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bingwriterxo · 10 months

Text

the shakespeare exhibit - part 1

pairing: tara carpenter x reader

summary: in which tara finds herself in a weird place in the museum

warnings: none

word count: 1700+

author's note: this was a request (find here)! hope u guys enjoy :D the english major in me really popped the fuck out in this one 🤭

next part

Spending a rainy Sunday in the Museum of Modern Art was far from what Tara wanted to do, but she had been outvoted by the rest of her friends, all of whom thought that it would be fun (well, all but Chad, who wanted to stay in and have a movie marathon).

She found herself wandering aimlessly through the halls, glancing this way and that at different exhibits, though nothing really piqued her interest. Sam and Danny had escaped to the Egyptian gallery, Chad and Ethan were exploring the gift shop, Mindy and Anika had rushed off on their own almost as soon as the group walked through the front doors--if Tara had to put money on it, she would guess that they were making out in the bathroom--and Quinn was flirting with the ticket booth guy.

Tara pulled her phone from her back pocket.

Tara (3:46pm): can we go soon im bored

Sam (3:48pm): Danny and I are only halfway done!

Chad (3:49pm): anyone got some extra cash??? really want this weird t-shirt

Ethan (3:49pm): i got u buddy

Mindy (3:51pm): fh2p9hr2$!8tn

Sam (3:51pm): Mindy, what?

Mindy (3:52pm): sorry butt text

Mindy (3:52pm): me and nika r busy

She huffed when no one in the group chat seemed to be on the same wavelength as her and shoved her phone back in her pocket, continuing her shuffling. She wasn't even sure where in the museum she was, and she didn't really care.

Or, at least, she didn't care until she heard that voice.

"And here we have a painting depicting the celebration that occurs in the beginning of one of Shakespeare's earlier plays, Titus Andronicus."

Tara looked to her right, where the voice was coming from, and was met with a large sign that read Pop-Up Shakespeare Exhibit! She frowned. Shakespeare? she thought. Seriously?

"Now, this celebration is quite important to the rest of the play as..."

The voice was luring her in. Okay, maybe I can dig Shakespeare.

She wandered into the room, eyes flitting around as she searched for the person that the voice belonged to. Instead, she was met with numerous paintings of different scenes from Shakespeares' plays, or people that influenced him or were important during his time period.

And why the fuck is this man so iconic? she thought as she quickly scanned over each painting, finding nothing extraordinarily special about them. This shit is boring.

Still, she ventured farther in, determined to find the reason she had entered the exhibit in the first place. She wasn't, however, paying much attention to her feet or the paces in front of her, and the next thing she knew, she had bumped into someone else.

"Oh, sorry," she said.

"It's okay! That's my bad!" you replied, and Tara's eyes widened as she glanced in your direction. You were the voice that she was trying to find, and now that she had found you...well, she wasn't really sure what to do.

Honestly, she hadn't expected you to be so, in layman's terms, hot, and she could feel herself blushing up to her ears as she stared at you, awestruck and nervous and itching to talk to you all at once.

You offered her a wide grin and gestured toward the painting the two of you had ended up in front of. "Big fan of King Lear?" you asked.

Tara glanced at the painting. Two men stood in a vaguely grassy area, one old and the other younger. The older one had his arms thrown out, and despair was clearly controlling his emotions. The younger one was simply standing back and watching. What the fuck is this shit? she thought before realizing that you were awaiting her response.

"Yeah, definitely!" she lied. "It's probably my favorite Shakespeare play."

You furrowed your eyebrows. "Really? You strike me as more of a..." You trailed off as your eyes flitted down her body, taking her in. Tara gulped. "I would say Twelfth Night kind of girl."

Tara shrugged. "Well, I can be surprising." She pointed lamely at the painting. "Besides, I love history plays."

"Oh!" You raised your eyebrows as your eyes widened, and you chuckled. "King Lear isn't a history; it's a tragedy."

"Right! I--That's what I meant," she rushed out, trying to backtrack. "But, I mean, couldn't all of Shakespeare's plays technically be histories? They're all old."

You giggled, and Tara found that she liked that sound even more than she liked your voice. "That's not really how it works." You pulled your bottom lip between your teeth and glanced at the watch on your wrist. "If you want, I could give you a tour through the exhibit and explain some of the plays to you. My next group isn't coming for another hour."

I would rather Ghostface pop out of one of these paintings and attack me than have these boring-ass plays explained to me. She wanted to say that--god, did she want to--but you were looking at her with a soft smile and even softer eyes, your hands buried in your back pockets as you shifted on the balls of your feet, and her reply was tumbling from her lips before she could stop it.

"That would be great!"

* * *

You were only halfway through the exhibit, talking about some lady named Portia who could only marry the man that chose the correct casket--how fucking stupid, Tara thought--when you turned to her, a pitiful smile pulling at your lips.

"You find this boring, don't you?" you asked, though there was no judgment in your voice. If anything, Tara could detect a hint of teasing.

She shook her head. "No, no. Portia and Bassanio and caskets are all very...interesting." When you tilted your head at her, your eyes sparkling with disbelief, she sighed in defeat, allowing her shoulders to slump slightly. "Yeah," she admitted, "it's kind of boring."

You shrugged half-heartedly, a crooked smile on your lips. "That's okay. Shakespeare's definitely not for everyone." You looked back at the painting you stood in front of. "I mean, even I hated half the plays when I first read them."

"Then why are you a tour guide for this exhibit?"

"Money," you confessed. "I'm a broke college student who has tuition to pay for. Plus, I've read all of these plays ten times over, so I know them pretty well."

Tara wrinkled her nose. "Why would you subject yourself to that?" she asked. "I couldn't even imagine reading these plays once, let alone"--she gestured in the air--"as many times as you've read them."

"I'm an English Lit. major, so it's kind of my thing." You sighed in a dreamy sort of way, and Tara couldn't help as her eyes flitted down to your lips, her tongue dragging across her bottom one. She quickly shifted back to your eyes when you looked at her. "But it's not everyone's thing. I get it."

She frowned. "Sorry if I, like, wasted your time."

You waved her off. "Don't worry about it. I like talking about the plays, and if anything I said in the last fifty minutes got through to you, then I did my job."

Tara nodded. "Oh, it definitely did. Yeah, I learned so much about Shakespeare today," she said, sarcasm dripping from her voice.

You chuckled. "Sure you did."

She took a deep breath in and then rushed out, "If I could prove to you that I learned something, would you let me take you on a date?" She watched as your eyes widened in surprise before being narrowed by the smile that took over your face.

"Okay," you agreed. "I'll ask you a question, and if you can answer it, then I'll give you my number. How's that?"

"Yeah," she said, grinning. "That works."

You glanced around the parts of the exhibit that you had taken Tara through, and she watched as you thought for a moment, your eyebrows furrowing in concentration and your hand scratching at the side of your neck.

"Oh!" you said after a minute. "I've got it." You turned to her, a wicked smile on your face. "In Twelfth Night, what's the name of Viola's brother?"

Oh shit, Tara thought. I should've listened harder when she was talking about that play. But it's not my fault she looked so cute when she was talking about the different theories of human gender.

She blinked at you, trying to come up with the name, or, frankly, any name that you had mentioned during your little tour. You waited patiently, watching her as the gears turned in her head.

Orsino? No, no--that's the Duke. Was it Cesario? Toby? Malvolio? None of those. Oh! It was--

"Sebastian!" she practically yelled.

You giggled at her enthusiasm and pulled the pen from your front pocket. As you clicked it open, you said, "I guess you do listen." You took her arm, pushed up her sleeve so that you had enough skin to write, and jotted down your number on her forearm. She looked at it when you were done, blushing at the sight of a poorly-drawn heart at the end. "Text me, yeah?"

"Totally," she breathed out. "Yeah, I'll do that. For sure."

"Okay." You glanced at your watch. "My next tour's starting in, like, a minute, so I've gotta run." You quickly looked around the exhibit and, upon finding no one near, leaned close and pressed a short kiss to her cheek. "Bye!"

Tara was left in the center of the Shakespeare exhibit, watching as you walked back toward the entrance, with a burning cheek and butterflies stirring in her stomach. She looked at the portrait on her right.

"Shakespeare, you're not good for much, but apparently you're good for getting cute girls' numbers," she muttered.

bonus: "so, what exhibits did you go to, tara?" sam asked as the group sat in a little coffee shop down the street from the MoMA.

"uh, the shakespeare one," tara mumbled.

everyone's eyes widened. "what?" came the resounding reply from all of her friends.

"you hate shakespeare," mindy stated.

"yeah. when they tried to teach us about it in senior year, you literally left the classroom," chad said.

"why the hell would you spend all your time in a shakespeare exhibit?" sam asked, furrowing her eyebrows at tara.

anika reached over and pulled at tara's shirt sleeve, revealing the numbers hidden beneath. "i think that might be why."

tara groaned as everyone started talking over one another, asking questions (sam) and squealing (quinn and mindy) and grumbling (chad and ethan).

"god," mindy started when everyone was finally quiet, "you are so gay, t."

#tara carpenter x reader #tara carpenter #tara x reader #jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega #scream 6 #scream 5 #museum tara

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goldsbitch · 3 months

Text

Just don't talk--

-and come over. p3 to Just don't talk

summary: Enemies to lovers on steroids. Lando can't stand Y/N, the first female driver in F1. He also can't stand not having her with her clothes on.

warnings: minors do not interact, cursing, a bit of smau...just generally don't take this one too seriously

The following week marked a u-turn in the media strategy of McLaren and Aston Martin. Another set of meetings, very quick as nobody wanted to open a can of worms or cause even more talk on the topic of Y/N and Lando. They studied the material shot for the F1 - and the consensus was to stop the Lando x Y/N part being released out as it gave off strange vibes. It was a mix of pure lack of chemistry and then a sudden spike of sexual tension and a 180 shift. In all fairness it was a bit uncomfortable to watch for the media teams, who had to analyse people they were in direct daily contact.

No unnecessary contact. No joined interviews. Keeping them as apart as possible. Gone were the days where teams would use the sexual tension as a selling point. Times have changed, this would fly really well in 2010's, but now anything of this sorts for a nightmare for PR. Y/N would be undermined. Lando put in a fuck boy category. It wasn't like anyone saw anything happen. None of the people initiating these meetings had even slightest idea that their worst nightmares were only a light version of the truth. If there was ever an elephant in a room, it was this time. Nobody dared to speak their mind. The whisper challenge video came out without the two. Having it cut and deleted from all hard drives was an order and nobody was to speak of it again.

Social media had been strangely quiet, focusing on race related topics. That was until Lando wore a short sleeve, his healing bite mark seeing the light of day and on display for thousands of eyes. How was one suppose to wear long shirts in hot ass countries they were constantly traveling to? Personally, he thought it was cool and there was even a point where he debated having it tattooed - owning the shit out of and taking the power away from Y/N. Max, his best friend, stopped him. But the thought still lingered back in his mind. It had been a little too long since their last night session. Jerking off was fine, but never good enough. The bite mark caused quite the stir among his fans, but he honestly gave little to no shit about that. He was not going to contact her first though. The last thing he would do is to simp up to her. So when there was a hot model present at one their random club night outs, he did not think twice. It was a little too easy for his liking, but he needed to blow some steam. He could have been discreet, he really could. But why? There was a part of him that was excited to see how this would resonate with Y/N. The violent make out outside the club really was not necessary. Especially when Lando knew that there was a photographer sitting nearby patiently, about to make a living out of a Lando's whim.

When Lando scrolled instagram the next morning, he has a little too proud smile on his face. He would never admit it out loud, not even to himself, that Y/N was on his mind when he fucked the brunette. Mediocre night at best. What worried him a bit was that bad sex was something he almost forgot existed. Of course that Y/N saw it. It was one of the first things that popped up on her phone that morning. It did not bother her. Not even closely. She just had a good energy streak, that was her reply to her trainer when she nearly broke the rowing machine at the gym. She uninstalled instagram later in the afternoon, trying to get the instagram girl's face out of her memory.

There was no way she'd be the one texting him for a late night hook up now. Maybe it was for the better in the end. Focusing on racing only now and even potentially beating him on the track. Night got a little too lonely without the option to have him over, on her and under her. She tried baking, reading, got really into chemistry related youtube videos, yet drinking and working out seemed to be the only thing to really work.

Two long weeks passed until she finally received a text. She ignored that her heart skipped a beat when she saw his name on her phone screen.

"Bro. What are we going to do now?"

She rolled her eyes. What a lame ass opening. No point in playing the waiting game, so she replied immediately. She could care less.

"Aw, got bored and miss some quality fucking?" She second guessed the text right after sending. Was that too desperate? She thew the phone away for few minutes. One late night unnecessary coffee later, she picked it right back up.

"No, you little shit. You not on socials or what?"

A screenshot followed.

There were PR nightmares and there was this kind of disaster. Instagram and Tik Tok got installed back immediately. She watched some cuts and edits from their video, low quality snips that were not giving any full image. Comment after comment, the creativity not being of concern to anyone. All of the same note. Is there more to their obvious dislike of each other? There were only few who were concern by why did most of the leak footage give such a hostile vibe. Lando's eye fucking was more of an attractive topic.

She scrolled for few minutes, watching a new shift on their public image unfold. It was mostly the hardcore fans, not really something the big outlets took interest in at the moment. But there was one theme that followed - people were curious. Panic set over her, mind started racing in all possible scenarios. And then did something for the first time - she dialed Lando's number. He picked up reluctantly.

"How did it get out?" she asked right away.

"Hello to you too. And the fuck would I know."

"Seems like something that would fit into your current portfolio, so yeah, I am asking directly."

Lando smiled proudly. She was jealous. Oh, what he would do to see her face now.

"Hate to disappoint, but I don't have the need for cheap attention." Liar, all he wanted was for her to notice him.

"Ok, assuming nobody from your team or my team did, who got it out?"

"I severely overestimated your ability to focus on the important thing here, apparently."

"So you tell me, Mr. Genius."

"Like I said before you invaded my evening by this panic phone call. What are we going to do? The last thing I'd want is for someone to find out...about us." It felt strange for both of them, to hear him say it like that. Like it wasn't a problem. Every time someone put them together in a sentence, it had been a bad connotation. But not his tone, this one time.

"Well, I don't know, I've only had a minute to process."

"Oh, take your time, of course. Time flies really slowly on social media, so yeah, I'd say you have about a year or so to react."

"Well, we're obviously not going to react anyway."

"I really hope they don't force us to. I'm getting sick of all the media team meddling in. It's their fault in the first place," he said, unamused.

"Yeah, you're right. Good defense, I will use that if they bring it up."

"Don't worry, you'll get my invoice for consulting in your email tomorrow."

"Aw, McLaren not paying enough?"

"I'm sorry, you're still at Aston, correct?"

"Shut it, Norris. So that's it? We'll just not react and let it go?"

"I mean, what else is there to do. Denying anything will only bring up more questions. It's not like people will believe we're friends."

"That, my friend, is true."

"I'm a smart boy, not only a sex god."

"Uhm." Trouble is that he really really was.

"So we'll just let it die out?"

"Yeah. When someone mentions it, we can say that we just don't get along and that's that."

"Great, no lie there."

There were few seconds of quiet tension. Panic was somehow over, but the high adrenaline stayed. It was late evening, their usual prime time. Would they? Should they? Y/N was debating whether she wanted to see Lando again with the vibe he was setting around himself lately putting her off a bit. But then there was the need for territorial claim. Built up energy that wanted to get out. Both of them silently trying to come up with a line good enough for Lando to come over and "dance" with Y/N in a way no friend would. Lando took a breath to speak, but Y/N was quicker.

"So, wanna come over for a work out?" He was over at her place within 25 minutes.

part 4

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jarofstyles · 8 months

Note

Harry jerking off after the show thinking ab a hot fan he kept staring at in the crowd blurb

Now... I am thinking and got carried away and this is our filthhhhh I'm sorry y'all

Patreon

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

He hadn't had an experience like this in a long time.

As a general rule, Harry didn't hook up with fans. He respected them and the imbalance of power could be tricky, but there had been one girl in particular that had been teasing him the entire night, and he had gotten far too worked up about it.

She wasn't at the barricade, no. She was in the back of the floor, dancing occasionally with her group of friends but mostly by herself. Getting lost in the music as she swayed, arms up and occasionally caressing her body- Especially during the song 'She'. That had been a boiling point, his eyes glued to her as her head tipped back, hair flowing off her shoulders. She'd worn a leather corset looking thing with a matching skirt that left little to the imagination. He could see every curve and a sliver of skin at her stomach, the skirt ending mid thigh and giving him a look at the prettiest thighs he had ever seen.

The top had accentuated her cleavage quite a bit, the shimmer of what was probably body glimmer making it glisten from the lights that changed during the show. It had been almost impossible to look away from her glossed lips painted a deep red mouthing the words. She almost looked to be in ecstasy, like his song and his voice were bringing her to a new place.

He wished he could. His imagination took over as he decompressed backstage, placing the 'Do Not Disturb' sign on his door before stripping off his shirt and sitting on the velvet couch in his briefs.

It was embarrassing how hard he was when he peeled them back, sticky precut leaving a stain on the white fabric. The head was a dark pink, the vein running up the side throbbing as he wrapped his hand around the base, squeezing it to give some relief.

A hiss left his teeth as he placed his palm under his chin, spitting thickly on to the skin and wrapping it back around, smearing the slickness over his length. Eyes closed, he began tithing about the fantasy of bringing that girl backstage.

She would get on her knees, the leather skirt rolling up a bit as she did so. Wide eyes with those long lashes would look up at him, sticking her tongue out for him to slap the tip of his dick on. It would be hot and wet, the slick tongue a welcome relief. When he gave her permission, he would watch as the pink tongue would slide up from base to tip before sliding over the leaky slit. He could imagine her moan at the taste before taking him in between her lips.

His strokes were slow at first, imagining a languid descent down the length of him. Taking him inch by inch, stretching her red stained lip around him until he got a bit too deep, making her gag. He'd pump off, already seeing the red streak of lipstick she'd leave around his prick.

"Fuck." He grunted, leaning his head back as he ran the thumb back over his tip, imagining her trying to make it up to him for taking so little. He'd be a bit big for her mouth, but the pretty girl would only get better.

She would start stroking him where her mouth couldn't reach, taking him back into her mouth and sucking him in, pulling up with a pop before going back down. His hand would tangle in her hair, helping her move a bit on his cock.

The fantasy woman would start to pleasure him, taking him down until she gagged and drooled on his cock, only pulling off to take a breath or moving down to suck on his balls. Take them into her hot, drooling mouth and pull lightly with her mouth, making her groan loudly.

Harry would pull her up and lay her back on the couch, ideally and riskily, taking her bare. Sliding inside of her cunt, he would take her nice and deep, make her moan for him. He spit on his cock this time, the warmth making him imagine it being her tight cunt wrapped around him.

He would take her deep, wrapping a hand around her throat and kiss that sultry little mouth. Make her moan his name, get the same dreamy look on her face as he buries his cock to the hilt, her soft pussy quivering around him as he fucked into her. Those long nails would drag down his back, leaving a souvenir of their tryst on his dressing room couch.

His eyes would watch her breasts bounce as he picked up the pace, watching her move before shifting them and leaning back against the couch so she could ride him. God, she would be so good, so fucking eager and filthy. Dripping down his cock, her walls hugging him in as he got deeper than anyone else had been- she would tell him that. She would grip his shoulders, let him pull her top down and suck one of her nipples into his mouth while she whimpered and whined for him.

He built up the pace, grunting as he fucked his fist. His cock was slick and hard, pulsing in his hand as his end was approaching. Imagining the mystery girl bouncing up and down on his cock and mewling like a bitch in heat, he'd let her do the work until her thighs tired and then take over. Pin her hands behind her back and shift down, keep her still as he pistoned his cock into her weepy pussy.

"Fuck, take it. Take my fucking cock." He hissed to himself, eyes closed as he squeezed his cock tighter as he imagined her cumming around him. Walls rippling and a gush of cream coating his cock and soaking the trimmed hair at his base, sobs of his name as she writhed on top of him with no choice but to take it.

She'd come backstage so easily, gotten on her knees for him and begged him for his load. Over and over, he imagined her breathy voice begging 'Please, please give me your cum. Give it all to me, I need it inside me. Fill me up and let me walk out with it.'.

And he was a goner. Mouth falling open, he came with his eyes squeezed shut, his load of hot, thick cum spurting into her waiting tummy instead of on his bare stomach. A growl left his mouth as he panted, milking himself for every drop just like he knew she would do to him.

He'd never meet this girl, but she'd live in daydreams with him.

#jarofstyles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles one shot #harry styles fanfic #harry styles smut #harry writing #harry styles imagine #harry drabble #harry styles blurb #harry styles writing #harry styles smut writing #harry styles smut blurb #harry styles smut imagine #harry styles smut one shot #harry styles fanfics #harry styles au

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thisapplepielife · 4 months

Text

Written for the @steddieholidaydrabbles December challenge.

Go With This

Prompt Day 30: New Year's Eve | Word Count: 1000 | Rating: M | CW: Underage Drinking, Weed, Off-Screen Sex While Under the Influence | Tags: Post S4, Eddie Munson Lives, New Year's Eve Party, All the Teens, Kissing at Midnight, Getting Together, Morning After, Eddie POV

"Gareth, no!" Eddie screams, as he steps through the doorway, but it's too late. The bottle of champagne pops open, exploding all over Steve's kitchen.

"Oh, fuck!" Gareth says, trying to control the spray, but it's useless. He's making it worse instead of better. Gareth didn't shake it up on purpose, but Eddie watched him poking at the cork with his pocket knife and knew something bad was gonna happen.

Gareth is flailing around, shouting, "I'm sorry!"

Steve's already waving him off, grabbing a towel off the counter, then some paper towels, and finally the mop for good measure. It's going to be a goddamn sticky mess when it dries, that's for damn sure.

"It's okay," Steve says, but Eddie can see that his jaw is tense, clenched.

They didn't even ask if they could have New Year's Eve here at his house, they all just decided that's what they were doing, and made Steve go with it.

Eddie gets down and tries to help wipe it up, but he's pretty faded. Argyle brought the good shit, and Eddie's been going out back with him and Jonathan all night long.

But, Steve smiles at him, so maybe Eddie isn't on Steve's shit-list.

The ball drops, and it's 1987. He made it through 1986, thank fucking Christ. Eddie watches everyone take turns kissing each other. Weird. He thinks he could have lived without seeing Nancy kiss Jonathan, and then Steve, back-to-back. But then she kisses Argyle, and Argyle kisses Jonathan as Nancy kisses Robin.

Is this an orgy?

Was Eddie invited to an orgy and didn't know it?

Or, do preppy kids have a version of key parties? Eddie looks for a fishbowl.

Gareth gawks at him, like, what the fuck and Eddie stares. He doesn't know either. Clearly not wanting to be left out, Gareth kisses Goodie, much to Goodie's chagrin. Jeff just laughs, and then kisses Eddie, and it's weird, but okay, he guesses.

Then, Nancy presses her lips to his.

He's kissed Nancy Wheeler now. In what world?

But, okay. That's okay, too, he supposes.

It wasn't sexual. He's sure of that, and if he had any concerns, they'd have evaporated a second later, once he sees Robin kiss Steve. It's the weirdest thing he's seen yet, even if it's only a hard pucker of a kiss that nobody would ever mistake for being romantic. It looked more like a hostage situation, and Robin immediately wiped the back of her hand across her mouth, hard.

"Rude," Steve says, and Robin laughs.

Then, Steve looks at him, and Eddie falters.

Steve's gonna kiss him.

Eddie watches Steve lean in, and Eddie doesn't know if he needs to go with this, or flee the country. It's too late to choose, because Steve presses his lips to Eddie's, and Eddie's hand isn't connected to his brain anymore, because he lifts it, cupping Steve's neck.

Steve startles, but only for a second, then opens his mouth over Eddie's, and now they're kissing kissing. Not just the friendly peck Steve offered everyone else.

Shit. Fuck. Damn.

Eddie tries to extract himself from this, but Steve's fingers are digging into his back, and Eddie can feel everyone's eyes on them. They're never gonna live this down.

Steve finally lets him go, and Eddie makes a move to step away, but Steve grabs his hand.

"Happy New Year," Steve says to the room, and heads for the staircase, dragging Eddie along behind him.

Oh shit.

But Eddie follows, willingly. Letting Steve pull him to his bedroom. Letting Steve yank his shirt over his head, letting Steve press kisses to his chest, his scars. Hands roaming, both of them pulling off clothes, grabbing at each other.

This is really happening.

Eddie tries to toe off his Reeboks, but realizes he's wearing his boots, and almost falls over. Steve doesn't let him, and just squats down, and starts unlacing them. Pulling the long laces loose, in swift movements.

It's hot. It's so hot.

And Steve is eye level with his dick, and this is what dreams are made of, for sure.

Happy Fucking New Year.

In the morning, Eddie clomps across the kitchen floor in his unlaced boots, and the soles stick with every step. He gets a vaguely clean-looking glass from the countertop, and fills it with water.

And drinks, and drinks, and drinks.

He looks out over the living room, and can see Gareth on the couch, with one eye barely open. Clearly hungover. Maybe Eddie fucked up letting Gareth join them. Gareth's not that old, not yet. He's still in that weird middle-ground. Eddie was drinking and smoking at his age. Steve, too. But maybe they shouldn't encourage it. Maybe Gareth should have been sent to Dustin's kiddie party, instead. But Gareth would've fought that.

Gareth whistles low, a mocking catcall.

Eddie looks down. He's wearing his boxers, and his boots. And that's it. Fuck. Yeah, he's hungover, too.

Eddie doesn't give Gareth the satisfaction, so he twirls, showing off. Acting like he meant to look exactly like this.

Then, Steve stumbles into the kitchen, taking the glass from Eddie's hand, gulping down the rest of the water, and he's in his briefs, and that's it. With a big-ass hickey on his neck, that Eddie is certain he's responsible for, even if he doesn't quite remember doing it.

"Steve's hairy," Gareth mumbles, and Eddie laughs, even if it kills his head.

They are all so hungover, it's ridiculous. Maybe he shouldn't have mixed champagne, beer and liquor with Argyle's weed.

But then Steve leans down, and puts his chin on Eddie's shoulder, wrapping his arms around Eddie's waist, hugging him from behind. No, Eddie thinks this is the best thing he's ever done, maybe.

Eddie leans back into him, and Steve kisses him on the bare shoulder.

"Happy New Year," Eddie says, quietly.

Steve chuckles, hugging him tighter, "Well, it sure has been so far."

Yeah, 1987 is definitely going to be Eddie's year.

Notes: Thank you so much to everyone who read, liked, commented on and reblogged all my entries for this month-long challenge. I really enjoyed participating in this event so damn much. Thank you for reading! ❤️

If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @steddieholidaydrabbles and follow along with the fun!

If you want to see the rest of my entries into this month-long challenge, you can check them out in my Steddie Holiday Drabbles tag, right here!

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mitsies · 1 year

Text

MR. AND MRS. ; isagi yoichi > you weren't planning to meet your boyfriend's parents this early on, and especially not alone.

this wasn't at all how you had expected your day to go. when you'd decided to show up to your boyfriend's soccer match to surprise him, you very much did not think you'd run into his parents in the VIP stands.

you didn't recognize them at first- sure, you'd seen pictures and isagi had talked about them often, but the possibility of meeting them not just seemed so far-fetched that it didn't really dawn on you until the match was underway. his mother had yelled out a, 'go, yoichi!' and it had just clicked that oh, you were sitting right next to your boyfriend's parents.

at first, you had decided to pretend that you didn't notice them. they probably didn't know who you were, anyways, so it wasn't like it would be too hard. but now you were hyperaware of their presence. absentmindedly, you adjusted the collar of your shirt and straightened your posture just in case.

you didn't expect them to notice you, and they didn't- not until isagi himself, only a distant figure down on the field, looks over to where both you and his parents were seated. his grin was bright and his eyes twinkling from the goal he'd just scored, and it would almost be funny, the way his eyes almost popped out of their sockets upon seeing you shrinking away from the whooping couple in the stands if you weren't also feeling incredibly stressed over the whole scenario.

his attention is snapped away when a teammate calls his name and leaps on his shoulders with accolades, and your attention is returned to his parents, who are now conversing amongst themselves:

"he just scored a goal!" his mom seemed elated, and his dad returned the energy.

"yeah! he did so good," his father agreed, "he's the best out there."

"he's so fast. like that superhero- the red one with lighting."

"the flash?"

"the flash!"

pursing your lips, you turn your head to the other side to avoid a slight smile at the sheer purity of their conversations. it was no wonder isagi turned out the way he did, you think.

unfortunately for you, though, your movement seemed to have garnered the attention of his mother, who does a double take at you- "wait a minute." and then she says your name.

you blink at her stupidly with a blank expression, trying to quell the swirl of panic and worry surging through your chest, because how did she know your name and why was she talking to you- "hi."

she's grinning and you feel an awkward smile crack your expression as you try to mimic the pleasantry. "you probably don't know me- or us, actually- but we know you! oh, it's so lovely to meet you!"

you'd like to respond in kind, but you feel a bit frozen. his mother takes it as a cue to keep talking: "ah, i don't mean to sound creepy! it's just that isagi's talked so much about you!"

"oh! has he?" your voice is unusually squeaky which is really fucking embarrassing for you, but makes his mother laugh and place a warm hand on your shoulder.

"he has," his father confirms this time, "all the time. we've only seen pictures, but we've been looking forward to meeting you!"

"you.. have?" your mind is racing but somehow blank at the same time, but his parents don't take it to heart- they laugh off your confusion and keep talking.

isagi's parents are some of the friendliest and most welcoming people you think you've ever met- the rest of the event's duration is spent not watching the game, but conversing with them. after you'd gotten over your original stagnance, conversation flowed like water under a bridge. in fact, you keep talking long after the game is over- it's not until isagi yoichi himself comes to greet the both of you in the now-empty stands does it stop.

he comes up behind you, making you jump a little, and he smells like soap meaning he probably showered in the locker room. inadvertently, you lean into his warmth and almost by instinct his hand comes up to your side. you wait for him to say something, but his mom beats you to the chase.

"yoichi," she says like she's scolding a child, but her eyes shimmer with affection, "how could you not introduce us to this lovely, lovely thing earlier?"

"yeah, yoichi," you grin at him, "how could you?"

he's red now, embarrassed and so cute under the scrutiny of his 3 favourite people and he lets out a huff- "i was going to."

he grumbles something and his parents laugh. the conversation winds on, but it's mostly just you and his parents. they leave shortly after, with his mother giving you a tight hug before departing.

when they're out of earshot, isagi lets out a breath. his fingers tap against your waist where his arm was holding tight. "i just met your parents," you say.

"you just met my parents," he repeats. and then he laughs. "and they loved you."

you punch his shoulder lightly. "don't jinx it. maybe they didn't."

he's grinning, now, as he meets your eyes: "nah. i know they did."

"what makes you so sure?"

"because. i love you, and old people always say the apple doesn't fall far from the tree or something."

"you're so cheesy."

he lets out a laugh and pulls you closer to himself, pressing a kiss to your hair. "i'm right, though. they loved you, and i love you."

"thanks. i like your mom better, though."

✄ written for mitsies 3k follower event with the prompt accidentally meeting the parents without him

[⇥ 3K EVENT MASTERLIST] [⇥ 3K EVENT INFO]

#blue lock x reader #isagi yoichi x reader #isagi yoichi #yoichi isagi x reader #bllk #bllk x reader #mitsies 3k #reader insert

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stylesparker · 6 months

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second chance (at love)

PAIRING: Sam Winchester x Fem!Reader

WORD COUNT: 5.7k

WARNINGS: season 2 era, character death, a lot of dialogue (sorry), horribly written fight scenes, overused tropes (but I don't care), and of course the usual mixture of fluff and angst

A/N: I finally got around to finishing this request, and I'm so sorry I took absolutely forever with this. I hope you like the way this turned out! I had so much fun writing it. Reblog if you like as always :)

"It's okay, Sammy, it's okay."

Those words cycle through his head over and over again, plaguing him as he stares at you; unmoving, lifeless. Every time he closes his eyes he sees the knife impale your stomach, the blood that seeps through the fabric of your shirt, and worst of all, the life draining out of your eyes as you clutch onto him in your last moments.

You've been dead for seven minutes.

"Well isn't this something."

Sam snaps his head to the woman that appears out of thin air. Her hair is dark red, long and silky, and she's dressed in black jeans and a black leather jacket. Her smile is sickeningly sweet.

"Poor Winchester, lost the girl, huh?"

"Who the hell are you?" Sam's voice comes out gruff and harsh, his glare menacing even to the demon. Her smirk gets wider when Sam grips you tighter and pulls you closer to his chest.

"Does it matter? I'm here to help." She blinks, letting her eyes turn to their natural state, that dreadful black signifying her as one thing.

Sam scoffs, "Right, 'cause all you have are good intentions."

She shrugs, "I'm here to make a deal. You gonna take it or not?"

Sam knew this wasn't right. He knew he promised you if anything happened, he'd live the life you thought he deserved. But, you didn't know what it was like to have to watch the person you love die, and know that person wasn't coming back. He stares, and stares, until finally he agrees.

"What do I have to do?"

DAY 1

"Are you sure you're feeling okay?" Sam asks you for the tenth time, watching you pull on your boots with a wince. He stands in front of you from where you're seated on the motel bed.

"Sam, I am fine, you don't need to hover over me like I'm some wounded animal that's gonna collapse out of nowhere!"

"Well you are kind of a wounded animal at the moment-"

"Sam."

He sighs, "I'm just making sure. Can you blame me?"

You release a sigh of your own, standing up from your spot (not without Sam extending his arm to help), and rest your hands on his shoulders. "I know, I'm sorry. But really, I'm fine. It was a close one, but I'm still here aren't I?"

Sam looks at you gravely, eyes gliding over your features like he's taking you in. He opens his mouth like he's about to say something, but closes it quickly. After a moment, he nods, and gives you a soft smile. "Yeah," he swiftly lands a gentle kiss on your forehead and takes your bag before you can grab it yourself, "I'll take our stuff out to the car, meet me out there when you're ready."

You sway on your feet, looking at Sam weirdly as he makes his way out the door. You wonder why he took so long to answer you, but you push the thought away when you realize that you almost died, so of course Sam's gonna have a hard time dealing with it.

You follow him outside with a new pep in your step, determined to make Sam feel better. As soon as he shuts the trunk, you settle into the car together, and you wait for Sam to pull out and drive off. Instead, he pulls out one of Dean's CD's and pops it in, while you look at him curiously, intrigued to find out what he chose.

Once the music starts, you smile and stare at him incredulously. "Really? Since when have you wanted to listen to Metallica?"

He shrugs with a small smile, "I don't know, just in the mood."

You laugh, "Who are you, and what have you done with Sam?"

"Shut up," He rolls his eyes but that small smirk remains on his lips. "Can't you let me be nice?"

"Dean, is that you?"

"Stop it!" He playfully slaps your arm just before he puts the car in reverse and takes off down the road. Listening to your laugh again is music to his ears, and he can't help looking at you as you bob your head to the music, not paying attention to him whatsoever.

He doesn't know how he's going to pull off this deal, but he's going to do everything in his power to bring you back.

Even if you hate him after.

DAY 2

"How do you have no rooms available? There are like no cars outside!" You angrily shout at the teenager who's working the front desk at some shitty motel you and Sam found off the road. The kid shrugs, which angers you even more, so you huff and slam the door on your way out, stomping up to the Impala with a confused looking Sam watching you.

As soon as you swing the door open he asks you, "What's wrong?"

"There's a damn kid in there telling me there are no rooms left! I swear to god, and he barely even looked at me!" You plop down on the seat, rubbing your eyes a tad harsher than Sam thinks you should, and look at him sadly. "I was really hoping we didn't have to sleep in the car tonight."

He rubs your arm in hopes of cheering you up, and says quietly, "Well, at least it's not cold out like the last time we had to sleep in the car?"

You shiver at the thought, "Oh my god, my toes were actually blue the next morning."

He smiles, "Exactly, so let's find a spot and rest for the night, yeah?"

You nod, but you still pout sadly in your seat as he drives. "I should be making you feel better, you haven't had a wink of sleep since like, what was it? Tuesday?"

"I think Monday."

"Sam, it's Thursday! You didn't sleep Tuesday morning?"

"No." He shrugs like it doesn't matter.

"What were you doing while I was sleeping then?"

"Watching over you."

You didn't know what to say after that. You don't know how you'd forgotten, but Sam clearly hadn't. Now you feel bad.

"Oh." You gulp. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay, you don't have to apologize. I just, I don't know, wanted to make sure you would be okay."

His words make your heart skip a beat, and you can't help but lean over and grab his hand. His eyes dart to the sudden touch on his hand, and he glances over to you. You're looking at him so fondly, and he wishes he could just tell you. Get it over with.

But he can't.

So he lets you hold his hand in silence.

He drives for another 15 minutes until he finds a trailer park with almost no trailers, so he figures this will be a good enough spot for the night. He doubts anyone will show up here at least until the morning, so he takes the risk. He's so tired he doesn't even really care.

Sam opens the door on the driver's side to get out, walking to the trunk to grab the few blankets that you guys have, and comes back with one.

"What, no blanket for me?" You joke.

He throws it to you with a blank stare, almost like he's saying really?

"That is for you, jerk."

"Where's yours?"

"That's the only one we have."

Your mouth drops with surprise, "What? I could've sworn we at least had two?"

"We must have left the other one with Dean." He shrugs. "It's fine, I'm not that cold."

"Sam-"

His eyes pin you down with a hard stare, interrupting what you were about to say, so you give up, but not without a mumbled, "fine, jeez."

While you curl up against the door on your side with half of your blanket under your head, and the other half over your body, you look at Sam out of the corner of your eye with sympathy. He's a lanky guy, maybe not so thin since he's got the muscle, but the dude has long ass legs. The upper half of his body is leaning against the car door like yours, but his legs are uncomfortably folded so he doesn't get into your space. You hear him huff and shuffle around, which makes you wince and feel even worse than you did. You're not even close to comfortable so you can imagine how he feels.

For almost half an hour, you both listen to the other shift around without saying anything, and it gets to the point Sam can't handle it anymore. Until he gets an idea.

"Y/N?" He doesn't have to ask if you're awake because you're both well aware neither of you have slept.

"Yeah, Sammy?"

You peek your eyes open, and his arms are still crossed, but he shifts so his front is facing you.

"Would you wanna... lay together?"

He looks nervous, so you joke with him to hopefully ease him. "What, you too cramped over there?"

He scoffs, "A bit, yeah."

You giggle, sitting up and scooching closer to him, "Okay. Stretch your legs."

He extends his legs out across the seat, and opens his arms to invite you in. Now you're the nervous one as you shift even closer and lay your head on his chest, laying on top of him almost completely flat. You don't want to admit how much more comfortable this is. You fix the blanket so it's over the both of you, and he wraps his arms around your waist, holding you more lightly than you thought he would. Or maybe hoped.

"Better?" You asked.

He nods, his chin lightly grazing your head, "Much."

Your back is to his chest with his arms resting over your stomach, and you're glad he can't really see your face because you can only imagine how bad you're blushing right now. You shift in his hold again, which has him looking down at you and squeezing your hip.

"You okay?" He asks.

"Mmhm." You nod quickly. You really want to turn over, but... that's weird right? That would be too close? This already seems intimate enough, and he can probably tell how awkward you're already being. You hope he doesn't think it's because you like him- no, because you cannot like Sam. Your best friend of nine years is off limits. You've been in the same bed before, you've even cuddled before, but you were kids then. It's different when you're 23 right? You haven't really thought about Sam like that before, but, you guess it's bound to happen because, well, Sam is Sam. You know it shouldn't be weird, not at all, but you're both adults who know about certain adult things that take place when adults are alone and comfortable with each other and-

"Y/N?"

Shit. "Yeah?" You try not to sound squeaky.

"What's up?"

"Um," you steady yourself, "can I turn over? I just- I feel a little awkward staring at the ceiling."

He laughs a little, "Yeah, of course. Is that what you were thinking about?"

"...Yeah?"

"Why does that sound like a question?" You can almost hear his smile.

"It's not." You assure.

He lifts his arms so you can turn over, and you do with a little bit of struggle, trying not to elbow him too much, but he gets hit with no complaint. Once your cheek is pressed to his chest you breathe a sigh of relief, and try not to think about how he stiffened then relaxed when you wrapped your arms around his abdomen.

"Better?" He asks.

"Much." You copy him from earlier, and his chest shakes with his laughter. You don't speak after that, but you relish the moment with him, despite feeling unnecessarily guilty for it. After a while, you fall asleep, and Sam does too.

He hopes you were thinking about him, and you wish that you weren't. He wishes you would say you love him, but you hope that he never finds out.

DAY 3

The next morning wasn't weird like you thought it would be. It was almost like you had done this a million times before. But, you had a case today, so there was no time to think about Sam. Only your job.

You spent most of the day driving around the town trying to find answers to three consecutive murders. All women, and an obvious lead to werewolves. You never really thought about how well you worked with Sam until now; all day you bounced ideas off of each other, gaining clues and offering suggestions like it was easy. It was, you guess, when your partner is so damn likable. Once you found the location, you and Sam were quick to head out the door and track down those werewolves.

They were about 20 minutes out from where you guys had been located, and when you spotted them in the cabin shortly off the road in the woods, you both agreed this would be a stealth mission.

Sam shut off the car and quietly shut the door shortly after you, and you both go to the back to grab your weapons and whatever else you'd need. He points to himself and then the cabin, and you roll your eyes at the man, allowing him to go first and lead you there. His long legs are hard to keep up with but you make do as quietly as you can, and every so often he'll stop and put a hand out to stop you. It tends to hover over your stomach so you have to try harder not to be too loud when you breathe.

A loud bang and shouts erupt from the cabin, interrupting the silence that filled the air, and you both take off in that direction. Sam kicks the door in, allowing you to take notice of the girl tied to a chair in the middle of the room, and two men facing off against each other; one on the floor and the other hovering over him. You and Sam don't even look at each other, as soon as the two of you make eye contact with the two of them, it's on. Sam goes for the one standing, immediately charging at him and toppling the both of them over while you go for the one on the ground. He's up quicker than you would have wished but you still throw your knife in time to where his shirt gets pinned to the floor.

While he's distracted trying to pull it out, you land on top of him and stab your extra through his chest, twisting it until he's too weak to throw you off of him. You don't hear anything behind you, so you let off of him a second too soon, and while you're looking for Sam the werewolf grabs the knife and slices your shoulder with it. You scream in pain, and get torn off of him from the other one. You hit the ground next to him hard on your bad shoulder, and you kick his leg out from under him, sending him to the floor.

Sam appears behind him with a nasty looking cut on his forehead, and his shirt torn to pieces, but he's able to kill him before he gets to you. The other one grabs Sam's leg, knocking him to the floor, allowing him to get the upper hand and attack him. Before he lands the final blow, you grab the shotgun and shoot him in the head, and watch as Sam topples over shoving him off. As much as you want to worry about him, you run to the girl first.

She's sobbing as you cut off the rope that was tying her hands and feet to the chair, and you let her fall into your embrace as she uses you for comfort, rubbing her back and whispering reassurances that you hope is making her feel better. You feel Sam's hand grab your shoulder and you look up at him, finding a troublesome look on his face.

"There's more out front. Get her out of here, I'll distract them."

"What? Sam, you're coming with us!"

"There's at least three of them on their way in here-" He starts.

"And you'll shoot them! Grab the gun and let's go!" You shout angrily, which has him furrowing his brows at you but he grabs the gun anyway and covers you as you carry the girl. You only make it halfway to the car before the other werewolves have found you, and Sam's only able to take out one of them before one is on him. The gun gets knocked out of his hand, and this is when you realize you'd left the other one in the cabin.

"Shit." You mutter.

"No, no, no, no-" the girl starts crying and freaking out again and you shush her, stupidly running in the opposite direction to try and outrun the werewolf. Again, stupidly. You're not as fast as a werewolf, especially with a girl who's about the same size as you in your arms, so he's able to catch up to you no problem.

He throws you both to the ground before he's pinning both of your hands in his tight grip and holding his body weight above you, forcing your hands together to hold them in one hand, and using the other to choke you. You hear the girl crying and you're pretty sure she's running away from the sounds of the leaves and dirt crunching beneath her feet.

You struggle to kick him off of you, he's much bigger than you are, so you hopelessly kick and scream as much as you can, only hoping Sam gets to you in time.

Just as you think he won't make it and you're losing consciousness, his hands leave your neck and suddenly you're gasping for air. You can sort of make out Sam and the werewolf fighting, but your vision is blurry so you can't tell who's on top of the other. Your breathing is harsh and you can hardly see, so when hands grab your shoulders and tug you upwards, you scream and swat at him, not realizing that it's Sam.

"Hey, hey! It's me, it's Sam!" He rubs the dirt off your face with one hand holding the part between your good shoulder and your neck so you don't fall over as you cough yourself into a fit.

"Sam," you rasp, and grab onto his arms tightly as you finally start to catch your breath again. You don't mean for the tears to fall out of your eyes, but you did almost get choked to death and your neck and shoulder hurt like a bitch, so it was bound to happen.

"W-Where's the girl?" Your voice comes out scratchy, but Sam just holds you and looks around while you lean against him.

"I saw her run for it, I don't know where though. It looked like she went towards the road, but it's too dark out for us to go after her like this. Let's just hope someone nice picked her up."

You nod, coughing into his shoulder, and his large hand rubs your back as you start to breathe normally again.

"Are you okay? I thought you-"

"I'm good," he reassures, "let's focus on getting you out of here."

Your shoulder is pretty bad, but his head is smeared with dirt and blood, and the cut on his forehead looks even bigger than when you first saw it.

"But," you cough, "Your head-"

"I'm the one who can stand on their own two feet at the moment, so would you just let me help you up?" You roll your eyes, but you let him carry you to the car anyway.

DAY 4

It's way past midnight, and you're pretty sure you and Sam scared the living daylights out of the front desk girl at the motel you found. The Impala wasn't stacked with any first-aid, so you had to go in looking like you were both mauled and run over by a truck fifty times. You paid, she gave you the key, and she was immediately running to the back, whether that was to call the police or hide you weren't sure.

You and Sam clung onto each other and helped each other up the stairs to the next floor, hobbling to your door like a couple of sick children.

You could tell Sam probably had a concussion, he's starting to look even worse for wear than he was. But he still insists on cleaning you up first.

You try not to whimper too loud when he lifts you onto the bathroom counter, but he shushes you gently when you let out silent scream and you grip his bicep incredibly tight.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry." He whispers.

"It's okay, Sammy, it's okay. I'm fine." Your reassurance falls on deaf ears. His grip tightens, but he doesn't look all there anymore.

"It's okay, Sammy, it's okay."

Suddenly, he's back on that road again, holding you in his arms. He remembers how cold you were, how lifeless. He feels weird because, he can see you right there in front of him, but somehow, his brain is telling him you're gone. You're not here anymore. His plan failed and he never got to tell you-

"Sam!"

His eyes refocus and he feels your hands on his cheeks. They're warm, and they're soft, nothing like how they were then. They rub his face gently, but the look on your face is one of concern, and mainly fear. He didn't realize how hard he was holding onto you, letting go as soon as he comes back from whatever that was.

"Sammy, where'd you go?"

He's not entirely sure, but he knows he can't tell you, or it could potentially break the deal. "Huh?"

He tilts his head slightly, eyes gazing at you like he didn't just stare into your soul with the most fearful tear filled look you'd ever seen.

"Sam, what happened?" You ask seriously, "I lost you for a second there."

He shakes his head. "No you didn't, I'm good." He breaks eye contact and grabs the alcohol, pouring it onto the cloth and gripping your shoulder.

"On three?"

You sigh, and take a deep breath. "Yeah."

"1-"

"2-"

"HOLY FUCK-" You practically double over and almost fall off the counter. You would have if Sam hadn't wrapped his other arm around you and kept you still while he cleaned the blood off and disinfected your wound.

"Sh, sh, sh, you're good, you're good. You got it, yeah? Breathe with me."

You grit your teeth as you try your best to follow along. "Fucking- shit, I hate you so bad right now."

"You'll get over it."

Once he's done cleaning it, he's able to wrap it and get it fixed up in no time. It still hurts, but, you've let him baby you enough.

"Alright, Winchester, your turn."

"You can't even lift your arm-"

With your good hand, you lift your other arm and use it to smack him across the shoulder.

He scoffs, "That's cheating."

"I still have one good arm left, so watch your mouth."

He rolls his eyes, but he relaxes when your soft touch spreads over the skin on his forehead. He watches you as you clean and bandage the wound just like he did, but now your faces are close, and he remembers he's standing in between your legs.

"Stop staring at me." You mumble, concentrating on stitching the last part on his cut, but also on the way he's staring you down.

"I'm not." He shakes his head, but you pinch him for moving, so he mutters out a sorry, and stands still again. A couple minutes later, you tap him on the shoulder, stating that you're all finished, and he gets this look on his face when he moves away from you.

"Can you uh- help me out?" You laugh, embarrassed a little bit for asking him to help you off the counter, but he does it without even thinking. His hands slide under your underarms again, lifting you just a little to where you can slide your butt off the counter. "Thanks."

"No problem." He nods his head, sending you his boyish smile, and it makes your heart flutter in your chest a bit. Did this guy really just stand between your legs and patch you up?

You both get into your separate beds, and lay down on your fresh clean pillows. a nice contrast to the doors of the Impala. But, as much as you like the bed, you almost wish Sam would invite you into his. It's much more silent than you wish it was, but Sam must have felt the same way because his voice cuts through the silence.

"Hey, Y/N?"

You look over, "Yeah?"

"Try not to get yourself killed too much, yeah? I don't know what I'd do without you."

You smile softly, "The same goes for you, Winchester."

He thinks that's the closest thing to a confession that he can get.

DAY 6

He wishes you would've stayed in bed longer.

"How is it that I've almost died like three times in the same week?" You ask him, hands holding your face up on your knees while the two of you sit on the curb on the side of the road.

The Impala is crushed.

Dean can most definitely fix it. But not until he's murdered the both of you and buried you in Bobby's backyard.

"How about we not mention that?" Sam suggests, peering over at you while you stare directly ahead at the car.

"Why not? I mean, we almost die everyday doing what we do, but like, this week- man, this week has been horrible." This sounds like the start of a ramble, and he's right. "I've come like an inch from death so many times this week I'm surprised it didn't actually happen. Like, right there, ten minutes ago, I swear I thought it was over. One minute, I'm singing along with you and the next Baby's upside down in the middle of nowhere." You shrug, and after a minute, you start to laugh to yourself.

"I feel like this is some sort of sign from the universe or something, so- so I'm just gonna say it." You push yourself to your feet and turn around, facing him, while he's still sitting on the curb looking up at you curiously.

"Say what?" He asks cautiously.

"Dude, I love you." You breathe out all in one breath. "I love you, Sam. You're my best friend, and I don't think I tell you that nearly enough, but you are. And so is Dean, but Dean's different, he's not- he's not you Sam. He's my best friend too, but you're..." he wants to laugh at the way you're staring at the sky and shaking your hands trying to come up with what you're trying to say, but he's so gobsmacked right now he can't really do anything else but stare in wonder. "You're Sam. You sleep with me in the car even though I can tell you get nervous, and even though I'm always nervous too you make it go away. You still stick by me even when I'm stupid and you carry me away from all the bad guys that try to kill us," you laugh," and you stitch me up and bandage all my wounds when I'm hurt even when I don't want you to because I know you love me and you show me better, and I wish I could do the same, so this is me showing you."

He stands from where he was sitting, but he can't really move anything else. He wants to move towards you, though something is holding him back. His chest starts to fill with dread, and suddenly, the deal is starting to glare at him straight in the face.

"Please don't let it be weird now, you don't have to say anything, just- let's sit with this and figure out how to get home, yeah?"

"Well, Winchester, things turned out for you, didn't they?"

Your body turns to look at the woman behind you, and Sam merely looks over your shoulder to see the demon he was hoping not to see.

Your face contorts, "Who the hell are you?"

Her face brightens, and her smirk gets wider as she glances between you and Sam.

"Aren't you two just perfect for each other?" She claps her hands together. "I'm so glad you've come to your senses, hun. Now, I can finally be on my merry way."

"No," you stop her, "How do you know us?" Your body twists again to face Sam, and all of a sudden, your heart sinks to the bottom of your stomach. Just by looking at his face you know something is wrong. "Sam?"

"I'll explain everything-"

"Go easy on him, sweetheart. What he did saved your life." She winks, and her signature red hair swishes when she disappears, just like that, just as she'd appeared.

"Sam..." you start, your voice dangerously low, "Who the hell was that."

He clenches his fists, taking a step closer to you, "Y/N, look-"

"Just tell me straight out, Sam! What was she talking about?" You practically shout at him, you're so anxious, you don't know what to do, what to expect. But what you possibly expected was nothing like what he said.

"You died. She was the reason why I got you back."

Your eyes hold a heaviness to them that only great sadness could bring, and he wishes he could take away that burden but he can't. He gave it to you.

"What?" You whisper. You say anything any louder and you think you might snap.

"She made a deal: I have seven days to-to..." he sighs, closing his eyes and prepares himself for what he's going to say next, "to get you to tell me you love me. Otherwise, you would stay dead. Permanently."

You don't say anything for a minute or two, and he doesn't expect you to, but he wishes you would have more of a reaction than what you're having now. There's this blank stare on your face, but it's sunken and it looks like he's given you burden upon burden to carry. Maybe he has.

"So basically," you start, clearing your throat, "You made a fucking bet, with a demon, you could get me to fall in love with you in seven days?" You scoff, "Otherwise, I'd be dead for good."

"No, that's not-"

"That's what it sounds like to me, Sam!" You scream.

His face falls, "I saved you. Nothing, and I mean nothing, else mattered, okay? I didn't care what kind of bet- no, I meant deal, I meant deal, it was, okay." He shakes his head. "Obviously I knew it was wrong, but I couldn't lose you, alright? I had the opportunity and I took it."

Your heart burns, it feels like you need to claw it out and throw some water on it, but all you can do is let it fester and grow and heat up every single nerve ending in your body. You want to be fine with it, he saved you, but, this isn't how it's supposed to be.

"I can't do this right now." You mutter, closing your eyes.

"What?" He steps forward, and you take three steps back.

"I have to go."

DAY 7

"You picked her up, right? She's with you?"

"Yes, Sam, she's with me. And you better be with Baby, you hear me?"

Sam rolls his eyes, and looks to the car that's being worked on in the shop.

"And don't let them touch her. I'll do the work myself when we get her back to Bobby's."

Sam grimaces, "It's a little late for that, buddy."

"Sam!-"

"Look, drop her off, okay. When you come here, I'll take the car back and you stay here, got it?"

"You're so lucky I saw Y/N first, or I would've whooped your ass-"

"Yeah, I got it, see you soon."

He hangs up the call and slaps it closed, the sound echoing into the air as he puts it back into his pocket. He looks around, but it's just empty road, and the car shop.

So he'll just have to wait.

...

"Dean?" Your voice calls out through the house loud and clear, and it makes him sad to think you may not be so happy seeing that it's him.

"It's me."

Your figure appears in the doorway of the kitchen, opposite of him.

"Oh, hey."

"Hey."

You're both quiet for a moment, not really knowing what to say, or even how to start, but Sam can only think of one thing.

"You can be mad at me, I deserve it. But just know I did it because I love you. Even though you made me promise to all that moving on shit, I couldn't do it." He pauses. "I know you love me too, but if you need time I understand that."

"Sam," your voice breaks, "I understand why you did it, but why did you have to lie?"

His chest sucked in, "She-she made it a part of the deal, that you couldn't know. If you knew or found out it would've been off."

Your shoulders droop and you step toward him, just one step.

"I just- I just can't believe that I died, Sam."

"I know." He nods, "I know. If you... have any more questions, I'm here to answer them."

You shake your head, but don't say anything else. Neither of you really have to, everything's been said. It's up to you where this goes from here.

You take two steps closer, closing most of the gap between you, and lean into him. His right hand drops the bag he was holding and wraps his arms around you, holding you close just as he did several days ago. You don't hug, or squeeze, but you're there, and that's what matters.

"I love you," you breathe, "but you're such an idiot."

He shakes a little bit with laughter, "I know."

"But, if I'm being honest," you look up at him, "I probably would have done the same thing too."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

Nothing else has to be said. But he can't help but lean his face closer to yours, waiting, hoping that this wasn't something he was imagining. Your eyes bore into his, and you're the one who closes the space between you. Once the gap is filled there's no breaking it apart, and neither of you plan to.

#sam winchester x reader #sam winchester x female reader #sam winchester x you #sam winchester x y/n #supernatural

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bubuslutty · 6 months

Text

John Price (cod mw2) & face fucking

x fem reader

word count: 843

a/n: I need to be put down.

at first, John never allowed his love get on her knees for him. he was the one on his knees. always.

maybe because her face was too pretty to ruin. He felt guilty having her between his legs, even tho she always said it was okay, she would like to try. But John has yet to change his mind.

To him, if felt almost scandalous to have such a pretty thing on her knees for him, swallowing his thick and veiny cock, burying her face in his bush and pressing her chin against his heavy balls. It was filthy and disgusting. And he can't handle having her do it. Because then, he might just come and die right then and there.

And so after asking him, over and over again if she could just, please, please, suck him off. That he doesn't have to do anything but sit down and let her do the work. That she trusts him to be gentle with her.

He finally agreed months later, making her promise that she isn't doing this because she thinks she owes him something, that it's something she's just supposed to be for her boyfriend. But his lovely girl promised him that she just wanted to taste him. And who is John to say no to that??

So he did let her have her sweet mouth all over him, he tried to give her directions, but then she was more interested in exploring him with her mouth and hands. Most of the time she was looking down at his cock with laser focus while she drooled all over him, sucking on his tip and humming at the taste, even going as far as giving a shy lick to one of his balls, which he had to shove his fist in his mouth to keep himself together.

He promised to keep his hips down, to try and not suddenly jerk them, in fear of hurting her.

At this point he was red in the face and chest, shirt long gone, hairy chest and stomach heaving up and down, glistening with a thin layer of sweat with his trousers pooled at his legs. They were spread far, allowing his love space to do her thing while she held onto his thick and hairy thighs, pretty pink lips sucking on the vein on his cock.

She kept up at it, like a soldier on a mission, until he babbled, tried to warn her to pull off before he cums. She didn't want to be apart from his hot cock, so instead she tried to push more into her mouth, stubborn as ever.

He tried to warn her, he really did to the point his voice broke and he came while gripping onto the sides of the love seat he was on, throwing his head back and almost shouting.

She allowed her mouth to fill up with his spend, and popped off his cock when he was done spurting cum. She swirled her tongue around, feeling the texture while John stared at his babe with a horrified look.

"Spit it out." He ordered, holding an empty cup in front of her.

His lovely girl glared down at the cup then looked at him, straight in the eyes before swallowing right in front of his face, opened her mouth wide and stuck her tongue out to show him her neat work.

Since that day, everything changed. His lovely has become obsessed with burying her face between his legs. It doesn't matter if he's laying down, sitting, standing up while fixing up a sandwich, showering, if the urge hits, she'll be there, with her pretty lips and hot mouth, ready.

Then his love wanted more. She wanted him to be a bit rough. To put his hands on her hair and snap his hips against her mouth. She wanted it to hurt a bit.

And Price had to think about it (not for too long tho because it was his cock that was in line and he was horny) He agreed after reminding her that she can tap his thighs and he'll stop or slow down immediately.

The first time John fucked his girl's face he wasn't too rough, but he did force her down all the way to the hilt, where his blond and coarse hairs pressed against her nose, just like she asked. He grabbed her hair so it wouldn't fall over her face, and so he can watch her take it.

He grabbed the back of her skull, fucked her sweet mouth like a fleshlight and came down her throat. He grabbed her throat and fucked it, feeling his cock from the outside. He even pushed her head down to swallow his balls, and she did.

And every time, without fail, when he came down her throat or on her face, he'd bend down, stick his hand in her panties and swipe his fingers across her lips, she'd be always soaking wet, sticky and hot.

John falls in love with his girl all over again.

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feralforfrank · 2 years

Text

ENCHANTED.

BRADLEY "ROOSTER" BRADSHAW X FEM!READER

summary (based on enchanted by taylor swift) you're visiting your childhood friend, natasha, when your eye happens to catch a very attractive pilot.

cw SOOOOO MUCH FLUFF. friends to lovers! NON-DESCRIPTIVE READER.

a/n i'm kinda proud of this one. there's goingnto be a part two someday.

masterlist | taglist

It was a hot Saturday night when Natasha—your childhood friend—invited you to the bar she frequented. After officially settling down in North Island, she had begged for you to take as many days off from work and visit her. And, of course, you couldn't say no to her.

A messily packed suitcase and a tearful reunion later, Natasha led you inside the bar called the Hard Deck. You could describe the atmosphere as anything but dull. Old music played from a jukebox. Men and women wearing uniforms and civilian clothes conversed and drank. You shrunk in yourself as some turned with a curious glance towards you.

"Come on, I'll introduce you to my friends," Natasha yelled over the chatter and music.

You pushed past the crowd to the pool table, where a few people your age greeted Nat. A guy with glasses waved, and you realised that it was Bob. He was the only guy you knew from the countless times he'd popped in while you were facetiming Natasha.

"Hey, guys! This is my friend from home." Natasha went ahead and introduced you as you awkwardly waved at them.

After Natasha introduced her friends to you, you excused yourself to get a drink. Nerves were eating you from the inside out. Nat seemed relaxed around them, but you barely even knew them. You needed to chug a drink or two to gain confidence.

There I was again tonight;

forcing laughter, faking smiles.

You spent most of the night conversing with Nat's friends, occasionally cheering her game of pool against Hangman—or Jake, as he had politely asked you to call him. Too polite—in your opinion—his words bordering on flirty. Although you seemed fine from the outside—all smiles and laughter—guilt consumed you.

You wanted to go, but the problem wasn't Nat or her friends. It was you. You felt too awkward to open up to anyone, especially some of the guys who were complete flirts, clearly trying to get in your pants. Of course, you laughed at their jokes and entertained their discussions, but it was draining you.

Walls of insincerity, shifting eyes and vacancy

vanished when I saw your face.

All I can say is, it was enchanting to meet you.

Your eyes lazily looked around the packed bar after Coyote left you to play darts with Hangman. Nat was still playing pool with Bob on her side, but her opponent was now Payback, with Fanboy cheering him on.

As soon as he walked in, your eyes locked on his figure. The way he carried himself made your jaw drop ever so slightly. He wore jeans, a white tank top, and a yellow Hawaiian shirt, with sunglasses resting low on his nose. Who wore sunglasses inside, especially when it was almost dark outside?

You watched him greet people as he made his way to the bar. Penny, the bar owner who had introduced herself to you, gave him a beer before he could speak his order. So, he was a regular. He leaned at the bar for a second, looking around—probably trying to spot his friends.

His eyes fell close to you, and he smiled, pushing himself from the bar and walking to—what you quickly realised was—the pool table. Oh, shit. You watched as he greeted Nat with a smile and a hug. Does he know her? Do you know him? Your eyes never left him as you tried to figure out if you knew him. Nat had introduced everyone to you...So who was he?

Your eyes whispered, "Have we met?"

'Cross the room your silhouette

starts to make its way to me.

You didn't have time to react. The stranger's eyes met yours. He squinted his eyes in question. Fuck. He caught you staring, shit. You try to look away—it's the polite action to do—but you can't bring your eyes to move. And then he excuses himself—you read his lips. And he's walking towards you.

Your cheeks are heating up faster than a plane's engine, and you subconsciously tighten your grip on the beer bottle. The stranger is smiling—smirking, actually, knowing he caught you staring.

The playful conversation starts.

Counter all your quick remarks,

like passing notes in secrecy.

"You know, it's rude to stare," he says while making himself comfortable on the chair next to you.

"Who told you I was looking at you? Maybe I was glancing around, or perhaps, I was looking at my friend, Nat." You tried to play it cool while desperately trying to hide your trembling hands.

"Oh please, I caught your stare as soon as I walked to the bar," he countered.

Your blush deepened. "Sure, you did because you can see so clearly with those sunglasses." The playful sarcasm was evident in your tone.

"I'm Bradley Bradshaw," he extended his free hand, "but my friends call me Rooster."

You turned to face him with a questioning smile. "M-My callsign. I'm in the Navy." He added.

Oh. He's the Bradley. You finally shook his extended hand, telling him your name in return. "You're the Bradley Nat always complains about ruining her clothes."

"Hey! That was one time. And it was my first time doing laundry. It's not my fault!" You laughed at his defensive tone.

"Yeah, but I was the one she called to fix her clothes! You know how hard it is with the time difference and all?" You both laughed.

God, his laugh was so beautiful, and his neck, biceps, nose, jawline, cheekbones—everything really. Your gaze fell to the floor as your blush rose on your cheeks and ears again.

"So, what do you do?" His voice was soft and curious.

You scratched your neck. No one had asked you what your profession was ever since you'd gotten here.

"Um, I'm a teacher—kind of. I help elementary kids with speaking or writing disabilities—like a tutor. I have five students so far, and I go to each house for a few hours to help them with homework and work on the lessons ahead."

You were proud of your profession. It was rare for teachers to take on such big responsibility, but you loved teaching and kids. It's the perfect combination for you. Plus, it didn't matter where you moved, for there's always a child in need of you, and you're glad to help.

"That sounds so cool." Bradley beamed, and you chuckled.

"Not as cool as being a pilot. How's that working out for you? Got any awards yet?" You lightly elbowed him.

His head snapped to your side, a confused smile adorning his face. "How'd you know about that?"

"Nat told me one of her friends was getting an award for saving an old guy or something. I assumed it's you because there's no way Hangman could be getting it." Bradley snorted. "Am I right?"

He just nodded with a smile, sipping on his beer. "It's my godfather, yeah. But I don't really see a point to this. I rescued him because it was the right thing to do, not because I wanted an award." Show off, you think.

"You're a hero to our nation, anyway." You turned to face him. "Thank you for serving this country, sir," you saluted him, trying to keep your expression serious.

"Stop," Bradley whined, turning away to hide his blushing cheeks. His grin widened, though.

"What? I'm being serious! Take me seriously—what is it? Is it Lieutenant?" He nodded lightly. "I'm being very patriotic, Lieutenant Bradshaw!" Your giggles were on the verge of becoming uncontrollable.

Bradley couldn't help but laugh. "Are you drunk?"

"No, I just like watching you blush and squirm away," you snorted.

"You're a menace." You shrugged in response.

This night is sparkling—don't you let it go!

I'm wonderstruck, blushing all the way home.

You hadn't had this much fun in so long. You found yourself entertaining Bradley and his silly questions about everything—apparently, since you're a teacher, you're a walking encyclopedia—all night. At some point, Nat called for Rooster to play the piano, and your conversation was cut short.

The disappointment you felt dispersed as soon as you heard him sing. Great Balls of Fire, an ancient song you had a special spot in your heart, resonated through the bar. Bradley played the piano expertly and sang like an angel. The whole bar joined him, most patrons using their beer bottles as microphones. You hugged Natasha sideways, your eyes meeting as you screamed the lyrics at the top of your lungs.

After a few songs, most civilians went home, leaving only the pilots. You yawned against Nat's shoulder as you listened to Jake narrate a story. Your phone read thirty minutes past midnight, and you decided it was time to head home—a small house by the beach you'd rented for two weeks.

"I'm going to head out," you whispered to Natasha, who nodded and patted your thigh in goodbye.

You slipped unnoticed since everyone was invested in Hangman's story to see you leave. You waved goodbye to Penny, who nodded back with a smile and continued wiping the counter.

Your stomach dropped in disappointment as soon as you stepped outside. You wanted to say goodbye to Bradley, but he'd excused himself to the bathroom, and he hadn't come out when you left. You'll see him again, though. Right? He was Nat's closest friend after you and Bob, so there was no way he'd leave your sight anytime soon.

You fished for your car keys, only to realise that Natasha had driven here. "Fuck," you muttered.

"Hey." You spun around, startled.

There stood Bradley, a small smile on his face, his hands buried in his jeans' pockets. You softly smiled back, your stomach doing multiple flips. His glasses were perched on his tank top, and you could see his eyes now. The sky was dark, but the moonlight and lights inside the bar made him look more attractive than ever.

Good fucking god, you were shamelessly checking him out.

"Are you waiting for someone?" He asked, bringing you out of your trance.

The knowing and growing smile on his face told you he had caught you checking him out. Again. Heat rose to your cheeks for the umpteenth time tonight.

"No. I just realised Natasha drove here, and I have to Uber home." It sounded like an exhausting nightmare.

"Sounds exhausting," you snorted. "Come on." Bradley signalled for you to follow him, but you froze in place, staring at him.

He stopped next to a Bronco—you should have guessed this car was his. "Are you coming or what?"

You snapped from the trance his action had set you in, speed walking to the car door and opening it. The seat was comfortable, and a content sigh escaped your lips. Your back hurt from the uncomfortable way you sat all night. So you leaned back and closed your eyes for a second, relishing how your spine relaxed.

During those seconds, Bradley leaned over and buckled your seatbelt, causing your eyes to open again. You could smell his cologne. It was fucking intoxicating. Did he actually just put your seatbelt on?

"There you go. Just don't fall asleep on me before you tell me where you live." You chuckled tiredly.

After giving him your address, your head turned to the window. You watched the scenery go by, very aware that you were in Bradley Bradshaw's car, which also smelt like him. A blush covered your cheeks and—you were pretty sure—your ears and neck. The man was driving you crazy, and he didn't even know.

The drive was over quicker than you wanted it. The music playing in Bradley's car—old eighties songs—was comforting. The smell of the sea and his cologne in your seat were soothing. His presence, alone, calming enough for you to escape in a state between blissful sleep and consciousness. Why did it have to end?

"That's the house. Right there."

"Oh, you got a garden?" Bradley asked curiously, and you couldn't help but smile.

"Oh, yeah. You should see the backyard! It's full of flowers and three apple trees!" Your smile caused his to widen.

"I'll come around soon, then. I wanna see that view." His tone was soft, and you wondered if he meant something else.

You nodded. "I could give you my number?" Was that a desperate move?

Before you had time to rethink, he beamed at you. "Yeah! Put it on my phone, and I'll text you."

Your fingers brushed, and tingles shot up your spine. It felt like you'd just gotten electrocuted. Oh fuck. His hands are...nice.

Your exchange was short, and you got out of the car a blushing mess. After shutting the door, you looked up for the last time to say goodbye. Bradley was already looking at you with an unrecognisable look in his eyes.

"It was nice meeting you, Bradley," your words were almost a whisper.

"You, too, sweetheart."

I'll spend forever wondering if you knew,

I was enchanted to meet you.

He waited for you to unlock the door, get into the small residence and switch on a light. He saw you through the open curtains as you threw the keys and phone at the kitchen table, deciding he had been enough of a creep and finally drove away.

You heard the Bronco's engine come to life again—when had he shut the engine?—and speed down the empty street. You moved to the window, watching the headlights disappear.

"It was lovely to meet you, Bradley Bradshaw."

The lingering question kept me up.

2 AM, who do you love?

I wonder 'til I'm wide awake.

You're crawling under the covers in no time. Your thoughts are racing a hundred miles per second. The only thing in them is Bradley Bradshaw. You can't understand why he has plagued your mind.

You wonder if he has someone. He has a charming smile, a kind heart, not to mention a remarkably fit body and a steady job. He was in his thirties, making you the same age as him or a year or two younger. He even was at the right age to have a family, but you spotted no ring on his finger. Your heart fluttered with hope.

Fuck, you turned to your left side. Does he look like he's good in bed? I mean—he has this look that screams big dick energy, but is that a thing? Well, you'd love to find out.

What about his girlfriend?

The thought lingered. Bradley had been friendly all night, but there was no sign of a girlfriend. Maybe she wasn't a pilot. And she may not even enjoy crowded bars. Or maybe, there is no girlfriend.

But what if he likes someone? Like a crush?

God, these thoughts were ruining your scenario-making. It was true that there was always a possibility he had a crush on someone else. But the sheer need to feel loved and appreciated—the exact emotion Bradley had awakened in you tonight—was overpowering the insecure thoughts and fuelling the butterflies in your stomach.

Who do you like, Bradley Bradshaw?

You turn your head to look at the digital clock on the bedside table—it reads two fifteen in the morning. God, I need to sleep.

And now I'm pacing back and forth,

wishing you were at my door.

I'd open up, and you would say, "Hey."

But you can't. So you drag yourself out of bed, thinking that maybe cookies and milk will do the trick. You grab your phone from the nightstand, press on Netflix, and then Friends. Balancing your phone on the coffee pot, you searched the cupboards, looking for the Oreo cookies you'd stuffed earlier.

God, what is this infatuation? I just met the man.

You bite the cookie as you pace in the small kitchen—from the entryway to the fridge and back. You wish you could've said more. It was nice meeting you, Bradley—come on, that's so stupid. I think I fell in love with you at first sight is a much better sentence.

I wish he were here.

The thought caught you off-guard, but you didn't hate it. You'd love to have Bradley here, watching Friends and munching on Oreo cookies instead of day night-dreaming about him.

You worked the scenario in your head. You'd be asleep when he knocks on the door. You'd have that cute messy hair look and sleepy expression on your face like the girls in all the movies you watch. You'd unlock the door and look at him. He'd be panting for some unknown reason—maybe he ran from his car to my door (I don't know, the guys in movies always try to catch their breaths)—and he'd throw you a casual but oh-so-raspy-and-sexy hey.

You snorted, and suddenly, the picture in front of you dissolved. Jesus, I need sleep and to get out of the house more.

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#bradley bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw #rooster top gun #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw fluff #rooster x reader #rooster fluff #bradley bradshaw fic #rooster fic #miles teller #miles teller x reader #top gun #top gun: maverick #top gun fic #fluff #fluff and romance #mutual pining #frank writes

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luvyeni · 1 year

Note

first, i love your works, fell in love with your blog the minute i had found it! i’m a sucker for your skz works, but especially changbin bc i’m a massive whore for that man, with that being said, changbin x reader, both of them like eachother, reader dresses a little revealing one night while hanging out with the guys to get changbins attention, and when he doesn’t say anything bc he’s shy & flustered, she pushes him into his room and does something about it ?? i’m not good with the smut aspects so i’ll leave that all up to you, but i do believe changbin has a massive strength kink so he’d def manhandle his girl when he feels like he’s being dominated.

SHY SHY SHY; SEO CHANGBIN

pairings. bestfriend!changbin x fem!reader

wc. 1.4k

warnings. wall sex? (door technically), size kink, strength kink, tiny bit of degradation, changbin is a lil possessive,

not gonna like anon, i thought you were asking for sub cb at first, that last part threw me off but i hope you like it 🖤!

you and changbin have obvious feelings for each other, but when you try and take things into your own hands, changbin let's you know he's in control

—

"wow! you look good." changbin heard your name, running out his room as fast as he could to see he you, it had been a minute since he'd seen you due their schedule, so he was glad to see you. "thank you felix." you smiled hugging him as you stepped into the dorm, but it wasn't for him technically... well he was knowingly apart of your plan to get the attention of your long time friend changbin.

you met changbin at a shop with your now ex bestfriend when he'd just debuted in straykids , and you were a freshman starting university. you'd always liked him, but you were shy and could express your emotions like that , so you asked your friend , but instead of her helping you out , she started dating him , saying that you were already in a relationship.

for almost a year you watched them act cute around each other , secretly wishing it was you... that was until she started cheating on him with a senior at your school, claiming that changbin was busy and she needed someone around all the time.

when their relationship ended you stuck around changbin , hoping that maybe you'd actually have a chance , but he was too heartbroken to even notice.

years flew by, straykids had been getting busier, you finished up with college , and you're friendship with changbin grew even more, but both of you were too scared to make the final push and go on a date ... well that would end soon , with the help of the very tight shirt that made your cleavage pop; a cute pink mini skirt, and lee felix.

"bun!" changbin hugged you, the nickname he placed on you years ago that stuck, cute at first, but as your crush developed , it started to become something you'd think about when you were alone in your room at night. "binnie!" he pulled away to get a good look at you, eyes widening , you looked so fucking good , the shirt hugged you the right way and the skirt left nothing to the imagination.

changbin was floored, his cock stirring in his gym shorts. "doesn't she look nice?" felix cut into his nasty thoughts.

changbin tried to speak, he wanted to say you looked so good , but his stupid ass brain didn't allow him to, instead he just looked down at the ground, silently nodding before scurrying away to go sit down. "oh he's in love." you scoffed , defeated. "yeah? what was it his silence." you said sarcastically. "actually yeah, when has changbin ever been silent?" you shrugged.

"look just follow after me, i know how we'll get under his skin." felix held your waist, walking into the livingroom were, making sure to walk past changbin , so he could see the two of you.

changbin loved felix, he truly did , he was a good friend, but right now , he wanted nothing more than to drag felix to undisclosed location and leave him there. the way his hand sat right above your knee, massaging it, or how his eyes would wonder down to your chest, and he'd bit his lip, he so desperately wished it was him, but he could never get a full sentence out , too flustered by your clothing... or lack there off.

he couldn't help it either, his eyes wondered down to your boobs , they sat so perfectly , they would jiggle everytime you laughed. or your skirt that would rise up , revealing the plush of your thighs, stopping at the curved of your ass. he swore if you moved the wrong way, anyone could get a peak of your panties.

changbin didn't mean to think about his bestfriend like this, but he couldn't help but think—what color was your underwear? pink like your skirt, black his favorite color? were you even wearing underwear?.. his cock jumped at the thought of you not wearing any underwear, he almost wanted you to bend down or something just so he could confirm.

"changbin?" shit, he was dozing off thinking nasty thoughts about his friend and now his cock was hard. "y..yes." stupid, he cursed himself out in his head. "you okay?" your pretty voice clouded his mind.

he nodded, getting up. "i...i h..have to use the bathroom." he rushed out of was acting like such a fucking loser.

"oh my god." felix scoffed amusingly. "i've never seen him so worked up like that." you smiled, you've watched him out the corner of your eye for the last few hours internally fight himself to stop from looking at your boobs or your thighs, when in reality you were doing it for him, seeing him like this made you believe there was a chance.

"this is your chance, go." felix nudged you off the couch. "go, they're not paying attention." he pointed to the other guys who were busy playing games. "go."

you quickly snuck away to the bathroom, waiting for him to get out. "＿? what ar- whoa!" you dragged him to his room, closing the door, pushing him up against it.

"you've been ignoring me all evening, i dress so prettily for you and you ignore me."

what? you knew what you were doing? you were doing this to make him flustered? you want him to make a fool of himself? you really think you're in control?

his head was spinning, and before he knew it, he was flipping you over, so now you were the one pinned against the wall. "do you really think you're in control here?" he grabbed your jaw to look at him. "w..what- shh, don't you think you've done enough." he released your jaw, pulling you into a rough kiss, taking his free hand, bringing it to your neck, squeezing lightly.

"b..binnie." you moaned through the kiss. "t..they're gonna realize we're gone." he didn't care, he wanted them to know what he was doing to you, he wanted them to hear him claim you as his. he attacked your neck with marks, as you tugged as his hair, grinding against his hard on.

"f..fuck, i need to feel you before i cum in my pants." he lifted your skirt up, revealing your black panties. "your favorite color." you breathed, changbin almost tore them off, but he decided not to, not because he wanted to nice, but because he was gonna pocket them.

"you've been planning this for a long time, haven't you?" he grabbed the back of your thighs, lifting you against the wall. "even slutting yourself out to felix, hmm? " he used one hand to hold you against the door, and the other to pull his shorts down, pulling his cock out. "answer me baby."

your mind was fuzzy between his sudden change in dominance and him lifting you in the air like you were weightless, you could barely comprehend what he was talking about. "y..yes." he smirked. "but now look at you, all fucked out by a little kissing and choking." you mewled as he tapped the tip of his leaking cock against your wet slit.

"look at you, you're about to drip all on the floor bun." he kept a protective hand on your waist, keeping you up against the wall. "c..changbin p..please." he pushed his way into you, his cock deliciously stretching you out.

"bun, you're so fucking tight, your small pussy can barely take me." he fully mounted you on his cock, against the door. "fuck your squeezing me so fucking tight." he growled in your ear.

"b..binnie s..so big." he began to thrust in and out of you, his cock dragging against your walls, your head fell back against the door, gripping his bicep. "you feelin full bun?" you nodded. "s..so full."

he felt like how you exactly imagined when you'd been hours in your room, fingering yourself the thought of him. "look at you, so dumb on my cock, gonna be a good girl and let me fuck you dumb." you babbled his name, your orgasm approaching.

"you're mine now, i don't share what's mine, next time i see you flirting with any other guy, im gonna fuck you until you can't walk, you understand?" his hand found a way to your neck again. "do.you.under.stand." he said with each thrust.

"fuck yes! changbin m'gonna cum." he sped up his trust, and your eyes rolled back as you came on his cock. "fuck.fuck.fuck!" he thrusted three times into before filling you up with his cum.

"im not letting you go, you're mine now." he whispered in your ear, pulling out of you, carrying your body to the bed, laying you down. "don't leave me." you grabbed his hand. "bun i have to get you cleaned up, get some rest, when you wake up, i'll take to get food." he kissed your forehead.

"but you have to wear my jacket, i don't want anyone else to see you in this outfit."

©️LUVYENI

#kpop x reader #kpop smut #stray kids smut #stray kids x reader #skz hard hours #stray kids hard hours #skz hard thoughts #stray kids scenarios #skz smut #skz imagines #stray kids hard thoughts #skz scenarios #seo changbin smut #changbin x reader #changbin imagines #changbin smut #changbin hard hours #changbin hard thoughts

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ughgoaway · 4 months

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YES maybe teacher has the lab coat lying around from a little science experiment she's done with her school kids (I'm thinking of the bicarbonate of soda/vinegar volcano that everyone made) and Matty tries it on for a laugh and she starts blushing and going all bashful and embarrassed because she fancies him so much

OH YES!!! GENIUS!!

you're going through your wardrobe looking for a coat to wear, you and matty have a reservation at a nice restaurant and as much as you want you want to show off your pretty dress it is also December and 2°C.

you laugh as you flick through and pull out the coat, showing it to matty, who is busy gawking at you from his place on the bed.

he manages to pull his eyes from your ass to look at what's in your hands, and immediately, his face scrunches in confusion.

"Did you have a secret career as a scientist that I didn't know about?" he asks, standing up to come behind you in front of the mirrored door of your wardrobe.

he slides his hands over your waist and hooks his chin over your shoulder as you both look at the coat in your hands.

"No, no, it was from the science fair last year. we were all making bicarbonate volcanoes, and I wanted to dress the part. I'm not quite sure why I've kept it this so long to be honest, " you say bashfully, going to hang it back up, but matty grabs it out of your hands before you can.

"You obviously kept it for your future hot boyfriend to try on." he teases, taking off his suit jacket and laying it on the bed.

you briefly get distracted by his back and arms in the shirt he's wearing before realising he really is trying it on.

"mattyyyyy, we don't have time! we're gonna be late, " you go to sit on the end of the bed as matty ignores your protests and swings the jacket on.

"Huh. don't know how to feel about the fact we're the same size in labcoats, but oh well, " matty laughs to himself but notices a distinct lack of giggles from you.

he looks up at you and sees the flush on your cheeks and the distinctly horny look on your face. you might as well be a cartoon character with heart-shaped eyes popping out of your head.

how interesting.

"What do you think, baby?" matty teases sauntering up to you and brushing his hands over the lapels of the coat.

you nod dumbly as matty stalks towards you. Soon, you're looking up at him wide-eyed as he stands tall in front of you between your parted legs.

matty smirks and nods at you, subtly reminding you that you haven't said any words since he put it on.

you shake your head and timidly say, "looks great," and give him a bashful smile, trying to hide your clear attraction. your voice breaks as you attempt to speak, and you have to cough awkwardly when you finish in a futile attempt to hide your emotions.

matty brings his hand up to rest on your cheek, and you immediately lean into it, closing your eyes at the contact. he smirks to himself and traces your cheekbone with his thumb.

his hand feels red hot against your face, and you know you've been found out. you open your eyes prepared to stutter an embarrassed apology, but matty does not seem bothered.

his eyes are almost black, and you know exactly what that look on his face means. he's into it too.

"So you really like it, huh sweet girl?" matty moves his hand down to your lips and pulls your bottom lip down with his thumb. he watches it snap back into place and goes to trace it again, but you take his thumb into your mouth without a second thought.

matty groans at the sight, watching you work his thumb just like you do when you suck him off. he taps his other hand on your cheek, and you know the cue, immediately opening your mouth obediently.

matty pushes his thumb on your tongue and watches the saliva pool in your mouth. his mouth starts watering at the sight, and he knows exactly what he wants to do.

you've mentioned finding him spitting on stage attractive, so he figured this wasn't too far a stretch.

he leans down and spits, watching the salvia trail of the end of his lip and falling into your mouth.

you let out a strangled moan whilst keeping your mouth open, trying to play by his rules.

matty taps your chin delicately and demands, "swallow."

you nod, and matty slams your jaw shut. You swallow diligently and open your mouth back up to show him its empty.

he smiles gratefully, "Good girl, how did we taste?" Both his hands hold your cheeks now as you gaze up at him adoringly.

"so so good sir"

fuck. you hadn't called matty that before. It had just slipped out from your mouth once you saw him in that coat.

he growls and starts pushing your head towards his crotch. that was definitely something he could get used to.

you rub your nose into him and look up at him with begging eyes.

"Go on then, sweet girl"

"What about our reservation?" you ask, but seemingly ignoring your own words, you were already unbuttoning his trousers and pulling down the zip.

"we'll just be a little late." matty groans as you start to mouth him through his boxers.

and... you definitely were more than a little late. and matty struggled to ever book that restaurant again.

worth it.

#great idea with poor execution from me <3 #smut/suggestive stuff is still not my strong suit #but this was too good not to attempt #anon!#teacher au!#matty healy smut

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pockeymcmockey · 1 year

Text

𝔄𝔫 𝔈𝔶𝔢 𝔉𝔬𝔯 𝔄𝔫 𝔈𝔶𝔢 | 𝓐𝓮𝓶𝓸𝓷𝓭 𝓣𝓪𝓻𝓰𝓪𝓻𝔂𝓮𝓷

Summary: Aemond finds himself at a crossroads, get revenge and risk his relationship or forgive Lucerys and marry the Princess...

Warnings: HEAVY angst, swearing, men with no decorum, character death (major and minor), violence, Aemond is a selfish ass, Reader regrets things.

Author's Note: This fic needs more angst so here ya go!

𝔓𝔯𝔢𝔳𝔦𝔬𝔲𝔰 𝔓𝔞𝔯𝔱 | 𝔓𝔞𝔯𝔱 ℑℑℑ | 𝔑𝔢𝔵𝔱 𝔓𝔞𝔯𝔱

Princess [Name] Targaryen sat by her windowsill, a leg perched upon the ledge and her elbow resting on her knee awaiting the raven she called for after learning about her mother's miscarriage. She sent the raven off to the Red Keep with the parchment to be given to Prince Aemond. She wiped her tears and watched until the raven was out of sight before undressing out of her nightgown and into her training garbs.

When Aemond received the message from his betrothed's raven and read the ink written on the page, he felt a deep sinking in his stomach. The loss of a King, the gain of a new one, and now the loss of a babe was too much for the Kingdom and the family. Aemond wrote back, pleading to the princess to return to the Red Keep to marry him sooner rather than later but alas, when her reply was to stay in Dragonstone and comfort her mother, he couldn't say he wasn't disappointed.

Aemond prepared Vhagar for travel after dressing himself in black leather and a trenchcoat as Storm's End can be rather tempestuous. Vhagar pulled her claws from the soil of King's Landing and took off toward the Baratheon territory. The beast known as Vhagar oscillated throughout the inclement weather that was Storm's End. When the Targaryen prince and his dragon arrived to the Baratheon household, the guards kept their distance, greeting him only when they were out of Vhagar's vicinity.

The one-eyed prince gave a curt nod to the Lord seated before him, Borros returning that nod. Aemond spoke of his mother's offer to bind the two houses together, to fight to keep the rightful King on the Iron Throne. Of course, Aemond expected the Lord Baratheon to want something, so in return, Aemond offered to gift them a dragon egg. The gift of a dragon egg was not to be taken lightly, Aemond knew this, but his words were empty promises. He found a dud lying around in a nest last evening and thought it helpful to strengthen the treaty.

Borros thought his offer over. A Baratheon with a dragon has never been seen and it would bring new fear to those who crossed a Baratheon—of course, he wouldn't actually be getting one but only Aemond knew that. Borros accepted but before Aemond could take his leave, the grand doors opened to reveal the woman he's missed since their departure. And her brother. As the two children of Rhaenyra walked elegantly through the heavy doors, Aemond and [Name] made eye contact.

The pupil in her unscarred eye dilated, black almost filling her iris. She lopsidedly smiled at him, still unsettled about going against her forbidden love. Aemond stood monotonously in the shadows, observing his betrothed and Lucerys, the bane of his existence. The boy who caused all his problems spoke up, handing a Baratheon maester the parchment that held Rhaenyra's words. Borros skimmed through the letter and scoffed, mocking their mother. Lucerys reached for his sword but his older sister outstretched an arm in front of him, shaking her head at him.

"You come to my castle, asking for my army, and without a gift or payment? Am I a jest to you Targaryens?" Lord Borros shooed his maester away and tapped his nubbed fingers against the stone of his chair. "You, boy! Which one of my daughters will you marry?" Lucerys informed the Lord that he was unavailable, being already betrothed to his cousin. The Lord of the Stag cackled wildly, beer gut jutting out, almost popping the buttons of his dress shirt.

"Excuse me if I cause any offense to you, my Lord, but were your ancestors not sworn to the crown? To the Iron Throne, whom my mother should be sitting on, yet you allow a usurper to sit his fat arse on it?" [Name] asked nonchalantly, leaning on her sword, Blood Brother, a stance her father has taken many times. Now that Aemond looks at her, he sees a lot of her father inside of her. Her violet eyes too dark to match Rhaenyra's. Her tongue too sharp for her mother's taste, but not for Daemon's.

The Lord stood from his stone throne, hobbling over to the young woman stood before him. He fisted her thin blouse and touched nose to nose, his breath smelling of grape wine. "Want to say those words again, cunt?" Aemond was about to step in when [Name] smirked, her eyes cast down lazily before shaking her head, apologizing for her harsh words. "Watch your tongue, whore." Aemond's grip on his dagger kept him grounded, keeping him from lashing out on the Lord and ruining their treaty.

"I see we're not welcome here, as we have nothing to offer but our respect. We'll see ourselves out." The Princess escorted her and her brother to the door, at the half-way mark when Aemond halted them. The Prince could not look into the eyes of his woman, knowing what he says next could ruin what they had but it must be done. For if he does not have his revenge, he fears he may wallow in it and not give his betrothed the attention she's always deserved.

"Your eye, Lord Strong. As payment for mine." The one-eyed prince tossed his dagger Lucerys' way, allowing the younger prince to take his own eye. "A gift for my mother. An eye for an eye, after all." Aemond smirked, removing his eyepatch to show his sapphire replacement. The older of the three, the Princess, grabbed her younger brother's hand, pulling him behind her.

"Haven't you taken enough from my family, my Prince?" [Name] spat venomously at the man whose proposal she accepted, regretting making her decision so desperately. Aemond's smirk fell and his eye glossed over, the sapphire glistening from what little light the castle let in. "We'll be on our way now." The Princess insisted, turning away from the man with a jewel for an eye. Said man did not appreciate the rejection very much, storming over and snatching his dagger from the cobble floor beneath them.

"Give me your eye!" Aemond screamed, scolded by Lord Borros who appreciated if less blood was shed in his castle. [Name]'s glare hardened like rock, pushing her brother out the large doors and to his dragon, Arrax. When the two of them reached the courtyard of Storm's End, the eldest of the two noticed the beast Aemond rode had vanished. How had he left so quickly? She asked herself.

"Come, sister, Mother's expecting us back!" Lucerys shouted over the looming wind, whistling in every direction. [Name] nodded and hopped on the back of Llanerion and flew off, back to Dragonstone to send word to her mother that Lord Baratheon would not be joining her bannermen. During their flight, Lucerys had an erie feeling, one that they were being watched, hunted almost. His intuition was correct as the gnarly jaws of Vhagar invaded their path.

"Lucerys!" [Name] shouted with concern, listening to the echoes of Aemond's laughter. She chased after them, soaring beside Vhagar and calling out to Aemond. "My Prince, please! Enough! He's but a child!" Alas, her attempts proved futile as Aemond did not give and continued his chase. Lucerys curved through archways and trenches before losing Vhagar, then they came upon clear skies and the sun cascading over them like a blanket of fire.

The two let the sun distract them for too long as the teeth of Vhagar pierced Arrax and Lucerys in the process. [Name] cried for her brother, alerting Vhagar of another prey left alive. The Princess pulled at Llanerion's reigns, forcing him to dive forward and to avoid the clutches of the largest dragon in Westeros. Her actions were unavailing when Vhagar ripped a wing right off of Llanerion, his balance lost and Princess [Name] as well.

Aemond's eye widened with horror, his soon-to-be wife diving into the sea below. The Prince used all his might to gain control of Vhagar once more, the mossy beast listening and diving downward. His rescue seemed fruitless when the body of his lover was engulfed by the salt of the sea. Aemond showed perseverance and jumped off the back of his beast, swimming below surface level and encircling the waist of his betrothed, pulling her ashore.

Her lungs were filled with salty liquid and Aemond did what he knew best with her, he kissed her. He brought air back into her lungs as she coughed up the salt, a bitter taste on her tongue and her throat feeling the dryest its ever been. Aemond smoothed back the Princess' white locks and kissed her head, holding her closely. The woman held tightly onto the leather of her husband-to-be, grasping to feel any warmth she could get.

For a moment, [Name] just wanted to forget. Forget about the rivalry, forget about her title and duties, and forget about her brother. But unfortunately, she remembered everything. The Princess pushed Aemond away, standing upright and walking toward where sand met grass. The Prince confusingly followed, clutching her elbow and turning her to face him. When her body was directed toward him, she sent her palm to his cheek, a handprint marking the soaked skin.

She's angry, Aemond realized. About her brother, about everything. The one-eyed prince persisted in getting her to talk to him, say something, anything. Yell at him, push him away again, but she only stared at him. Her lips turning blue and her body trembling. Then, she finally spoke, words filled with poison and said out of spite:

"I hate you..."

Taglist

@daddysfavoritesexkitten @dudfahsn @hey-airam @motherofdragons1998 @kittykylax @icarusignite @lilithskywalker @mintyard @omgsuperstarg @pinkybee926 @helloitsshitzulover @bobamai1 @applepyesworld @chrisevansgirlfriendsposts @caspianobsessed @sonnensplitter @sqrlgrl22 @solorubyjane @amethystwonders11 @marytvirgin @aphroditeisamilf @ephemeralninon @fairyunhappy @mikasakuchiki @shine101 @let-love-bleeds-red @zgzgzh @lilostif16 @landlockedmermaid77 @m1ndbrand @grippleback-galaxy @jeyramarie @gaemon-palehair @padfooteyes @bietchz @moiraiofheroes @stargaryenx @cypherpt5fttaehyung

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aussiepineapple1st · 11 months

Note

I'm sorry if this is random but I love the idea of Vendetta Leon going to a coffee shop with his younger girlfriend who orders a coffee that is literally 90% sugar and caramel while he just stands there and blinks at her like "....would you like some coffee with your sugar?"

I don't know, this just makes me laugh.

I say that with many things. like just yesterday I was holding her plate and piece of bread(her left arm still doesn't work from her stroke) while she buttered it. She piled the butter on there and I asked if she wanted some bread with her butter🤣

Sugar Date

Words: 801 Contains: Domestic Leon, Boyfriend Leon, Fluff, Cute Banter.

It had been a few weeks after the incident in New York, having gone back to work now. He was currently a day away from sent to the other side of the country for a Recon mission, solo.

Currently you were in the bathroom, putting a bottle and cheap plastic gloves in the bin while the shower ran beside you ran. Leon's hair grows quickly, but he had been given instructions by Hunnigan to die his hair with the specific missions he had been going on. He had been noticing a lot of the enemies he had been confronting knew who he was, his dirty blonde hair and slightly stubbled face being recognised at the famous Leon S. Kennedy. He looked scruffy and the die had made his hair thin slightly, but maybe it would help with not being so recognisable to his enemies.

"I was thinking.." Leon's voice speaks over the hissing and splashing of water through the open glass walled shower. You turn towards him watching the dark dye run down his pale body, his head turning towards you, locking eyes. "How do you feel about going to that café you like?" He asked, knowing the answer was going to be a definite yes.

Your face lights up, you knew it wasn't his favourite place to go to, but you absolutely LOVED how they did your coffee with 3 pumps of caramel, 4 spoons of white sugar and whipped cream sprinkled with chocolate drinking powder on top. You hadn't had it in FOREVER!

"Um, Yes! I would love to go there!"

"Great, once I'm dressed we can head there for breakfast." His ice blue eyes look in your direction from under his now black hair, it made them pop even more.

"Yay!" You clap with excitement and leave the bathroom, closing the door slightly behind you.

-----

Once out of the shower he gets dressed in his usual shirt, tight, yet flexible, skinny jeans and black leather jacket. He sees himself in the mirror after pulling the towel away from his head, just giving his hair another once over to help it dry quicker. He looked like a mess, his beard thick and almost now completely covering his chin, jaw line and upper lip. You hadn't expressed your thoughts on any of these changes so he didn't know if you liked it or not?

Walking out of the bathroom you were waiting for him, a cute, short summer dress, pale green with frills on the loose sleeves, the elastic around your wrists. It was a cooler day today, plus you would be on the back of his bike, so you had thick leggings on under the dress and hair tied back, still letting your fringe hang loosely in front of your face. You looked super cute.

"You're staring, Leon." You say as you walk up to him, pressing a kiss to his lips as you take his hand.

"Sorry, not my fault my girlfriend is the prettiest swan in the lake." Smooth.

"Alright, stop sucking up and let's go get some breakfast." You say pulling his hand towards the door, you already had your house keys on you and hand him his bike keys.

Leon hands you your bike helmet he had grabbed from atop the drawer beside the front doors. You had specifically not grabbed it trying to get out of wearing the helmet like Leon does, but he would always insist you wear it. Reluctantly putting it on you slide behind Leon on his Ducati and both of you wide off towards the centre of Washington. Pulling up in front of your favourite café he takes your helmet from you and follows you inside.

Standing side by side in the line you both look up at the black board menu on the wall. When it came to your turn to order you order your breakfast and drink, Leon ordering toast, with poached eggs, bacon and avocado, a side of scrambled eggs and a quarter strength decaf coffee. He leads you to a spot beside the window, sitting beside the plants that framed the glass. You sit there watching all the people and cars go passed, your elbows resting on the table, fingers intertwined with themselves in front of your chin.

"Did you want some coffee with all that sugar?" Leon says resting his arms on his edge of the square table. "That's not coffee you drink, it's a cake."

"What? of course it is! They still use the beans. I could say the same for yours, quarter strength decaf? Just drink hot milk." You teased.

"Well no kisses for you today, I'll get cavities."

"Alright, old man.. You'd give in anyway."

"You're right.." He smiled, you were, he would only be punishing himself if he didn't kiss you.

🏷️: @phoenix666stuff @maehemthemisfit @greywardensaywhat @growingupnrealizing @starcrossedreaders

#vendetta leon #post vendetta #leon kennedy #leon s kennedy #resident evil #leon x reader #leon x fem reader #leon x fem!reader #leon x f!reader #leon x female reader #date #cute date #fluff #cafe date #boyfriend leon #domestic leon #aussiepineapple1st

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my-soupy-brain · 8 months

Note

wearing Ted’s clothes

Such a dream come true. He would love it. He would absolutely love it. Especially a custom jersey you have made just for him at home games? Let's gooo!

---

Relationship: Ted Lasso x reader

Warnings: Teasing, light smut but mostly fluff

---

The first time it happened, you thought nothing over it.

There was a knock for delivery at your flat's door, and you grabbed a t-shirt off the ground and stumbled to get it. Fortunately, it wasn't one you had to sign for, because you weren't wearing pants.

When you returned to bed, you realized you'd grabbed Ted's Kansas City t-shirt by mistake. But his eyes popped open when he saw you climb back in and he smiled and pulled you to his bare chest.

"I love this," he mumbles, his lips against your shoulder.

"What?"

"Seein' you in my clothes. It's... cute..."

His hand skates up and down your bare thigh, and you wiggle closer to him and revel in the scent of his cologne lingering on the collar.

...

The second time it happened, everyone almost found out your secret. Or they did and just kept it to themselves.

You had gotten stuck in the rain, and the bus dropped you off at Nelson Road a little too far from the door. You ran and ran, shaking your wet hair out in the door, but shivering once you were in the office hallway.

Ted bopped down the office and saw you shivering on your sofa.

"Oh, golly, darlin'! Here..." he says with wide eyes, taking his sweater off over h is head, left in his polo stretched across his broad shoulders and chest.

You thanked him with shivering lips, slipping it on over your damp body. It was warm like the rest of him, the sleeves on the gray AFC Richmond sweater handing off your wrists a little.

"Th-th-thank you, Ted," you answered, and he closed the door before bringing you in for a big, warm hug.

When you left your office to get lunch with Keeley, she stopped in her tracks.

"Oi, what's this?" she asked, pinching the fabric between her fingers. "Is this Ted's?"

You nod. "I got caught in the rain, he saw I was cold so he offered me his sweater..."

Keeley looks at you with a sly smile. "Mm-hmm... and why did he do that?"

"Because he's nice?" you ask, with hopeful eyes. "OK, OK...but shh, no one really knows yet."

Keeley claps and smiles. "I'm so happy for ya, babe! He's right fit, you're right fit, what a combo!"

When you get home that night, Ted's beat you to the flat. He comes over to you with a smile, his arms open to hug you close.

"I still love this," he murmurs.

"What, mean wearing your clothes?"

He nods. "Yeah. Makes me wonder what it'd look like if you worse this Richmond sweater and...nothing else..."

Your body gasps and warms immediately.

"Maybe we should find out?" you ask, taking his hand and leading him into the bedroom.

...

At the next home game, you have a surprise for Ted. You had a specialty AFC Richmond jersey made, with Lasso across the top.

He saw you standing, knowing you from your round behind first, but then his eyes pricked with tears when he saw what you've done.

"Sugar?" he asked, approaching you from behind.

"Hi, babe! Like my jersey?" you ask, smiling proudly. He nods.

He watches other people walk by and realizes this might be obvious. So he takes your hand into the locker room.

"Attention, fellas! I'd like to make an announcement. Y/N and I are an item, and I thought y'all should know since she decided to send my heart soarin' with this fancy new jersey," he says, winking at you.

"We know coach," Jamie says with a grin. "I mean, it was pretty obvious somethin' was happenin' with you two."

Sam grins and chimes in. "We're happy for the both of you, it's a good match. Truly."

Ted leans down and kisses your lips lightly. Beard exhales, finally no longer required to keep it a secret.

You cheer for Ted in the stands with Keeley and Rebecca. He looks up at you and blows a kiss.

...

That night at home, Ted's key is through the door he looks around -- the lights low, music playing.

"Darlin'?" he asks, walking through the house and stopping dead in his track when he sees you, kneeling on the bed in his Richmond jersey.

And only the Richmond jersey.

"Welcome home, Coach. Congrats on the win," you offer sensually. His eyes don't leave yours as he takes off his jacket, his shoes, his sweater, then his polo, then his undershirt. You coax him to the bed with your finger, quickly working open his belt, pushing his pants down his thighs so he can kick them away.

He leans over you, both long arms caging you in.

"So now I know," he whispers, his lips grazing your ear.

"Know what?"

"Know what it does to me when I see you dressed like this."

"Yeah? What's it do, Coach?"

"Why don't you find out," he murmurs, moving your hand to the front of his boxer briefs, where you find him hard and ready.

He moans gently as he leans his knee on the bed, and lifts up the jersey to see you absolutely have nothing on underneath it. He kisses your lips, his mustache tickling your soft skin. For a mere second he pulls away an inch to whisper...

"Should we start with some drills?

---

YAY SMUT ON A FRIDAY! Well, teasing smut. Didn't get all the way into smutland. But I love the idea of wearing his clothes whether, cute, cozy, or sexy. Thanks for the prompt, friend!

#ted lasso x reader #ted lasso fanfic #ted lasso fanfiction #ted lasso smut #ted lasso fluff #wearing ted's big cozy clothes is so sexy

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swoonbots · 1 year

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OMG I'd loooove a gore piece where the puppets dissect reader to figure out how he works, that would be so cool :0 post notifs on btw! love your writing :)

ALL: OPENED

CW: Human Gore, Puppets eating Humans

Summary: The Neighborhood can't contain their curiosity any longer.

Poppy cooed at you, shushing you as you screamed against the restraints. Howdy would pet your hair, as if he wasn't the one who held you down to be dismantled.

"It'll all be alright, hun. Everythin'll be back to normal tomorrow. We just want a little peek."

Frank had pinned you tightly down to a table, carefully like you were one of his butterfly specimens. You knew they were curious, you knew by the way they poked and prodded at you, by the way their gazes would linger when you display any sort of human nature.

Frank would collect the tears that fall in a jar. Commenting on the salty taste when he dipped his finger in it.

It was time for the main event, Sally would announce as she entered the room with Eddie in tow. He'd carry a sharpened letter opener. The ones who you thought you could call your friends surround your struggling frame.

Wally lifted your shirt, revealing your tummy. His hand gently grazed your stomach, watching as it rose and fell with each passing breath.

"Trace an 'I' here," Wally spoke as monotonous as ever, "Open it like a present."

Eddie hesitated, his eyes met your fearful ones, but then it met the ones of his friends. And he gave in.

The knife dipped past your skin, pain flushed through your body like wildfire, your voice goes hoarse against the bright red ascot that keeps you gagged. Drool pooled at your ears. Frank collected that too.

It's open. You're open. Your eyes betray you, staring at how they rest your skin to the side to have you open like some kind of gift.

Julie squeals, her hands reach it and grab at your intestines. Pulling them out of their resting place and... playing with them. She wrapped it around her thin neck.

"It's like a wet feather boa!" She would exclaim. You almost pass out, but you stay awake. Something forces you to stay awake.

The others reach in. Barnaby traces your ribs, nearly drooling. Wally seems more interested in the veins that trail your body. It's a beautiful pattern, he'd have to paint it one day.

Your body convulses, Poppy doesn't bother to comfort you this time. She's much too intrigued by the beating of your heart.

Eddie cuts a vein, letting the blood spill into your open cavity. They all reach for a taste.

Barnaby can't help himself any longer, and with a pop, rips off a kidney and takes a bite- reveling in its taste. Can you blame him? Dogs are natural carnivores after all. All that vegan food must leave him sick.

Howdy's hands grasp at your ribcage, at Sally's request to see 'the hidden ones better', and tear your ribs off your skeleton. Much too easily.

You can't breathe, maybe it's the way Eddie squeezes your lungs in his hands, engulfing them like it's nothing. Your vision goes black.

The sun's rays brush against your lashes. You gasp and shoot forward, fumbling with your pajama shirt to see your stomach.

Nothing remains of the night before. You wonder, if it was all a bad dream. Created by the paranoia of being around puppets.

Either way, your stomach hurts.

---

A/N, Again: I have a lot more ideas, regarding this. Barnaby tearing the human reader to shreds because he wants a taste of real meat. Wally and gang opening you up to make you a puppet too. Replacing your organs with stuffing and being surprised when you die lmao. Just the little things you know? If I were them, I'd be obsessed with just watching you. Watching you bleed or breathe, when I don't. Listening to your heartbeat... Anyways, that's all.

#welcome home x reader #welcome home #gore #hehe ty! <- i say b4 proceeding to write about julie joyful playing with your organs

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mayajadewrites · 4 months

Text

Levi Ackerman x Reader: Moth to a Flame

CHAPTER TWO

chapter synopsis: You're put in a training group for the day, is it to show your skills or so Levi can watch you?

ao3

C H A P T E R T W O – B U T T O N

"Oi." Levi spoke, his arms across his chest. "Listen, you're going to be put into training groups of 4. You're going to spar each other and test your ODM gear skills."

The group nods in unison. "Yes, sir."

"The groups are as follows." Levi lists off names while you anxiously waiting for him to utter your name.

"Lastly, Kirstein, Ackerman, Yaeger, and..." Levi said your surname, almost in a softer tone than the others.

You and Mikasa are arguably the strongest in the regiment, after Captain Levi of course. You're both super fast and work well together when it comes to fighting titans.

Jean and Eren, well they need some help.

"I think he made this group on purpose." Mikasa whispered in your ear. You freeze for a moment. Did she know about you and Levi?

"Why do you think that?"

"We're obviously the strongest and most skilled. Eren and Jean are almost there, but not on our level. So we can show them how its done."

One thing about Mikasa is that she always has her eye on the goal. In the scout regiment, it's to save humanity.

You strap on the ODM gear, tightening the straps around your thighs.

"I wish I could live in between these thighs." Levi kissed the inside of your thigh, trailing his mouth to the fabric of your panties.

Shaking the thought out of your head, you look for your group. Eren and Jean were arguing (per usual) while Mikasa rolled her eyes behind them.

Captain Levi was observing next to Commander Hange. She was always so enthusiastic about watching us train, especially when she just finished an experiment with titans.

"Hey," Jean said your name, waving you to go over to him. "Wanna spar?"

"Sure." You smile, making sure your ODM gear is in tact. While you and Jean maneuver around each other, you feel a pair of eyes on you.

Jean trips over a rock on the ground, pushing his body against yours to the ground.

"You would trip over a tiny ass rock." You laugh as Jean is still on top of you, a chuckle leaving his mouth.

"I fight fucking titans, but a ROCK is what fumbles me."

"What's going on over here?" Levi's voice boomed. You heard his footsteps near your feet. "Kirstein. On your feet."

"Sorry Captain, I tripped. I didn't see that rock." Jean pointed to the rock, brushing his shirt off before helping you up. You take his hand, a bit tighter than normal. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, really." You nod, looking down at your body. The button to your shirt popped open at your chest, revealing your clavicle.

"You need to see a nurse." Levi analyzed your body.

"I don't even think I have a scratch, Captain. Really it's fine."

"That wasn't a question." Levi turned around before you could speak. No part of your body hurt, and it's not like Jean did it intentionally.

You turn to head to the main building with the nurses office, rolling your eyes because this is certainly a waste of time.

As you reach the office, you hear familiar footsteps.

"Captain, don't waste your time on this." You look at Levi. "I'm really fine. It's not like Jean did it on purpose, and I barely fell."

"You could have internal injuries. Maybe a concussion."

"You're being ridiculous." You almost lose your composure as you walk into the nurses office. "I'm fine."

"Well I need to make sure that's true."

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

"You look good, cadet." The nurse, Rachel, patted your knee. "You have a little bruise on your chest, but it's nothing to worry about."

"See?" You look at Levi. "Can I go back to training now?"

"No." Levi turned on his heels, exiting the office.

You were stunned. Confirmation from the nurse that you're okay means nothing?

You follow Levi out the door, trying to catch up to him. "Captain, a word please."

Levi turns around, his steel eyes fixed on yours.

"Why can't I go back to training? We have a mission at the end of the week that Commander Erwin has developed a whole plan for. You need me to fight."

"You need to rest today, I can't have you at anything less than your best. Especially because of the mission." Levi took a step toward you. "That's an order."

Your eyes wander around Levi's face, his undercut fresh, his eyes that beautiful shade of stone that you love.

Loved.

You take another step towards Levi, hoping he would move away from you so you can forget these feelings once again.

But he doesn't. He just looks at you, your body, almost fixating on your chest. Your button was still popped, some sweat dripping down your breasts from the end of summer/autumn air.

Levi's tongue grazed his bottom lip. "Button your shirt. Before you get dress-coded."

With that, Levi is gone.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

During dinner, Jean kept stealing glances of you. When he fell on you, there was some sort of spark. You've never looked at Jean in that way, but now it's more of a possibility.

Especially since you're no longer sleeping with Levi.

"How are you feeling?" Jean asked you, sliding his leg close to yours. He was sitting next to you, Connie and Sasha were next to him, and Eren, Mikasa, and Armin were on the other side of the table.

"I'm fine, really. Don't worry about me." You take a sip of your water.

"Nice one, Jean. You could've been in deep shit if you actually hurt her." Eren rolled his eyes.

"You're acting like I did that on purpose!"

"Maybe you did." Eren smirked. "Not to hurt her, though."

"Shut up Eren." Jean's eyes were wide. Jean is no good at hiding what he's feeling – you can tell all over his face. It's obvious Jean has a tiny crush on you, you've just never given him that time of day.

"Jean, do you wanna go for a walk?" You suggest, standing up from the table. Jean nodded and followed you out, Eren making kissing noises from the table.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

"Are you sure I didn't hurt you?" Jean questioned.

"Please stop asking. If I was hurt you would know." You look up at the night sky, watching the moon. "You know, when I was younger I always thought the moon was following me."

"Me too." Jean laughed. "I would always close my eyes for a minute, hoping the moon would be hiding."

Jean told you about his childhood, about his family and what he likes to do for fun. Well, liked. Before the scouts.

He's very easy to talk to, unlike some people.

"What do you two think you're doing?"

#levi ackerman #levi ackerman x reader #levi #levi x reader #levi ackerman attack on titan #levi ackerman fanfic #levi ackerman smut #aot #attack on titan #attack on titan fanfic #aot x reader #jean kirstein

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