hold tight.”

You do, you grip the edge of the desk, digging your nails into the wood just as hard as Mikey's fingers dig into your thighs.

The table moves with the first thrust, and you feel your mouth falling open when you feel your body push forward on the wooden counter.

“Oh fuck” You whimper and feel his hand immediately on yours.

“I'm here, I'm here baby, good job.” He praises again, and you grip his hand tighter, feeling his hips begging to rock back and forth, his cock moving inside you. The pace is steady but slow for the first moment, and it doesn't take you long to adjust yourself properly to his size. He speeds up only after your little whines, when he knows it's your way of asking for more.

“That’s it baby.”

He continues to guide you, holding onto your hand, pushing inside you deeper and faster now. Your eyes begin to water and your legs push together, your body's way of telling you it's almost time. You hum, attempting to let your boyfriend know, and he reassures you.

“I know, I know, I can feel it.”

He speeds up the pace one last time, grabbing onto your hips tighter in order to help you move back and forth on his cock, just to make the feeling a bit more intense.

Your lips part and you pant loudly, hearing the pounding of your heart in your head and feeling it against the wooded desk under your chest.

Unable to fight back the sounds anymore, you whine and moan loud enough for him to hear them over his own grunts. Feeling your body tensing up, you cry out his name and when he slips his free hand between your bodies to touch you, your body tenses up one more time before relaxing completely after you come undone around him.

He makes sure you ride out the orgasm, that, or he just can't really stop himself at this point, trying to follow closely after you. With a loud grunt and a couple of swear words, he pushes deep one more time before coming inside you. The thick, warm liquid fills you up just how you like it, and you push your hips back one more time when he attempts to pull himself out.

“Woah, easy.” He laughs, his hand on your ass now as he holds you in place before taking a step back. You feel the cum leak out, dripping down your leg for a moment before he finally speaks again.

“I can't fucking look at that, or we'll have to go again.”

You laugh, still attempting to catch your breath before pushing yourself off the desk. Mikey steps closer, offering you his arm to hold onto as you try to stand up straight, while he lets the fabric of the dress fall back into place. His own clothes already pulled back up, looking somewhat presentable.

“What if…,” You start watching him grab some paper towels from a shelf. “What if I wouldn’t mind going again?” You ask and he snorts quietly, gently pulling your clothes back up before wiping most of the thick white liquid off of the sides of your thighs.

“I know you wouldn't sweetheart.” He starts, glancing up at you with the most genuine smile, the love and admiration in his eyes almost making you blush like he didn’t just fuck you over his office desk.

Placing a kiss right between your legs, he quickly stands back up.

“But-” He continues, holding your hand up to help you step out of the panties still stuck around your ankles.

“We have a reservation."

He reminds you of the actual plans for today before bending over to grab the panties off the floor and shoving them into his pocket.

“We can't be late for that, huh?”

You shake your head, knowing he’s right.

“Yeah, c'mere.” He sits down on the desk chair, pulling you into his lap before wrapping his arms around you.

You sigh loudly, and he lets you rest your head against his chest. Pressing three gentle kisses right at the top, he holds you even tighter. His thumb bushing over your skin, his breathing helping your own slow down.

“You felt good?” He asks quietly and you nod with a smile.

“You know, I always do.”

“Well…I gotta make sure you know? I mean, if there's room for improvement-“

You laugh, looking up at him and cupping his face with your hand.

“I mean I gotta know baby! It’s the law, you have to tell me.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, they just made it a law this morning.”

“Oh, oh well, that’s wonderful to know.”

“Mhm.”

You cuddle up into him some more, letting your eyes close for a second.

“Yo Mikey, what the fuck are you doing, we need you in the kitchen.”

Carmy.

“Yeah, yeah, I'm coming!” Mikey shouts back, covering your ears before he does so, just to try to not disturb you as much. You both laugh at his choice of words before he leans down for one last kiss.

“Happy birthday sweetheart.” He whispers, his lips brushing over you when you nod softly. Your arms now wrapped around his neck.

"I ain't done with you yet."

You smile softly at the promise.

“Thank you, Bear.”

He winks, walking over to the door.

"Rest up, baby. I love you."

#the bear #the bear fanfiction #mikey berzatto #Mikey berzatto x reader #jon berntha #carmy #carmy berzatto #mikey berzatto fanfiction #jon bernthal smut #jon bernthal fanfiction #the bear season 2

[gimmethatagustd]

Lmao nobody sent a Halloween drabble request for hobi? It's cause we all know he'll decline immediately for whatever the reader / character-opposite-hobi suggests that he knows will eventually lead to something halloween-y or scary

He'll either-

1. Give you the side eye and judge you so hard that you drop the idea yourself.

2. Give you his dance-teacher-stern-look and you'll combust into flames.

3. Fuck you so good against the kitchen counter that you forget what you were talking about.

The only monster Hoseok wishes you were interested in finding this Halloween season is his monster c–

↳ pairing: hoseok x reader

↳ rating/genre: BTS | 18+ | established relationship | halloween | smut

↳ wc/date: 948 | October 2023

↳ warnings: hoseok got a BIG DICK yessir he do, unprotected vaginal sex, vaginal fingering, spanking, punishments, dom!hoseok, sub!reader, no gendered language

↳ notes: i actually managed to write a drabble this time hskjdfhks like a real deal drabble. less than 1k i'm shocked 😭

↳ masterlist / taglist

↳ what was jai listening to? spookie coochie - doechii

Halloween 2023 Masterlist

 “I’m not going.”

“Hobiiiiii, baby, please.”

“Jimin did this to me before already!” Hoseok waggles his finger in your direction with a deep pout that tugs down his usually heart-shaped mouth. “Got me drunk and made me go to this scary abandoned house in the mountains! In the middle of the night! And Yoongi hyung didn’t even stop him. I almost pissed my pants, I was so scared.”

You curl your lips inward to stop yourself from laughing. Stifling the sound only somewhat works; air rushes out of your mouth and makes your lips flutter obnoxiously loud.

“It isn’t funny!” Hoseok whines. The look of betrayal on his face is so severe that it leaves worry lines on his forehead.

You only feel a little bit bad.

Taking a step forward, you loosely wrap your arms around Hoseok’s waist. You try to take his coffee mug out of his hand to place on the kitchen counter behind you, but he holds it out of reach above his head.

“I’m not gonna take you to a scary abandoned house in the mountains. I just wanna take you to a corn maze.”

“A haunted corn maze. Full of murderers and monsters.” He looks at you pointedly as he takes a sip of his coffee.

You’re trying to be sexy when you lean forward to run your nose along his neck, stopping to nuzzle just below his ear, but you can’t help the snort that comes out of you. The image of Hoseok fast-walking through walls of corn with trembling knees, falling all over himself when a zombie pops out of a dark corner, is too much for you to take.

“You’re being so mean to me right now.”

“I’m s-sorry,” you choke out. Your teeth press against the soft spot beneath his ear as you try not to laugh. It’s supposed to be a kiss, but you can’t stop smiling.

Hoseok’s fingers grip your jaw and pull your face away from the crook of his neck. His hold is tight but not uncomfortable. The heat of his hand that had previously held the coffee makes goosebumps rise along your forearms.

“Are you trying to upset me?”

The rocky edge of Hoseok’s voice makes you shudder. He forces you to look at him while his eyes search your face for remorse you can’t give him.

“No,” you lie with twitching lips.

You don’t know why this is so funny. It shouldn’t be. There’s nothing funny about how Hoseok watches you with a taunt jaw that ripples when he bites down on his molars.

“Turn around.”

Aw, shit.

“Hobi,” you start, but Hoseok taps his finger against your lips to shut you up.

“All I wanted was to have a nice morning with you,” Hoseok’s voice is deceptively soft against the shell of your ear. His chest is pressed to your back so he can hook his chin over your shoulder. His hands are gentle as they slip beneath the loose legs of your pajama shorts to palm your ass.

“All I wanted was for you to go on a date with me.” You lean back into his touch and squeeze the edge of the kitchen counter. “Now you’re being a baby.”

Hoseok lets out a quiet huff as he rips your shorts down your thighs. “Now you’re being a brat.”

He makes you count.

You act like it doesn’t excite you every time his palm collides with your sensitive skin like you don’t love how the force makes your ass jiggle and makes Hoseok’s breath ragged in your ear.

“If I’m good, will you go with me?” you ask with an airy voice that ends in a whimper. Your clit throbs, and you want to squeeze your thighs together, but Hoseok keeps your legs parted with his knees. Your arousal smears across his thigh when he presses against you, soaking a wet spot in his black jeans.

“If you’re good, I’ll fuck you.”

Ten feels good, a hot tingle that spreads across both ass cheeks and ripples down your thighs.

Twenty makes you cry.

“Please.” You’re completely draped over the counter now, your front pressed against the cool marble. Every slap sends your body jolting forward; there’s nothing to hold onto to ground yourself.

“Are you sorry?”

You nod frantically as Hoseok’s fingers slip through your slippery folds, gently swirling the pads around your clit before dragging down until he dips into your entrance. It’s hard to stand upright when he plunges two fingers inside you and presses down.

“Fuck,” you moan, resting your forehead on the counter.

“Are you gonna make me go to the scary fucking corn maze?”

Over your heavy breathing, you can hear Hoseok’s belt buckle being undone.

“No, no, I’m not.” You lick drool from the corner of your mouth when the thick head of Hoseok’s cock nudges your swollen clit. “I’ll take Namjoon instead.”

A brutal slap lands on your ass while Hoseok buries his cock fully inside you. The two abrupt sensations knock the wind out of you, and you can’t even cry out.

“Be nice,” Hoseok says between thrusts that make your already sore and raw skin tingle.

You bite your bottom lip to stop yourself from smiling when Hoseok’s arm curls around your chest. He hauls you up to bring your back flush against his chest as he thrusts up into you. You turn your head to the side because you know what he wants and let his lips capture yours in a bruising embrace.

“I love you, you fucking scaredy cat.”

“I love you, too. Brat,” Hoseok moans against your lips. His teeth bite at your bottom lip when he smiles.  

Halloween 2023 Masterlist

all rights reserved © gimmethatagustd on tumblr & AO3

do not copy, repost, modify, or translate any of my work 

#halloween 2023 #borabitsch #bts x reader #hoseok x reader #hobi x reader #bts fanfic #hoseok fanfic #hoseok smut #bts smut #jai writes #gimmethatagustd #spookie coochie

[deandoesthingstome]

Back to Reality - A Final Fantasy

Pairing: Werewolf!Walter x Reader

Summary: Go get your wolf, girl!

Word Count: 5.2K

Warnings: 18+, NO MINORS, oral sex (m and f receiving), p in v (missionary), fingering, monster fucking (right?).

A/N: A little angst never hurt anyone, right? It'll all be okay. I swear. I wanted to get this out the day after Geralt, but life. At any rate, I think this is it for now. A real nice end to spoopy season with Walter.

Fantasy Hotel Masterlist

“Hi.” 

He wasn’t right there when you turned from the counter after picking up your coffee, but he was standing close enough that there was no mistaking who he was greeting. Had he been any closer, you probably would have sloshed your latte all over his chunky, dark blue sweater and you were glad you stopped short when you saw him. You didn’t think he’d want to smell like pumpkin spice the rest of the day.

“Hi yourself,” you smiled, a little shyly. 

When you asked at the front desk if they really meant anything, and then again if they could get a message to Walter, you had no idea he’d show up at your regular coffee shop the very same day. As in the day after the night you'd just been with another man. It wasn’t as awkward as you’d thought it might be, but it wasn’t exactly relaxed either.

You'd been dreaming of this moment, but now embarrassment began to creep in and you wondered if you'd made a mistake. Several of them. Four to be exact.

"Would you like to sit and talk with me?"

The urge to sink right to the floor in front of him was hard to resist but you were still at a coffee shop and people were lined up to grab their to-go orders so you found an empty table in a secluded corner and sat yourself down across from him.

His eyes were melancholy and you imagined they matched the lonely howl from your night with August. There was no mistaking it and you wanted to wipe the sorrow from his face but how could you? You were likely the cause and he was probably just here to tell you to forget it as a courtesy since you'd stupidly put your business on blast at the front desk. Fuck.

"You alright over there? You look a million miles away. You sure you're okay to talk with me?"

You took a deep breath and let it rush out.

"It's really nice of you to do this in person. A lot of guys would just not call."

"Not call? What are you...? What do you think is happening here?"

"I mean, you came to tell me to back off, right? Like, you're flattered and all, but you wouldn't, couldn't be with me after everyone I've been with. I mean, you worked with those guys."

"So you know I don't work there anymore. That was the first thing I wanted to say, so good. That's out of the way."

Why would he want you to know that? Maybe so you knew you could keep going back to the hotel and not have to worry about running into him? He continued.

"But why on earth do you think I'm here to tell you to back off?" he raised a quizzical eyebrow at you.

It was as if all the air was suddenly knocked out of you and it was all you could do to gather your wits to answer him.

"Well, I just thought...I mean, you can't possibly want someone who..."

"What? Someone who isn't afraid to go after what she wants?" Now both eyebrows raised.

"Walter. You can't mean that. You...I'm sorry but you don't look like someone who's super excited about the prospect."

He paused.

"I know I look tired. I am tired. I've been up nights trying to figure this out. But, look, my exhaustion is also not all about this. I left the hotel for a few reasons. One was you, but maybe not why you think."

"Well, why did you?"

"It's not ‘cause I fell hard, though I did. And you might think that made it difficult to keep hosting, and you'd be right. But honestly I got torn. Torn between knowing you were having the time of your life, which you absolutely deserve to do, and dealing with the taunting."

"Taunting?"

"Some of the guys figured out how I felt, and one of them started giving me shit about it. Betting me he could steal you from me if you ever made it to his room, not that you were even mine to begin with. And, yeah, feeling the way I do made it harder and harder to host properly so I made a decision."

"You left."

"I left."

You thought back to your night with August and now you knew for certain he was referring to Walter. And after what Geralt had said, you wondered why August gave you an option to shut him out. It sounded like August wanted Walt to see, to know you were being satisfied by another man. You could understand how that must have felt. You had jealous thoughts, too, when you found all Walt’s time slots had been booked. Imagining him with other women, well, it wasn’t all bad, but it wasn’t the greatest feeling in the world either. And yet, Walter indicated there were other reasons he left.

"But that's not all?"

"I was also studying part time and between all the bookings, I was falling farther and farther behind. I had to stay up late to finish assignments and I had an important test coming, so I quit to focus on that because I never wanted to host forever, but once you came along, I never wanted to do it again."

You were speechless. Awestruck. If anyone had told you that Walter felt the same way about you from the get go, as you found yourself feeling about him after weeks of experiences, you would have said they were crazy. And yet, here he was, spilling his guts. He gave it all up without even knowing if he had a shot with you.

"And you don't care I went back? To other rooms?"

Walter looked around the coffee shop, then turned and spoke cautiously to you.

“Can we…? Look, I know we don’t really know each other, and if you want to do this in a public place, I get it. But could we at least take a walk? I feel like everyone’s looking at us and I can’t think straight.”

This man was flustered and you were, too. Confused by all the feelings and emotions and confessions. Plus, what did you really know about Walter anyway?

“I’m going to text some friends and let them know where I am and who I’m with. Is that okay?”

“Yeah. Of course. We’ll just head across the way to the park, okay?”

“I’ll be right out.”

sendmeanangel: you’ll never guess who showed up to get coffee this morning    sendmeanangel: we’re having coffee and talking in the park across from a place called The Runcible Spoon.   sendmeanangel: I’ll text again in an hour so don’t expect any replies until then

Then you shut off your phone and headed out to meet Walter.

MNstrluvr: Ohmygodddd! darkgothnightengale: it’s all happening!!! Where are you now? darkgothnightengale: hello??? I know it’s only been 20 minutes but how can you not have just admitted your feelings and jumped his bones by now? Give us all the details!

You found him on a park bench and sat, one leg drawn up with a foot tucked under your other knee so you could turn to face him while you talked. You wanted him to reach out and touch you as well, run his hand over your arm while you talked, but maybe you weren’t there yet. Maybe that would be awkward.

He took a deep breath and began.

"As to your question from before: I can't lie and say I don't care or wish I'd told you that very night how I thought I was feeling, but I thought it was way too soon to trust those feelings. And since you didn't know, and we weren't together, how could I expect you to just not do what you wanted? That's something else that's kept me up at night. Thinking about how to reconcile my feelings about you with both our pasts.”

Walt went on to tell you how much your night together had affected him. How he couldn’t get you out of his mind. He apologized for the locker room talk. He knew Sy had mentioned it and he felt miserable about it. It was just something they did, share notes in case a guest came back around so they could make sure to work any of their favorite things into the stay. They weren’t usually so personal with the comments, but he’d gotten carried away.

August had been particularly prickish about it, especially when it became clear how uncomfortable talking about the guests was making Walter, even going so far as to taunt Walter with the exact date and time of your reservation in his room. He’d given notice the next day.

“I’m sorry.”

“Why are you sorry?”

“You quit your job over me. Well, sorta. What are you going to do now?”

“I was already working towards my private investigator license. Ironic, huh? A PI and I couldn’t find the one person I really wanted. I asked the hotel, but they were not interested in breaking protocol or the privacy agreement. And until I got the call this morning, I thought I wasn’t on the best of terms with them anyway. I think I left them kinda high and dry. But the desk agent is a friend.”

“Yeah, Geralt mentioned something…” you trailed off, embarrassed to be bringing up your latest conquest.

“Who’s Geralt?” Of course he didn’t know.

“He’s a new host at the hotel,” you answered sheepishly.

“Oh. Right.” Walter looked away for a moment. “Of course.”

“Walter, I’m sorry. I wasn't trying to hurt your feelings.”

“By going back there?” he turned to you again. “How could you know I had feelings to hurt?”

“Well, I knew I had feelings that hurt.”

He stared at you in disbelief as you continued.

“I thought about you almost every day after our night together. I kept going back to different rooms, because I’d had such a good time and I wanted to see what else was out there. And look, I did have good times. I hope that’s not a problem.”

“I hosted other guests after you. I can’t really say anything about it, can I?”

“Right. Okay, well. The more time that went by, the more hosts I met and experiences I had, the more I knew I only wanted you. And then I couldn’t find you.”

“Find me?”

“I tried to re-book your room for weeks. You were always full.”

“You tried… What?”

“I know it’s probably super odd for me to keep going back there the way I have been, and then admit that I also wanted to come back to your room. But it’s true. That’s what’s been happening.”

“I guess the only thing I can say to that is I’m flattered. And then to let you know that if you still feel that way, I’d love to take you out tonight. I’d love to stop talking about all this time we’ve lost and maybe see if we can move forward. Because it took me a while but I realize it doesn't matter either way. Whether you went back or not. You are your own person. You're allowed to experience life the way you want to. I'm just here hoping you want to experience it with me again."

sendmeanangel: okay, i’m back and still alive, but i need a shower. Gimme another hour. I’ll fill you in I swear! MNstrluvr: meana, where are you????? Did you already fuck him???

sendmeanangel: oh my god you guys are insane. It’s only been 45 minutes MNstrluvr: you can’t just drop that and run. You had to have to known we’d need more sooner sendmeanangel: i think i’m allowed to gather all the intel before i share it with you lol darkgothnightengale: you got your intel and then bailed for a shower! Boo! MNstrluvr: so what’s happening? Why are you stalling like this??? sendmeanangel: he’s taking me out on a real, honest-to-goodness date tonight MNstrluvr: YES!!! Where are you going? sendmeanangel: dinner and then a moonlight walk darkgothnightengale: isn’t it a full moon tonight? sendmeanangel: yep ;) MNstrluvr: you are so getting fucked outdoors!! sendmeanangel: Wait someone's at the door. I think it’s my lunch. Hold on. MNstrluvr: send them away and come back to finish this talk!!!

"Walt? What're you...?" you spoke with surprise, thinking he wouldn't be here to pick you up for dinner for another five hours at least. It had only been one since you gave him your address and left him at the park, floating home on cloud nine. Now he stood in front of you, a bag of food in his hand.

"I couldn't wait any longer. I had to just...can I...?" Walter  dropped the bag and made a motion, hands out in something like a plea, knee beginning to bend with something like reverence. Nothing you understood until you nodded your head.

He stepped forward then, into your space, your tiny studio apartment that until now was always just fine for your needs but suddenly seemed three sizes too small for the man who was bending to kiss you and wrap his arms around your thighs, urging you to encircle his waist with your legs as he moved to kick the door closed behind him.

Your fingers tangled in his gorgeous locks as you relished the feel of his lips on yours once more. You'd only experienced that two times with Walter at the hotel, and the urgency of only one of those came even close to the feel of this one, and you suddenly wondered if he'd held something back when he kissed you goodbye back then. The euphoria blinded you to any other movement until you felt your body peeled from his and deposited on your sofa. And not that you minded couch sex, as previously confirmed with Mike, nor were you assured in the moment that couch sex was the end goal, but you wondered briefly when you'd have a moment to help him unfold the futon, since your studio only had enough room for a convertible bed.

For now, Walter simply slipped down to the floor and settled between your thighs, braced his arms tightly against your hips, caressed the bare skin between your shirt and pants with his rough hands, and nuzzled his face into your stomach. You held him close, hands still shifting through his curls and you could swear you heard a whimper, but whether from you or him it didn't seem to matter.

For a few beats, it was just this sweet. A man on his knees before you, somehow awed by your presence and content to be pressed against you, to feel you hold him close. And then it was more. Then it was his mouth, covering a clothed breast with warmth, teeth nipping at the flesh through your shirt, his tongue leaving saliva on the fabric so that it clung to your erect nipple protruding proudly regardless of your bra and top in the way.

When he noticed you staring down, as if surprised by your body’s own response, he simply smirked and moved his attention to the other side. When he tired of the barrier, he slipped his hands up your back under your shirt to unhook your bra, then lifted both articles of clothing up your body and pulled them off your arms, before returning his attention back to your chest and his hands to your hips.

Heat was building, and along with it, an urge to roll up into him. When he felt the movements of your hips, he drew a hand over one thigh to cup it against your clothed sex as he peeled his head back to gaze up at you.

"Just as eager as I am," he grinned. "I like that."

"Please, Walter," you begged, though for what exactly you weren't sure.

"I got you," he emphasized with a firm press of the heel of his palm, dragging it up and over your increasingly sensitive nub to hook his fingers into the waistband of your leggings. At your approval, he removed them and settled back between your legs, though he nuzzled a little lower than before.

He dragged you down, pulling your ass off the edge of the futon so he had a clear path to his objective. You expected him to dive right in, hoping he remembered what he already learned from before, and then he spoke and your mind exploded.

"Such a delightful sight," he said, tracing down the crease of one thigh and up the other with a finger you desperately wanted him to dip inside you. And he could tell. "She's so eager, positively dripping, isn't she?" He squeezed an inside thigh, then nipped and licked the other before speaking again.

"Yes, Walter. Please," you gasped, already anticipating the sensations he was going to create for you. You shuddered and bucked involuntarily at his low chuckle, putting your pussy directly against his lips and he didn't try to resist any longer.

His hunger was apparent, and it matched the desire building in you. He lapped eagerly, licked and sucked with need, tongued expertly at all the spots he already knew were favorites and then he found a few more, too. You tried to hold onto a fleeting thought about his technique before it drifted into the air above you as you found your fingers back in his hair, clutching and pulling him close to your core. Walter feasted like there was no tomorrow and you closed your eyes with the knowledge you were going to have as many tomorrows with this man as you wanted.

When you came it was with the cry of his name on your lips. He crawled up off the floor to settle on the futon beside you, scooping you onto his lap and hugging you close to help steady you.

He placed kisses on your forehead and spoke words into the consciousness you struggled to maintain as your chest heaved. "Shh, I got you. You're good. So good. So beautiful."

"Walter, that was..., jesus..., fuck...," you stammered, barely able to control your thoughts and you wished you could have sunk into the ground below you when you heard the next words out of your mouth. "Did Sy give you pointers?"

Walter's immediate laugh was hearty and heartwarming, dispelling the thoughts you had that you deserved to be tossed across the room for even daring to bring it up.

"I've always known clients prefer him for that over any of the rest of us. I took him out for beers one night and I may have begged for a trick or five. Sy's a good guy and he thought you deserved it, though I'm sure he never would have agreed if he thought I was coming back to the hotel." Walt bent to capture your lips and when he was done kissing you hard and deep, he spoke again. "I do, too. Think you deserve it."

"What about you?" you asked, aware now of a hardness pressing against your flesh through his pants. "Don't you deserve more, too?"

You wiggled off his lap and stood, hand out to urge him up. You swallowed hard as he towered over you, eyes full of desire and lust.

"I deserve whatever you're willing to give me."

"I'll give you everything, Walt," you admitted, fingers already working the buckle of his belt and buttons of his pants.

His lips crashed to yours as soon as he tossed his sweater to the floor and he held you entranced with his tongue even after you dropped his jeans down his legs along with his boxers. It was just a low growl but the sound from the back of his throat was enough to send a wave of slick down your thigh as you clenched around the space where you most desired him to be.

"Fuck, Walter," you gasped into his mouth and begged. "Fuck me, please."

It was a mad dash to remove his boots so he could discard his pants, though not before he grabbed the made-just-for-him condoms from the pocket, and then unfold the futon for a larger surface area on which he could move you around and manipulate your passion. It was no plush cabin bed, but it would have to do.

"Fuck, I wanted this outside tonight," he admitted, staring at you as he rutted into your core with abandon. 

"It's a full moon tonight," you noted, as if he wouldn’t already know that.

"I still wanna fuck you under it," he growled, staring deep into your eyes.

You were losing control, falling up through space and time as you felt every inch of him against every inch of you and it still wasn't enough. You couldn't stop your eyes from closing as you begged him for more.

"Hey," he called, lifting your leg around his waist and when you opened your eyes you saw him smile as you wrapped your other leg the same way without prodding from him. You were mesmerized by the motion of his hips and barely caught the glint, a hint of change to amber, but you did.

“No!” He stilled immediately but you held on as he tried to withdraw from you. “No, stay with me, here just like this. We can do that again, later, whenever. Just,” you drew a hand to cup his face, “please. Like this. Like you. Just you.” You kissed him deep and rolled your hips to spur him on again.

You were prepared to feel less full, less fucked, though not by much, with Walter in human form. You were not prepared for the way he fucked you to feel just as animalistic as the monster. His assault was merciless, even as he grunted in your ear all the ways he was going to make you his. How he planned to take you softly in the moonlight so you’d know it didn’t matter what form he was in, you could have him any way you wanted. 

When you finally came apart for him, he let loose with a loud growl and you were sure your neighbors were gonna call the landlord any minute. He hurried back to your side after disposing of the spent condom, curling around you and melting you in his warmth.

“Do you have anywhere you need to be?” he asked. “I still wanna take you to dinner, but I’d love to just stay here with you for awhile. If that’s okay?”

You were about to answer him, but your returning senses also meant you could hear the buzzing vibrations of notifications on your phone. Shit!

“Uh, no. I don’t have to be anywhere. Maybe you could grab that bag you left outside and we can see what else I can scrounge up for us to eat right now?”

You grabbed your phone as he peeled open the door, careful to tuck himself behind it as he grabbed for the food, lest a neighbor get a view they didn’t pay for.

sendmeanangel: okay look. He’s here. Right now. Can’t talk. All good. MMNstrluvr: MEANA!!! darkgothnightengale: GIRL YOU BETTER SPILL SOON!

You found some chips and salsa and split your sandwich with Walt, not that it looked like nearly enough food to tide him over till dinner. But he didn’t seem to mind. The next few hours flew by as you both sought to learn as much about each other as you could as soon as possible.

He explained that the special skill he had only worked within the confines of a vortex, over which the hotel had been built. It’s why he couldn’t bend time to allow him to study and work and wonder about you without losing sleep somewhere along the way.

After a shower, and some shower head, and then another shower, Walter asked if he could take you somewhere special for dinner. Somewhere not in town. He let you send GPS coordinates to your online friends with the promise they wouldn’t send you any details of the location. He wanted it to be a surprise for you. They were only to use it if you didn’t check in after dinner and again in the morning and once more when you were back at your apartment.

The sun was just sinking low with a burst of evening color when Walt pulled up to the lakeside cabin. He helped you out of his truck, then grabbed your overnight bags and the groceries from the backseat. You couldn’t wait to see the place in the full daylight, but you could already tell it was magical. 

An a-frame cabin with large windows faced the lake. An oversized wooden deck made up a large seating area and all around landing pad in front of the entrance. A set of side steps allowed access from the driveway, but along the full length of the deck three stairs led to a narrower mulched path that in turn led to a wooden dock out onto the lake. A seating area was visible there as well, though there were no chairs.

Walt let you in first, then followed and set the bags down before closing the door.

He must have noticed you still admiring the sunset out the windows.

"I can make it last."

You blinked and turned, curious about what he'd just offered.

"Are we in a vortex then?"

"Yes, I got lucky finding this spot. Don't own the place, yet, so I can't come out whenever I want, but I made sure tonight was free."

"And, I mean, no. It's beautiful but I'm really looking forward to the moon. Can you make that last?"

He bit his lip and nodded, letting a smile and glance drift to the floor, shaking his head as if he still couldn't believe his luck.

"Yeah, I definitely can," he grinned at you before sweeping you into his arms. He kissed you hard and deep and you could feel the way he held back.

"Don't," you said, pulling away from the kiss so you could look him in the eye.

"Don't make it last?" he asked, confusion furrowing his brow.

"Don't hold back."

He did not. Every ounce of your clothing was on the floor next to his in what felt like a heartbeat. He was pawing at every inch of your body and you were enjoying it, the way he caressed you, held you, molded you to his form.

"Outside?"

"Won't matter," he huffed between kisses. "She's not up yet. Later. After dinner."

"Will you do it anyway?" you asked, and nodded earnestly when he asked if you were sure.

He again didn't waste a moment. One second he was Walter, the next he was the wolf and he was at your throat. Then down your body, then between your legs.

He made you come on his tongue at least three times before he presented his enormously hard member to you and helped you work your mouth around the tip.

You wanted so much more. You gave it your best shot. But he was huge. Larger than you recalled. When it was clear you'd need your hand to cover him completely, he licked your palms and wrapped your fingers around his length.

He pulled you off just as you finally found the right rhythm, the right pressure, the right speed.

"You're gonna make me come," he growled.

"Kinda the point, Walt," you grinned up at him. "C'mon, lemme..."

"You asked me not to hold back. Sorta assumed you meant the fucking."

"I meant don't..." you licked your lips. "Hold..." then your hand. "Back..." And with that, you took him back into your mouth and kept working him to climax.

You swallowed him down and glanced up, marveling at the way he shifted. The hair receded, though clearly not completely. The nose shortened, teeth shrunk, though a fang still peeked from his mouth as he panted for air. His stature gave back the extra inches balancing on the balls of his feet gained him. And with claws retracted back into his normally large hands, he reached to bring you to his feet before him.

After the kiss, you admitted, "I just figured the faster we finish dinner, the faster we can get to her."

His laugh never failed to make you feel safe and at home.

"That isn't how the moon rise works, but I appreciate the initiative."

She was just at the horizon of the mountain crest behind the cabin when Walt cleared the plates from the table. You started a quick, warm shower just to freshen up and welcomed him into your arms when he joined you.

Then he dried you off, handed you a flannel of his to wear, escorted you outside where he shifted on the way down the steps and led you to the end of the dock. You sat between his legs, back against his chest, and let the heat radiating from him keep you warm. You smelled the chill in the air you knew would lead to frost soon, but not tonight, not tomorrow.

She peered over the tree tops and cast her gaze upon you. You felt her power and you felt his power and you arched against him as he moved his hand between your legs. He nuzzled down your neck, nipped at your shoulder, and carefully, with precision, made you come on his hand.

As you recovered, you unbuttoned the shirt, slipped it off your body, and laid it down behind you. You made your way to your back, letting the flannel shield your bare skin from the hard wood planks. And you pulled him to you, urged him inside you, and held him close. Your bodies moved in tandem as she shone brightly across the gentle rippling of the water, her reflection casting you in her glow.

Walt didn't lie about taking you gently. It was like nothing you ever imagined being with a wolf would be like. As sensual as any touch any man or monster had ever given you, and given your recent adventures, that was saying a lot.

But you could tell he was still holding back.

"I get it Walt," you whispered in his ear. "This doesn't have to be the way you say it though." You smoothed the fur along his face as he pulled back to watch your face. "Don't hold back."

With a snarl, he did as you bid, taking you apart as he had back at your place just mere hours ago. Though once the moon reached her peak, you could tell he'd halted time and it was gonna have to be you to beg him for mercy, plead with him to stop treating you to the most intense, overpowering yet intimate orgasms you'd ever felt. You had to urge him to finally come and let the moon fall how she wanted.

"I love you, too," you whispered to him as he collapsed beside you.

Bonus Edit: Absolutely GORGEOUS header created for me by my wonderful friend in fic, @geralts-yenn:

Everything HC Taglist: (as always, let me know if you want on or off)

@sillyrabbit81 @mayloma @geralts-yenn @raccoon-eyed-rebel @fvckinghenrycavill @kebabgirl67 @beck07990 @itsrubberbisquit @sweetdreamsofgelato @liveoncoffeeandflowersss @alexakeyloveloki @marantha @aireraume @angelmather1 @lizzystuffsthings @enchantedbytomandhenry @omgkatinka @littlefreya @avengersfan25 @just-chirpin @thesaucynomad @valacirca @henryownsme @summersong69 @foxyjwls007 @peyton-warren @irishavengersassemble @brattymum96

Special tag: @kittenofdoomage (cause sometimes you love my stuff and this one's another monster fucker lol!)

Tags from Werewolf!walter (if you commented):

@ellethespaceunicorn @juliaorpll78 @martha-oi @cardierreh15 @cinnamoroll-things @caramariehurst @zombicupcake3 @openup-yourmind @shellyshellshell @nickfowlerrr @greensleeves888 @misshinson @thelastsock @princessaxoo @augustsprincess @justjulie1105 @minimin1993 @agniavateira @sammat97 @meb79

if you asked and aren't here, Tumblr won’t let me tag you. Sorry!

#walter marshall #walter marshall fanfiction #walter marshall x reader #walter marshall fanfic #werewolf!walter #werewolf!walter marshall #werewolf!walter x reader #werewolf!walter marshall x reader #spoopy season #back to reality #fantasy hotel #mine #deandoesthingstome

[bon2bonn]

Flowers

Carlos Sainz X leclerc!reader

🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼

PT.2✨

Words count : 1.3k

*It's time to face the storm aka. Charles.

Warnings : grammar, cursing, blood, cheating mentioned, overprotective brothers, not proof read, hospitals, arguing , ex! Pierre.

You can read " Pt.1 here " and "Pt.3 here" and "PT.4 here"

* things got out of hand, and now part 2 is extended to 3 and possibly 4 ?but here we go !

The moment they stepped into her apartment Charles turned not giving her any time to settle " here we are ! , now tell me who did this and what does Carlos have to do with it?" She took a deep breath before facing him with a wary look before saying " Pierre caused it" watching as he gave her a disbelieving look back " why would he ?!" Only for her to shake her head with a shrug " because he's not who I thought he was , I only had a version of him in my head that turned out to be a lie but I was too in love with him to notice what I get myself into . And when I finally realized how much I was justifying his mistakes I decided to walk away and he didn't accept that . He kept on trying to corner me to convince me to talk to him , to give him a chance and everytime I refuse he'd turn violent ,just like what happened today " Charles looked confused with what he was hearing "you told me you both agreed to end it , you told me everything was alright and you were just both busy and ...." She cuts him off "That was never the case . he was distancing himself and whenever I tried to talk about it we end up fighting , he'd just back away and I thought he was giving me space so we can process things and work on it , but it turns out he was seeing someone else " .

Taking a moment to breathe, she clenched her eyes before turning to sit on the couch before adding " we had a fight , right before Miami last season , I had a work trip and it took three flights just to go see him , trying to work things out , I knew how your schedules are putting pressure on you and how hectic they can be so I decided to surprise him , and when I got there and I found him with someone , or more accurately on top of her , I confronted him but he blew it on me and I broke up with him " .

Charles's expression went From anger to confusion to shock and disbelief quietly voicing " why didn't you say anything?" His sister gave a bitter laugh " you weren't exactly the biggest supporter of us dating in the first place Charles, you strongly opposed the Idea of me dating anyone Let alone one of your friends !" . He only got more agitated " I had the right to know , why didn't you tell me?" She looked at him with anger exclaiming " yeah right! I would just go up to you and say "hey Charlie , remember the guy you told me not to date , Pierre ! Your friend! Turns out you were right I shouldn't have! because guess what!? he cheated on me and now we broke up!" Because I know how well you'd react to that " .

He denied but she cuts him before he could protest " just like how you blew up on Carlos today " that got him to swallow down whatever he was about to say . Looking around trying to find something to say only for his gaze to fall on the vase still sitting on the coffee table holding her favourite flowers , his mind drifts back to Carlos's driver room , that single flower sitting atop the shelf exactly like the ones he's looking at right now , his sister's favourite flowers staring at him . A warning bell rang around his head making him recoil as he finally realized what's been Infront of him the whole time , he snapped his head to look at her " you and Carlos?" Only for her to look away , refusing to make any eye contact opting to look down at her hands instead , that got him to snap again " for how long!?" She flinched at that holding back tears " about 10 months" he laughed in disbelief " you've been seeing my teammate for about a year? A whole fucking year ! And never thought of telling me ? Your own damned brother ! His fucking teammate!" Her tears fell as she whispered in a broken voice " I didn't know how to tell you without you lashing out like this , you won't understand !" He raised his voice in anger "understand what?!" Looking at her in anger "understand that you kept all of these things from me !? That you went behind my back and now you're with my teammate !?! Understand what exactly!?" . She counter immediately " that I never meant for that to happen, for me to hide that I have feelings for someone , because I was scared of what you'd think , of how any of you three would react !. It's never the same when I comes to me , while you could go out and date whoever you want and no one would bat an eye , but I have to pray that you won't chase away anyone who God forbid had any interest in me . So no Charles you won't understand!" .

He looked at her with his hands raised pointing at her accusingly " and that went well , right?, you didn't even think about telling me now Look at how things ends up with Pierre , now Carlos!? , Who's next ?! Huh ? Who's going to be the next one when things go wrong with him too !?". She looked at him eyes wide and mouth agape in disbelief , unable to make any response so he kept going " I knew I shouldn't have let you come along , I knew something was bound to happen! You didn't listen to me now look how it ended up!".

She stood up voice hoarse "get out" he turned to her in confusion " what?" She ignored him only saying louder "I said get out Charles! Now! " . He scoffed at that " you're kicking me out just cause you can't handle when someone finally tells you the truth? " She shook her head " No Charles , because I thought I was wrong when I didn't tell you , I spent days contemplating whether I should tell you or let my guilt eat my soul because I knew you'd hate me if you found out , even Carlos tried to convince me to tell you many times but I refused, I always felt guilty about keeping it from you , but I guess I was wrong " she stood and stepped forward giving him a sad smile " I never regretted that I dated Pierre , it was my choice to be with him in the first place , but it was his choice to love someone else and choose them over me , same as my choice to love Carlos to give him a chance because I know it's not in my hand to control Pierre or Carlos or anyone else's actions towards me , but it's in my hands to love them " her tears came back falling more as she went on " the same as I love you my brother , I won't force you to accept any of my choices , I won't , because you chose to not understand , to not listen to me and to think of me this way" .

He took one last look at her , eyes red and swollen , tears staining her cheeks and a broken look consumed her face , guilt overtook him but he turned and left , slamming the door behind him leaving her to deal with the aftermath in the silence of her home .

#flowers #Carlos Sainz X reader #carlos sainz x reader #carlos sainz x y/n #carlos sainz imagine #Carlos Sainz X leclerc! reader #leclerc!reader #Charles leclerc x leclerc!reader #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #leclerc!sister

[greatlydelirious]

𝐃𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐚𝐧 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐭𝐬, 𝐊𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐡𝐞𝐞𝐭𝐬

Simon “Ghost” Riley x F!Reader

wordcount: 6.1k words

summary: The night that death granted you mercy you swore to never let yourself become vulnerable again. That was until you started to be haunted by a man who knew your feelings all too well.

warnings: smut, mask stays on, slight breeding kink, angst, injury, mentions of past trauma, super fluffy, established relationships, (Ghost is highkey obsessed with you)

“Who’s your crew?” Laswell asks while sighing, exasperated by Price’s persistence. He swipes up the stack of files she got for him before going through them.

“Sergeant Garrick.”

“Kyle?” she recalls.

“They call him ‘Gaz’. He never said anything.” Laswell looks over the front of the file before he pulls out another. “John MacTavish, SAS. Sniper- demolitions. Goes by ‘Soap’.” Once again Price hands it to Laswell.

“Why?”

“That’s classified.” Price’s tone is even before he moves on chuckling. “There he is… Simon Riley.” When he places this one down, Laswell’s eyebrows knit, “There’s no picture.”

“Never.”

He softly whistles before saying your name, “… but she only answers to ‘Rose’.”

“Rose? That’s a delicate name.” Laswell arches a brow when Price lets out a dry laugh.

“Anything but.” Price taps the photo attached to the folder. The woman was mean mugging the camera with a hardened expression that made even him shudder and was the envy of any of the men who joined her ranks.

“Now the rest…” Price swipes the files back while staring down the CIA station chief across from him. “That’s need to know. Unless we got a deal.”

Laswell stares back at him equally stoic, “What are you calling this task force?”

A light smirk plays on Price’s lips, “1-4-1.”

Sweat percolates from every inch of your skin as you make your way to your designated post. The heavy fatigues and protective gear that use to bother you now act as a comforting weight. A reminder of where you are and the mission you are about to accomplish with your team. Not some sissy team, but Task Force 141; a special operations task force military unit that housed the best and… wildest.

Wildest was far more apt than the word brightest to describe the band of seasoned soldiers Captain Price brought together. He recruited you from the United States military special force known as 75th Ranger Regiment. Anyone who has met someone you fought alongside knew the female killing machine that holds the moniker “Rose”.

At first, you wanted to decline Price’s proposition to join. You’d worked under the command of General Shepherd before during your time with the U.S. Army Rangers, but you were still hesitant. After surviving unspeakable horrors in Afghanistan, you became far too deep in your itch to maim and kill.

Not only did you need the structure being a part of a force gave you, but the thrill. When your old captain tried to give you a base job after recovering from severe injuries you went berserk. Hell, you were even moments away from joining the French Foreign Legion. Of course, Price caught wind of this and promised to put you to work. Luckily for him, he kept up his promise.

You are a specially trained fucking soldier; not a rookie, not a gun polisher, but a sharpshooter that rivaled the likes of Simon “Ghost” Riley. The statement might sound crass, but you didn’t have the luxury to lapse in confidence. Every corner you turn, every order you follow, and every shot you take must be concise and without a shred of hesitation. This wasn’t fun and games, it was life and death.

Well… maybe it’s a little bit of fun sometimes.

Scuffling noises and grunts fill the coms until they abruptly cease.

“Rose, do you copy?”

Silence.

“Answer me, Rose. Do. You. Copy.” Now the question turned into gritted demands. Each word leaves a sharper bite than the last.

Silence is the only answer yet again. Before Ghost can crush the radio in his steely grip, static meets his ears.

Grunting you push the now limp body on your chest to the ground. “Copy Lt.” Blood audibly squelches as you reclaim your knife. “Can’t get rid of me that easily.” Wiping the trusty blade on your pant leg you chuckle at a joke in your head, “What has two arms, two legs, and ten holes?

Soap can be heard groaning. You are just as bad as Ghost when it comes to so-called “army humor”. “You gotta be fuckin’ kiddin-“ Someone clicks their mic to cut off Soap’s grumbling.

“What?” A gravelly voice that gives you goosebumps plays along.

“The guy I just stabbed.”

“Ten holes huh?”

“Men have nine, thought he could use an extra one in the neck.”

“You’re bloody sick.”

“No, I’m quite blood free right now and I don’t have a stuffy nose. Thanks for your concern.”

A deep huff cuts through the coms and you recognize it as Ghost’s version of a laugh. Triumph fills you with being the one to elicit that rare sound. Thankfully, no one else was around to catch the subtle blush rising on your cheeks.

Focus, Rose.

“What do you call a Russian sniper from the Soviet Army who never misses his target?” Ghost asks you right after you finish clearing the hallway that held the stairway leading to the roof of the building.

“Go on.” You encourage as you start to make your ascent.

“The most skilled marxman in the military.” Now that had to be the most military dad joke you’ve ever heard.

“Please tell me you’re at your spot Rose.” Soap once again groans and for a second he regrets every decision that got him stuck with the two of you.

With an amused lilt in your voice, you push open a metal door, cold night air giving a second of reprieve against your hot skin. “Fortunately for you and unfortunately for me, affirmative.”

Taking a deep breath, you crouch before setting your M21 EBR sniper rifle on the edge of the roof and maneuvering the ACOG Scope attached. The semi-automatic rifle has extremely low recoil and you liked its dual use for medium and longer ranges. Other soldiers had a hard time with the scope’s slight sway, but you tamed the gun how one would a horse; using a subtle, soft touch to steer it in the right direction.

Electricity thrums through you as you anticipate what is about to take place. You adjust your scope until you’re finally focused on the building across the street. Standing behind one of the windows was your target, Nabeel Bashar, drinking and laughing with other men in the room.

Nabeel Bashar is a close associate of Hassan Zyani and one of the lower-ranked leaders in the terrorist organization Al-Qatala. Although he’s not important enough to give you information you don’t already have, his death is important enough to make an impact.

That’s it Nabeel. Move one more inch to the left and I got you.

Your leather gloves slightly squeak as you adjust the grip on your sniper rifle. The gun is an extension of yourself, and it’s about to send a message to Hassan. After a few minutes that feel like hours, the man steps perfectly into your line of sight.

“Rose to Bravo 0-6. I’m in position and have a clear shot.”

“Hold your position until Ghost gives the order.”

“Copy.”

Captain Price’s command sits at the forefront of your mind as your anticipation grows. You might have an itchy trigger finger, but you’re too seasoned to pull it prematurely. Years of training and discipline that started when you were a child kept you steadfast in waiting.

To say your father was proud of you was an understatement. As a U.S. Army Vietnam Veteran, he was a stickler for raising tough kids. Sprain something? Walk it off. Lose at a sport? Try harder. His motto is, “When all else fails, your mind is the only thing that can save you.” Advice that not only helped save your life but was engrained in your bones.

Over the years and during your time in Afghanistan, you accrued accomplishments and honorary medals that you thought of as just “chest candy,” but your father gladly took them to display in his living room to show off to his fishing buddies. Based on the way he constantly brags about you; you are most definitely his favorite.

So much so that he has more than once grilled you endlessly about the man you told your mother about. Simply calling him a man didn’t do enough justice though. Simon “Ghost” Riley isn’t just an apparition, but a carnal animal outside and inside the bedroom. Unforgivingly rough as he gets to what he wants while thrumming with a deathly power that practically begs for someone to challenge him.

Unsurprising to everyone, that’s what you did when you joined Task Force 141. The tales of the heartless Lieutenant with the seemingly permanent skull-patterned balaclava never scared you. If anything, it made you want to test your sparring skills with him. When you finally convinced him to practice with you and he managed to pin you down after an hour, he was far more than impressed. Intrigued, surprised, and aroused captured the essence of how he felt.

Ghost admires your brutality. You never hesitate, never give anyone the inkling that you’ll be an easy target. Some would say the element of surprise could work in your favor, but you like a rough fight. If you’re not feeling the aching reminder of it the next day, you don’t feel like you won. That philosophy may be dangerous, but that’s what Ghost loves about you.

Yet what he covets the most is the vulnerability you gave him the pleasure of witnessing. Everyone got to see the bloodthirsty soldier, but he got to see the resilient woman who soaked in her complex emotions behind closed doors. A woman who liked his stern voice and uncharacteristically soft touches.

You always melted in his hands like a kitten snuggling close for warmth. At times the rumbled moans that came straight from your chest even sounded like purrs. Ghost craved that soothing sound. A rare sign of mindless comfort from his “pretty rose.”

“Red Rose” was the full cover name you were given. You were as fresh as a rose when you joined the 75th Ranger Regiment, the only experience under your belt being from your short time in the army. During those beginning years of your career it was just “Rose”, but it became far too tame to describe the person you are now.

Anytime you clean sweep a room that had more than enough men to overpower you, Gaz said you “painted the roses red”. Are you a part of Task Force 141 if you didn’t have a sense of dark humor?

Like any rose, thorns covered the outside of you, not a protective shield, but a visible threat that you will bite back when handled. It wasn’t a secret what was done to you; as unspeakable as it may be. Not only did your mind plague you with vivid memories in the middle of the night, but it manifested physically as well.

Deep scars that left phantom pains in their wake littered your body. No matter how hard you itched or rubbed the pangs hit you with a vengeance. They were etched reminders of not only the pains of living but the miracle of survival. You were deeply respected for surviving what you went through, but it morphed into fear when you continued to be a part of the force.

Some people let the venom of the past take them down, but others will use the searing pain as motivation to push forward. You’re the latter.

Despite your hardened exterior and savage nature amidst combat, you get along with your team swimmingly. Yes, you snap, bark, and bite, but like any good Doberman when someone shows you they are trustworthy, you are fiercely loyal. And by this point, 141 felt more like home than anywhere else. They treated you like any other man on the team and would take a bullet for you without hesitation.

The only thing that was akin to what you feel like, is a Doberman shaking with the excitement for its next command. All you needed was that one word. Once you get that command the metaphorical leash can be dropped so the beast can attack.

“Shoot.”

In a millisecond your finger pulls the trigger. Glass shattering mixed with the whistling shot is like music to your ears, a symphony of justice executing its judgment. You watch as Nabeel Bashar falls limply to the ground, the hole in his head forming a crimson puddle underneath him. Pulling away from your rifle you grab your radio, “Nabeel’s down. Enemy K.I.A.”

One down.

“Clean shot, Rose.” Price praises through the coms. “Now let’s get you-“

Yelling erupting below makes your focus turn to the street. Stationed soldiers yell in a language you don’t understand while rushing into the building you’re in.

Shit.

You manage to duck when bullets ricochet off the concrete next to you, making dust spread in the air. “I’m under fire and they’re making their way inside.” You have to practically scream to be heard over the sudden gunfire. The cadence of your voice held not even a semblance of a quiver as you barked the information. You’ve stared at the face of death before; you can do it again.

“You will do it again.” Ghost’s voice pops in your head almost in a warning. The last time you were trapped in a situation like this you had the infamous man alongside you. Except then you had a nasty stab wound to your side and Ghost had even nastier gunshot wounds to the thigh and shoulder.

Enemies are everywhere. Stray bullets whizz past your head as you make it into the empty house with half of Ghost’s weight against your hip. The plan didn’t go awry, but totally nuclear. Now you both are left surrounded and injured. Concerningly so based on the dark stain your partner was leaving on the floor. He tried to help you barricade the room, but the moment he started to tip to the ground you helped him sit down. No matter how bullheaded he is, he can only withstand so much blood loss.

Ghost’s head slowly starts to fall forward as he sits against the wall. The chopper is on its way and the only body you planned to haul with you was a breathing one. Thick fabric meets your palm as you slap Ghost awake. Even though he is sluggish, he captures your wrist before you can step back. When you try to tug out of his grip, he only squeezes harder.

You opt to instead crouch in front of him, eyes blazing, “If you leave me now, I’ll come after you.”

When he simply blinks at you, you move your face until it’s inches away from his masked one. “Do you hear me, you bloody bastard? I mean it.”

A wet chuckle leaves the man below you, “Bloody, eh? I’ve rubbed off on yah already?”

“Make it through this and you can rub off on me all you want.” Now Ghost truly laughs despite himself. Despite the pain. Jokes made the hurt go away, mental or physical, but what really made the bleeding man tick was the way your eyes twinkled with promise. You truly do mean it.

Slippery fingers intertwine as Ghost holds your other hand as well. Despite the danger and the blood, there was something so intimate about his touch.

“Deal.”

That was the night you officially fell in love with Simon “Ghost” Riley.

“Backup is on its way now. Stand your ground, Rose.” Price’s words are meant to be comforting, but they only make you curse.

You know the team is set up in houses nearby, but these men are coming in fast. The sound of heavy footsteps pounding against metal steps further confirms your thought. Rolling your shoulders, you let a cold smile spread across your face.

Game on.

-

“Fuckin’ hell…” Ghost couldn’t help but breathe out the words when he finally makes it to you. He’s never mowed down enemies so fast. Any person who got in his way was given a swift death, and apparently, so did any in yours.

You’re a vision in red. Blood and entrails cling to your body as you stand in the middle of the wreckage. Fingers still twitched around the blades in both your hands, sniper rifle long forgotten somewhere. When your bullets ran out you opted to use it as a baton, cracking enemies until it got lost during a scuffle. Bodies are strewn across the rooftop like it was nothing. Like it was normal for someone to have the capabilities to fight all these men by themself; let alone a woman half their size.

Ghost has never seen anything more breathtaking. The gore only illuminates the primal energy that surged through you, through him. Every instinct urges him to run to you, feel you, and claim you just as you are now.

Wouldn’t be the first time.

With a shaky laugh, you sheath your weapons, not looking away from the man in front of you. The air is fraught with tension not stemming from the surprise attack. “Sorry, you missed the party, sir. I hope you can forgive me.” Your voice practically keens with a desire only Ghost can quell.

“Sir”, a formality laced with sin that unfurls from your tongue to snake into his ears. The sound of it coming from you so desperately, so needy, for him, calls to every fiber of Ghost’s being. You take without recourse every day; lives, commands, jests, anything you could while leaving nothing in return. Until it came to him. That three-letter title was you giving your power over to Ghost. An exchange of trust that never ceased to rock him to his core.

A grunt is given to you in response. A silent warning that said, “If you keep it up with that, I can’t be held accountable for what happens next.”

You knew that verbatim since the last time he grunted like that and you continued to push his limits, you were left with such a bad limp the next day that Captain Price made you go to medical for a check-up since he was convinced you were injured. Technically with how bad you were aching, it did qualify as an injury, but the dull throb between your legs indicated it was the good kind.

Before Ghost can make a step forward, Soap and Gaz run up in quick succession. They stop short just as Ghost did as they also take in the sight. Dark eyes continue to stay transfixed on you. Almost like you were the only person in the whole city.

Although, after a couple of minutes of three pairs of eyes ogling you, you decide you had enough for one day. Exasperated, you reach for your radio, “All clear Captain.”

-

By the time the team makes it to the safe house, you are utterly drained. Everything aches. The thick layer of sticky human splatter covering your form begins to gnaw at your senses. The lights feel too bright, the air too hot, and the atmosphere too quiet.

You tug off the pounds of clunky armor and gear, tossing it on an open countertop like the others. For a moment you just stare at the items. The dismantling got the surface mucked with dirty substances. Not only that but your hands, arms, and the sweat rolling down your forehead makes it spread even more.

Dirty. Dirty. Dirty. The mantra leaves you frozen, not knowing what to do, not knowing what else to say.

Someone pats you firmly on the shoulder, “I’ll take care of it, eh? Go clean up. Lord knows you deserve it.”

You can’t distinguish the voice of who’s talking when your feet begin to move at the command before your mind can register it. Normally you didn’t become this frazzled so soon, but you haven’t had time to be alone for weeks now. No time to scream into a pillow or cry in your room or feel his touch.

Every high has a crash, and you are free-falling. Fast.

Soap lets out a sigh of concern before grabbing a rag to start getting to work. He doesn’t say anything when he sees a dark shadow larger than your own follow you down the hallway.

When the bathroom door closes seemingly by itself you don’t hesitate. Nails scratch your skin as you practically tear off the clothes clinging to you. When you hear the fabric of your shirt rip you don’t care. You don’t have the wherewithal to even try. Yanking back the curtain, you blindly search for the handle. When water starts pouring down you practically jump into the shower.

You arch your head back into the stream of water. Clear, turns red, then turns black with the mixture of blood and soot as it sinks into the drain, taking your adrenaline with it. Limbs quake and memories flood uninvited into your brain. To escape the onslaught of emotions you close your eyes and try to focus on the sounds around you. Water is dripping, slipping, and sliding in your mouth. Water that was meant to soothe, but once smothered you and used as a tool to make you talk, to make you break.

Large hands encompass the sides of your head and pull you from the stream internally ripping you apart. Only then do you hear the sobs spilling from your mouth. Your eyes fly open and are confronted with misty blue ones surrounded by pitch blackness, equally searching and equally pained. Pained not only for you but for the fact that he knows exactly what you’re feeling. He knows how the past is twisting your guts until the only thing your body wants to do is destroy or be destroyed.

“Focus, angel.”

The words come out in a deep yet soft command. A shiver travels across your skin and an ache settles in your heart. Ghost is here with you. You aren’t in that place anymore. Your hands cling so desperately around his wrists as if he would drift away at any moment. Like he’s the answer to your salvation.

In actuality, you’re his.

With a harsh tug, hungry lips slam into yours. You hadn’t noticed that his balaclava was pushed up, but you couldn’t be more relieved to truly feel him. The kiss is as possessive as it is sloppy. Tongues don’t dance but spar as Ghost uses his grip on your head to keep you locked in place. Not that you would ever dream about pulling away.

He tastes of metal, grit, and something addictively sweet. He’s like one of those candies in sketchy wrapping, but when you pop it in your mouth it’s the best thing to ever grace your tastebuds. Moaning you back up against the cold shower wall to make room for the large man. His lips only move to start descending on your neck. Lips and teeth and tongue tease with a fiery passion that make you gasp at each little assault of his mouth on your skin.

Something hard presses against your slick stomach as Ghost blankets your body with his own. He towers over you not only in stature but width. Your body is perfectly hidden in front of his own like a human shield. The pure notion of what he can do to you makes heat pool in your core.

Your sudden reaction doesn’t go unnoticed. They seldom do.

A thick finger instantly meets your folds, sliding through the wet sensitive flesh in agonizingly slow pets. Ghost lets out a satisfied grunt at how willing and wet you already are for him. He pushes the digit inside your pussy with ease. You desperately grab his biceps to keep yourself from melting into a puddle at his touch.

“Please.” The wobbled plead comes out like a mewling kitten. When you say it so sweetly how could he ever deny you? When a second finger joins the first the delightful stretch that follows makes your nails dig into his taut skin. Ghost doesn’t pause as he begins to fuck you with deep, slow thrusts. Fingers curve to hit the spongy sweet spot inside your pussy that has you clenching around him like a vice.

The hardness against your stomach twitches at the sound, feel, and look of you. So devastatingly perfect, devastatingly his.

In your haze, you look down at where his body meets yours. Each stroke of his fingers makes you dizzy, but all you can focus on is his cock. The tip is ruby red as it throbs and leaks with precum with the anticipation to take you.

“Simon.” His head snaps up to search your face. The name comes out in a whisper as your eyes say a thousand more words you can’t possibly string together in a coherent sentence.

His lips ghost the shell of your ear, “My strong girl did so well today. She deserves my cock don’t yah think?” You feebly nod, unable to make any sounds except for pathetic moans. Strong hands lift your legs so they’re dangling atop his muscular thighs. He’s like a makeshift seat as he keeps your back pressed against the wall to keep you propped up for him. Now the head of his cock is resting between the lips of your sex.

Breath eludes you as you watch Ghost look at where your bodies are joined. He gently rocks against your pussy, rubbing your clit with each slow stroke. The new position leaves you no room to buck against him. You’re completely left at his mercy.

“…so fuckin’ pretty.” The admiring words rumble from his chest as he finally pushes inside. It’s almost too much. His cock never fails to split you open to the point that you think you might rip in half. He’s too hard, too long, too thick, too big. Yet you can’t help but whine when he stops moving after only half of his cock is nestled in your pussy.

Ghost shoves his face in your neck and you can feel his body trembling, not from physical exertion, but from the force he was using to control himself. Teeth nip and scrape at the tender flesh above your collarbone as he begins to slowly push more of himself into your quivering pussy. In silent submission, you crane your neck further to give him better access to your pulse point.  

You don’t want Ghost to hold back. You want the delicious pain that comes from him tearing you apart because you know he’ll always sew you back together again.

“Fuck me, bite me, take me, please.”

“Copy.” Ghost’s tone is deceptively playful and you swear you feel him smirk against your neck.

Cheeky bastard.

Any semblance of lightheartedness quickly disappears when he slams the rest of his cock inside you. Instead of biting, he sucks the spot his teeth were previously teasing. Ghost’s hands settle on your ass to pull you on and off his cock in tandem with his thrusts. He’s everywhere all at once and all you can do is desperately moan at the contact you’ve starved for.

The pace starts deep and languid before rapidly turning rough and downright feral. Gravelly groans tumble from the usually composed man as your tight walls cling to him at every pull of his cock. You’re almost too tight and he’s almost too big. Almost.

“That’s it... take my cock, angel.” Your bottom lip trembles when Ghost moves to rest his forehead against yours while continuing to fuck into you hard enough to bruise. The soft skin at his pelvis abuses your clit to the point of overstimulation with the onslaught of movement. It’s so intense that you’re sure you’ll fall apart by the next jut of his hips, but he never gives you more than you can handle. Ghost is the only person you’ve trusted with your body in many years; and for that, he’ll be forever grateful.

His eyes never leave yours as he takes in every little emotion swirling in their depths. Before you were on the brink of darkness, now all he sees is lust and a four-letter word that would be his undoing.

Once you almost died and went to hell. Now you feel like you’ve died and gone to heaven. Euphoria made you docile and pliable, a mewling, dizzy, sweet mess that only made Ghost fuck you harder. The sounds he’s making are like brimstone and ash as he fucks his fallen angel.

“Angel” was an especially fond nickname Ghost gave you at the beginning of your relationship. One he saved for your most intimate moments together. To him, you’re a celestial being; too good to be with the likes of him. He sees your drive to do good, to protect people from the torment you’d endured. Outsiders may see a bloodthirsty soldier, but he saw you for who you really are. A woman who strived to do good, to protect people from horrors unimaginable. Even if it meant sacrificing herself. Although Ghost may not be as noble, he is as driven. He’ll be your patron saint, your protector till the end of days; but even then, he’ll be too selfish to let you go. Ghost would cut down Gods and travel through hell and back for you. Anything for his angel.

A particularly sharp thrust makes you cry out. You’re so close you can feel the electricity crackling between the two of you. But neither of you cared for things that came easy. In an instant Ghost pulls out of you and flips you around with the grace of a seasoned fighter. The spray of water hits the sides of your bodies as you’re bent with your front against the shower wall.

Your forearms support your weight as you slam your palms into the wall in a poor attempt for leverage. Each aching muscle in your legs shakes from the pressure of standing on your tiptoes to reach closer to Ghost’s hips. Emptiness gives way to fullness when your pussy is once again invaded by his cock. His front molds into your back like you are made for him. You fit so perfectly tight against him, around him, pushing and squeezing as your velvet walls flutter to accommodate him.

Fingers slip between your own in an act so tender it betrays the rough slap of his hips against you. Truly an enigma even you had yet to completely figure out. But with your fast-approaching climax, you didn’t have the room to dwell on the concept. You can tell Ghost is close too; his thrusts are growing sloppy and his fingers that are intertwined with yours squeeze in a white-knuckled grip to attempt to ground himself.

His hands slip from yours to find purchase on your hip with one hand while the other snakes around to descend on your clit. Even lost in desire his movements are precise and expert in how they derive pleasure from you.

“Do you want me to fill you up, angel? Make you mine?” Ghost’s voice is distorted by growls and full-blown lust. Your emphatic moans and confirmations blend only to heighten as he slams into you and rolls your sensitive bud just right. Ghost’s ministrations, cock, voice, words, and noises all blend together in perfect symphony as you reach your rapture.

His grip on you is like steel as you meet each of Ghost’s thrusts. Your heart thumps like a hummingbird and sparks feel as though they’re lighting under your skin. A loud groan reverberates next to your ear as heat blooms in your core. You’re so tight in the throes of your own orgasm, milking Ghost for everything he’s got.

Ghost continues to push his cum inside you, thrusting in deep, hard strokes to secure it in and make it stick. The insatiable need to make you his in a permanent way motivates the overstimulating pounding. His fingers knead the flesh at your hips, coaxing you to stay open for him.

Only when your whimpers waver and turn whiny does he reluctantly slow his movements before coming to a complete stop. Ghost pulls you from the wall so he can lean you against his chest, cock still buried deep inside you. The rhythmic rise and fall of his chest would lull you to sleep if you weren’t acutely aware of your surroundings again. You don’t know how much time has passed, but when Ghost pulls out of you, you shiver from the newfound emptiness.

When you start to adjust your limbs, you feel that the skin on your fingertips is pruned, indicating that you’ve overstayed your welcome. You turn around in Ghost’s grip so you can properly gaze up at him (even if you still have to crane your neck). Your hands absentmindedly rub the muscles in his chest that rumbles like a dragon. Truly an unwavering force in every sense of the word. Unfortunately for both of you, you couldn’t stay like this forever.

“We have to get out sometime, big guy.” Grunting, Ghost grabs your hand before pulling it to his lips, kissing your knuckles like he was memorizing the feel of them. Satiated blue eyes look at you with an emotion that makes you swallow thickly. He was going to be the death of you.

Wordlessly, Ghost reaches around to finally stop the stream of water before scooping you into his arms. A part of you wanted to protest that you could move on your own, but you wouldn’t ever deprive his need to feel you. You wince as Ghost helps you out of the shower. At first, you think it’s from the ache between your thighs, but the pain stems from somewhere lower.

In an instant, you’re plopped on the bathroom counter. “Didn’t care to tell me about this?” Ghost elevates your right leg with an edge of anger in his voice. Not at you per se, but the fact that you’re injured. A streak of red is trailing down your outer thigh with the other droplets of water to the floor. The gash isn’t concerningly deep, but after your exertions, the area was irritated from being neglected.

“I’ve been so caught up I didn’t even feel the damn thing.” The knife wound must have occurred when you were fighting off those men on the rooftop. Everything happened so fast since you came to the safe house that you didn’t take the time to look over yourself.

When a white-hot bolt of pain hits your gut, you’re reminded of your oversight again. You sure as hell can feel it now though. Sighing, Ghost makes quick work of cleaning and wrapping your wound with items from his bag. Of course, he brought it into the bathroom with him. The man is never unprepared.

“Wish you gave me the chance to kill those bastards, love.” The comment only makes you laugh. Leave it to Ghost to think of vengeance right after fucking your brains out.

You admire his concentration in silence. Before you met him you always “licked your own wounds” after every mission you went on, never having someone care so intimately about you to tend to your injuries themself. Now you had Ghost’s expert hands piecing you back together. Despite your pride, you cherish that those hands, invisibly coated in so many people’s blood, takes extra precaution while cleaning up yours. At this moment you feel nothing but lingering bliss and something you thought you’d never feel again… love.

Lightly twisting your leg, Ghost looks over his handiwork with a satisfied grunt. Thick fingers start to card through your wet strands of hair before moving down to cup your cheeks. His thumbs draw small circles on your skin in a manner so soothing it made butterflies awaken in your stomach.

“Do you think they heard us?” They had to of heard, but you knew that they would make themselves think they didn’t. If one of them even uttered a single syllable about it Ghost would pop their head off like a cherry stem.

“That’s the goal.” A wicked blush flames your cheeks as you playfully swat his chest.

Possessive bastard.

Sighing, you hop off the counter and grab your undergarments. Can’t delay facing the team any longer. The comfortable silence continues to stretch as you both get re-dressed. Thankfully Ghost hands you a spare shirt since you tore yours before getting in the shower. It all feels strangely domestic, especially when putting where you are into consideration. But home is where the heart is, and Ghost has yours in the palm of his hand.

Strong arms pull you to a hard chest once you’re fully dressed. A ghost of a smile plays on your lover’s lips and the sight makes you smile in return. Ghost leaves you with one last searing kiss before pulling his balaclava back down and exiting the bathroom.

Amidst war, death, and a lingering past you were able to fight your demons and find love. And as fate would have it, you love the angel of death himself.

Any and all interactions are greatly appreciated.

#ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley #simon ghost riley #simon riley smut #cod ww2 #cod wwii #delirious masterlist

[nonexistent-introvert]

Jealousy

Pairing: Joel Miler x f!reader

Word Count: 3k

Content: non-established relationship, third party, jealousy, hurt/comfort?, fluff, Joel is one dense idiot, confessions

A/N: This was the outcome of my drinking coffee at 10pm and not being able to fall asleep after that till 3am

Being dragged to a party was enough to ruin your day. It was already a taxing day, you had gone out for patrol early this morning and couldn’t even catch a break when you returned. Since the clinic needed extra help since it was flu season. When you were finally on your way back home, ready to crash into bed early today. You bumped into Tommy who wouldn’t take no for an answer, insisting that you must turn up for the party that Maria organized to welcome the new people into town. 

   The woman that was basically glued to Joel’s side did not help matters at all. Her arm was on Joel’s bicep as she laughed into his shoulder. You stood in the corner, annoyance clear on your face as you finished the bottle in your hand. Your vision was going blurry and the room spun around you. Your body was slumped against the wall, all the warning signs going off in your head that you should stop with the alcohol. 

  The only thing that was still clear in your mind was the vision of the two of them. The obnoxious laughter erupting from her and how her hands traveled Joel’s arm. 

  “Hey hey.” A hand waved in front of your blurry vision, making your head hurt even more. “It’s Tommy.” Tommy’s hands firmly gripped onto your shoulders, grounding you to reality. Your words slurred together as you muttered a greeting to him through your drunken stupor.

  “Jesus, how much did you drink? What has gotten into you?” Tommy exclaimed in disbelief over the loud music. You merely laughed in Tommy’s face, trying your best not to puke your guts onto him. 

  “I’ll take care of her.” Even in your drunken state, you recognized that voice immediately. “No.” You blurted out. “You don’t need help?” Tommy asked for good measure, Joel merely grunted in response. He put your hands around his shoulder to help you stand. The woman he was with appeared in your view again and you were suddenly reminded of the reason why you were in this state in the first place. “Fuck off.” You cursed, pushing Joel away from you before stumbling into a wall. Your head was spinning as you watched him get held back by the woman as you clumsily made your way out of the pub. 

    Joel calmly helped hold your hair back. You were bending over the grass, emptying the contents of your stomach into the field. A small hint of annoyance on his face at the fact that you had pushed him away and told him to “fuck off”. Concern was more evident on his face as he watched you. A series of curses escaped your mouth as you coughed, you felt humiliated that he had to watch you ungracefully vomit onto the grass. 

   Joel quietly handed you a bottle of water that he had brought. You gulped it down, the water sobering you up. Letting you comprehend the weight of your actions.Before you could do anything to push Joel away again, he swiftly bent down and wrapped your legs around his hips. “Don’t be difficult.” Joel warned, standing up to his full height with you on his back. 

==================+

   Joel woke up with a grunt, stretching his sore back. He really was getting on age. His first instinct was to check on you. He stood up, towering over you on his bed. He snickered upon watching you while he gently tucked you properly under the sheets. Joel should wake you up for patrol but he couldn’t bring himself to. Not when you would probably wake up with a bad hangover and you’re sleeping so soundly in his bed. His eyes stared at the mattress that he had slept on, it wasn’t like the both of you didn’t share a bed before. You slept in his bed often, he would wake up sprawled out in bed with his arms around you and your chin on his head. However, he still felt that it was wrong to be sleeping in the same bed as you when you were drunk. Especially when you had muttered to him drowsily, “You’re so handsome, I want to kiss you.” He shivered slightly at the memory of it, his whole body burning up and turning red at just the thought of it. 

    Yeah, he definitely wouldn’t survive the night if he had slept next to you. 

   Joel went to Tommy first to explain the situation. Tommy only sighed in defeat, telling Joel that he and any other available men were due for a visit to the dam to ensure that everything was ok for the winter. “You could just not do it today. I’ll send a bigger group tomorrow instead.’ Tommy suggested. There was an unspoken rule in Jackson, no one does patrols alone. “I’ll look around.” Joel replied he wasn’t one to put things off, preferring to get it done to prevent matters from snowballing. 

   Joel went around town, Jesse was busy with the preparations for the dam. Ellie was still knocked out from the party yesterday. He was at wit's end as he contemplated if he should wake you up instead. 

  “Joel! You’re up early.” Joel gave Julia a polite nod. “I have patrol,” he replied. Julia grinned, putting her hand on his shoulder and giving it a squeeze. “Stay safe.” He nodded, about to stride past her when the idea popped into his head. “Do you mind going to patrol with me?” he asked. Julia’s face brightened, a slight flush on her cheeks. “Yeah, yeah sure!” She agreed with no hesitation. 

   Julia was new. She doesn’t even know the route that Joel was taking today nor did she have the skills to ride a horse which was required for the longer route. It was the whole reason why Joel had told her to ride with him. “Stay close to me ya hear?” He instructed as he swiftly hopped onto his horse. “You say that like it’s a hard thing to do.” Julia smiled shyly. Julia was flirting with him. He cleared his throat awkwardly, averting his gaze elsewhere to distract himself. 

   His breath hitched in his throat when he saw you. You were dressed in his winter jacket, your eyes were on him. He watched as you turned away from him and walked away before he could even call you over. Joel chewed on his lip, he will talk to you when he’s back. 

=========================================

    The hangover was bad. Bad enough for you to not remember a single thing after you had blacked out on Joel’s back. Bad enough to not make you want to get up. You recognised the bed, it was Joel’s considering that it was a queen size bed. Yours was merely a single. You weren’t a stranger to Joel’s bed, you frequented it rather often for someone who wasn’t even in a relationship with him. There was mattress pulled out beside the bed, you assumed  Joel had slept on the mattress on the floor from the untidied blanket. You took the hangover pills that Joel had left for you at his bedside, heart warming at his small gesture. 

  The clock on his bedside reminded you that you woke up just in time to make it for your patrol. Despite feeling like there was someone pounding in your head, you still felt obligated to turn up as Joel’s partner. It was a responsibility and duty after all.

 You trudged in the cold snow, zipping the winter jacket that you had stolen from his closet. It was times like this that you wished you weren’t such a responsible person. You wished you would just stay in the comfort of his bed and rest. Joel was already saddled on his horse, behind him sat the woman from the bar yesterday, her arms wrapped tightly around Joel’s waist. You clenched your jaw, kicking at the snow at your boot. 

  He could have said something. You thought bitterly to yourself. Your gaze lingered on him, he must have noticed it considering how his eyes met yours from a distance. You turned away before you could gauge his reaction, dragging yourself back into the comfort of your own home.

==============================

   Joel stood at your door, holding onto a box filled with some cake. Maria baked the cake today and set Joel on the mission to bring you some as well. Although Tommy’s expression might have given away Maria’s hidden agenda. Joel likes to believe that he wasn’t dense, but he really can’t recall what he did to piss you off. However, it seems that Maria already knew from how she practically ordered Joel to bring you cake as a peace offering. 

  The first thing Joel noticed when you opened the door was your scowl. You usually smiled when you saw him. “I brought cake.” He announced, lifting the box in his hands. Your hand almost slammed the door right in his face upon hearing that. “Give it to Ellie.” You said, your eyebrows furrowing further. “Is this your purpose for visiting me?” You asked, Joel stumbled over his words in surprise. “Yea-” You took the box from his hands. “Thanks,” You forced out, “You can go now. Bye.” Joel's eyes widened as you closed the door on him. 

    “Hey!” Joel pushed against your door with his hands, stopping you. “What is your problem?” He snapped. You scoffed, “Since we are both so mad at each other, let’s just cut this interaction short.” He shook his head, “I just didn’t like how you’re treating me alright?” Joel defended, “We should be talking, stop acting like a child throwing a petty temper.” Joel scolded. You glared at him. Joel pushed past you, ignoring your glare, and sat down on your couch.  He patted the seat beside him, demanding that you sat next to him and talk to him. 

   “The hell was that? The hell is wrong with you?” He started. You resisted the urge to roll your eyes at his tone. “Let’s just say I’m not interested in the stupid cake she made for you.” You snarked. Joel tilted his head in confusion, “Maria?” he muttered, not understanding you. You closed your eyes in embarrassment, it was Maria who made the cake. “No- just-” You groaned in frustration. He waited beside you while you find the words to express yourself, his eyes scanning yours for any hints of what had made you upset. “I just thought you would have at least informed me beforehand.” Joel ran his hands through his hair, trying to tell what you were referring to. His eyebrows furrowed even further, “Oh, patrol. You’re upset that I left without you?” Joel asked, remembering how he had seen you turn away from him and walk back. He didn’t chase after you then, despite wanting to. He was already late, the sun was coming up and he had to admit that he struggled quite a long time before he found someone to be his partner. You wanted to dig a hole 6 feet under and bury yourself, how is Joel missing the main point that was pissing you off? “You could have told me you were going to patrol with someone else.” You stated. He sat up, “You mean Julia?”  You pushed down the bitter feeling at hearing him mutter her name. 

    “I thought you would appreciate the rest. The hangover must be bad.” He explained. You closed your eyes. The problem didn’t lie in him finding someone else to go for patrol with him, it was the fact that he got Julia, the woman who looked at him with literal heart shapes in her eyes. “But you aren’t just mad over that, are you? You were pretty mean to me yesterday too.” Joel continued. You panicked a little, wondering what you had done in your drunken state. “I- I just can’t stand Julia alright?” You admitted. “Come on, we both knew what she was trying to do right? And you let her.” 

  Joel pursed his lips, trying his best to bite back his smile. It finally clicked, you’re jealous. “What was she doing?” He challenged. In his defence, he only realised today what Julia was doing, that she was flirting with him. Your eyes widened, “Are you blind? You didn’t know?” You were exasperated, “She’s trying to get into your pants Joel, for lack of a better word.” Joel chuckled. “And that upset you.” You cursed internally, you walked straight into the stupid trap he had laid out for you. “I’m not jealous.” You lied blatantly, “It was just so attention seeking, I hate attention seekers.” You said, body relaxing. He grinned at your response and how you relaxed, he was finally getting to you. “I hate you Joel, stop playing dumb.” You shoved him. Joel laughed, “in my defense, I truly didn’t catch on till today.” 

   “What made you realise then? Did she finally achieve her goal?” You replied sarcastically. 

   “She kissed me. Everything fell into place after that.” Joel admitted. The silence was heavy, your mind was overcrowded with thoughts. 

================

   “Finally! The checkpoint! My feet were killing me.” Julia complained. Joel merely hummed in response, his mind going back to you. You never complained, hell you even liked the walks. Sometimes the both of you would even venture further because you liked walking while talking to Joel and he certainly didn’t mind. He flipped open the patrol book in the hut, signing his name and Julia’s into it. 

   His body stiffened significantly and he almost instinctively elbowed her. Julia had wrapped his arms around his waist while he was signing, he could feel her breath on his back as she leaned into him. Joel immediately turned, pushing her away gently as he pressed himself against the table, trying to put some distance between Julia and him. “What are you-“ 

   Her lips were on his. His mind short-circuited at her sudden action. Julia's lips moved against his and he jerked away, turning his head away from her. “I- what-“ he couldn’t even find the right words to say to her as he looked at her. “Joel, I’m sorry. I just can’t help it.” She started. She ran her hands through her hair, “I really like you, Joel. I-“ 

   “I don't. I don’t feel anything close to that for you.” Joel stated clearly. His tone was so cold while he glared daggers at her. “But- but you let me flirt. “ her words were background noise to him. That was what he got for being dense huh. He had honestly thought she was just being nice to him and so he too was nice to her. He didn’t expect to give her the wrong idea. 

   Everything else was a blur after that. Joel never rode so fast in his life back to Jackson. He could hear Julia sniffling behind him but he honestly couldn’t care less. Feeling extremely disgusted at her sudden gestures, that she had approached him with the agenda of something more. As though he would marry her at first sight or something. Joel is an old fashioned man, he didn’t believe in love at first sight, he firmly believed that you had to get to know someone before you could fall in love with them. 

=================

   All feelings of jealousy had left you already. You were bent over, cackling as Joel retold the events of today. “I don’t see anything funny.” He deadpanned. “Your face, Joel just imagine your face, the horror when she kissed you. She should have snapped a photo or something.” You laughed. Joel smiled, relieved to know that you weren’t upset anymore. “I can’t believe you got jealous.” He reminded you. You stopped laughing, “I wasn’t” “Yeah you keep telling yourself that.” He drawled. 

   “I don’t blame you. Thinking back, I would be jealous if I was in your shoes.” He said, his arm was over your shoulder now. Your legs were thrown over his lap while your head leaned against his arm behind you. The tension between the both of you is long gone. “A man coming to you, laughing with his hands all over you. Then riding off into the sunrise with you. Nah I doubt that, he probably won’t even survive the night at the bar, he definitely won’t be your partner for patrol the next day.” “Ok sounds like violent tendencies to me.” You joked. He smiled. 

   “Being jealous tends to apply to people in a relationship.” Joel pointed out. “Being jealous of people getting too close doesn’t usually apply to close friends or whatever we are.” You knew what he was getting at, the line of being just friends has been blurred between the both of you for the longest time. “Would you be my boyfriend?” You asked in a mocking voice. A voice that reminded you of a schoolgirl trying to confess to their hallway crush. He laughed, “Took you long enough.” You nudged him, “Aren’t guys supposed to make the first move?” “Well, Julia made the first move.” He teased “Fine! Go back to her then.” You rolled your eyes.

   Joel cupped your cheek and pressed his lips to yours, effectively silencing you. He was gentle like he was afraid of scarring or breaking you. When he pulled away, he looked at you with a boyish smile. “You’re so handsome I want to kiss you.” He imitated your voice yesterday.

   There was no way you said that. You recognised that he was mocking you but you had zero recollection of saying that. He must be just teasing you right? “You might have whispered that into my ear when I placed you down on my bed before snoring loudly seconds later,” Joel said. Your jaw dropped in horror, “You’re lying. I don’t snore.” You defended, cheeks reddening in embarrassment. “That is the most attractive thing ever. I definitely wouldn’t remember it wrongly.” You hid your face in his shoulder, you wished you were six feet under now. “Please forget it.” You muttered. He chuckled. 

   “If I had forgotten it, I wouldn’t have kissed you.”

  It was weird how jealousy had brought the both of you together. 

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