#i'm sorry the title is a joke it was my first idea it was not intentional i swear

[vixstarria]

Missionary with the lights off

We're back in Act 1 again! I swear I'll start moving forward now that I'm playing the game again, after this.

Astarion x Tav, Astarion x F!Reader

18+, blood drinking, fluff to smut, porn with plot, PIV

Pst, don't let the title mislead you too much

Approx. 1,800 words

You woke up in Astarion's tent.  

Last night had been… unusual. Something you said had soured the mood for anything sexual. Instead you stayed up talking late into the night. You hadn't even taken your clothes off.  

You'd never spent the whole night together before, always opting to make your way back to your respective tents eventually, after your nocturnal activities, but then again you’d spent those previous nights opening your legs more so than your heart. Something had now shifted a little.  

The last thing you remembered was drifting off with your face nuzzled into his neck as he draped an arm over you, having hugged him on a whim and finding yourself not wanting to let go. What you saw now was completely contrary to that memory, as you found yourself lying on your side, with Astarion's head pressed against your chest, right over your heart, both arms holding you close. He must have moved himself while you were asleep. 

He looked perfectly at peace. It was actually adorable, seeing the prickly rogue like this.  

You reached out to softly run your hand over his disarrayed curls, when he also stirred. 

“Hello, darling,” you purred, copying his habitual greeting for you. 

Astarion was startled, suddenly jolting up. He seemed momentarily disoriented, taking in you and his surroundings for a few moments before comprehension returned to his eyes.  

“Are you alright..?” you asked. “I know it's first thing in the morning, but surely I don't look that disturbing.” 

“Yes, sorry… I just… I can’t remember the last time I woke up next to someone,” he said finally. 

“The night at the clearing..?” you offered. 

“I didn’t sleep that night,” he admitted. “And now there's a woman in my tent and I don't know what to do. ...Ahah..! Refresh my memory, what is the protocol? Do I need to make you breakfast?” he joked. 

“I’m sure Gale’s already working on that,” you grinned. 

Astarion laid back down next to you, propped up on an elbow. He gave you an odd half-smile with a slight frown, his eyes narrowed. Not unkindly, but rather a bit… awkwardly. You wondered what he was thinking. 

You ignored the odd look, and instead your eyes wandered up to survey his bedhead. No trace of pomade was left in his hair, instead some of it was standing on end, while other, longer strands started to fall over his eyes as he leaned on his hand, watching you.  

“What is going on here..?” you laughed, reaching out to brush his hair out of his eyes. He leaned into your hand as you ran your fingers through his hair, shutting his eyes, his lips widening into a genuine smile. He reminded you of a cat that was enjoying a head scratch.  

“I don't have the slightest idea, darling,” he drawled. “But I guess you have to die after all, now that you've seen it.” 

“You are a horrible flirt, you know, and I don't mean that in a good way." 

“It works on you, doesn't it?” he shrugged, grinning and leaning in for a kiss.  

“Hmm, but returning to breakfast,” you said, breaking the kiss as his lips slowly made their way down to your neck. “What about you? Fancy a nibble?” 

“If it's on offer…” Astarion purred, continuing his way down. He knew your body entirely too well at this point. His lips lingered on the exact spot that made your breath shudder, sending a wave of shivers all through you. “Where..?” 

“Right there,” you breathed.  

“Oh? You want me to leave my mark on you, right where everyone can see..?” he murmured, continuing to kiss your neck. You usually offered him your wrist.  

“It’s not like they don’t already know what we’ve been doing, so sure, mark me...” you replied. “Mark me as yours,” you added in a hoarse whisper.  

Once the words were out you wondered if it was too much, but Astarion clearly liked the idea. He liked it a lot, judging by the soft growl he let out, as he continued to trail his lips along your neck, searching for just the right spot. You knew he'd found it, you remembered where he's bitten you before, but instead of going in for a bite he toyed with you, leaving slow, deliberate licks, until you released a small moan, and only then sank his fangs in you, lightly grinding his hips into yours as he did.  

Something about a vampire's bite made it quite unlike anything else. It started off as a sharp, icy chill, gradually spreading and melting into something that stung the way an itch strings right before you scratch it, multiplied tenfold. The only way to relieve that stinging sensation was to give into it, more and more. The area bitten remained tender and sensitive in the most erogenous way for a long time after the bite itself. The whole experience was inherently erotic, no matter where the bite was. 

You understood why this was fetishised. You also understood how people happily allowed themselves to be bled dry.  

Astarion continued to grind against you, slowly, his erection evident. This was nothing new and didn't necessarily mean anything - you’ve joked before that any blood he drank went straight to his dick before going anywhere else – which is why you usually did this privately, even when he drank from your wrist.  

However, this time, you really didn't want it to just be casual. You didn't think he did either, the way he was breathing. One of your hands was caught in his hair at the back of his head, the other trailed down to his hips, squeezing, as he grinded into you harder, making you crave more.  

And then it was over and you felt a profound sense of disappointment and loss, as Astarion gave your neck a few final licks and broke away from you, lifting his body from yours. The only contact that remained between you two was your eyes, as he gave you an unwavering look of barely contained lust.  

The aching need between your legs had become unbearable.  

One heartbeat... Two... Three... 

Astarion’s lips crashed into yours.  

Suddenly, without a single word, you found yourselves tearing at each other’s pants in an urgent rush to remove them.  

Curse them, you thought. You would start sleeping in a nightgown, if you managed to find one. Or naked. Or steal Astarion’s shirt. 

You thought you recognised some elvish curses as Astarion snarled, struggling to pull your pants off without lifting his body from you, biting your lip as you managed to twist and free one leg, the other pant leg left danging at your knee. 

All the while, you’d been tearing at the lacing on Astarion’s pants, managing to undo it just enough to slide them low enough to release his pulsing cock. 

You didn’t even bother with your shirts. You had a burning, ravenous hunger, and it had to be sated. Immediately.  

You tugged on Astarion’s cock, impatiently guiding it towards your throbbing pussy. You had no time or eagerness or wish for any teasing or foreplay, only a carnal, animalistic need. You’d barely aligned Astarion’s dick with your entrance when he plunged himself into you, fully, with another swear through gritted teeth.  

Finally, you felt complete.  

There was no rhythm, decency or finesse to what followed, the only way you could describe it was mindless, feral rutting. You dug your fingers into his hips, trying to bring him closer, deeper, moaning as his tongue writhed against yours. He couldn’t be close enough - even had you melded into one you would still want more of him. 

You spread your legs wide, angling your hips so his body hit your exposed clit with every thrust, and bucked into him, desperately. He changed his thrusts to a more rolling motion, rubbing into you.  

“Yes... Like that...” you barely managed. 

There was a commotion, a loud clanking, crashing sound and some yelling outside. 

“Astarion!” you heard Wyll’s voice just outside the tent, shortly after.  

"Fuck,” Astarion growled under his breath. “Three minutes!” he shouted. 

Three minutes? Then again, you didn’t think you were going to last even another minute. 

Astarion covered your mouth with his hand as his hips continued to relentlessly grind you into the floor of his tent. Your whimpers grew more drawn out until your body stilled before breaking into tremors emanating from your hips, as he continued to fuck you. You were holding on to his back for dear life, bringing your legs up to wrap tightly around his hips, moaning into his hand as you came. 

Immediately, he changed his rolling thrusts to something frantic, grabbing your hand and bringing it over your head, and catching your knee at his elbow and bringing it up with his other arm. He buried his face in your neck, moaning, his thrusts becoming harder, faster, until he slammed his hips into you with a final groan, his cock twitching as he spilled inside you. 

“Astarion! This is urgent!” you heard Wyll again.  

“He’s coming!” you yelled, exasperated, before you realised what you’d said.  

Your words were greeted with a momentary silence, then the sound of Karlach laughing somewhat off in the distance.  

Astarion was also laughing into your neck, his shoulders shaking even as he delivered his final thrusts. 

“That was-” he panted between laughter, “the sloppiest... most unimaginative... objectively worst sex I've ever had.” 

“And subjectively..?” you asked, also starting to laugh as you came off the sudden high that had overtaken you.  

“I wouldn’t mind waking up to something like that every day for the rest of my life,” he said, lifting his head and looking at you. 

“That can be arranged,” you purred. 

There was that little frown again, as he cocked an eyebrow at you.  

“We could always die today,” you shrugged. 

“Funny...” he said. “Anyway... Good luck with this giant mess I left between your legs. I better go see what is so godsdamn important.” 

Bonus scene: 

“What do you mean, I’m the only adult here that knows how to manage a needle and thread?! And how do you even rip a bag of holding..?!” 

“Astarion, our fate is in your hands.” 

“No, you can carry your own shit from here on. I’m fine with just my weapons and the clothes on my back.” 

“We need you, Astarion!” 

“At least get rid of all the junk, what do we need a dozen goblin scimitars for, they’re not even worth anything!” 

“Save us, Astarion!” 

“Rotten carrots, rusty tongs... Is that literally just a rock?” 

“Save us, 239-year-old vampire that can sew!”  

Sigh... Astarion observed the torn bag with a resigned look.  

“...Would you mind mending Clive as well, while you’ve got the kit out..? He’s been through hell and back. And looks it.” 

“Yes, Karlach, I’ll fix up your teddy bear too...” 

~~~~~ 

Mark me as yours - fic re the following day

I have a whole series with these two, check it out

AO3

#astarion #bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 smut #astarion smut #astarion x reader #astarion x tav #bg3 fanfic #astarion fanfic #astarion romance

[cherry-leclerc]

method acting ☆ cl16

genre: series - humor, strangers to friends/roommates

word count: 5.1k

cherry here!... first req that turns into a mini series and I'M SO EXCITED. the idea was perfect and i really hope you all enjoy this little story based off one of the best films :) common changes and adjustments are made for the plot but HAPPY READING

*can you guess what film it's based off of? where the title originates from?

ch. one ch. two ch. three ch. four ch. five ch. six

Chapter 1

Life, as you fear, is falling apart as you're confronted with a serious case of writer's block that puts your career on the line. As a solution, you're roommate helps you plan a solo trip to the Amalfi Coast for a much needed break but it doesn't take long for you to meet a certain Monegasque who lays passed out on the beach.

Parents know best - at least that’s what we’re all told growing up. How about bioengineering? Cardiothoracic surgeon? Architecture? With braces and a messy fishtail, you shake your head profusely as you clutch onto your notebook. 

"No. Journalism."

“Why didn’t I listen to my mom?” Groaning, you rub your tired hands all over your face as your roommate stares back, bewildered by your sudden frustration. 

“You’re telling me doing open heart surgery would have been better than writing an article?”

Aiming a pencil at her, you gasp as you cover your mouth and she squints her brown eyes at you. “I am so sorry!” Running up, you hug her desperately. “I’m just stressed, I’m stressed, I’m stressed!” You pull away. “I’m stressed.”

Amelia chuckles as she sits down on a stool, pointing for you to do the same. “You, my serial killer friend, need a break.” You frown at her choice of words. If I take a break then I’m going to get fired. She smiles brightly. “You won’t though.”

You can distinctively pinpoint the moment a ripped up journal turned into a laptop. It was senior year of highschool and you finally had the courage to confront your parents and tell them that you, if fact, were not joking about your bachelors in journalism.

"Darling, how will you make a living out of something like that?"

For a moment, her words had you second guessing your choices. Could she be onto something? Know something perhaps you don’t? The older, the wiser, no? 

But you had already applied - it was done. So you tipped your head firmly, clicked your tongue against your straight teeth, and smiled.

"I’ll find a way."

You moan softly as you hit your forehead with the palm of your hand. “What I would give to just be an elementary school teacher…Grading papers, cute kids-”

“Shit everywhere, tantrums, headaches, signs of early aging - oh God - receding hairline!” Amelia pales as she scrunches her nose in disgust. “Nightmare.” The blonde reaches for your hands, intertwining her fingers into yours. “But this is your dream, it’s what you're good at. Don’t let a little writer's block scare you away.”

-

“Goodness gracious! Are you alright?” Lucy’s southern accent surprises you as you fix your crutches. The older lady had been working at the famous magazine company since you can remember, always a cheerful receptionist. Loud, too. 

You wince. “Oh, you know…clumsy me?” 

"Eleanor is never going to let me take a vacation. I would have to die first."

Amelia’s eyes twinkle deviously. 

"Then that’s what we’ll do."

"Die?"

“It’s okay, I could open it myself,” you yelp as Lucy swings the door to your boss’ office. Let me, she insists as she pushes you in. Tumbling, you hurry to fix your posture as you nervously giggle, beady eyes staring back at your rude interruption. “I had no idea you were in the middle of a meeting.”

Eleanor and a crowded room all look you up and down before she sighs. “You’re already here, what is it that you need?” You shudder at her cold tone.

“I- uh- I mean, if it’s possible, I was t-thinking I could maybe get a m-m-month off?”

Oh no, someone whispers as they catch the editor-in-cheifs face change. Your stomach drops. Or not, I’m fine! The gray haired lady stands up as she tauntingly makes her way over, circling you like a hungry lion. “And why do you need a month off?”

“Doctor’s orders?”

She hums, analyzing your casted leg and left arm. “I’m sure you can type with your right hand. Off you go.” You blink. Once she takes a seat, she narrows her eyes again. “I said you can go.”

“Of course. Have a nice day.”

"She’s going to see right through me," you repeat for the millionth time as Amelia's boyfriend, Roman, works on the fake casts. 

She groans. "With that attitude she will! Get it together. You have to stand your ground and don't dare walk out of that office without a month off."

Terrified of your best friend, you nod. "Thank you again for this future doc, hope you don’t get fired."

He pales. "The things we do for the people we love, am I right?" Amelia blushes.

Letting out a shaky breath, you brace yourself before tripping and falling straight onto your back. The whole room gasps in shock as Eleanor stares back with a bored expression. Shit, are you okay? Peeking with one eye, you catch Grayson - Eleanor’s son - staring back with a helpful hand. 

He had always been nice to you, bringing you coffee whenever he was around. Sometimes he even helped you brainstorm new ideas. Your heart rate accelerates as you struggle to get up. Mother, she can’t be working in this condition. She huffs as she waves her hand in dismissal, Dior bracelets clicking against one another. 

A month. That’s it.

“Thank you,” you whisper as he helps you into your overly priced Uber. He tilts his head, slowly tracing your features.

“You're lying, aren’t you?” He signals at your poorly done cast. 

“I c-can explain-”

He laughs. “Your secret's safe with me.” Reaching over, he buckles you. Your breath hitches. “Enjoy your time off. I’ll be waiting for you.”

-

“I’ll be waiting for you!” You swoon as you retell your embarrassing story to the cozy couple who cuddle on the couch like proud parents. 

Amelia claps. “He’s the one! I feel it!” Roman scoffs. Settle down, daydreamers. Your friend slaps his hand. “Debbie Downer.” You giggle as she wiggles her eyebrows. “So…what are you going to do now that you're free?”

You tap your chin. “Um, probably write.”

Her smile falls. “This is the whole reason we even did any of this! For you to not think and just enjoy yourself!” 

Her boyfriend nods, floppy hair bouncing up and down. “Yeah, I didn’t go through all that,” he signals to the casts that lay by the doorway, “Just for you to lay around doing what you always do.” He stands up to grab an apple. “Travel, I’m serious.”

-

Amalfi Coast. It called you poor in seven different languages as you tug your suitcase into your AirBnB. Amelia and Roman had sat through 8 hours of planning everything, detail and safety included. 

"Oh, click that one!" Roman tsks his tongue as his fingers slide against the keypad. The blonde beams. "That’s perfect!"

"Perfectly out of my range," you sigh as you slap it shut. "I’ll die homeless if I stay there." The couple share a silent look before returning their attention.

"Well, we were thinking… " the brunette starts before your friend cuts him off, jumping up and down on his lap. He groans. 

"Sorry, honey, but anyways, we’ll pay for it!" Your jaw drops as you wave your finger, shutting down the idea.

"There’s no way I’m going to let you guys do that-"

"Okay, maybe not all, but at least a good chunk of it," she butts in as Roman stays with a soft smile. "Isn’t that right? " He nods.

"Take it as an early birthday present," he adds. Your chest tightens at their kind gesture.

"That’s still a lot of money." You grow light headed.

"Then no birthday presents for two years," Amelia squeaks as she grabs your hands over the coffee table. "Just don’t say no, you need this." You debate inside your head for a few minutes before letting out a shaky breath.

"No birthday presents for the rest of my life and we have ourselves a deal."

Which is how you landed in one the most beautiful homes you think you will ever see in your entire life. You can’t even pretend to try and fit in because everything seems to make your eyes pop out of their sockets. 

After a bit of unpacking, your sweet tooth gets the best out of you as you grab your purse and head out the door. You can’t help but take pictures at almost everything you see, but everyone was doing the same so there couldn’t be too much judgment. Paying for your lemon sorbet, you hum constantly as you stare into the ocean. The breeze was warm, but not obnoxiously so. The rocks underneath you tickle slightly as you get comfortable. 

Then you hear it, light snores. Startled, you turn over as you catch a man sleeping, arm laying over his stomach. You think about maybe moving location but when he releases soft whimpers, you find yourself growing sympathetic. What if he was in trouble? You couldn’t let a person die if they were three feet away from you. Hesitantly, you crawl your way over as you tap his leg.

“Ciao,” you say, but you can only catch his nose scrunching up since he had a hat laying over him, covering his mysterious features. Biting down on your lip, you dig your finger harder. “Ciaooo.” Sitting up abruptly, he groans, shoulder bumping against your cone. You yelp before pouting at your treat melting all over the surface. 

“Oh merda, colpa mia,” he apologizes as soon as he notices your gloomy mood. “Posso comprartene un altro se vuoi, ti prometto che non sono un serial killer-” Like a cat being bathed, you jump up high as you create a large distance. 

“Serial killer?” you squeal. He catches onto your accent swiftly as he waved his hands in defense. 

“I’m not! I’m not!” You eyed him suspiciously, chest heaving heavily. “I was offering to buy you another cone and saying that I’m not a sick serial killer, that’s all…” He signals to your desert. “I feel bad.”

Releasing a soft breath of relief, you smile politely. “Don’t worry about it. I was just trying to see if you were okay, you were kind of…” You theatrically twitch as he chuckles. Your cheeks burn up at the sound. 

“I’m fine, thank you.” A beat. “Sort of.” Softly narrowed eyes stare back at him. Do you need anything? He winces at the bright sun. “I feel a bit sick, if I’m being honest.” He zigzags a bit before falling straight into the rocks, painful grunts following. You shriek as you run over, flipping him onto his back.

“Holy fuck, holy fuck.” Other than a cut up lip, he’s fine, but he groans like there’s no tomorrow. Rightfully so, you start panicking as you dab his bottom lip with the hem of your shirt, then you remove his hat.

“Don’t!” But you’re already tossing it over your shoulder as you analyze his bruised up cheek. 

Green eyes look into yours as you stop breathing. His eyes are sensitive, like some sort of past soulmate, if you believe in that type of bullshit. His hair is rusty brown, long strands hitting up to his lashes. His nose is slightly pointy and it’s worse that they’ve always been your favorite kind. Lip swollen from his clumsiness, but a natural pink. Freckles and moles sprinkle along his face. 

Scooting away, he raises finger over his lips, cryptically telling you to hush. Confused, you lay your palm against his cheekbone. “You need to see a doctor.” Now he becomes visibly bewildered as he cocks his head to the side. You don’t know who I am? Flushed, you extend your hand, introducing yourself. “And you are?”

The brunette lets out an unhinged laugh as his large hand swallows yours. “Charles, I- I m-my name is Charles.” Dimples pop up from how wide he’s smiling, and that almost leaves you gasping for air. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Likewise.” Then he grabs his head in discomfort. “Seriously though, you need to see a doctor.” No, he starts. You roll your eyes. “Fine, a medico or whatever you want to call it.” Helping him up, he leans against you as you wheeze.

“I’m perfectly fine, I just need to sleep.” He pants against your head, catching a whiff of your shampoo scent. “Pretty,” he mumbles. You blush harder. “Do you think you can take me to the nearest hotel?”

“I don’t know if that's such a good idea,” you mutter. “Don’t take it the wrong way, but I don’t know you at all.” He shyly nods before removing his arm away from your figure, and all of a sudden it’s cold. 

“I get it, don’t worry.” The green eyed boy waves goodbye before stumbling away. 

You have always been a bit of a people pleaser, one of your many flaws. Amelia and Roman had always called you out on it, stopping you from making stupid decisions.

But Amelia and Roman weren't here.

“Wait.” Charles turns around, loopy eyes squinting at your blurry physique. Making your way over, you take his arm and place it over you. “You can stay with me, I’m just up that hill.”

-

“You can’t be helping out boujee vagrants,” your friends scold you over the phone as you grimace. “Why would you do that?”

You nibble on your painted nail. “I felt bad…” 

Roman snickers before coming into frame. “What if he’s some kind of maniac?” Like a child, you shake your head.

“He said he wasn’t!”

The couple groan at your naiveness. “Boy, let’s just trust everyone we meet then!” The blonde pushes her face directly onto the screen. “You need to slap him awake and kick him out.” 

But there was something so peaceful and homey about the way Charles was sleeping, covered like a butterfly in a cocoon. His chest rises up and down as he occasionally reaches for the other pillow, bringing towards his chest. With one last glaze, you leave the bedroom.

“I can’t do that to him. He was in really bad shape, you should have seen him.”

God can’t even help her, Roman grunts before strolling away. Amelia sighs. “Listen, I know you’re just being a good person, but you don’t even know this guy. We just want you to be safe.” I know, you mumble, chewing on your hoodie’s string. She tips her head. “Let him stay the night if you want, but tomorrow, he leaves. I’m not playing around.”

“Tomorrow,” you reassure her before hanging up. 

-

He had slept for a day and a half and you were starting to get worried but after contemplating throwing his body over the balcony, he was stretching like a newborn baby. “That was the best nap I’ve had in years.” You chuckle awkwardly at the stranger.

“That was most definitely not a nap.” 

He smiles. “Did you sleep well?”

“So good,” you respond quickly and he would have settled with that if it weren’t for your dark under eyes.

“Shit, you haven’t slept?” 

“I did, I promise!” Green eyes reflect intently as you crumble. “Okay, I didn’t, but it was only for two days.” Two? You cringe. “There was just one bed and I didn’t know whether you were-” You trail off. 

“Wasn’t what?”

Maroon paints your cheekbones. “A psycho killer…” You can tell he’s offended by the way he rubs the tip of his nose, as if he’s trying to ease the tension.

“I’m not the Monster of Florence or anything like that,” he mutters as you begin to apologize, watching as he sits far enough away just in case you feel the need to bolt out the door. “But I understand why you don’t trust me. We don’t know each other…So, why don’t we work on that?”

It takes about an hour for him to tell you what he considers the basics about his entire persona, and you rant about your upbringing. He frowns.

“That must have sucked. Not having parents who believe in you.” You flinch at his truthful words.

“I think they’re starting to get it,” you pathetically try but even he can see right through your weak excuse. Focusing your attention onto your twiddling thumbs, you exhale. “How did your parents react when you told them you wanted to be a mechanic?”

The Monegasque seems stunned for a nanosecond before munching on a blueberry and crossing his arms. “Their only priority was for me to be happy and doing what I love.” You smile sadly.

“Are you happy? Do you love it?”

“It’s my favorite thing in the world.” 

You feel a giggle bubbling inside your throat with the way he speaks about his job, but then you’d be doing the exact same thing that others do to you. He coughs. “So tell me, you really faked an injury?”

Your stomach hurts from how much Charles was making you laugh and before either of you knew it, the sun had set. “Did we really just waste an entire day?” 

“I don’t see it as wasting my day. I really like talking to you.”

Forcing yourself to look away, you untuck your legs from underneath your butt. “Wanna grab something to eat?”

There’s a comfortable silence that lingers between you both as you walk the busy streets of Amalfi. “Do you really need to wear a beanie? It’s burning hot.” Looking around, he shrugs and continues walking. 

You settled on sharing a plate of pasta since it was almost bedtime and neither of you weren't that hungry. “Good, right?” he questions the moment you shut your eyes about the delicious taste. You hum. 

“Free orgasm right here.”

Choking on his food, he quickly takes a sip of water as you smack his back. “I think I’m good now,” he squeaks as you smile timidly. You can feel the way he judges you as you devour your fair share, but you can’t help it. Connecting your gaze to his, he looks away as he drops his fork against the fancy plate. “Thank you for letting me stay the night.”

“Oh. Yeah, no problem.”

The brunette chews on his bottom lip. “It was nice getting to know you, really.” You blink back dazed as he continues. “I hope you enjoy the rest of your trip.”

“You’re leaving?” Even your inquiry shocks you as he smiles back warmly. I don’t want to interrupt. You’re looking for peace, remember? Trying to think of a quick enough excuse, you say, “Having someone to keep me company doesn’t sound like the worst thing in the world. I-I mean if you’re not busy.”

Under the table, you were crossing your fingers as he took in your offer. The brunette nods. “I guess it could be fun.”

-

“You did the right thing,” Amelia congratulates you the next time you call her. “Rather be safe than sorry.” 

Just then, Charles walks in with a bag of peaches, grinning proudly as he makes his way over. “Agreed. Listen Amelia, I have to go. Adventure awaits! Tell Roman that I miss him! Talk to you later!” Hanging up, you greet your roommate. Awkwardly, he passes you the juicy fruit. 

“Friend back home?” You hum, biting down. Taking a bite of his own, he bows his head. “You miss your boyfriend?” You stop chewing.

“Boyfriend? Oh, you mean Roman?” He clenches his jaw, then relaxes. You cackle loudly. “He’s my best friend's boyfriend,” you clarify. “We’re close - all of us.” 

“Oh.” Tossing the seed away, he rises up to his full height. “Wanna see something cool?”

-

“You got insurance?” you joke as he covers your eyes, leading you mysteriously. You’re not going to get hurt or die if that’s what you’re worried about. You giggle. Okay, we’re here. Removing his hands, you take a minute to adjust your eyesight. “What the fu-”

“Cool, right?”

You scoff. “Cool? This is beautiful.” Running over to the cherry red Ferrari, you reach out before turning back to the 26 year old. He nods. Delicately, you brush your hand against the leather seats. “Where did you get this?” 

“I know a guy.”

“Mafia leader?” 

“Ha-ha,” he mocks as he unlocks it, going in to open the door. “Hop in.”

Humid wind sends your hair flying as you let out loud shrieks from the speed. You don’t know how he found such an isolated spot, but you don’t ask questions with how much you enjoy the thrill. “Again, again!” you cheer as he does professional donuts. The car comes to a halt as you fling forward and he stays as straight as can be. 

“How about I teach you?”

“Okay, put the car in gear.” Following instructions, you listen attentively. “Turn the wheel and floor it, but make sure to be alert and keep your foot on the brake just in case.” Swinging harshly, you let out a scream. “It’s okay, try again.”

After a while, you still couldn’t get it down and your frustration was starting to show. But he was patient, spilling out different versions of advice. Twist sharply. Biting on your bottom lip, you huff before trying again. His words circle your mind as you drive the Ferrari straight ahead before turning the wheel and pressing down on the gas. Your adrenaline picks up when you realize what you had just done.

“That was perfect!” Raising his hand out for a high five, you squeal as you smack it hard. He hisses, but you’re on a roll. 

“Hold on, Charles, you're in for a ride.”

Though his car is moving fast, the Monegasque feels as if he’s stuck in slow motion as he admires the way you control the Ferrari. He'd be lying if he said he didn’t find any of this attractive. It took you a while, sure, but your determination got to him as he kept his eyes trained on you, peeking over at you where you sat mumbling the steps over and over. Arms maneuvering the wheel flawlessly, knotted hair fanning your face. Stepping on the break, he barely has a moment to react before he slams right onto the dashboard. You wince.

“I should have warned you, crap! But you were doing so good! Your head would not move an inch.” Admiration paints your voice. Embarrassed, he rubs his temple.

“I got a bit distracted, but I’m fine.”

“Okay,” you mumble skeptically. Honking the prancing horse, you turn to him with a Cheshire Cat grin. “How about a drink, professor? My treat.”

-

“What’s the occasion?” the bartender asks as he fills two glasses of whiskey. I can do donuts now, you brag. His brows raise up in shock. “That’s impressive. It takes a good person to teach you.”

“It does, but lucky for me, I got it.” Discreetly you point over at Charles who sits with yet another baseball hat. “He’s pretty great.” The man's face drops as he leans against the table, getting closer to you.

“I’d say so! That’s Charles Leclerc.” Flabbergasted as to how he knows his name, you take the two drinks and raise them up as a silent thank you. “Free drinks on me if you need anymore, amore!”

On the way back to the small table, you ponder on the weird encounter. Had they met before? Perhaps Charles had fixed his car or something along the lines. Grazie, the Monegasque smiles as he takes a sip of the cool drink. You do the same, wide eyes shining at the taste. “Holy crap, this is good.” Swallowing the rest of the golden liquid, you signal at the bartender for the rest of the bottle. Nodding, he brings it over as Charles lowers his head, green eyes trained on his lap.

“It’s somehow sweet,” you narrate as you serve yourself another. “More?” He shakes his head, wavy hair following his movement. It’s the Italian charm. You hum against your cup. “Must be. Tastes like paradise.”

It’s safe to say that you were obsessed the minute you started growing tipsy. Squinting at the squawking girl who was pouring her heart out on the stage, microphone in hand, you snap your fingers loudly, jumping up. That. I want to do that! Your travel buddy chuckles. “You do?” 

“Of course I do. Plus, my voice is all warmed up.” Massaging your throat, you march over at the little old lady who plays the tarnished piano. “Potrei cantare dopo?” She nods kindly before wrapping up the song. I have another one in me, the girl yelps as her friends pull her off stage. 

“Oh great, a drunk removed for another drunk,” someone shouts out when you stumble on stage. 

“Hey. Blame the delicious drinks!” Flipping through the book, you narrow your eyes. “This one,” you cheer excitedly as you whisper into her ear. She beams. No one ever asks for that one! Practicing against the keys, she nods as you twirl your way back on stage. 

All eyes are on you as you play with the hem of your mini dress. Normally, you’d be a nervous wreck, and maybe the liquor helped, but you weren’t afraid of making a fool out of yourself. 

“You got a fast car, I want a ticket to anywhere. Maybe we make a deal, maybe together we can get somewhere.” Soft keys echo through the small bar - for sure a guitar would have been better, but something about the familiar instrument makes Charles feel cozy as he listens to your voice. It isn’t perfect - you were drunk after all - but it was enough to make everyone listen closely like you were some divine object. 

Swaying, with you smiling sheepishly as you move your eyes through the crowd of strangers, and you’re glad the green eyed boy isn’t one of them. Is it fast enough so we can fly away? The brunette  grins at you as you spin in your dress, ponytail fluttering like grass in the gentle breeze. 

“So I remember we were driving, driving in your car. Speed so fast, I felt like I was drunk. City lights lay out before us, and your arm felt nice wrapped ‘round my shoulder.”

There is some sort of unexplainable shift inside of you as you feel yourself sober up with his intense stare. His brows are drawn softly, listening to your sweet voice, as if you would disintegrate and never be seen or heard of again. A click - you just clicked.

“And I had a feeling that I belonged. I had a feeling I could be someone.”

-

Kicking the door wide open, Charles carries you in as he settles you on the bed. You flop around like a fish out their tank for good measure, then pout, bare feet pressing up against his clothed abs. He halts. “I need to change…take off all my makeup...” All of it, you mouth, droopy eyes struggling to stay open. 

“I can get you what you need.” Last time he dug through a girl's suitcase, on a mission to find all her essentials, he had a girlfriend. Pushing away his thoughts, he jogs back over to your limp body. “Okay, here you-” 

Curled up like a rolly polly, you breath gently as you sleep. The 26 year old isn’t too surprised, but rather confused. Does he just leave you now? Pacing the room, he nibbled down on his nails as he weighed his options. He could let you sleep peacefully and possibly get a beating in the morning for leaving you to rot with all the nastiness or he could get it done quick - not look twice - and maybe still get a beating.

“I’ll be fast,” he mutters to himself as he grabs your makeup wipes. He tries to be as ginger about it, a cool towel erasing your light makeup. As soon as you scrunch your face up like a baby rabbit, he stops and rushes away. Good enough.

Now comes the complicated part. Slip the dress off, change her into her jammies. Easy peasy. But the more he thinks about it, the more he’s unsure. One night with your outside clothes won’t kill you. 

“Take it off, Charles, please,” you grumble as you tug on your dress. His Adam's Apple bobs up and down with panic as he nods to himself. Green eyes flicker the room before they land on his t-shirt. Oversized - would cover you whole - fast. 

As if he’s being chased down by the police, he runs over and in a quick motion, slides your dress off before tugging his shirt over your head, dropping your passed out body onto the bed and throwing the duvets over you. Grazie, you murmur from underneath as he sighs.

“Don’t mention it.”

-

“Fucking hell,” you groan, clearly feeling the awful hangover. After promising to never drink again, you rub your eyes as you yawn, focus becoming drawn to the black shirt. Your stomach drops. No, no, no. Hurrying to look for your phone, you quickly unlock it before freezing.

Who is Charlz Leclerk? You can’t even recall when you must've searched this up, but Google definitely understood your investigation.

"Tell me, Nico," you pout as you take a sip of your whiskey as you wait for Charles to come out of the bathroom. "How do you know my friend's name?"

He beams excitedly. “Amore! He’s…” Blinking harshly, you try your best to listen and read his lips as he makes funny hand gestures. For a second, you swore he was swerving an invisible car. Waving his hand, he laughs. "Look him up."

Monegasque racing driver; Formula One; Currently racing for Scuderia Ferrari. 

“What?” you whisper as you throw your phone away, eyeing it like the plague. No. Charles was a mechanic - a mechanic, for god sakes. 

“Oh good, you’re awake.” He tosses you a paper bag. “It’s a sandwich. Eat.”

How can he even look at you and act like everything is okay? Did he do anything wrong? No, not really, but why would he keep this from you? You’re surprised to find yourself feeling hurt by his secretive actions as he stares back innocently. 

“Is it not good?” he questions when you chomp down sadly. It is, you reassure with a mouthful. “Hey, I was thinking we could go for a swim. The weather is nice out.”

“Mhmm,” you respond meekly. “Is it okay if I meet you there? I-I was thinking I could rinse my body first.” 

The brunette nods. “I can wait for you.”

“No!” You blush at your eager tone. “We’ll just meet up.” Okay? Grabbing his things and yours, he strolls out the door, but not before gifting you a small wink. Call me if you get lost. “Asshole!” you cry out as he chuckles, slamming the door behind him.

In a matter of seconds, you’re already dialing work. “Lucy! Is Eleanor there?” Sweetheart, how are you? How’s the leg? The arm? Do you need me to- “I’m fine. Can you connect me to Eleanor, it’s urgent.” The older lady giggles as she switches you over. 

“This better be good.”

Clearing your throat, you fiddle with the hem of his shirt. “I have an exclusive.” 

Eleanor’s rich and elegant voice scoffs. “What about your arm?”

“Like you said,” you hum. “I still got my right one."

#charles leclerc #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc smut #charles leclerc ferrari #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc fluff #charles leclerc f1 #charles leclerc angst #charles leclerc series #scuderia ferrari #charles leclerc blurb #formula 1 #charles leclerc x female reader #f1 imagine #f1 #f1 x reader #charles leclerc imagines #charles leclerc drabble #f1 smut #f1 fanfic #f1 x female reader #f1 x y/n #f1 x you #cl16 #cl16 x reader #cl16 imagine #cl16 x y/n #formula one

[twentyninth]

☆ ❝ 𝐬'𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐲 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐫𝐲 ❞ ⋆ genshin x reader

synopsis. general nsfw hcs with wrio (i deleted the anon ask that asked this im so sorry aaahhh

warnings. 18+, nsfw, hair pulling, dacryphilia (the title, come on), threesome mentions

author's note. i saw a fanart about wriolette on tiktok so i had inspiration to answer the ask huhu

pairings. wriothesley x gn!reader (sub & dom!wrio + sub & dom!reader)

wriothesley has a habit of pulling your hair as he pounds his member inside you, and if you've really been that naughty, he'll make you read or help him with a few documents while holding your hips down onto his shaft, forcing you to take him all in :x

oh but don't get me wrong, he likes his hair getting pulled as well, or just like, play with it while he's giving you head cause i think personally he'd be into that.

has a thing for marking you one hundred percent, can't look at me in the eyes and say to me he wouldn't (probably unaware of when he does and how he does too i swear, will apologize afterwards lol)

unintentionally pushes your head while you suck him off, just feels that good.

^^ probably girth > length, like he'd be a good 5.5 inches when soft, maybe 6.5 inches when hard, 3 inches wide but hey yk its curved to the right a little so maybe its a bit longer than we think

likes eye contact while doing allat to you, thinks it's romantic an would like to keep his eyes locked with yours while you both feel pleasure

i think he'd also like quickies, but only when he's in a certain mood; that mood being stressed out or mad. like just quickly eats you out before going back to work

unknowingly and doesn't notice he goes too rough, although when you mention it, he'll try to slow down. keyword: try

lets neuvillette join in on the fun :p i don't have anything to add on to that

both probably really into double penetration too, so mmf ngh to them iykwim, they both get to have fun (or atleast one of neuvi's cocks bc personally i think he has two)

ok later on for neuvillette hcs, aside that,

erm, i think he'd personally have a size kink, whether it'd be you being smaller than him or larger and taller, either way he's like 'meow >_<'

giddy schoolgirl wriothesley when it comes to his s/o who's taller and stronger than him and can sweep him off his feet like a little princess

aside that again im getting carried away

he definitely has a temp(erature) kink, that cryo vision not there for nothing !!!!

uses his cryo powers to see you squirm on his lap while he signs a few stacks of paperwork, maybe even cockwarm him a little

aye to the sub wriothesley fans this one's for you; he def likes being pulled by a chain, i'm just saying i don't know man, consider the thought (he has literal chains on his outfit), and with that in mind, maybe getting handcuffed (you handcuff him) doesn't sound too bad

at first look, he's not a begger, like you look at him and probably think "why would he beg"

he begs no joke

will personally get on his knees, hell even all 4s if he that desperate to let him hit

even if he's not the one getting his back blown out he still louderrr than you are,

+ he's all for teasing, and overstimulation

i like to think he's just sooo whiny for you to just take it down your throat already seeing you just teasing his tip with small licks before taking it into your mouth, brushing your fingers against the base and to the shaft every now and then

more of a 'i'll eat my cum right back out you after releasing my load inside you' but he doesn't mind fingering your and his mixed liquids out your hole

idk im alreay burnt out and out of ideas

yippee!! jjk nsfw hcs soon :p

#⤷ ﹒ ໒꒰ྀི´ ˘ ` ꒱ྀིა beep beep: a finished show! ♡ #genshin impact smut #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact scenarios #genshin impact imagines #genshin drabbles #genshin fanfic #genshin headcanons #genshin smut #genshin imagines #genshin impact x you #genshin sub smut #genshin x gn reader #genshin x reader #genshin x you #sub genshin #wriothesley #wriothesley x reader #wriothesley x you #wriothesley x y/n #wriothesley smut

[il-miele-che-scrive]

Charles Leclerc x princess of Monaco reader

When their relationship gets discovered by the public eye, it's starting to get a bit chaotic. Contrary to [Y/n]'s worries, people react positively and start to even wonder if Charles is going to become an actual prince of Monaco.

words count: 3.6k

cursive is for memories

As I was finishing writing this last night, I've received such a fun idea for rivals to lovers for reader x Charles, so you know what fic to expect next;)

The Princess

Keeping your relationship private isn't an easy thing when you're royalty, the literal princess of Monaco, and your boyfriend is a famous Formula One driver. But somewhat [Y/n] and Charles managed to remain private until their engagement.

Of course, there were theories and people were suspecting it. Both [Y/n] and Charles were from Monaco and single for a suspiciously long period of time, so rumours were writing itself.

It wasn't that weird when it came to the princess being single, at first people even speculated about her preparing for some political marriage that would be beneficial for her country. However, Charles had quite the reputation when it came to dating, so fans were pretty surprised he 'stayed single' for so long.

Everything cleared up and fans' theories became reality, when [Y/n] and Charles were caught sneaking out of one parisian restaurant through the back door. It was the evening that Charles had proposed to [Y/n] and she wanted it to be officially announced on the next day, but unfortunately they were noticed by some paparazzi.

"I knew we weren't going to keep it this way forever," [Y/n] sighed, seated in the passenger seat of Charles' Rolls Royce Wraith, "but I wanted it to be officially announced."

"Don't worry, love." Charles assured, putting his right hand on the woman's thigh. His left hand was on the steering wheel, controlling the car at a speed that had surpassed the legal limit some time ago. "We might not have control over how the news got out, but it doesn't matter, people's opinions don't matter."

"True, but I hope the official announcement won't be overshadowed by the media's articles. You know how they are."

"And what if it does? The only thing that matters to me is our love, I don't care if people that I don't even know approve or not."

The night air whispered against the windows as they sped through the city, the glow of streetlights reflecting inside the car. They were already far from the center of Paris, no paparazzi in sight anymore.

As they reached the destination, which was a mansion located in a secluded place, Charles got out of the car and rushed to open the door for [Y/n].

"Thank you, love." [Y/n] smiled, stepping out of the vehicle. "I'm sorry this had to end with us evacuating like that."

"It's no problem at all, I'm quite used to the spotlight, nothing new for me." Charles joked, walking alongside his now fiancée towards the door of the building.

"I was hoping it wouldn't be like this. I mean, Nikolai has a pretty normal life in Australia, people don't stalk him wherever he goes. In Sydney he isn't Nikolai the prince of Denmark, he's just a normal person. I thought I could be the same in Paris."

"Chérie, as much as I love you, I cannot agree with you. I think there is a small difference between Paris and Sydney," Charles laughed.

They entered the mansion, the opulence of the surroundings contrasting with the night's earlier events. The warmth of the mansion was a contrast to the moments they had just left behind.

As they settled into a cosy sitting room, [Y/n] asked her maid to bring a bottle of champagne.

"Maybe I should leave my royal title." [Y/n] wondered out loud. "There were cases in which the royals left their titles to marry someone."

"No," Charles shook his head, "I would never forgive myself if you made this decision solely based on tonight. I think partially the fault is also mine, don't forget I drive in Formula One."

The maid returned with a chilled bottle of champagne, uncorking it as [Y/n] and Charles continued their conversation.

"Thank you," [Y/n] smiled at the maid and then shifted her focus back to Charles. "I appreciate your concern, Charles, but it's not just about tonight. I love you, and I want to be with you, but sometimes, I wish we could escape the constant judgement. I don't want my title to affect you in bad ways."

Charles reached for her hand. "I get it, [Y/n]. And I admire you for even considering it. But I fell in love with you, the princess, just as much as I did with [Y/n], the person. Your title is a part of who you are and I wouldn't want you to give that up for me."

"I just wish we could have a life where we're not constantly under the public microscope."

"Then we'll find a way to make it work. We'll create our own story, one that is above the titles and the fame. [Y/n], I've just proposed to you tonight. I wouldn't have done it if I wasn't ready for everything it brings into my life."

They continued to enjoy the evening while the flickering flames in the fireplace cast a warm glow over the room. The world outside seemed distant.

In that moment it was just Charles and [Y/n], two people deeply in love. Not 'the princess and the Formule Ona driver'. Inside the walls of [Y/n]'s family's mansion, they were just normal people.

On the next day, as [Y/n] and Charles had woken up, the media was already filled with rumours about them. It seemed as if the whole world was talking about last night.

"I contacted my spokeswoman," [Y/n] announced to Charles as they sat down to breakfast. "Our engagement will be officially announced as soon as possible, apparently the statement has been ready for a few months now."

Charles couldn't help but let out an amused chuckle slip out of his mouth. "A few months? Were they predicting our engagement?"

[Y/n] joined in his laughter, shaking her head. "Oh, they're always prepared for anything."

"How did your parents react? Have you spoken to them?"

"Well, it'll be the time for you to meet them. I've been postponing it, but now we're engaged and it can't be avoided."

"I've been telling you I should meet them already. I don't want them to think it was me who didn't want to do it."

"I told them I didn't want to jinx it!"

"Well, I've been practicing my royal etiquette. It time to make a use out of it."

"You'll be just fine, Charles. Just be yourself." [Y/n] giggled. "You know, in their eyes you're one of the best candidates."

Formula One was important for Monaco and Monaco was important for Formula One, so when [Y/n]'s parents found out she's dating a driver, a monégasque one, they were very content.

Unfortunately, there were some issues the couple was about to face. Being engaged didn't bring any legal responsibilities, however once they get married, things could change.

[Y/n] and Charles landed in Monaco in a private jet chartered for them. They were greeted by a big crowd of people eager to know the whole story.

"We aren't supposed to give impromptu interviews." [Y/n] said quietly, walking down the stairs from the plane.

Charles, a few steps behind her, replied with a mischievous grin, "Why not? It would be fun. Spontaneity can be good for us."

As they stepped off the plane, they began to walk side by side. Charles offered his arm to [Y/n], who gracefully looped her hand around his forearm.

"My spokeswoman advised this to me." [Y/n] answered. What she didn't mention was that her spokeswoman was worried about Charles saying something inappropriate.

The couple continued their walk with smiles on their faces. [Y/n] occassionaly waved at someone. It was a bit windy that day and she was thankful for wearing a long dress that day, because it wasn't that easy to be lifted up by the wind.

Somehow, their attention was then captured by a friendly-looking journalist who approached with a warm smile. [Y/n] gestured to the bodyguard, who Charles thought was unnecessary, indicating that they were willing to engage in a brief conversation.

"Princess [Y/n], Mr. Leclerc, thank you for sparing a moment." The woman began, without even introducing herself. "The world is eager to hear more about your engagement. Everyone is curious how did you manage to keep the relationship a secret for so long."

Charles and [Y/n] exchanged a brief glance.

Then [Y/n] decided to speak. "We just valued our privacy and wanted to savor the moments without external pressures. We're grateful for the time we had to get to know each other and form a connection away from the spotlight."

The journalist continued with the next question. "And what made you decide to go public with the engagement now?"

"We literally got engaged last night." Charles admitted with a playful smile. "We planned to announce it a little later, but we were seen anyway, so thought why not."

"Many people are already speculating about the wedding. Can you give us any hints about when and where it might take place?"

[Y/n], maintaining a diplomatic demeanor, responded. "We're still in the early stages of planning. When we have the details, we'll share them with everyone."

The woman didn't seem satisfied with the princess' reply. She decided to shift her attention completely to Charles. "And, Charles, as you might know, people have been calling you the unofficial prince of Monaco for years and now you're about to marry into the royal family."

Charles, caught off guard by the unexpected question, scratched the back of his head with a sheepish grin. "Well, unofficial prince or not, I don't think anyone would want me leading official ceremonies. I'm more comfortable behind the wheel of a racing car than in any royal procession."

The journalist chuckled at his candid response, appreciating the touch of humor to the so far serious interview. [Y/n] smiled lightly, but deep down she was worried about how the public might perceive Charles's.

Noticing [Y/n]'s concern, Charles quickly added with a playful wink. "But who knows? Maybe I'll become the first prince who can pull off a pit stop during a royal banquet."

"One last question. Do you think there will be any changes in your career, induced the responsibilities that come with being part of a royal family? For example, princess [Y/n]'s grandmother had to leave her Hollywood dream."

"Marrying into the royal family is a bit like joining a new team, isn't it?" Charles joked, searching for a proper answer in his mind. "But seriously, I don't see myself giving up my racing career. It's my passion and I'm lucky to have the support of [Y/n] and her family in pursuing it."

[Y/n] decided to chime in. "It's a unique situation and we'll try to find the balance between Charles' racing career and any new royal responsibilities."

Charles and [Y/n], having left the interview behind, found the car that was supposed to take them straight to [Y/n]'s parents' palace. Charles opened the door for [Y/n] and soon after that the both of them were sitting in the back of the car.

The car moved smoothly through the small city and thankfully the windows in the back were darkened, so that the couple could feel more comfortable. Charles couldn't ignore the quiet need for the driver's seat. The engine's sound and the familiarity of the steering wheel, and the city outside the vehicle, held a certain comfort that the backseat couldn't quite provide.

He stole a glance at [Y/n], her hand still intertwined with his. "You know, love, I can't stop thinking about how much I'd rather be driving right now. No offense to our chauffeur, of course."

The man in the driver's seat took a glance at Charles through the rearview mirror, smiling sympathetically.

[Y/n], with a smile, leaned closer to Charles. "I know, I know, but this way it's more official. You'll have opportunities to be the driver."

The chauffeur, overhearing their banter, chimed in. "I'd be happy to trade places with you, Mr. Leclerc, but I doubt the palace would approve."

Being reffered to as 'Mr. Leclerc' was another thing Charles had to get used to. For most of the time to people, to fans , journalists and others he was just Charles. Or Leclerc. And now people began to put 'mister' in front of his name.

The trio shared a light laugh as the car came to a stop in front of [Y/n]'s parents' palace. After stepping out of the vehicle, Charles and [Y/n] approached the entrance of the building and the man could feel some stress appearing in his body.

He wasn't stressing before at all. But now the reality of the situation hit him with full force. He was meeting his future wife's parents. Not only this, but also they were royalty.

Holy shit, Charles was about to marry into royalty.

The couple was holding hands, so [Y/n] could feel Charles' hand starting to lightly shake.

"I told you, you have nothing to worry about." [Y/n] assured, trying to calm his nerves.

"Easy to say," Charles said, a hint of anxiety in his voice, "your parents are, like, the most important people in Monaco."

"And? You as well. Fans have been referring to you as the prince of Monaco for years, think about it this way."

The palace doors opened, revealing a grand foyer. The couple stepped inside, entering a world of regality. It was this moment when Charles realized how real it all was. The anxiety lingered, but he found a remedy for it in [Y/n]'s presence.

The couple was walked into the drawing room. Charles glanced at [Y/n], who gave him an encouraging smile, and for a moment it was just the two of them. Not for long, however. Their little moment was interrupted by the arrival of [Y/n]'s parents.

"Mother, father," [Y/n] gracefully curtsied.

"Your majesties, it's an honor." Charles greeted, bowing his head.

By the time [Y/n] came back from her curtsy and Charles looked up, [Y/f/n] was extending his arm towards the man, offering a handshake. Charles respectufully accepted the gesture.

As their hands met, Charles decided to introduce himself. "Charles Leclerc," he said, being cut off before he could say more.

"Our national treasure, indeed. We're well acquainted with your accomplishments."

The room echoed with a shared laughter, breaking the ice and setting the tone for a lighter conversation. It was something that eased Charles' nerves. Of course, he still had to follow the etiquette, but [Y/f/n]'s remark made the situation feel less formal. After all, royalty is people as well.

The conversation smoothly continued as both the couples sat down on the elegant, antique sofas.

"And how did you two figure out 'this is it'?" [Y/m/n] inquired with a playful twinkle in her eye. "I don't think you've told me this story, [Y/n]."

"Of course, it started when we met at the race in Monaco a few years ago." [Y/n] smiled at the memory.

It was the first Monaco Grand Prix that [Y/n] attended, four years ago. Accompanied by friends, [Y/n] made a casual appearance in the paddock for media purposes, not initially a fan of Formula One. However, that day changed everything.

Their eyes met for seconds, but it was enough for Charles to get enchanted by [Y/n]. Her smile, her eyes, the way she moved so gracefully. They met again the same day after the race, when [Y/n] took her time to pay a visit into every garage.

"Mate, I'm telling you, shoot your shot." Sebastian encouraged his teammate. "Everyone on the grid can see the way you look at each other."

"Are you kidding?" Charles refused. "She's royalty. What would I even say?"

"Come on, you're not just anyone. You're Charles Leclerc. I'm sure she wouldn't refuse a date."

Charles couldn't help but chuckle at Sebastian's persistence. "Seb, she's a princess. I can't just approach her like it's not a big deal."

"It is not a big deal, though!"

"What if I make a fool out of myself?"

And so, the worries won that time. Charles, scared of embarrassing himself, barely made any conversation with the princess when she approached the Ferrari garage.

He waited a year, because a princess is not someome you can just hit up on social media. He waited a year, hoping she will visit the paddock again. She did, but unfortunately with a man. She was in a relationship with a prince, exactly the way royalty works.

Discouraged, Charles decided to give up on her, eventually finding himself in a relationship with someone else as well. The irony struck him when [Y/n] was single again a year later. Of course, he couldn't make any move, being in a relationship himself.

Maybe if he was single at the time, he would have finally found the courage to have a private conversation with the princess. He felt as if he missed out and he hated himself for having these thoughts.

One more year had passed and eventually the both of them found themselves single by the time of the Monaco Grand Prix. Charles didn't hold back and this time started a conversation with the princess.

"Your royal highness," he greeted, "fancy meeting you here again. Although you do seem lonely."

It was a fact. [Y/n] indeed came to the Grand Prix alone that year. Without a boyfriend, obviously due to the breakup, and also without her friends.

"Well, you've caught me," [Y/n] chuckled, "attenting the Grand Prix by my lonesome. I must admit, the prince was never a fan."

"Oh, and why is that?"

"He was an average insecure man. According to him, I am a fan just because you drivers are physically attractive." [Y/n] stopped herself from smiling after that sentence. After all, there was a bit of truth in this in her case.

"Well, aren't we?" Charles opted for a cheeky question.

"Touché." The smile creeped up onto the princess' face by itself. "I suppose there's some truth to his observations."

"And what exactly would a princess like yourself do in the case of getting asked for a deliberate encounter?"

"Are you suggesting something?" [Y/n]'s eyes sparkled with a hint of mischief.

"Yes, what do you say to a more intentional rendezvous, perhaps over dinner?"

[Y/n]'s smile widened, and she nodded. "Hmm, that sounds like a rather bold move. But I must admit, I appreciate boldness. Dinner it is."

And that was basically how their romance unfolded. Both [Y/n] and Charles were grateful for the way the events played out. Charles found in [Y/n] not just a princess but a person in whom he could find solace and support, and [Y/n] discovered in Charles a partner who liked her for more than her royal status.

The engagement, announced under unexpected circumstances, only strenghtened their commitment to each other. Not a long time after, the day of their wedding came.

The ceremony took place in the Saint Nicholas Cathedral and was attended by, first and foremost, the families of both the bride and the groom, by other members of royalty, and also by Charles' fellow drivers, principals of the teams, a lot of people related to Charles' 'workplace' in general.

[Y/n] walked down the aisle, holding the arm of her father. The moment important in the royal tradition. Charles, waiting at the altar, couldn't help but marvel at the sight of his soon-to-be wife. Her white dress highlighted her grace, making Charles question if he's actually worthy of being her husband.

The vows they exchanged were personal and heartfelt, expressing their love, talking about their past, including a promise to grow old together.

The reception was held at the palace. The couple danced their first dance as husband and wife, surrounded by the music of a live orchestra. A bit later, it was the time to socialize with the guests.

"You did end up as the prince of Monaco, after all." Charles' friend, Pierre, joked, recalling the nickname made up by fans.

Charles chuckled at Pierre's comment. "The people have manifested it. But I wouldn't have it any other way."

Esteban joined the laughter, adding with a grin, "Should we start addressing you as your royal highness now?"

The groom playfully rolled his eyes. "Let's not get ahead of ourselves. I'm still the same old Charles, just with a fancy title."

In the same moment the groom was having a chat with his friends, [Y/n] made her way toward his younger brother, Arthur, who served as the best man at the wedding.

"Princess [Y/n]!" Arthur said, raising his glass in a greeting. "Quite the celebration, isn't it?"

"It is, indeed," [Y/n] replied, smiling, "and your speech made it even better."

"Thank you, I tried my best. It was my first time and the huge amount of guests didn't make it better."

"You did wonderful regardless." She paused. "And, by the way, there's no need for formalities, we're family now. Call me just [Y/n]."

"Deal, [Y/n]," he clinked his glass with hers, "and, if Charles ever does anything to upset you, let me know. I'll try to put him in his place. He is really lucky to have you."

"Hopefully I'll never have to take you up on that offer," she giggled.

"I have a feeling you two are going to have an amazing life together."

The night continued with celebrations, toasts, music inside the walls of the enchanting palace. The newlyweds were happy to share this moment with all the people they had invited.

A few hours into the celebration, so late at night it could be as well called morning, [Y/n] and Charles found themselves swaying to a slow song.

"How are you enjoying the celebration, my prince?" [Y/n] whispered, audibly just for her husband.

Charles' smile reflected the happiness in his heart. "I couldn't have asked for more. One of my biggest dreams came true."

"One of them? What are the other big ones?"

"Becoming the world champion." He chuckled. "Do you even know me at all?"

[Y/n] playfully rolled her eyes. "I was hoping for some more romantic goal."

"I didn't say I'd trade you for the championship, did I?"

"I know you wouldn't." She paused. "One step at a time, Charlie. You'll be the first prince to win it."

#f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #formula 1 x reader #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc one shot #charles leclerc imagine

[weirdkpopgirl]

Cute | Haechan Imagine #9

Title: Cute

Genre: Fluff

Warnings: none really

Word Count: 668

Author's Note: I can clearly envision Haechan in a scenario like this. To be honest he's one of my favorite members from 7Dream to write for, and I'm glad to post more content of him on this blog. I'm sorry this imagine is kinda short and I personally don't think it's that great. But it was coming up with the idea was still fun. Hope you guys like it ^ ^

‧₊˚ ✩°｡⋆♡ ⋆˙⟡♡ ⋆˙⟡♡⋆˙⟡♡⋆˙⟡♡⋆˙⟡♡⋆˙⟡♡⋆˙⟡♡⋆˙⟡♡⋆˙⟡♡⋆˙⟡♡⋆˙⟡♡⋆｡°✩˚₊‧

“You fell for me because I was cute?!”

The incredulity in his tone prompted you to blink in confusion, putting a brief pause to the mindless play with Haechan’s fingers. You sat nestled at the edge of the couch, cozied up between his legs as your back was supported by his steadily rising chest.

Your head turned slightly to meet his equally bewildered gaze. The expression he wore resembled that of someone who had just been deeply offended. This wasn’t exactly the reaction you anticipated when answering how you came to develop feelings for your boyfriend.

“Is that a problem?” you asked him skeptically. The male scratched his head with a sheepish smile on his face.

“No, I’m just surprised,” he replied, extending his hand to gesture with his fingers.“So let me get this straight. You didn’t like me for being handsome, cool, smart, or even funny. Instead, it was because I was cute?”

A soft chuckle escaped you, now amused by how he was in such disbelief. You sat up a little to face him better, so you could explain. “Well if we’re talking about first impressions, I found you kind of annoying because you were loud and joked around a lot.”

“Hey—” he started to protest before you held your pointer finger up to signal you had more to say.

“But I think it was the day you came alone to the cafê I was working at,” you continued, trying to recall the memory. “And remember how you got a brain freeze because you drank the smoothie I made for you too quickly? I don’t know, I just thought you looked cute.”

The boy beside you then covered his face with his hands, muttering, “Okay now that’s just embarrassing.”

Out of all his noteworthy moments that could have sparked interest in him, it was the one where he looked like an idiot.

You suppressed a chuckle, and gently brought his hands into yours. “Wait, I’m not finished yet.”

His deep brown eyes met yours, brimming with a blend of innocence and sulkiness. Gosh, he was even more endearing when he wasn’t trying to be. A warm smile stretched across your lips.

“It took about three months into our relationship for me to figure out that I loved you,” you admitted softly, nervously playing with his fingers again. “I realized that we’re both kind of emotionally closed off to people around us. But neither of us is afraid to be vulnerable with each other.”

Haechan could see the sparkle in your eyes as you expressed your fondness for him, and suddenly his eyes also glistened with emotion. 

“What is this? You weren’t supposed to get so serious,” he chuckled nervously.

A faint blush appeared across your cheeks, as you wiped the first tear from his cheek. Honestly, your heartstrings were also being tugged as you reminisced the memory of falling in love with Haechan.

“It’s true though. I’m so blessed to have you in my life, Hyuck.”

The tenderness in your voice only heightened his emotions. Sighing, he leaned his head back on the couch, trying to stop the tears from flowing. “Baby, if you say one more sweet thing, I might just burst,” he joked.

You couldn’t help but laugh at his dramatics, the warmth continuing to fill the atmosphere. Gently, you brought his face to your level and planted a soft peck on his lips.

“Was that okay?” you asked playfully, already anticipating the teasing you were about to receive from him.

Unexpectedly, however, Haechan blinked at you for a few seconds as if he were in a daze. Then without further hesitation, he pulled you closer and crashed you into a longer, hungrier kiss that poured out all the love and emotion he felt in that moment. As you melted into each other’s embrace, you were once again reassured that the two of you were meant for each other.

Sigh. Haechan really was the cutest.

‧₊˚ ✩°｡⋆♡ ⋆˙⟡♡ ⋆˙⟡♡⋆˙⟡♡⋆˙⟡♡⋆˙⟡♡⋆˙⟡♡⋆˙⟡♡⋆˙⟡♡⋆˙⟡♡⋆˙⟡♡⋆˙⟡♡⋆｡°✩˚₊‧

previous masterlist -> current masterlist

#nct dream #nctzen #kpop #czennie #nct dream imagines #nct dream fluff #nct dream scenarios #nct 127 #nct 127 fluff #nct 127 imagines #haechan imagines #haechan #haechan scenarios #haechan x reader #haechan fluff

[enditen]

birds of a feather

summary: a bit of understandable anger toward your fiancé for— in your eyes— unwise decisions leads to hurt feelings and avoidance. thankfully, the two of you come back together in the most interesting of places.

word count: 4090ish.

rating: m

warnings: public sexual acts. talk of death ( rooster's, goose's and carole's ). angst. two adults being stubborn fools. talk about breasts. talk about ruining hawaiian shirts and dress whites. kind of playing around with naval deployments and what not.

pairing: bradley ( rooster ) bradshaw x female reader ( callsign vulture )

author's note: hi, first fic in this fandom that was simply supposed to be hot titty fucking with a title of a tit for a cock and then turned into 4k of angst then some titty fucking. some of you might recognize me from another fandom on here on tumblr to which if you do, hi y'all. also i feel like i missed tags and i'm sorry about that. assuming i write more for this because i've gotten over my nervousness i'll learn. and special thanks to @blurredcolour for being a little cheerleader

You’re beginning to wonder if there’s just something about Maverick that just turns everyone around him a bit stupid. You like to think that most of the team surrounding your fiancé aren’t idiots and yet there you were being proven completely wrong as you listened to Bradley explain what exactly had happened on the mission.



“That’s not what he meant when he said don’t think!” You remembered screaming into the phone, knowing fully well that while Mav was his own special brand of stupid- and deliriously lucky he wasn’t the same level of pure unadulterated idiocy Bradley was displaying.

“It worked out!” Was somehow his raspy defense and it had taken all your self control to not hang up the phone right then and there, the sheer unmitigated aggravation seeping through your pores As it stood, what you did end up doing was letting out the world’s most put upon sigh as you rolled your eyes.



“You’re just lucky Mav didn’t have to bury another bird.” At Rooster’s sharp inhale you started to speak again. “I didn’t mean it— I’m just—”



“No. I get it, Vulture,” he spat out your callsign, a definite sign that he’s pissed and you had struck a nerve you honestly shouldn’t have right in that moment before you heard something in the background. “You don’t have to come get me, I’ll get home fine.”



The silence after he hung up feels almost as all consuming as the idea of him dying was.

It’s always been a thing that when one of you comes back from deployment or from a mission or from visiting friends who are stationed somewhere else that you pick one another up. Some of your friends call it silly, but for you and Rooster it works. You’ve always wanted to be together all the time but at the same time— when opportunities present themselves you’ve never been the type to ignore them. Hell, even if you wanted to, the other one would just argue against ignoring the opportunity. That’s why you found yourself here, waiting for Rooster to come back from what should have been a mission he didn’t come back from. What was almost a mission he didn’t come back from. You wonder if this is how his mom felt with his father and if the reason she never wanted him to become a pilot like this is to avoid anyone else having her fate. You see Rooster walking with Hangman and are about to lean out of the car to tell him to get his ass in the car before he sees you through your windshield. The look he gives you is one of aggravation and hurt that you’ve so rarely seen on his face that it practically pins you to your seat in the car. You've seen those brown eyes look at you with so much love and you've made jokes comparing them to warm chocolate more than once but in this moment— all they do is remind you of a hardened and unbreakable tree.



He shakes his head before turning to keep talking to Hangman, laughing at some probable dumb joke the man said and you swear your stomach drops through the floor of the car. You hadn’t thought he was serious about not wanting you to come get him and here he was getting into someone else’s car to go— home? Maybe, or maybe he was going to crash on Hangman’s couch or find— no. No, for all that Rooster was angry with the slip of your tongue he would never cheat on you. He loves you in a way that makes other people sick and makes Maverick and Penny tell you that yeah, you kind of remind them of his dad and Carole.



Still, he’s never been this angry at you and that terrifies you in ways that you can’t put into words. You’ve flown dangerous missions that didn’t terrify you as much as the look on Rooster’s face did right in that moment. After what feels like hours, but is only really ten minutes you pull out of the area you were parked in and head home. You don’t realize Hangman hasn’t left and that Rooster watches you leave from his side of the truck. 



“She couldn’t have done anything that bad, man.” Jake tries to reason as he puts the truck in reverse. 



“You don’t know her like I do," he scoffs, shaking his head and slipping on his aviators. "I forgot why she’s called Vulture. Just— Just drive.”

You suppose it's a mercy that you see Rooster the next morning, making coffee as if he didn't break your tradition with one glance through a car windshield. Suppose you should be thankful he's back home and in your kitchen and not back home in a casket, but you've never been one to allow yourself simple pleasures like that when you're hurt. When your heart's twisted into the version of itself that only releases anger and toxic fumes to push away everyone you hold dear.



That anger has your mouth moving before your brain can catch up and make you see sense. All you know is that the man you love hasn't said one word to you since that phone call and he's only making one cup of coffee and not two. Another tradition broken and you can only see red.



"Are you ignoring me?" You ask the moment he turns around, sipping his coffee without seemingly a care in the world.



Bradley isn't necessarily the more verbose out of the two of you, but he's never particularly short with you. Today is the exception, much like everything about the past two days.



"No." A pause as he sets down his coffee cup and you see a bit of coffee clinging to his upper lip and that stupid little mustache you've grown to love over the years. "Maybe."



"Maybe," you parrot, moving over to where he's standing and watching as he moves just far enough away to allow you to grab your own cup and your own specific pod to make your coffee. "You nearly die, I say something stupid and now you're acting like a moody teenager. Cute, Roo."



Roo. Not even Rooster and certainly not his name because he certainly doesn't deserve it in this moment. You watches as his eyes drift over your body, noting how you're wearing one of his favorite Hawaiian shirts with the top buttons unbuttoned, revealing skin that normally he'd have covered in kisses a thousand times over since he returned last night. Instead it's unmarred by his lips and teeth and you're as vicious as can be. Two can play that game. Two can be childish.



"I'm sorry, something stupid. No— no, you didn't say something stupid. You said something cruel. That's a big difference, babe. One is normal, the other is you reminding me that I could have left you alone just like my mom was. Like that didn't go through my head. Like Maverick didn't tell me that much while we were heading back. "



A laugh erupts from deep inside your chest as you turn to look at Rooster. "Did it really go through your head? Did you think I'm throwing away my life with Vulture because I need to save someone who ruined parts of my life? Or did your brain get scrambled from the G's?"



You watch as eyes that you love start to fill with something resembling tears as his hand clenches the coffee cup. He loves you, he knows that to be a simple fact. He loves you. His father loved him and his mother. Mav loves him and loved his father and his mother. And you love him. In this moment though, that last one feels like a joke, feels like a dagger twisting in his chest. Maybe you don't love him if this is what you want to spew at him. You're a woman who should have had a callsign of Viper but only gets Vulture because you can handle things other people couldn't. You take care of things other people wouldn't or couldn't. He supposes you taking on all of those things is what makes you the way you are.



"It's what my dad would have done," he forces the words out and tries to not cry because you know what that means to him. You know know better than anyone. "I was his wingman."



"And what about my wingman, Bradley?" Your question comes out softer than you mean it to even as you slam your coffee pod into the machine. Somehow tears start to tease the edge of your eye line. "You were just going to leave me without mine. You really are your father's son. Guess I should be happy we don't have a little you running around. That's a little too on the nose."



The slam of the coffee cup startles you more than anything you've thought was possible in that moment and yet without missing a beat you turn to face Rooster once again in time for you to see angry tears falling from his eyes. "I'm not doing this. You're— I didn't leave you. You're not having to bury me and you're not having to be by my side as I bury the closest thing I have to a father now. That is what should matter. Not what I did. What I know you would have done for some people. What you'd have done for Phoenix alone. I'm here in our kitchen wearing my engagement ring and you're just wearing my shirt and not sobbing into it because it's the closest thing that smells like me. Let it go." He takes a moment to take a shaky breath and starts to move toward you. "I made a mistake but I don't regret it. Let. It. Go."



If you were younger, if you were the same girl Rooster met all those years ago you'd have taken your ring off and slammed it on the counter right next to his coffee cup in a fit of anger. You're older now, same as Bradley and you stop yourself even as your hand inches toward your ring finger. Bradley's always been taller than you unless you're in heels and it forces you to look up at him. "You forget who you're wanting to marry, Bradshaw. I'm— I'm not letting this go. Just— you know what, sleep on the couch, do whatever. I don't care— you're not sleeping in our bed. Especially if you want to act like I meant to say what I said in the first place. You want to ignore me? Fine. Then do that."



You see Bradley's jaw tense, and watch the way it moves as you normally would enjoy before he speaks. "Wasn't planning on sleeping there for a while anyway. Enjoy your coffee, Y/N."

Ever since you had started dating, you and Bradley had talked every single day. No matter the fight, no matter what happened between you two you would never let something like this drag on for so long. Life was short after all and you two were both vividly aware of that.



This time though, this time it drags on for two weeks and you have a half right mind to stand in front of Bradley until he talks until you realize from how even Phoenix looks at you while at the Hard Deck that it wouldn't help. It truthfully might make things worse. So you let him stew and he lets you stew. You miss him and you like to think he misses you but you're both very stubborn people who know how to hold grudges with the best of them.



It's strange, ignoring someone you love in your own house but sometimes you'd like to argue that you and Bradley are strange people. Normal most of the time but with those small little scars inside and out that make you do strange things. Strange things like make sure your dress whites are ready to go the day of what you think is a ceremony— honestly you hadn't paid attention for once to the notice. That's what you do with someone you love and someone you care about— not someone you're still so angry with that it hurts to talk to them.



You arrive separately to questioning looks from most of the Dagger Squad and Maverick but you both shrug and smile them off even as you stay apart most of the night. What you both don't realize is that the other is sneaking glances when one of you looks away. Your eyes take in the man who you think— you hope— is still going to be your future husband and bemoan the fact that he can't wear this uniform everywhere. There's something special about seeing him all dressed in white and looking every bit a dashing naval aviator.



His eyes? Oh, his eyes take in the woman he knows he's still going to marry if one of you would just break already. They take in you in white which you hate wearing because it shows off everything and stains and all those silly things you say. They take in how your jacket contains your chest but how the buttons strain just a little and how he knows that you're probably wearing a lace bra that he loves underneath it. He knows how that bra feels against his hands when he cups your breasts and squeezes them in his hands. Your chest is a work of art sometimes— all the time really and he hasn't touched in over two weeks.



Jake is the one who notices how Bradley's eyes haven't left you for a few minutes and notices how he's shifting in place— fidgeting in a way he's never seen him.



"She's been staring at you too," the blonde chuckles. "This is— This is every bad high school dance and military ball I've ever been to rolled into one. Go over to her, Rooster. Stop pining, man."



Bradley wants to defend himself but he turns to look at you again only to catch your eyes and how they slide down his body before stopping at his crotch and— he finds most logic and sense goes out the window. Like two magnets drawn to one another you both find yourselves by each other's sides, with hands grazing each other's hips.



"I—" He starts before you shake your head.



"I was being cruel. You've— We both know I get like that and I was terrified, Bradley. I saw our lives flashing before my eyes the second I found. It was gone in an instant. That doesn't excuse—" Your words are cut off with a soft kiss that you're both endlessly thankful no one sees.



"Babe. Trust me, I know I was an idiot and that same vision you had? Yeah, you weren't the only one. I swear I heard my mom and my dad yelling at me." His words are soft as he nuzzles his nose against yours, laughing softly when you scrunch up your nose because of his mustache. "I'm sorry."



You sniffle a little, partially to prevent a sneeze from his mustache hair and to cover up the fact that you're a little emotional. "I'm sorry too." You take a moment to look up meet his eyes only to see how his eyes are trained on your breasts. "Lieutenant Bradshaw, are you staring at my boobs in public? At a function?"



You watch as a light dusting of color reaches his cheeks before he bites his lips. "And if I am?"



A breath leaves your mouth slowly as you move the hand that's been on his hip toward the front of his dress pants, giggling softly at the slight hardness you feel. "I'd say you should stop unless you want me to take care of this in the bathroom."



His eyes dart around the room checking to see if anyone will notice you're both gone for a bit before he laughs. "Meet you there in five?"



You practically give yourself minor whiplash as you nod quickly. "Can I keep the bra on?"



His groan almost gives the two of you and your plans away.

The great thing, you think, about this bra, is that it makes it so easy to have Bradley stick his cock in between your breasts without taking it off. You know by the end he'll want it off, want to squeeze your breasts as he slides his cock in between them but in the beginning he's fine with this.



"I missed my girls," he groans as you press your arms against the side of your chest, pushing your breasts together even more. "Should— Should've gotten over myself and fucked you in my shirt that morning."



"You would have gotten come on your favorite Hawaiian shirt, Bradley," you try to reason with him even as your voice takes on an airy sort of quality the quicker your fingers move in between your legs. You should have taken off your pants but you realize it's a little too late for that now.



"We're probably getting come on our dress whites, babe." It's a joke but one that's likely very true from the way you can see his cock pulse and from the way your fingers— even through the articles of clothing you're wearing sound so obscene as they squelch and slide between your folds. "Would've made it better. Fuck, swear this bra does something to your tits."



"It's a bra? A dressy one? That's the point?" You can't help but giggle as he moves faster, his cock gilding against the soft skin of your breasts. "You getting close baby?"



"Lil bit," he grunts out, his hand moving to try and grasp at one of your nipples. "You wanna free them? Let your nipples join in on the fun?"



"You just wanna smear them with precome, Bradshaw, you're not slick." It's not a no, and your hands move to start undoing your bra even as you look up and see Bradley with the dumbest smirk you've ever seen him have. "Why are you—"



"You're slick though," he pulls his cock out from between your breasts and bends down to kiss you as your bra releases your breasts. "Bad—"



"Bad dirty dad joke," you cut him off with a fond shake of your head. "At least wait until we have a little birdy before you stoop that low."



A shrug is the only answer you get as he lines his cock up with your breasts and waits for you to press them together before saying a single phrase. "Sorry. It's in my blood."



You look up at him through your eyelashes and sigh, ignoring how your heart twists a little at the faked twinkle in those brown eyes of his. Instead you bend your head down just a little to lick a small kitten lick at the head of his cock. "Doomed to those jokes for the rest of my life as Mrs. Bradshaw. What have I done?"



A shudder ripples through him at your lick and he has to force himself to not come right then and there all over your perfectly made up face. He wants to though, wants to see you debauched like you should have been the second he came home and was alive and in your arms. He should have painted your face white. Should have made it so there was a stain on his favorite shirt that he'd wear proudly because it'd tell everyone how needy you two were for each other. It'd remind everyone that he's taken by the most vicious, intelligent, and vivacious woman he's ever met. It'd remind him that you missed him that much that you couldn't bear to be apart from some part of him for too long.



He didn't though and he can't right now but tonight when you're home and laying across your shared bed maybe he can do it then and watch as your lips try and lick bits off your face. The image he paints in his mind is something else and it has him clenching the fabric of your jacket before his own hands move to play with the tops of your breasts. The action earns a low whine from you, wanting more of his large hands on you, his thumbs playing with your nipples as he kisses you. You two have to make this quick though and it shows in how Bradley's thrusts increase in speed and how he motions for you to do something— anything— with your boobs and your hands until you finally catch onto his meaning.



"You are so boob drunk, Bradley," you mutter as your hand wraps around the part of his cock not between your breasts. With every thrust up you manage a lick or two just to tease him until you see his thrusts getting messier and less controlled.



A breathless low chuckle leaves him. "Nah, just you drunk. Fuck, babe, Y/N. I'm— let him go. Gonna—"



"Cum on them. Just cum on them. I'll wipe it off."



You look up with all the confidence in the world to see him with blown out pupils and a wet lips from where he's bitten them to keep quiet. "You su—" You cut him off with an almost violent nod that has the head of his cock brushing your chin as he does. "Okay okay."



What happens next is a flurry of limbs and grunts and low whines from you and Bradley as you chase your respective highs. Bradley comes first, hips stuttering, painting your chest with his cum, pearly white and just uncontrolled enough that some lands on your lips and chin and another bit lands on your dress shirt, narrowly avoiding your jacket. Your name falls from his lips easily as you look up at him, your fingers curling just so inside of you as he reaches out to cup your cheek his brown eyes so full of love, arousal and adoration that you come with a silent cry, your body threatening to fall forward from the sheer intensity but his strong hands are there to stop you.



You both lean back— him against the wall and you on your knees- catching your breath before he moves to grab paper towels, wetting them just enough for you to clean his release off of you. He embarrassingly lets out something close to a childish whine as he watches you lick the traces of come off your lips until you raise an eyebrow at him and his hardening cock.



"When we get home." You both manage to say at the same time before letting out matching peals of laughter. After a moment where you both can't keep a straight face Bradley starts to tuck himself inside his dress pants and you start to button your shirt back up before he pulls you up with an ease that marvels you even to this day. You feel the warmth of his large hand through your shirt as he straightens it out, making sure it's regulation ready. He winces at the slight stain of his come near your shoulder before remembering you still have to get your jacket on. His hands make quick work of the buttons and he notes with pride the only sliver of come one can see is easily explained away as water.



You can't help but bite your lip at Bradley when you see him looking down at you, inspecting his handiwork. Almost as if he realizes you're staring he meets your eyes and smiles this stupid half smile that makes his mustache look far cuter than it has any right to be and has his eyes dancing with mirth.



"Come on Lieutenant Bradshaw, they're gonna notice if we stay here," he tries to school his face into something resembling a serious look before he chuckles softly.



"Aye aye, Lieutenant Bradshaw." A pause. "You can't call me by your last name yet, you know."



He shrugs, unlocking the door as he wraps his arm around your waist. "I almost died. I can do it if I want. Besides, saw your thighs tense up."



You tamp down on the urge to slap his arm playfully as your own arm moves to snake around his waist. "You're lucky I love you."



"Yeah,' he stops right before you reach the door to reenter the hall and presses you just lightly against the wall. "I love you too."

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[msbigredmachine]

Here With Me - A Roman Reigns One-Shot

As the Bloodline Civil War takes an unexpected turn of events, Reader comes up with the perfect pick-me-up for her Tribal Chief. Post-Summerslam 2023.

PAIRING: Tribal Chief!Roman Reigns x OC

Warnings: SMUT

Word count: 6k 

A/N: Dido's "Here With Me" did so much for the writing of this that I had to name the fic after the song.

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

I’m startled awake by the door clicking shut, my eyes remaining closed as he walks into the bedroom of his penthouse suite. I’m laying on my side facing away from him, but he is clear as day in my mind's eye as he tosses the gold title belt on the sofa across the room. His beloved ula fula, the subject of heated combat tonight, follows. The mattress dips as he sits on his side of the bed, letting out a painful exhale. 

My eyes flicker to the digital clock on the nightstand. I returned to the suite right after the main event. It’s currently 1.30 am. I have no idea where he’s been for the last two hours, but I let it slide. He’s come back to me and that’s all that matters.

The pointed silence and the hairs that suddenly stand on the back of my neck tell me he’s staring at me. It’s confirmed when I feel his hand rest on my leg over the white sheets blanketing me. His usually assured, confident touch is sad and distracted. Even in the humming quiet, I can feel the turmoil brewing inside him and understandably so. 

The last few weeks have been a lot for him to take in. Getting pinned in London; tensions exploding in MSG; putting his entire legacy on the line against Jey in Orlando, and tonight, at Summerslam, victory at Tribal Combat. But it’s come at a price, as his family has all but disintegrated now. He is exhausted, physically and emotionally. I could see it in his eyes backstage after the match in spite of his best attempts to conceal his true feelings. For him, tonight’s win feels like a loss.

The second his hand slips away, I miss him. He stands up from the bed and heads to the bathroom. I twist around the bed to face the partially closed door, and hear the shower start. I wait for a while before getting up and making my way to him. His head snaps in my direction when I open the door.

“Babe?” he calls out.

“Yeah, it’s me. Don’t panic,” I try to joke, my smile faltering a little when he merely turns back around and faces the wall. I notice the still visible red marks on his broad back, imprints from the kendo stick and leather strap beatings he endured tonight.

"I'm sorry, I musta woke you," he says, as I pull off the baggy t-shirt that belongs to him over my head. I swap my silk bonnet for a shower cap and open the door to the enclosure. Stepping inside, I immediately jump away in alarm when the water beating down on him splashes onto my skin. It’s boiling hot. 

“Jesus, Ro! You tryin’ to cook yourself?” I exclaim, quickly grabbing the tap, my wrist frantically twisting the knob to adjust the temperature to a less dangerous degree. He hasn’t flinched once. I steer him away from the water, then slip around to his front and wrap him up in a hug that he clearly, desperately, needs. His body stiffens, hesitant at first, before he sags against me and locks his arms around my waist. His face is tucked in the crook of my neck, nestled comfortably like it belongs there. I can feel the weight of the world on his shoulders. 

“It’s okay. Just keep holding me until you’re ready,” I whisper, combing my fingers soothingly through damp strands of his hair as his grip on my waist remains tight. Being the macho hypermasculine entity that he is, I know he doesn’t like it when I see him like this. But relationships are about sticking together through the good times and the bad. I’ll always be there to see him through both.

“I coulda sworn you won your match tonight. What’s wrong?” I lure him in with a coaxing peck to his shoulder, hoping to quicken his response time.

After several seconds of hesitation, he gives in. “I warned them both,” he starts to vent. “I knew it would come to this. You saw for yourself tonight what happens when you become selfish and greedy. All I ever wanted to do was keep my family together, elevate them and their careers. Those two ingrates turned against me and made me out to be some kind of monster. Conspired with the Elders behind my back and questioned my place as the Head of the Table. Now they’re at each other’s throats and our entire family looks weak! I warned 'em, I told 'em-”

"Hey, hey, hey,” I gently shush him, lifting his face so our eyes meet. My heart sinks from how despondent he looks. “Breathe, baby, breathe. Deep breath.” I wait for him to do so, feeling his chest rise and fall against mine, inhaling and exhaling. But his mind is clearly still on his cousins. 

“This is all on them,” he continues. “They refused to see the big picture and now it’s gone to shit.” He licks his lips and his eyes are glazed. “The family wants me to intervene, but fuck that. Not after they tried to destroy everything I’ve worked my ass off for the last three years. As far as I’m concerned, they’re dead to me.”

"Don’t say that. Families fight all the time. It’s going to be fine,” I vow, even though I'm in no position to promise such a thing. “Come here." I gently prompt him to turn around, and watch for a few seconds as the less scalding shower stream pelts his shoulders with water. The tribal tattoo adorning the right side of his back is majestic and intimidating up close, and I never pass up the chance to idolize the intricate design. “I want you to relax for me, okay?”

He reaches out and braces his hands on the wall in front of him while I run mine up his back to slowly knead his shoulders, working the tense flesh. His muscles are tight and I do my best to ease them up with my amateur masseuse skills, gleefully aware that I love touching him anyway.

I move down to the middle of his back, and he starts to relax under my touch. As I’m about to retrace my route, I lean in and press soft kisses to his back right before massaging that same spot. Roman exhales again, suggesting he is calmer now, but only just. He’s a tough man to crack, so it feels good each time I become more conversant with his…complexities, if you will. Our relationship is relatively new…We only just met in February this year. I was not a wrestling fan growing up, but I’ve since plunged headfirst into the circus-like controlled chaos that only a pro wrestler is capable of living in. In my defense, it’s easy to dive in when it’s with a man as sweet, charming and criminally sexy as Roman Reigns. Of course, it’s not all rainbows and roses; his prolonged absences, our bitter exes and his psychotic fan girls spring to mind. But I won't change a thing as it’s only made us stronger together. Every day I wonder where he has been all my life, and I want to be with him forever. Yes. I’m in that tight of a chokehold. It’s a whole lot sexier when he’s actually doing the choking.

“You know, other people woulda buckled under the pressure and responsibility long ago. But here you are, standing tall despite the setbacks. That says a lot about you, big boy,” I say to him, my hands still at work. “You’re still the Champ, the longest reign in the last thirty plus years. The twins may have turned their backs on you, but best believe I won’t. I never will.”

Roman scoffs cynically and shakes his head. “Right. Everyone leaves me in the end. Seth. Mox. My ex-wife. Sami. Even Heyman abandoned me once. Now my own cousins.”

“Well, I ain’t none of them,” I answer smoothly, as he turns around to face me.

“I'm not a bad person, Y/N,” he insists, his eyes pleading, as though he’s desperate for me to believe him. I do. I take his hands in mine and stare into his chocolate-colored eyes. 

“I know you’re not. You’re not afraid to speak your mind, and you don’t take shit from nobody. You’re passionate and you stand your ground and fight for what’s yours. There’s nothing wrong with that at all. In fact, it’s sexy to me.”

His eyes twinkle mischievously at my choice of words. “Sexy, huh?”

“Mm-hmm. I’m learning a lot about this sweet, sexy man I’m sleeping with and falling in love with.”

The sudden silence that follows is amplified by the rush of the shower water. The look in Roman’s eyes is so intense that my knees grow weak. It’s not the most picture-perfect setting to utter the L word for the very first time, but witnessing first-hand the ferocity with which he defends his pride and his legacy has sparked a wave of awe and devotion and yes, love…through me that I can no longer keep to myself. 

"I'm sorry I came back so late. I needed to clear my head,” he says softly, his hand lifting to caress my cheek. The anger in his voice has disappeared, while his eyes and demeanor are much softer…My little declaration has penetrated his armor. He looks down sheepishly at his feet and wets his lips before speaking again. “I kinda feel like I’ve been neglecting you, too…” he adds.

He’s such a sweetheart. To be fair, he’s made up for it by flying me to London, New York and now Detroit to be with him. The beautiful part is, I know I’m not the only one in love…His actions and gestures lately have spoken volumes. But if he’s not ready to say it back, he doesn’t have to. I just need him to know that he has my heart and I’ll always be by his side no matter what. 

Pressing my body more firmly against his, my arms wind around his middle as I leave delicate licks and kisses all over his tattooed pec, right over the spot where his heart beats. I hope every day that it’s me his heart beats for. 

“I know how frustrated you are about what’s going on. It sucks to feel like you’re losing control,” I tell him, staring up at him through my long lashes. “I can do something for you, Daddy. I could give some control back to you. I can make you feel better,” I offer, my voice as soft and seductive and as enticing as what I’m proposing. My mouth applies more pressure to his wet skin, and his breath hitches when I suckle the shell of his earlobe. “However you want me tonight, you can take me. Just say the word and I’m all yours.” My hands slide down to scrape his firm backside, and his dick twitches between our naked bodies, the exact reaction I yearn for. 

For a long moment, he says nothing, only stares at me with his smoldering gaze. The energy simmers between us, and it boils over when he grabs my face and presses his lips to mine. Instantly my skin prickles and my heart pounds as we plunge headlong into each other. Our heads tilt from side to side, our tongues dance together as the water cascades around us, and I lose myself to the heat of our embrace. 

Feeling dastardly, I break the kiss to slip his finger into my mouth. My lips drag along his long index finger, keeping eye contact with him the entire time. I suck on it like I am sucking something else, bigger, and the memory has him groaning deeply, his erection straining impatiently against my belly.

“Get on your knees and do that with my dick,” he orders.

Now we’re talking.

Leaning in for one more kiss, I trail my tongue along his throat and down his torso until I’m kneeling on the tiled floor. I wrap my right hand around the base of his engorged dick and tug gently on it. He lets out a quiet whimper, and it is a massive turn-on to know I can elicit such a response from this specimen of a man. Watching him succumb to me is always sexy as hell.

His cock jumps in my grip when I roll my tongue around the tip. He inhales sharply, moving his hands behind my head, and squirms as I lavishly lick along the underside, teasing him. I luxuriate in his throaty groan as I then slowly make him disappear inside my mouth. I stroke and suck simultaneously, relaxing my throat to take him in deeper with every bob of my head.

"Fuck yeah," he pants, his fingers sinking into my scalp. “Suck my dick, beautiful. Don’t fuckin’ stop...”

Right now, I’m all about obeying Daddy. Staring up at him with hazy eyes, my tongue twirls around the base of his dick again before I switch to more intense suctions, my cheeks hollowing as my mouth glides hungrily up and down his entire length. His moans and gasps echo around the enclosure, causing my pussy to moisten and throb with lust. Gripping the back of my head, he holds me all the way down on him, my lips touching his pelvis. He withdraws and then pushes back in, rolling his hips to go even deeper down my throat. "Shit, your mouth feels so good, babe," he moans, a ravenous look in his eyes. My fingers slip underneath to play with his balls while I suck and tongue him down, and I’m rewarded with another desperate groan. I’m so aroused knowing I’m bringing him so much pleasure. 

Suddenly his pace quickens, his hips pumping, fucking my mouth more aggressively. Saliva spills down to my chin as his long, thick cock slides more easily in and out of my mouth. Roman lets out another moan before holding my head down again, exploding down my throat with a harsh grunt. He collapses against the shower wall, catching his breath as I pop him out of my mouth and pat his cock against my tongue. Once upon a time, I used to be uncomfortable letting my exes finish in my mouth. I talked about it with Roman, and he was fine with it. But there was something in me that wanted to please him to the fullest, and not long after our first time together, I changed my mind. It’s an experience I learned to fully commit to, and I haven’t looked back since.

"That was fuckin’ amazing. Come here," Roman lauds, tugging me up on my feet and sweeping his lips along mine. "I'm so glad you were awake." The timbre of his voice, deep and laden with desire, sprouts goosebumps all over my skin. 

"I don’t sleep as good without you," I reply, running my fingers again through his hair. He leans down and scoops my right breast into his mouth. I moan as the sensation zips straight to my loins. His hands glide down my back to squeeze and caress my ass. He keeps me tight against him, pressing himself firmly on my stomach. Feeling him so turned on sends more chills through my body. 

"You know we ain’t done, right?" he says, “We just gettin’ started, baby girl.”

"I hope so..." I reach behind him to turn off the shower. Handing him one of the bathrobes, I wrap myself in another one and open the shower door, taking his hand and leading him back to the bedroom.

We stand at the side of the bed and he undresses me, dragging the robe off my body. I can’t help but blush as he ogles me like he’s seeing me naked for the very first time. He cups my breasts, rolling them in his hands as he kisses me passionately. I tug his robe down his shoulders as I kiss him, my tongue bossily claiming every inch of his mouth as my own. His hands travel all over my naked body, heating me up with his stimulating caresses. He tells me all the time how much he loves my curves, but this is more than that. He’s prepping me for an onslaught. He is about to manhandle me like the sex god that he is, and my breathing quickens and my loins pool with anticipation.

Roman detaches his lips from mine out of nowhere, a devious smile on his gorgeous face. He shoves me onto the bed, flat on my back right on the edge with my legs spread. I can’t hold back my moan as he strokes his dick while stepping between my thighs. The sight of his muscular right arm flexing as his fingers strum his long, hard cock, makes my clit throb. 

Ever observant, Roman notices me staring and smiles smugly. “You like this baby? Want me to jack off for you?” he asks, tugging and smacking his dick a little harder, a bead of pre-cum oozing out the tip, and my thighs clamp together to relieve the maddening pressure between them.

“Dude, no! I want it in me,” I practically admonish him, almost offended that he thinks I want anything else. I’m about to bust right now just looking at him.

His smile widens, and he takes my knees and yanks them in opposite directions. He’s enjoying this, torturing me, making me beg for him. “My little slut is so needy. Don’t worry, baby, Daddy will give you what you want.”

As his face nears mine, I instinctively reach up to touch him, but he grabs my wrists and pushes them back down to the mattress above my head.

"Uh-uh. I got plans, baby girl," he informs me with a brief kiss. He searches around for what ends up being his bathrobe and draws the long white belt off, twisting it around his hands and tugging it ominously. We lock darkened eyes, and his tongue swishes hungrily across his lips.

“Gimme your hands.”

I obey. He takes my right hand first, and then my left, crossing my wrists together and winding the belt firmly around them, before pushing my hands back above my head. I’m flat on my back and all tied up with my ass halfway on the bed, legs spread, naked, cunt exposed and at his mercy. I love it. I love that he trusts me and is comfortable enough with me to explore his kinky side. I trust him, too. I’m proud to be the fucktoy of my Tribal Chief.

“Jesus, you’re so fuckin’ hot,” he groans, his eyes raking down my prone frame like he’s famished. My breath catches as I watch him tie his wet hair in his trademark man bun. Then, he bends down between my legs, breathes hard on my clit and then sticks his tongue out to lap at my folds. Right away my body jerks, blooming with sensual heat. He starts licking me with longer strokes, working his tongue all over the surface of my pussy lips, then he breaches, jabbing his tongue in and out of me with expert precision. The quiet of our room amplifies the erotic audio between us; my staccato breaths, his lazy slurping, my wet pussy splashing against his deadly tongue. Then, to murder me, he closes his mouth around my clit and starts sucking it lightly. That’s a big ass mouth, and it takes everything in me to not scream from how good he’s working me. He keeps glancing up at me; I know he’s getting off to my moans and my attempts to grind against his face. He takes me hostage, his muscled arms winding around my thighs to hold me down while he feasts. His soft groans against my flesh, the warmth of his breath, the scratch of his beard on my inner thighs…The combined stimulation is toe-curling, with wave after wave of pleasure bombarding me like a thunderstorm.

“Don’t come yet,” he instructs unexpectedly, and I’m about to cry. His mouth feels so damn good. He continues sucking and licking, wreaking havoc on my sensitive core. I grip the sheets tighter as my back arches off the bed. “Fuck, Roman, please!” I cry out, damn near begging for release.

Of course, my pleas are ignored. He twists his tongue inside me, gifting me with more strokes over my pussy and my engorged bundle. The decadent rhythm of his mouth and tongue on me is edging me dangerously closer to a mind blowing nut. Just when I’m certain I’m about to disobey him in the worst way, he pulls away, his full lips glossy and shining in the lonely lamplight by the bedside. I don’t know whether to be upset or relieved. He licks all the way up to my chest and clasps my left breast in his hand, worrying the sensitive nipple between his fingers while sucking my other breast in his mouth. 

"Imma fuck the shit outta you," he whispers to me in a rough and raspy voice, his dark eyes gleaming.

His promise is a direct hit to my groin. "Do it, Daddy. Do that shit," I gasp, squirming under his touch.

He brushes our mouths together, and I sigh softly as my own juices melt from his tongue onto mine. Roman stands upright at the bed’s edge, bends his knees and rubs the tip of his shaft along my slick, softened folds. He lunges forward in one fluid motion, his lips parting in a moan as he slowly slides inside me. I bite down on my bottom lip, my eyes glazing over with pleasure when he draws back out, leaving just the tip, before plunging in again with a sharp snap of his hips. It feels like the wind has been knocked out of me.

"I'm inside of you, baby. This what you want? Want me to take this pussy?" he asks with another deep thrust, his big dick nestled in my warm wetness, and it’s driving me wild.

"Yes, take your pussy Daddy, fuck me," I plead, my voice catching on the desire and lust washing over me. 

With that information, he hoists my legs onto his shoulders and picks up the pace, pushing in deeper and filling me to the brim like he always does. I’ve told him more than once that he belongs inside me, and the pure pleasure in his eyes every time we fuck says he agrees wholeheartedly.

"Shiiit, baby, right there, that feels so good…" I whine, feeling him nudge right up against my hilt. He pulls back for a second, and I watch as he holds my legs open and a thick glob of saliva spills from his mouth and onto my pussy. Before I can fully process this, he slams back into me, more easily now, snatching my breath from my lungs. His fingers grasp my hips as he pounds me, slow and balls-deep, to the point that I’m seeing stars. My restrained hands claw at the sheets above me, searching for some kind of leverage as he dicks me down. He has total control of my body and he’s using that power to make me take every inch of him, literally and otherwise. My eyes squeeze shut, mouth falling open as my chest begins to clog and my head begins spinning from his long, lethal strokes. 

His hulking upper body closes the space between us and descends on top of mine, bringing us chest to chest. "Breathe, sweetheart," he tells me, and on command, I draw in a raspy breath, alleviating the discomfort in my chest. His evil little smirk tells me he is enjoying every second of my agony. His arms stretch upwards, brushing over the cotton material of the belt securing my wrists and twining his fingers around mine. His muscles flex and ripple as he keeps pumping into me. He nuzzles the spot where my neck and shoulder meet and bites down on it, making me call out his name.

"Goddamn, this pussy good as fuck. Every damn time," he grunts. His hands tighten around mine as his pounding thrusts switch to salacious rolls of his hips, grinding deliciously against me while he swallows my moans, his tongue slipping inside my mouth for another hot, sloppy kiss. My legs wrap around his waist, my ankles locked behind his back to keep him to me. 

"Tell me again, baby. Tell me you love me,” he rasps in the middle of our intense kissing.

“I love you, Daddy, mmm,” I moan back, my heart pounding as hard as he is pounding me. It’s a stunning mix of the emotional high of love and the carnal rush of lust that I’ve never felt before with anyone else. 

“Yeah, you love me?” He searches my eyes, as engulfed in the throes of passion as I am.

“I do, Roman, I love you so fuckin’ much...unnhh my god…”

He has moved off of me, seizing my legs from around his waist and shoving my knees into the mattress. There’s no time to miss the warmth of his body as he’s back to his rough, brutal strokes, drilling me over and over, stuffing my pussy with his cock. It’s like the animal in him has been unleashed, months of family strife spilling over and transferred to me via his increasing aggressiveness. As my orgasm builds in my stomach, I flex against my restraints again, my fingers craving to dig into his skin, to sink into him the way he’s sinking into me. With one more suffocating thrust, I break at last, and my eyes roll into the back of my head, my moans ringing around the entire suite as I tremble beneath him. His arrogant chuckle tickles my ears, clearly reveling in the blissful state he’s put me in.

Before I can blink, he grabs my waist and flips me roughly onto my belly, bending me over the side of the bed. Hovering over me, he unties the belt binding my hands, and I assume I’m free. But then, he tugs both my arms behind my back and re-ties my wrists together. I’m still recovering from the shock of my orgasm and this new position when his dick slots back in my cunt, and my mind is wiped blank, a strangled moan escaping my lips. Roman gives a few short, stabbing thrusts inside me before finding a rhythm he enjoys.

"God, you feel fuckin’ amazing, baby, so tight and wet for me. Damn,” he hisses behind me. Using his right hand, he slaps my left ass cheek and jiggles it. I gasp from the pain and the pleasure, making my pussy squeeze around his dick with a force that has us both groaning. My fingers scrape against his pelvis as he keeps his momentum, sliding in and out of me, in and out. Oh, fuck, it feels sooo good! He’s so long and girthy that I feel like I’m being split open, but I melt into submission and take it like the fucktoy that I am. 

His husky groans are my soundtrack as he fucks me into the bed at a savage pace, having his way with me. Clutching my ass in large handfuls, he spreads my cheeks open and plunges his dick deeper inside me, forcing me up on the tips of my toes. Using his thumb to scoop up my juices, he circles it around the puckered hole of my second opening, a keening cry tumbles out of me and into the sheets as he pushes it deep into the tight entrance. 

“Too bad we forgot the lube, I’da fucked this pretty ass all night long,” he says with another slap on my backside, and I can only whimper in response. Pinned face-down to the sheets, I can feel all of it. His thumb fucking my asshole, his magic cock stretching my other hole wide open, his powerful tree trunk like legs barricading mine against the side of the bed. My body is so riled up that my pussy reacts by leaking all over his cock, the gush of my nectar sending a pleasurable sensation through us both. 

“Mm-hmm, make a mess on my dick, baby, keep comin’ all over it,” he taunts me. He lifts both my legs off the floor and onto the bed, arching my back and spreading my knees wide. From there, he wraps his hand around my hip, his fingers pressing into my flesh, and he rocks me back and forth on that big ass dick, making me move with him. We moan together at how good we’re making each other feel. Every sound resonates through my heated body; the inevitable squelches of my dripping cunt, our skins smacking lewdly together, our sex filling the air with a familiar primal scent that belongs to no one but us. 

My brain is on sensory overload as he speeds up his thrusts, his balls slapping against my clit as he hammers into my pussy with newfound aggression. The pressure is building inside me at a dizzying, alarming rate, so much so that I use my bound hands to push again at his lower abs. This time I succeed in pushing him off, but only for a second.

“What’chu doin’? Don’t run, c’mere,” he growls, sliding his dick back in me right before it slips out, and I cry out as he impales me hard on his shaft. He spanks my ass hard for my bad behavior. “I ain’t goin’ nowhere. Take this fuckin’ dick.” 

Seizing my wayward hand in one of his, he buries himself in me, deep-diving in my g-spot, making my walls contract around his dick again. My voice is all but gone, I’m that spent. But Roman wants more. He’s an expert at coaxing more out of me even when I have nothing left.

"Tell me who you belong to, huh. Who’s my slut?" he demands, giving my ass an underhand slap.

"I'm your slut," I slur.

"What’chu say?"

"I'm your slut, Daddy," I enunciate with great effort, inebriated in a cocktail of love and ecstasy.

Another stinging smack on my butt.

"Louder." 

"I'm your slut!" I bellow, my voice cut off when Roman pins me down by the back of my neck, my cheek pressed into the mattress. This forces a deeper arch in my back, opening me up to be plowed mercilessly by his dick. The pressure of his fingers on both sides of my throat has me struggling for breath. I’m high from overwhelming pleasure right now, and that menacing coil that’s been winding in my belly finally snaps again. 

“Ohmygod…ohmygod…fuck, fuck, fuck!” My body explodes again, and I’m shaking like I’ve been possessed by a supernatural entity. I know Roman can feel it too, as he’s moaning and gasping, a handful of my vibrating ass cheek in his grasp because the grip of my pussy is about to break his dick in half. I’m reduced to a weak, moaning mess as somehow he continues fucking me senseless. Then, with a loud, hoarse grunt, he yanks his dick out of me. One squeeze is all he needs, expletives tumbling around my name as he comes all over my ass, warm, thick droplets spilling onto my backside. I can hear the wet, slippery skin on skin contact as he strokes out his nut, and the sound arouses me despite my thoroughly fucked disposition. 

“Fuck!” he moans out, leaning tiredly into me, his drained cock mashed against my ass. “Damn, baby. Damn.”

The rest of my lifeless body melts onto the bed, my arms limp on my lower back, my mouth hanging open. I’m barely cognizant of him loosening the belt from my wrists. When he’s done, he seizes my ass cheeks with both hands, slapping them together one last time before walking away from the destruction on the bed. I haven’t moved an inch. My ass is still in the air and my eyes are starting to drift shut. It won’t be the first time he’s fucked me right to sleep. However, before I succumb to the darkness, his deep voice rouses me. 

“Don’t go to sleep yet, baby. Come here.”

I force my eyes open and lift my head to search for him. He’s stretched out on the other side of the bed, watching me with unabashed amusement.

“We ain’t done?” I mewl, exhausted.

“Nope. But we’re taking a little break for now. Come sit on top of Daddy.”

That’s a dangerous position to be in, especially as his dick is still hard and covered in layers of my cum. But how can I ever resist my man? With all the strength I have left, I crawl up the bed towards my lover. His brawny arms wrap around my body and ease me on top of him. He grabs his bathrobe and wipes his mess off my backside, before rubbing my back and my thigh with those big callused hands of his. He feathers a kiss on my forehead, my nose and then my mouth, in the sweetest, most tender of kisses. "You're so good to me, baby. I appreciate you so much," he whispers against my lips.

"Anything for you, baby," I remind him, dabbing away the sweat from his forehead with the bathrobe. "Do you feel better?"

"I do." His soft, beautiful eyes gaze into mine, observing me. “I know that you worry about me a lot, and I’m sorry,” he says.

"Don’t ever be sorry. I always worry about the people I love. I just want you to be okay," I answer. 

"I know, and that means a lot to me. You have no idea how much you mean to me, baby girl. I think about you all the time...I feel at home every time I’m out there performing for the fans, but coming home to you is always my top priority," he tells me. His eyes shine with emotion. "I love being with you. I love calling you mine and me, yours. I’m so happy you love me, because I love you too baby, so much."

Oh my god. He’s said it. I’m not imagining it this time. Tears spring to my eyes but I quickly blink them away. "I love you, Roman," I breathe, and press my lips to his, grateful to have this amazing man in my life. Our mouths move sensually together as I glide my palms down the side of his face, smoothing out the bristles of his beard. He lets out a throaty moan at my touch, at my kiss. I could stay like this forever, but my baby needs his rest.

“You should get some sleep. You had a long night tonight,” I say. 

He raises an eyebrow at me. “I think you’ve forgot when I said we’re just getting started. It’s your turn to fuck me.”

“Damn, you were being for real huh.”

“Course I was. You’re my little fucktoy, aren’t you?” Two of his fingers rub across my bottom lip before slipping into my mouth, as he hypnotizes me with his smoldering, effortlessly sexy stare. “I can use you however I want, however long I want, as many times as I want. Right?”

I may be fatigued from the barrage of orgasms he’s blessed me with tonight, but I’ve since realized that no matter how tired I feel, I’m still greedy for that big ol’ dick. He’s turned me out and turned me into a raging nympho in the process. I nod thirstily, gasping around his fingers as I feel his dick stiffen against the swollen mound of my cunt, ready for me again. 

“Good girl.” His fingers slide from my mouth to join the rest of their counterparts down south. Together, the ten of them gather the supple cheeks of my ass, molding, caressing, a devilish twinkle in Roman’s eyes at the hunger shining in mine. “Recess is over sweetheart,” he announces. “Ride this dick. And this time, I’m nuttin’ all up in that sweet pussy of yours.”

Fuck, I'm such a slut. It’s almost embarrassing, the way my already battered pussy instantly flutters at his low, husky tone, at the thought of getting filled up with his seed. I reach down to grip his cock, sliding the tip along my wet slit to lube it with more of my juices. The shiver of his big body as I stroke him sends a thrill through me. His big hands envelop my hips once more as I lower myself down on his waiting erection, sending a jolt of electricity through our bodies as we begin the eternal, spellbinding dance of lovers all over again.

THE END

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

The good girl in me wants so badly to apologize for writing so much smut, but dammit I’m not sorry! Roman is sexy af lol

Please leave feedback. I love feedback!

Banner made by me. All Roman gifs by @romanreigns​. Credit to owners of the other pics and gifs.

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#roman reigns #wwe #roman reigns fanfiction #roman reigns smut #roman reigns fanfic #roman reigns x black!oc #roman reigns x black!reader #roman reigns x reader #roman reigns x black reader #roman reigns x black oc #the tribal chief #the bloodline #head of the table

[delulu-with-wandanat]

Shape of you

Pairings: Wanda Maximoff x Natasha Romanoff.

Warnings 18+: Shapeshifting (Wanda), teasing, praise kink, slight degradation?, cunnilingus, bottom!Nat, top!Wanda, fluffy moments cus these two are just-

A/N: This was requested by a user who would like to remain anonymous. I hope you like it! It was nice exploring this idea with you, some of the lines were from them as well!

Summary: Wanda's exploring the extent of her powers and can't help but tease Nat with it. And Natasha... well, Natasha discovers something new about herself.

"What the-" Her girlfriend, Wanda, was always up to interesting things when she calls for Natasha's attention. Most of the times it was adorable, like that one time Wanda excitedly showed her the cupcake she had baked with a proud grin.

But this... this was just...

"Hey sailor." Wanda- or better yet, Natasha 2.0 said. The spy narrows her eyes in confusion, but nonetheless she was very impressed. She knew Wanda had been experimenting with the extent of her magic. Whenever they hung out in Wanda's room, she would absentmindedly play with her powers. However, she never knew Wanda's magic could go as far as shapeshifting.

"Well done, detka! However, you still sound like you." Natasha said from her seat on Wanda's bed, her tone was teasing. The witch pouted, oh god is that what I look like when I pout?? "Aw... My darling, I was only joking. I'm sorry, this is really impressive!"

Wanda only stick out her tongue and faced the mirror once more. This was something she had been working on for the past days, Wanda noticed that she was able to be alter the environment around her, which pique her curiosity on whether or not she could alter her body.

At first it was simple things, like changing the color of her hair without the use of hair dye. Then putting on clothes without actually needing to put on any materials, getting her nails done, the color of her eyes, so on and so forth. Then she started to wander if she could alter... her face.

She got the idea from none other than her own girlfriend, the former Russian spy. Natasha had told her about the time she used a photostatic veil in order to impersonate others, which inspired the witch to do her little experiment.

Wanda checks herself out on the mirror. She had gotten everything right, from Natasha's hair, her beautiful green eyes, her full lips. "How are you not in love with yourself?" Wanda asked randomly.

"I'm pretty sure there's a term for that, unfortunately Tony already took the title." Natasha replied.

"If you were, i'd honestly understand."

Natasha only hummed in response and returned to her previous activity on scribbling in her notepad. Well, she knew she was attractive of course. She had no doubt about that, but being physically attracted to herself sounded absurd. Not because she was insecure or any of that, rather how does one could be THAT self absorbed.

"Do you ever think about fucking yourself?"

Natasha almost choked in her own saliva at Wanda's rather absurd question. And to be quite honest, she should be used to it by now. Wanda could be quite... random. One of the many traits Natasha adores so much, but... maybe there are times where you shouldn't speak out your mind-

"I think the word for it is masturbating."

"No, I meant like... Having sex, with yourself. As in physically touching a clone of yourself." Wanda elaborated.

A small smile creeped onto Natasha's face. Wanda's absurdity was so weird yet so adorable at the same time. Natasha finally put down the notepad and puts her attention fully to the younger woman. "That mind of yours, little witch. Sometimes I don't understand why you're even asking any of these questions for..."

Wanda only rolled her eyes, her face was still representing Natasha. Christ, this is weird. "I'm just saying..." Wanda said in a low voice. Taking a step towards the bed, swaying her hips slightly. "Hypothetically, if you were to meet a clone of yourself, wouldn't you feel... something?" The seduction in her voice were present.

Well... the way she saw her own face smirking at her, Natasha had to admit. It was rather... sexy.

Wanda got closer and closer, crawling onto the bed to Natasha. Arching her back a little so her ass was up in the air. Natasha raised an eyebrow at Wanda. "What are you trying to do?"

"My point being, you drive me crazy, Natasha Romanoff. With your eyes, your smirk, the way you present yourself in general." Wanda continued, still advancing towards her on the bed, almost like a cat. Soon enough, Wanda made herself comfortable on her lap, tilting her head a little as she looked down at Natasha. "Don't you think you'd feel some type of way if you ever met a clone of yourself?"

Natasha crane her neck upward to see herself, or more like a face of herself smirking down at her. Perhaps Wanda was onto something, Natasha's face had an aura that tug something within you. Yet, the spy was still not convinced. That may be her face, her smirk, however everything else was still Wanda.

Maybe because she was a spy so she was much more observant, that or she loves Wanda so much to the point where she knows every single little detail about her. The little head tilt that she always does, the nose crunch when she smiles, Natasha could go on and on.

Natasha then raised her hand and lets it rest on Wanda's cheek. "I already have the girl for that, detka."

A soft blush formed on Wanda's cheek, the smirk turned into a soft smile. Ugh god, I'm making a mental note not to blush like that. Looks cute on Wanda, but god forbid someone else caught me in that state.

A smirk formed on Natasha lips, her other hand grip Wanda's thigh slightly, causing the witch to hitch her breath. Natasha moved her hand to the back of Wanda's neck, pulling her down so she could whisper in her ear. "Now how about you let me see that girl, hmm?"

Within an instant, her face transformed to it's original state. Natasha smiled upon seeing the view she adores so much. She then pulled Wanda down, the two met halfway, sharing a soft loving kiss while embracing one another.

⧗ᗢ⧗

Natasha had thought that her girlfriend's little hocus pocus would end there. However, the little witch was very much still adamant on reaching her goal. Which was to become the perfect Natasha clone.

Altering her appearance was easy, making it accurate was not so hard either.

"Hey babe, I think I finally got your tits right. Can you come over and have a feel to see if it's accurate?"

Natasha stopped dead in her tracks upon hearing the question at 9am in the morning. She had just gone back from her run to find Wanda standing in front of her mirror, with a different body, HER body to be precise. And also wearing her suit... The zipper was unzipped way lower than it should to be frank-

"Wouldn't you have a better opinion on that? After all, you're the one who's on the other end of the stick." Natasha teased after composing herself real quick.

"It's your body."

"Wanda, I don't exactly spend my time in front of a mirror all day." The witch then took another look in the mirror, her eyes almost looks like a prey as her hand trails up her body in a sexual manner, biting her lips as she gave her tits a firm grip.

The scene had Natasha swallowing the lump in her throat. That's when she felt... something in her stomach. What the fuck was that-

"Mmmm, the way I would record myself if I had this kind of body." Wanda husked out dreamily.

Natasha took in a shaky breath, which went unnoticed by the witch. "I love your body the way it is."

"Oh darling, I don't mean that in a self deprecating way. Don't you worry." The younger woman continues to admire her body, or Natasha's body in the mirror. Turning to the side and arching her back, running her hands along the curves seductively. "Keep watching, perv."

Wanda's words snapped the spy out of her trance, when her gaze returned to Wanda's green orbs, the witch was smirking slightly at her. Natasha only rub the bridged of her nose and mumbles some incoherent words in Russian.

"You can be honest."

"I'm going to the gym-"

"You just got back from a jog." Wanda stated.

"I need something to punch after dealing with..." Natasha made a movement with her right hand, indicating to the whole shapeshifting ordeal. Wanda only narrows her eyes in faux offense, Natasha then turns around and walked out of their room.

"You love me!" Wanda yelled out just before the door closes. Natasha merely rolls her eyes, yet a smile creeped up on her face. She really does...

⧗ᗢ⧗

The most difficult part for Wanda was not to alter her appearance, rather how to mimic her girlfriend's demeanor and personality. Which was weird, wasn't it? As Natasha's lover, Wanda should be able to mimic her perfectly.

Perhaps there were a couple of reasons. One, she wasn't a trained spy or actor by any means. And two, Natasha had an... aura you could say, a confidence, the way she brought herself up. It wasn't something that anyone could copy.

Natasha strides into a room with her head held high, all attentions directed to her in an instant. When she speaks, no one dares to cut her off. The power she holds, the fire in her eyes, just everything about her that makes her Natasha-Fucking-Romanoff.

Maybe that's why the witch was so drawn to her. And to be completely honest, Wanda had no clue whatsoever on how she manages to bag the former assassin.

So for the past couple of days, Wanda did a complete observation of Natasha. Watching every moves that she makes, the way she speaks to others. The micro-expressions on her face, the way she sits, her composure, every-single-fucking-thing...

"Nat?"

Natasha turns around upon hearing her colleague.

"Rogers." Natasha responded promptly.

"How'd you get here so fast?" Steve asked, confusion written across his face. To which Natasha responded with equal confusion.

"Meaning?"

"I thought I just saw you... Never mind that." He approached her and makes himself a cup of coffee as well. Natasha had her back leaning against the counter. "How are you and Wanda?"

With that Natasha lets out a soft chuckle. "Interested in my love life, Rogers?"

"It's a harmless question." Steve responded with a kind smile.

"We're alright." Natasha said, trying to hide the tiny smile that's creeping up to her face at the thought of Wanda.

"I'm truly happy for you both." The two avengers drank their beverage in a comfortable silence. Despite all the dangerous mission they had to go through, moments like these are the ones they cherish the most. In the midst of all the chaos, it was nice to have a peace of mind once in a while.

After a few moments, Steve broke the silence once again. "Well, I should head out."

Natasha narrows her eyes in confusion. "Aren't you supposed to train Wanda this morning?"

"You just told me she was sick??"

"I didn't... Wanda is sick?" Concern flair up in her for a split second, I didn't even know...

"You tell me." Both Avengers were in confusion. "Nat, are you sick as well? You seems a little off today."

"Rogers, I assure you, I'm perfectly fine."

"Alright... Well, I hope Wanda a speed recovery. See you around, Nat." Steve said before walking past her while patting her shoulder.

What the fuck is going on??

Natasha opted to check up on her girlfriend, she strides to the direction of Wanda's room. The conversation she had with Steve was weird to say the least, however, being the spy that she is, she had an idea on what was going on. Just as she was about to knock on Wanda's door, a voice called out to her.

"Natasha." To hear herself, she wasn't that much surprised to say the least.

Natasha smirked, she knew Wanda was still hellbent on the whole shapeshifting thing.

"Trying to get yourself out of training I see."

"A day won't hurt anyone."

Natasha turns around to face... herself. She had to admit, this was very impressive. Wanda manages to get every curves of her body right, the color of her eyes, her hair, down to her signature smirk.

"You could've just told me, you know?" Natasha said in a slight teasing tone.

"I find this more exciting." Wanda said, taking a closer step towards her. This is really weird.

Natasha... out for words. Give her a break, how exactly does one reacts to this? Wanda had become the perfect clone. Natasha tried to say something, only to close her mouth again. With that, Wanda smiled teasingly.

"Cat got your tongue?" She said, while thumb reaching up to rest it self on Natasha's chin. The spy's breath hitched. Why the fuck-

"Don't flatter yourself."

Wanda let out a soft chuckle, "So defensive, Detka." Fuck, is this how Wanda feels every time?

"How long are you planning to keep this going, hmm?"

Wanda only lean closer, her breath ghosting on Natasha's lips. "I'm not entirely sure..." The witch's eyes subtly glanced down to her lips before returning to her eyes. "Until it bores me." With one last smirk, Wanda pulled away and walked to a different direction.

Natasha lets out the breath she didn't even know she was holding. To see herself, acting the way she did awakened something in her. Natasha wasn't sure if she was comfortable with that fact...

⧗ᗢ⧗

The rest of the day was... interesting to say the least. Wanda spent the entire day, posing as her. However, the witch wasn't out and about to wreak havoc. Meaning she wasn't out there to spread rumors as Natasha, or completely re-writing Natasha's well known reputation.

No, no... It was much worse than that.

She was constantly teasing, and flirting with Natasha AS Natasha. Which the spy couldn't decided if she would have prefer the former or the latter.

Wanda was getting bolder each minutes as well. It started off as just having a rather seductive conversation with her, then she started stretching and bending her body in sexual manners, then she started brushing her hand and whispering things in her ears. It frustrated the spy, one because it turns her on in a way that made her feel weird about herself. And two, she may or may not feel slightly hypocritical, as she often does this to rile up Wanda.

"I think I'm starting to understand." Natasha felt a hand encircling her waist, her voice whispering on her right ear. Natasha looked up from the bathroom sink, the reflection caused her to hitch her breath. Wanda smirked as she rest her head on the spy's shoulder.

"Understand what, exactly?"

"Why you do what you do..." Wanda husked out. Pulling Natasha closer by the waist and flushing their bodies completely. "Why you tease me so relentlessly..." Natasha lets in a shaky breath the moment she watches the scene unfold in front of her eyes. Wanda kisses her shoulder, before slowly trailing it up to her neck.

"Wands..." Natasha breathed out, her mind was starting to get hazy. Her eyes flutter slightly, she couldn't help but to crane her neck a little to give Wanda better access.

"To have someone submit to you so easily..." Wanda started to nibble her earlobe, Natasha couldn't help the slight moan that escaped her throat. Which caused Wanda to chuckle.

For fuck sake, why am I feeling like this?

"The power you have against me, Natasha Romanoff." Wanda husked out again. With one swift movement, Wanda spun her around to face her. Natasha could feel her breath against hers. The spy's eyes shifted just for a split second, Wanda's lips pulled into a devilish smile the moment Natasha was caught red handed. "Go on. I won't blame you."

Natasha took in a sharp breath, yet she couldn't seem to rack up any words.

"Don't be afraid, Natasha." Wanda purred, leaning ever so close their lips were mere inches apart. Natasha didn't knew what's gotten into her. Was it the way she acted? Her voice? Her mannerism?

She knew she was good at what she does, hence why all of her targets gave in whenever she used seduction. But to have experienced it herself was something she would've never imagined happening. Was it weird? Perhaps.

But by god does her lips move so well against her...

The way she took control, just how the spy always does. The way her hands know exactly where she wanted to held. The way her tongue teases her lips, causing Natasha to subconsciously part hers letting Wanda gain access.

Their mouth moved in a perfect tandem. Natasha moaned against her, arching her body in a way she normally never does. Almost submitting herself...

She broke the kiss, trailing kisses along her jawline, then down to her neck. Natasha's breathing was getting heavier and heavier on every kiss, her knees felt wobbly. She wrapped an arm round Wanda's shoulders for support.

"You feel the effect you have on me?"

She lets her hand roam down to Natasha's thigh, giving in a firm grip while her mouth continued its way down Natasha's neck. The action was causing Natasha to let out a breathy moan. As her mouth explored Natasha's neck, searching for a sweet spot, she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror.

"Ah... I see why you like this angle. Why you love to fuck me in this exact position." She smirked at her own reflection, Natasha's back facing the mirror. She trailed her hand up Natasha's spine from under the muscle tee. Fuck, even Wanda is so turned on by the sight...

She then pushed her leg between Natasha's thighs, eliciting a delicious moan from the redhead and something she did not expected to hear, "Natalia..."

Both women snapped out of their trance.

The witch pulled back to look at Natasha in the eye. The spy was shocked at her own words. "I'm sorry. I don't know why I-"

But Natasha was shushed, a smirk creeping onto her partner's lip. "What did you just call me?"

Natasha clenched her jaw, "Wanda-"

"No." She responded firmly. Her finger reached up to force Natasha to look at her in the eye. "I won't ask you again, Malyshka." The amount of dominance in her voice made Natasha weak in the knees. The spy didn't know why, but all she wanted to do was to oblige.

"Natalia..."

"Good girl."

Oh fuck- Fuck, fuck, fuck.

She crashed her lips onto Natasha, with one swift movement Natalia had picked her up to sit on the counter top. Making the older one gasp and moaned against her. Natalia tugged on the muscle tee she was wearing, the older one took off her shirt with so much difficulty as she refused to part their lips for more than a second.

Natalia lets her hand roamed the newly exposed skin. Running her hand up her strong muscular back, gently digging her nails causing Natasha to hiss and arch her back. "Oh god-" She groaned. Natasha puts her hand on her chin to force Natalia to look at her. "Take me to bed." The spy demanded.

The clone merely raised her eyebrow, Wanda had to hold herself as she was so used to obeying Natasha's words. But not this time. "You know better on how to use your words, Detka."

Natasha swallowed the lump in her throat, one last breath she let out a very soft. "Please..."

A devilish smirk crepped up on Natalia's lip, "Say it again. Full sentence."

"Please, take me to bed, Natalia..."

Delighted, the clone crashed their lips once again and swiftly pick her up. Natasha naturally wraps her legs around her, her right hand on her shoulder for balance while her left remain on Natalia's cheek.

The kiss gets progressively messy as Natalia carry her to their bed. With the lack of space between them, she could feel Natasha's growing arousal on her abs. The spy even tightens her legs around and subtly moving her hips. Christ, since when did Natasha get so needy?

Once Natasha was laying on her back, Natalia pulled back to take off her shirt. Natasha watches the scene, practically drooling at the mouth. The clone wasted no time in locking their lips once again, positioning herself between Natasha's legs and grinding her abs against her core.

"Ahh... F-fuck..." A pathetic whine escaped the spy's throat. Something that never had happened before.

Natasha's panting and moaning filled the room, it was music to Natalia's ears. Painting the older ones neck and collarbone with purple markings, now she understands why Natasha always leaves so much of those. To mark her territory, show off to everybody what is rightfully hers. The two continues to undress each other, revealing more and more skin each time. Natalia pulled back to take in the view.

The sight of the infamous Black Widow, now naked underneath her, squirming under her touches, by god Wanda wanted to engrave the sight on her mind.

Over the course of their relationship, Natasha took charge most of the time, well... all the time actually. However, it wasn't because she forbid Wanda to take charge, no. But rather Wanda found herself incapable of doing anything else other than to obey her. She never understood why, until now that is.

The power she has, the seduction in her voice, the aura that just makes someone follow you like a blind dog willingly.

"Look how pathetic you are..." Natalia husked out while playing with her tits. Natasha's bottom lip trembles, desperately holding back the needy whine that's threatening to escape her throat. Still trying so hard to keep her 'dignity' even after the numerous slip ups a few minutes ago. "You don't have to hold back, Detka."

Natalia slowly kisses her way down to her stomach, Natasha's breath hitch as she closes her eyes, her legs subconciously spread wider.

"Look at me." Natalia demanded. When Natasha opens her eyes again and look down, the clone was smirking up at her. "Don't you want to see how good you look?"

Natalia stick out her tongue, dragging down from her stomach then all the way to her inner thigh.

"This part is my favorite to watch..." Natalia husked out as she makes herself comfortable between Natasha's thighs. Kissing and lightly biting the inner parts, getting dangerously close to her core only to pull away, causing Natasha to grip the bedsheets like her life depends on it as she watches the scene unfold.

"Please..." Natasha breathed out.

Natalia smirked. Christ, that devilish smirk. "I'll do it exactly the you do."

And by god does Natasha finally understands what she means.

Head thrown back, toe curling, sheets gripped tight as Natalia lapped her up like a starved animal. Natasha's moans were music to her ears. Natalia swore the sight itself could make her come without the need of touching herself. The feeling of Natasha grabbing a handful of her hair was enough to make her head spin, causing Natalia to moan against her core.

The action only pushed Natasha closer to the edge. "Oh fuck-"

She was close, it was almost so pathetic how quickly she got to lose herself. As Natalia kept sucking and twirling her tongue on her aching bud, the knot on her stomach was threatening to snap.

Yet, she couldn't?

She knew she was practically gliding along the edge. What exactly is stopping her?

Natalia was too pre-occupied to notice Natasha hesitancy. The spy whined and whined like a pathetic mutt as she wanted nothing more than her release. But it never came.

"S-stop, stop, please..." Natasha whimpered.

Natalia froze and pulled away, immediately hovering closer to Natasha's face. Looking at her with so much concern and fear. "What's wrong? Did I hurt you?"

Natasha shook her head, there was tears in her eyes. Yet, not out of pain, out of frustration. Which Wanda picked it up as though she had hurt Natasha. Her heart ached as she thought of the damage she might've caused. Luckily, Natasha was quick to straighten things out.

"No, detka. It's not you, I just-" Natasha couldn't understand, what's happening to me?

Natalia, reached up to cup her face. Causing the two to lock eyes. Oh... Maybe that's why... "Talk to me." Natalia said gently.

"I want you..." Natasha breathed out.

"Are you sure you can continue?" Natasha nodded, the hand that was initially on her face slowly and gently trailed down again. "I'll be gentle, I promise."

But Natasha halted her hand before it could go further. "Not like this." Natalia tilted her head in confusion. "I meant- You, Wanda, I want you..."

Realization hits her like a brick. Without missing beat, Natasha finally stared back at the woman she loves, Wanda Maximoff...

As much as she enjoyed the whole role play and that it turned her on in many ways. The act of release was.... something she found rather sacred?

Perhaps for better term, her body only naturally wanted to let go for Wanda. She made Natasha feel safe, like she could let down her guard. Like she could demolish the wall she had built around herself for so many years.

Wanda, Wanda, Wanda....

"I love you." Natasha whispered, her hand wrapped around the witch's shoulder. Staring deeply into her green eyes, oh those eyes...

"I didn't mean to hurt you-"

"You didn't." The redhead said firmly, pulling Wanda closer so she could rest their foreheads together. "But I wanted it to be you, only you..."

Wanda nodded, her hand trailed down again to her aching core. Natasha's breath gets heavier with anticipation. It started slow, as Wanda had to build her up once more. She leaned down capturing Natasha in a soft kiss while her hand did their magic.

"Just like that. Ah- Wanda..." Fuck, the witch loved their previous role play, but hearing her own name was so much better.

"You're doing so well for me, detka." Wanda whispered as she picked up the pace. Natasha's breath hot against her face as the spy yearned for their close proximity. Wanda then started kissing her jaw, her neck, then up to a spot just below her ear. "I love you so much, Natasha."

The redhead felt a surge of arousal in her stomach, this moment was so intimate. In a sense, she felt so safe, so loved, so well taken care of. She loves her, she loves her, by god she loves her...

"Wanda, f-fuck. I'm so close...." Natasha moaned.

"I got you, baby." The knot in her stomach tightens as it's threatening to snap at any given seconds. Natasha chants her name like a prayer, begging for her to go faster so she could have the release she so desired. And Wanda wants nothing more than to fulfill her needs.

"Wanda... Wan- oh fuck!" Finally, it snapped. Natasha hid her face on Wanda's neck, still holding her close as the witch helps her through her orgasm. They've had much more exciting sex of course, but this moment... this wasn't just sex. It was making love.

The realization that Natasha only felt safe enough to let go is for Wanda. That wasn't something Wanda was going to take lightly.

Natasha's breathing eventually evened out. They pulled away to gaze into another, though it seems like there was a soft blush on Natasha's face. Wanda couldn't help but to smile, it was so adorable to see the big strong Black Widow blushing like so.

"You're so cute." Wanda teased, leaning down to kiss her nose.

Natasha only scrunched her nose, but a small smile creeped onto her lips. "I love you."

"I love you too."

"I should return the favor..." Natasha husked out.

Wanda bit her lip, "I wouldn't be opposed to that."

⧗ᗢ⧗

Wanda entered the gym with a yawn, holding a cup of tea in her hand. She looked rather adorable still in her pajamas. Natasha noticed her and gave her a soft smile.

"You should be in training, witchy." Sam grumbles as he does more push ups, courtesy of Nat of course.

"Don't make me add another 100, Sam." Natasha replied.

"This ain't fair! You can't just give out special treatments just cause she's your girlfriend."

"You know what? Fair enough, just for that you get 200."

Sam cursed under his breath, "Go fuck yourself, Romanoff."

Instant flashbacks for the spy, yet she quickly shook it off before anyone else at the gym notices. However, she locked eyes with Wanda who raised her eyebrows teasingly.

'Don't...' Natasha mouthed.

Wanda only sipped her tea, while maintaining eye contact. It had a glints of mischief in them.

Damn this woman...

Whoooo, ok so i had this WIP for like weeks. And I'm the type of person who gets overwhelmed when one thing isn't done, so I'm gonna post this so i don't have the weight of it in my head for these college essays :')

I'm sorry that I'm gonna have to postpone all request until further notice, anyway hope you guys liked it! Also I hope the whole thing wasn't confusing, i tried my best to describe Wanda as Natasha XD I think I could've done better but with everything my head was elsewheree, anyhow enjoy!

#natasha romanoff #wanda maximoff #wandanat #natasha #wanda x natasha #wanda #wlw #natasha x wanda #wandanat smut #wandanat fluff #wantasha #moffnoff #scarletwidow #scarlet widow #scarletwidow fluff #scarletwidow smut

[leclsrc]

hi audreeey!!! could i get a drabble where charles and reader are on a basic (not "basic" but u get me) dinner date and they're just all capital F Fond... like maybe even pretending theyre married bc they love the other's company sm... I LOVE U

begin again – cl16

Tonight is different. Tonight is special. title from this

auds here... my quasi-apology for being mia-ish. also i am writing a long form fic it's just taking agesss as i'm traveling rn (its nearly done) but know that I LOVE U ALL... like crazy. this is p long for a drabble but i missed writing them a lot! love u guys n i hope i did this adorable prompt justice

He says something in French, pointing at something on the menu. Then he flips the page and points at a bold red image of a bottle, mouthing its name in perfect fluency. Two glasses, he adds. One for the entree, another for dessert.

“Red wine?” You ask, smiling. Charles doesn’t usually order wine.

“Well,” he says, beaming at you and then the waiter, “tonight is special for us.”

You have to wrestle with the grin that fights its way onto your lips, but you admit valiant defeat. “Very special indeed.”

The waiter departs and you recline, mind still racing. It’s only halted by a polite voice from your left—the girl at the table beside yours, asking with meek timidity: wedding tomorrow? She has this giddy smile on her face, like it’s her wedding or her dinner; her husband-or-boyfriend across her just smiles sheepishly. Sorry. I’m curious.

“Oh,” you say quietly, humming. “I got promoted.”

“And…” Charles says, lookin at you like you share a lovely little inside joke.

Your lips grow. “And?”

“This lovely girl doesn’t remember, but I proposed to her this time last year.” He gestures to your left hand. A ring, blending in with the others you usually wear, sparkles in the low light of the restaurant.

Proposed. Your eyes stay on him even as he looks away, devoting his attention to the conversation at hand. Then you nod, a few times, soft bobs of your head. “We’re having a June wedding,” you say fondly to the girl at the table adjacent. You love the way she lights up at the mention of it, at the added detail—she asks for more in accented English.

“How did you propose?” She turns to the guy in front of her, who’s smiling dopily. “We’ve been together a year, so he could use some ideas for the future, if you know what I mean.” They both share a laugh.

Charles hums, recalling the plan he’s thought of a million times over. He conjures the images of it, the memories of mapping everything out, perfecting every last minute detail. “I did it at our house. We live in Monaco, in this, ah—this nice, wide place on a hill.” You remember seeing the house for the first time, from Charles’ car. “I did not want a big fuss around it. I knew I wanted it to be just us.”

“Just us,” you murmur along, nodding. You’ve always known it’s what he wanted for both of you. Just you two against the world.

“So I bought her flowers, lit some candles, and we sat on the couch.” He pauses, like the next few moments are so sacred and so lovely that they deserve to be heard by nobody but you two. But if Charles is anything, he’s loud—loud when he talks, yells; loud when he loves. “And I played our favorite song, Harvest Moon,and I sat next to her and just talked, and I said it. I know it doesn’t sound romantic—”

“—but I cried,” you cut in, looking right at him. Cut off, his eyes flit to you, softening when they see your smiling expression. “I cried like a baby. He was… he meant every word he said. And I was lucky, I guess, that he knows me well enough to, you know—know exactly what I want.” The conversation ebbs into quiet a little bit after that, but you catch bits of how adorable and a June wedding from their own talk.

You eat in relative peace afterward—he talks about a funny story involving Carlos and stolen underwear from the gym locker room. You laugh, bubbling up your champagne, and Charles zips through two glasses of his own drink. Tonight is special, and warm, and you’re in France, and wine seems to be synonymous with the country, and everything, if just for now, makes perfect sense.

In between finishing dessert and the bill’s arrival, when the couple beside you have said their goodbyes and congratulations, and the restaurant has begun to quell its general noise, he takes your idle hand on the table. You look up from where you’d been staring at the puddle of tiramisu filling on your plate.

He’s staring. Charles is always aware of how often and how long he stares, extended gazes of your beautiful features. The awareness does not, however, cause the frequency to wane in the slightest. He still finds himself constantly enthralled by you. And even when he’s away, in a car going a million miles a minute, he finds you in his daydreams. That smile. 

Nothing, he says with a quaint smile. I love you.

The bill comes and he, of course, covers it—before you even get the chance to slide your card onto the table. You fuss over it. He stares at you like you’re worth everything and more and goes, with a little laugh, I just need a kiss.

His car is parked outside, valet this time, but the cobblestone is so inviting and quiet that he pays an extra few euros to let you both walk around first. You’re not the only couple along the Seine—in fact, you’re one of many, but your shared, hushed laughs make you both feel like you’re by yourselves. Charles knows all the detours, can pinpoint buildings from different vantage points, takes you on a voyage of Paris all his own. You will look back on this one day and think—your maps of cities, your maps of places, they’ve all been charted by him. 

He keeps insisting tonight should be special, like he’s trying to convince you. But you know just as well how special tonight is, how different it is from all the nights previous. You’re just quiet, you suppose, because you’d prefer to bask in this specialty, in Charles. You’re quiet because if you open your mouth for more than ten seconds, you’re going to spill your entire self out to the city. Tomorrow night will not be tonight, just as yesterday night was not tonight. This is just tonight. 

You’re guided through the cobblestone streets, arm around your waist. You’re so overcome with love you feel like hugging him, just now, just here in the middle of the street, breathe him in and sigh out little I love yous until somebody has to pass through, grunting about how PDA has gone too far.

“You know how…” he starts, and every time he starts a sentence that way, it’s almost always followed by something fairly nonsensical. You know how turtles can fly? You know how Van Gogh was in an affair with Mona Lisa? You know how the latest episode of The Kardashians had Kim and Kourtney fighting? You smile, laughing already, gesturing for him to proceed. “How we see the stars nearly every night?”

You hum.

“So sometimes, we forget they’re pretty. We think, oh, bah, stars. And then a few weeks, or months, later, we look up on a random evening and we’re shocked again. We go, wow, stars. They are beautiful.” He clutches at his heart to convey the emotion he’s describing.

“Yeah, what about?” You ask amusedly, turning slightly to him. 

“That is how I feel when I see you. Every time. That feeling when you see the stars after weeks.”

You breathe one, slippery inhale and then it leaves you shaky, wet, trembling. Your eyes tack themselves onto the stars. A chill rolls through you at the knowledge that you remind him of something so confusing, so beautiful, so strange. “I—God. I love you, you know.”

“Did you like my story?” He asks. He maintains his smile, his attitude, his goofiness. His little attempt to make you feel better. Unfortunately, it works every time without fail. You sniffle and roll your eyes, thankful that you haven’t devolved into a sobbing mess.

Then for the first time tonight, he breaks the precarious, near-perfect illusion: “You know, that is how I would really propose to you if I did it. I did give you that ring, remember?”

“I know,” you whisper, trying to fight tears. “I remember.”

“Don’t cry,” he quells softly. You keep freezing to dab at the corners of your eyes. He responds by pulling you into a side street so you don’t block anyone’s walk, allowing you to lean against the lamppost so he towers above you, eyes etched dark, saturated with genuine concern. “Come on, darling.”

“Charles,” you say thinly, and you’ve gone from coherent sentences to weak pleads. 

“Don’t cry.” It’s all he can say, gentle and loving and Charles. “It’s a special night.” It is a special night. It’s the night before your first day at your job across the globe.

It’s your last night in Europe, your last night before you leave, your last night before Charles becomes nothing but an apparition of your past. You’re beginning to realize how foolish this plan was, this wrecked and stupid plan, but God if you didn’t love how real it all felt. It felt like bliss, being a great big pretender.

It was—it should be a month ago now, give or take. You’d gotten the offer, accepted it, told Charles about it, and then you both had to sit with the idea of living across the world from each other. You’d wrestled with plans vis-a-vis your relationship, with timezones and the demand that came with the first year on the job. In the end it was something amicable.

In the end, it ended—but not without one last night together, stretching your dreams and future fantasies to their limit.

Charles will always love you like it’s his last chance to do so. He figures that means letting you fly, letting you pursue things that, if you didn’t, would keep you tethered to the same old things. So even if it rips him apart, and even if all he wants to do is drop everything and dance with you, to the quaint Paris traffic—he remains ever the reassuring one.

He remains, forever, the storyteller, the smiling figure that takes your hand across the table and squeezes once to say he loves you. The loud guy who would’ve, if he could, proposed in your now-sold house, surrounded by candles and music. You wish he could love you longer. You know he always will, in the same way you know the nature of his love will inevitably change when enough time passes.

“Things will change,” you say weakly.

“They will always change.”

“And will you remember me after all of it?”

“I will love you after all of it. I’ve loved you through everything else.” He says, pressing a gentle kiss to your eye. “You know that, right? I’ll just do it from afar this time.”

You swear, if love and hope and being young were ever enough to make things work, you swear—this would’ve worked. But the universe reminds you time and again that they are not.

So, when you kiss Charles for the last time, his eyes are twinkling with Paris moonlight, his lips taste like wine, and you get the special chance to relish in what once was, and what will never be again.

#f1 #charles leclerc #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc drabble #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc x reader #f1 x reader #charles leclerc imagines

[1d1195]

Committed II

Read the first part here

(I'm sorry it's gonna have to be three parts at this rate)

“Hi, kitten,” his voice vibrated in his chest and through her body.

“Hi Harry,” she whispered.

“Missed me?” He hummed to the top of her hair.

“A little,” she muttered. He chuckled.

She had heard Harry sing for almost her whole life—since she had met him when she moved to England and started primary school the same year as he did. Harry’s voice was like a lullaby—her suggestion to record covers was joke, but she was grateful all the same. But there was no greater music than Harry laughing in her ear.

On the days where they weren’t getting ready for a show, she was working her day job; managing a local music store—anything to get into the business of making Harry’s dreams come true. Harry often meandered there on his lunch break to look over albums and sit while she organized shelves and chatted with customers.

As much as Harry liked the idea of becoming part of a big-time band, he didn’t really mind if he didn’t. He was content working at a club when he wasn’t playing in the band. One day he planned to own his own club and play as much as possible. He loved music and loved the idea of supporting small town bands like his. And honestly, he always imagined owning it with his best friend in the world.

She was walking toward another shelf to organized it while Harry mindlessly flipped through new album titles on old vinyl. Harry was in awe of how his generation and the one after him were moving toward such vintage ideals, he liked the feel of records again. But mostly, He liked seeing her in her element among the songs and titles.

As she walked over, Harry called a quiet “Hey,” and tossed a French fry in her direction at the same time. Without even a break in her step, she turned her face just as he threw it, the fry bounced off half her cheek and she managed to snag the other half with her tongue. He chuckled as she winked at him. It was moments like these that Harry thought about Niall saying she would be insane not to take the internship. More so when she said she should be committed then, because she wouldn’t be taking it.

Because the only thing Harry could think about was how he would have to be committed if she did take it.

The idea of not seeing her every day and hearing her laugh made his chest ache for something he shouldn’t even be aching about. She was right there. Just a shelf away from him. Her eyes scanning titles of albums to make sure they were in the right order. Humming to the music that played (her choice of course).

“I think you should record,” she said.

It came up every so often. Usually when one of the songs Harry covered played over the speakers filling the room with sweet melodies that she loved so much. It was part of the reason Harry did all the covers. Why he was so insistent the band learn the old songs and obscure songs that they wouldn’t have normally played. Whatever she loved was fine by him because there wasn’t a song as sweet as her happiness.

She had a lot of favorite songs, and as such, so did Harry.

“We can’t jus’ record covers, kitten.”

She rolled her eyes. “There are cover bands, Harry,” she reminded him.

“I know, m’love,” he chuckled. “But...I want t’record m’own music.”

“Well, you can do that too...I just think you sing this song better than original and I’d like to have it recorded so I can fall asleep listening to it.”

Shaking his head as he popped another fry into his mouth he thought about her suggestion. He liked the idea that his voice would be the last thing she heard before she fell asleep. “Maybe if y’take this internship, I’ll record us...a going away present,” he suggested.

Her organization of the shelf came to an abrupt halt. Her eyes locked with the album titles, and she then slowly closed them. “Very funny,” she muttered.

“Kitten—”

“Don’t. Just don’t, Harry. You’re supposed to be on my side.”

He was quiet for a few moments as he pondered the notion that she wouldn’t leave because of him. Mitch couldn’t be right. That would be insane. There was no way she would give up an incredible opportunity like this...for Harry. “M’always on your side, love,” he said softly. He didn’t want to upset her, and he could see the way her jaw locked tensely as he started to speak again. It was like she was on the defensive. But Harry could also see the way her eyes started to water. “S’why I think y’should go,” he told her. As much as he didn’t want her to be so far away... “I...I would come visit,” he promised. “S’only a year,” he reminded her. “We could FaceTime all the time.”

She didn’t speak for a moment. “A lot can change in a year,” she whispered quietly so the sadness in her voice couldn’t reach his ears.

But it was her, so he heard it anyway. “Not us.” Harry watched a tear roll down her cheek and she caught it with the back of her hand before Harry could make a big deal of it. “Jus’ think ‘bout it,” he said. “Don’t say no yet,” he murmured and stood from his stool, another French fry between his fingers as he walked closer to her. He wrapped his arm around her shoulders, gave her a squeeze with a kiss to the top of her head. He held the fry to her lips, and she bit it, despite not feeling in a playful mood.

“Okay,” she said and wrapped her arms around Harry’s waist tucking herself into his chest and Harry wished with everything in him that it didn’t feel like goodbye.

*

When they caught up at home, Harry would sit with her legs draped over his lap a book in between her hands and he would play a video game with Mitch or just watch a show while she read. They looked like a couple. Acted like a couple. “Do you want Mexican or Italian?” She asked randomly as her eyes scanned her book.

He glanced from his game to catch her concentrated expression and he just wanted to kiss her sweet face for the rest of his life. “We haven’t had Italian in a while, yeah?” He murmured.

They certainly sounded like an old married couple.

“Mmm,” she hummed. “Can you pick it up?” She smiled impishly.

“Ugh...” he groaned. “I got it last time!”

“But I don’t wanna,” she whined.

Harry would slice his arm off at the elbow if she asked. Even if her dramatic whine was all fake, he would do anything for her to appease her. Smirking he sighed just as dramatically as she whined. “Oh alright.”

“I’m so lucky to have a best friend like you. Thank God, I sat next to you on the bus,” she giggled. Harry smirked gently tossing her legs off his lap. “Gah!” She gasped. “No wait! Never mind! Let’s get pizza or something else delivered.” He chuckled.

“S’matter, love?”

“I was so comfy,” she frowned and pouted petulantly. Harry couldn’t believe how cute she looked. He thought his heart would ooze right out of his body and melt at his feet. How could she not know how much he adored her?

“Aw, kitten,” he cooed at her and pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “I’ll be right back...actually, can I get it on your phone? Mine is dead from—” He grabbed it off the coffee table and started to unlock it with her passcode when a message popped up from a guy’s name he didn’t recognize. He felt his eyebrows pinch together in confusion. Her mouth fell open because even though Harry didn’t know what was going on, she definitely did. “Who’s this?” He asked.

“Uh...remember the night I fell at the club?”

“Yeah...”

“This guy started chatting with me in the crowd when I left backstage.”

Harry remembered the guy almost instantly. He hadn’t thought to think about him because all he could think about was her safety, her head injury, and how scared he was that night. Any thought of inquiring about the man that caught her attention was lost in the shuffle of more pressing matters. And Harry couldn’t believe he forgot about it—especially now, seeing his name on her phone. “Oh.”

“He’s nice,” she said quietly. “He wants to get coffee sometime.”

Harry nodded and moved to her internet browser so he could look up the Italian restaurant. He was glad he was going to get the food now. It gave him time to collect his thoughts. “That’s nice,” he said absentmindedly.

She hated when he was grumpy. “Are you mad?”

“Y’didn’t mention him...s’been almost a month.”

“Wasn’t really anything to tell you.”

He nodded ordering her favorite without asking. He didn’t need to. Smugly, he thought the guy at the other end of her phone wouldn’t know what her favorite meal was without asking. He’d have to find out and that made Harry happy. The guy in question was good looking and he obviously had good taste if he had eyes for the sweet girl sitting beside him. He remembered in the moment how mad he was that someone was chatting her up and making her cheeks turn pink. Harry wanted to throw her phone in the toilet and flush it before she could answer him. “Okay,” he said but he sounded irritated, and she knew he was.

“Harry?” She asked as he started for the door to put his shoes on.

“Yeah, love?” His sour mood shrinking as he distanced himself from the offensive text messages.

“I wouldn’t go out with a guy without telling you about him,” she promised. “Someone has to make sure I’m not kidnapped or murdered.”

Harry wished he could have just said what he was thinking. But instead, he smiled and shook his head. “You sweet girl, anyone that kidnapped you, would bring y’back t’me after ten minutes,” he winked exiting before she had time to argue.

“I resent that!” He heard her call through the door.

*Three Months Later*

It took a lot of convincing, a lot of packing, and a lot of reassurance that she could go, and it would be okay.

Harry was the one that took her to the airport. Her mom knew how important it was to give them a chance to say their goodbyes alone, without an audience of people they knew. Besides, her mom had always wanted to see the states. She would visit in no time. They didn’t chat while Harry walked her bags through security check, and he pressed a hand to her back when the crowd got too large. She was so completely comforted by his touch it melted her like nothing she’d ever felt before.

But when Harry heard her sniffle, he knew he was done for. “Oh, don’t start, kitten. I won’t be able t’stop if y’start,” he chuckled sadly, and tears filled his vision.

She sniffled around a choked off, giggly breath. “M’sorry.” He stopped in his tracks and wrapped his arms around her tightly clutching her to his chest. He kissed the top of her head as she shook with silent sobs. Harry swallowed around the emotion in his throat trying to be brave for her. But he couldn’t help but worry about all that could happen in a year. As much as he didn’t want it to.

After a few minutes her tears, they continued walking to her gate. Harry held her hand and it felt like they were a couple. It always did, but there was something about this...this moment that felt so different. “You can’t get a new best friend while I’m gone,” she blurted. “Maybe Niall can be your new best friend or Mitch...maybe even Sarah, but that’s it. Definitely, no new girl ones.”

“Kitten, I couldn’t dream of replacing you,” he promised. As easy as it would have been to roll his eyes at the prospect, he refrained. He meant each word. There was no replacing her. When she got back, Harry would still be there waiting for her. She noticed how there wasn’t even a smile at her near crazy outburst. He didn’t even laugh at the idea of it all. “We’re going t’talk every day,” he assured her.

She felt like someone was ripping her heart out piece by piece right through her chest. She should just say it. Tell him. He probably knew she was in love with him. It was kind of him to remain best friends even when she was infatuated with him. There were so many options for him...and without her around to be in the way...

God, a year seemed like forever. “Yeah?” She asked meekly.

“No...you’re the only one I need, love.” She wished with everything in her Harry meant those words. “I’ll see y’before y’know it,” he said.

“Don’t,” she sniffled.

“I know,” he said and looked at the floor. “I got y’something,” he mumbled.

She looked up at him. She wished she wasn’t crying so much because Harry was too beautiful to be blurred by tears and it was going to be the last time, he saw her for a good long while. “Why?” She asked.

He rolled his eyes and chuckled. “You’re something else, love.” Reaching in his pocket he procured a flash drive and placed it in her palm. “For when y’fall asleep.” It took a moment for the words to process. But once they did her jaw nearly unhinged, and she wished she could have been more put together in that moment but instead she threw herself into his embrace and held onto him like he was a life raft.

Part of her believed he really was a life raft in more ways than one. She was certain that if it weren’t for the scheduled flight, she might have drowned the two of them with her tears.

*

As soon as she landed, Harry was the first one she texted.

I’ve arrived.

Good. Now s’only 179 days till I visit. :)

After she called her mom and showed off her new little place, she FaceTimed Harry, of course. She knew it was late there, but he answered on the first ring. “Hey,” she said softly.

“Hey, love,” he smiled sleepily. “Show me around,” he hummed.

“No...it’s late. I just...wanted to say goodnight to you.”

“No, show me,” he pressed. “M’not tired.”

She could see the way his eyes drooped, and she would have given anything to coerce his tall and lanky frame to bed. This would be the longest six months of her life. “I’ll show you tomorrow. I’m pretty jet lagged myself,” she said.

He nodded. He really would have stayed up. Harry would have asked questions. But he was glad he wouldn’t have to. “Oh...okay, love. Did y’listen yet?”

“No,” she said and pulled her laptop from her bag. “I will now,” she smiled. “Good night, Harry.”

“Good night, love,” he murmured. As she was about to end the call, she waved but he stopped her. “Wait,” he said suddenly. She paused and he smiled gently. “I love you, kitten. Miss you already,” he said sweetly.

Her heart thudded loudly throughout her body. “I love you too,” she whispered.

But she wondered if he knew she meant it from six thousand miles away.

*

She wondered if Harry thought about her as often as she thought about him. It was evening time for her, and Harry was probably (hopefully) sleeping. She knew if she called him, he would wake to the sound of her ringtone. She would tell him how much she missed him, and he would be alert and awake before the sun was even up.

So, she stared silently out the window of the tall building she was living in on her own, trying not to think about her best friend half a world away. She tried not to think about how his life was very much the same and hers was not. It’s not like she could date anyone even if she wanted to—she was only state side for another six months and then she would be back to pining for Harry. Hoping and praying that they would just be.

Sarah called frequently and kept her updated on how Harry was actually doing. “His mind is everywhere...well not really. All he thinks about is you; but it really clouds his judgment and vision and everything,” she snickered. “We all miss you a lot.”

“I really miss you guys. This is an amazing opportunity and I’m glad, I guess,” she giggled. “That you made me go,” she rolled her eyes.

“My pleasure,” Sarah flipped her hair with a proud smile on her face. “So how are the guys?” She asked with a wiggling eyebrow.

“Oh...” she snorted. “That’s a no from me,” she told her. “There’s no point at all,” she explained.

“Plus, your betrothed would lose it,” she amended. “I heard something, somewhere, that even if you don’t eat, you can appreciate the menu,” she giggled. “So, tell me what they’re like.”

“What do you mean betrothed?” She rolled her eyes.

“Love, please don’t be silly,” Sarah sighed. “Harry would go out of his mind.” She looked at Sarah through the camera and stared at her. “You can’t be serious. If you met a guy in the States, Harry would go out of his mind. He’d spiral that you’ll never come back,” she explained. “You obviously know this.”

“No, I don’t obviously know this.”

Sarah was silent for a few moments and they just stared at once another. “Love,” she said so gently. “You have to know you’re both madly in love with each other,” she said.

Swallowing she shook her head. “Sarah, I don’t look like you. I don’t look like any girl Harry has ever dated. I don’t look like the girls that fall in love with him or Niall or even Mitch when you guys play on stage. I’m not...” she felt the pricking of tears burning her eyes. It was hard to have this conversation at all. Having it over Facetime thousands of miles away from her friend was even worse.

“Harry doesn’t love me though,” she said gently. Sarah’s eyebrows pinched together in concern and her lips pressed together. “He’s so entranced by you. I wish you could see the way he lights up when you’re around,” Sarah sounded so sure, so positive. It broke her heart that she couldn’t see how much Harry loved her the way she saw it. “He doesn’t love those girls because they’re not you.”

“But he should,” she whispered.

“Why would he?! He’s your best friend and he adores you. Everything about you. He was so excited for you to get this opportunity as much as he wanted to handcuff you to his side. You—”

“Because I’m not good enough for him,” she said dejectedly.

Sarah was silent again. “What are you talking about?”

“Sarah, he’s perfect,” she said. “He’s beautiful, he’s funny, he’s smart, he’s nice. He is the best person I know and he deserves—”

“He deserves you,” she interrupted. She shook her head sniffling as she thought about all the times she wanted Harry so much and he was always so close but he really, always, so far away.

“I’m not pretty—”

“Love, you’re stunning,” she promised. “You have to believe that. Harry forgets how to speak when you walk in the room...he’s so completely smitten with you.”

She snorted. “Harry forgets how to speak when anyone walks in the room.”

Neither of them spoke for a moment. Just a small sniffle every couple seconds. “Harry has been depressed while you’ve been gone. He’s been dying to come see you. It’s all he can talk about. He doesn’t go out, but he doesn’t even want to go out without you. He plays music, he packs up, he sleeps, and he goes to work. The only time he’s himself is when he chats with you. You are his favorite person; that is more than enough.”

She didn’t respond to Sarah’s claims. “Are you coming to visit?”

Sighing Sarah smiled weakly. “We’re all trying to spread out the visits so as not to overwhelm you but also make it go by faster for us all,” she rolled her eyes. “He may miss you the most, but he’s not the only one. It’s quite testosterone-y around here,” she giggled.

Smiling she nodded. “Yeah, I bet,” she shook her head. “M’sorry to leave you with them all.”

“Oh it’s quite alright. You’ve always been good about reigning in their craziness though. I just don’t have the knack, energy, or patience for it,” she rolled her eyes. “They’re silly boys.”

“That’s for sure. Niall told me he was going to try his hand at your drums.”

“Yeah, he did! I almost murdered him,” she laughed.

She was grateful to not talk about Harry for the rest of the phone call. As much as she probably did want to talk about him. But if she did, she was afraid she would continue crying and crying until it was time for her to go home.

*

While she loved having everyone visit, of course it was Harry’s visit she was looking forward to the most. (Not that she would tell the others that.) But it was Harry that she was nearly bouncing with excitement in the airport terminal as she waited anxiously for him to appear through the doors of baggage claim ready to tackle him in a hug that she hoped would never end.

“For someone so tall you think I’d find you more easily,” she said to her phone.

He chuckled a bit tiredly. “M’jus’ stuck behind a ton of people, kitten. M’here though. M’looking for your short frame but m’afraid I might miss you.”

“Suddenly I want you to go home.”

“Aw,” he cooed. “Don’t be mean,” he chuckled. “Came all this way,” he reminded her.

She was about to make another slight joke at his expense, but her eye caught his tall frame just as the doors open once more. All at once, she was running.

She dropped her phone into her purse and felt tears prick her eyes and she didn’t even warn him that she saw him, didn’t warn him as she silently flew across the crowd of people. Only stopping when her arms were around his neck, her toes barely touching the floor and nothing ever felt so much like home except for Harry. Stumbling at the sudden mass of energy flying at him, he sighed with relief as his arms wrapped around her. They stood silently, just as they did the last time they were in the airport, her tears silent and few this time as she released a breath she felt like she had been holding since she left.

“Hi, kitten,” his voice vibrated in his chest and through her body.

“Hi Harry,” she whispered.

“Missed me?” He hummed to the top of her hair.

“A little,” she muttered. He chuckled.

She had heard Harry sing for almost her whole life—since she had met him when she moved to England and started primary school the same year as he did. Harry’s voice was like a lullaby—her suggestion to record covers was joke, but she was grateful all the same.

But there was no greater music than Harry laughing in her ear.

*

Harry had the longest visit—staying two weeks in her little place all snuggled up like their little married couple that everyone mistook them for. “M’so happy t’be here,” he said while she poured muffin batter, she just finished mixing into the pan.

“Just for muffins?” She smiled.

With a shake of his head, a sigh, and an eyeroll he thought about shaking her a bit at how silly she was being. “Kitten, ‘ve missed you something awful,” he murmured.

She focused on pouring carefully and not how her stomach fluttered at his words. “I heard,” she said gently. “Moping around?”

“What’s the point in going out if m’best friend isn’t around?” He shrugged.

“So you don’t get all sad and sappy while I’m gone!”

He smiled that beautiful, dimply smile that made her heart skip beats. “Love, m’a mess without y’around t’keep me in line,” he admitted. “Can’t remember ever being apart from you after I met you.

Putting the empty bowl in the sink and the pan in the oven she looked Harry all lanky and beautiful sitting on the stool at the breakfast bar sipping his coffee that she so kindly made for him. All the things that Sarah mentioned ran through her brain. Here he was visiting her so he wouldn’t go crazy for the rest of the year. She thought about all the girls that fawned over him and how pretty they were and how pretty he was.

But she also thought about how he was here. Completely content on being alone in her place or exploring nearby while she was at work. Cooking her dinner and taking her for walks and visiting tourist attractions when she was free.

Hope seemed like the enemy every time she looked in the mirror. Looking at her reflection made her long for a less asymmetrical face. She wished her skin was smoother. And if she looked past her neck, she made herself forget how to breathe without how sad she was and the idea that she would never be good enough for her best friend.

“Hey love, I made reservations for this ramen place, have y’been to it yet?” Hurriedly she left the bathroom with a shake of her head and hurried to find Harry scrolling on his phone, comfortably at home on her couch.

Over the six months she’d been here, she felt the place always seemed a bit empty.

She should have known Harry was the part that was missing.

*

When Harry left to return home the heartache was nearly as fresh as the last time. But now it felt like a countdown—for as much as she loved the internship, she was excited to go back and get back into her routines and be with her best friend.

The tears continued to roll down her cheeks as she watched Harry cross through security and out of view. “It’s so refreshing to see a couple so committed and in love with each other,” a woman smirked gently at the poor girl sadly gazing longingly after her best friend. She turned to the woman who looked old enough to be her mother.

“Pardon?” She sniffled wiping her cheeks and under her eyes with both hands.

“I’m sorry, not to be intrusive, you just reminded me of my husband and myself years ago,” she said reaching into her purse for a package of tissues and then offered one to the poor sad girl. “In college we spent some time abroad—a year apart from one another each. The longest time we were ever apart.”

“Oh...we’re not...” she sniffled wiping the tissue under her nose. “We’re just friends.”

The woman smirked and shook her head. “Yes. They usually are,” she trailed off and headed toward the security line as well.

Blinking away the final tears and sniffling, she turned on her heel heading back for the warm air outside the airport thinking how there were fewer minutes left until she would see Harry next.

--

@tiaamberxx

#harry #harry styles #harry styles writing #harry styles fluff #harry styles smut #harry styles blurbs #harry styles blurb #harry styles angst #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles fic #harry styles imagine #harry styles one shot #harry styles concept #hs #hs fic #hs writing #one direction #one direction writing #best friend!harry #harry styles au #committed

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Mission Failed

Simon “Ghost” Riley x M!Reader x John “Soap” MacTavish

Last Edited: 17/03/2023

TW: slight angst, foul language, violence, blood, gore, gunshot wound, death mention

@denzellovehazelnuts: Hi! hope you have a good day! Can you do a poly "Ghost x male reader x Soap" (if you comfortable writing poly relationship) with slow burn, angst and fluff at the end? Where Ghost and Soap already in a relationship until the reader came into their team The two male thought the reader wasn't talkative around people but few weeks later, things change at first Ghost seems interesting in the male skill using gun and how fast he can run and Soap like the male sense of humour. Both of them thought it only a friendship type of things. Until the male save Ghost from the enemy on the battlefield and him laughing at Soap jokes. That when the two males known what happen to them, they weren't sure if M/n would comfortable in a relationship with them, so they start doing small things for him like making coffee or helping training,.. And M/n notice it, he even started to fall for the both of them. But he keep denying the things they did for him because he thought that what friend do. and M/n don't think he is ready for a new relationship, he wasn't sure he is good enough for them (the male got trauma from the previous relationships) (more angst please, I would like to suffer for a little bit) (・∀・) After a while, the three of them got into a mission together, everything went good until the male got shot. He thought he going to be de@d soon (only to find out that he only got shot at his leg) so M/n confessed how he feel about the two of them. (andddd I don't know what to do with the ending cause I'm ran out of idea. I would want to see how the treated each other when got into a relationship. Sorry about the grammar, English isn't my first language)

Word Count: 2,654

AO3 LINK -> HERE

Notes: hiiii! i dont do heavy angst but i did do some u know? slow burn it is!!! srry it took so long! irl things hold me back a lot. N since u wanted slow burn, n with all that uve put (about 350 words of things i can work on/with 2 get this drawn out as a full-on fic!! yay!) i had 2 like. try n put all u wanted in there so yea! hope u enjoy!! also! i threw in some other characters like gaz n roach. hope u dont mind em being in here since this is like, a mash of cod n codmw2 (canon? what cancon?) cause i rlly do wanna put some other characters in here that i find interesting n build some sort of character/personality 4 the reader. reader deserves some cool friends-2-brothers!

At first, you hadn’t wanted to join Task Force 141. You were comfortable with your position as the quiet, but light on your feet, knife specialist. Well, that wasn’t truly your title. You were just good with knives. You weren’t too shotty with a gun either. Either weapon being in your hands meant blood was going to be shed. KorTac needed those types, especially those who could use it to get in as well as out; you also couldn’t forget about using your skills to get information. Torturing the prisoners wasn’t something you particularly liked, but you were good at it too. Combining your skills with knives and guns, it truly was hell for anyone on the opposite side of your team. You also couldn’t forget that, out of the others, you were much faster. Sure, some could still beat you at times but that didn’t mean you weren’t good. Bets had been constantly taking place with you, along with others as it was one of the few things any of you could do to pass the time in a less-than-bloody manner.

The transfer from KorTac to Task Force 141 wasn’t smooth. Horangi, or Kim Hong-jin, didn’t let you go for weeks. You were part of his team, one of his men. The leader of KorTac is what most of you saw him as. He knew many of you like the back of his hand. Not to mention, a tiger can be cruel but would never devour its cubs for no reason, well, as some say. As far as you knew, because you were all together, you were a team and therefore family. While there were others who didn’t get along, out in the field, all of you had each other’s back. Very rarely did anyone get left to perish to the enemy.

With all that in mind, it took weeks for him to let you go. More or less, Laswell was the one to convince him; that is if you call bringing each plus every person in KorTac to ruins as “convincing”. She wanted you on a team she could keep tabs on you; doubting her power and skills was out of the question. Which meant leaving KorTac to ensure that everyone else was free from possible imprisonment or death was necessary.

Fitting in wasn’t too hard considering most of the people there were from all over the place. While it’s odd for a member from another team to suddenly appear on another, it didn’t bother most of the others. Just from a glance, you could tell who was into who; as well as who exactly was in a relationship. A man by the name of Ghost including another called Soap, you knew were together. Soap flirted with almost everyone, though it was more teasing and lighthearted. With Ghost though? The flirting went up by twenty percent. His dial for teasing went up tenfold too. Meanwhile, Ghost hardly looked at anyone else, nevertheless, stare at them unless they were the Scottish man. Frankly, you didn’t mind. Who were you to judge the two? Especially when they were good at what they did.

It takes weeks before you’re comfortable enough to so much as talk to anyone 141. Gaz, or Kyle as Soap tended to call him when annoyed, is the first to so much as approach you. While the others are interested, you coming from KorTac had put them off for a bit. Gaz on the other hand treats you like a brother. He’ll throw his arm around your shoulder, dragging you around as he laughs about the past or even at your jokes. At meals, he always throws a raised eyebrow at those who look at you oddly when you’re quiet or sitting with the man. He treats you like you’re part of the team, furthermore, that truly means more than anything to you.

The man is just as bloodthirsty as you are. His stories of falling out of planes along with taking out enemies only lead to you looking up to your new teammate and brother. His tales of meeting Captain Price, past missions, a few tidbits of him being with the SAS, together with some metals he’s earned, only makes you want to pry more stories from the man; not like you don’t have to try. Simply asking about his stories leads to at least an hour-long spill of them from the guy.

And with his stories comes a few of your own. You don’t share much of them, knowing Gaz spreads them to the rest of the team with more dramatics to try to get you to interact with the others. Something you do learn about him that you always keep in mind from his stories is that his blood type is B Negative and shooting any dog, wild or not, makes him feel a bit guilty; he had to shoot one a while ago and apologised to the poor mutt after having to put it down to finish his mission.

With all that he’s shared and how the both of you see each other as brothers, it’s only fair that you let yourself talk to the others in the team. Though your words are short, along with your jokes being told quickly to distract yourself from the stressful situations, you allow yourself to slowly relax with the others. Gaz’s constant support helps you finally allow yourself to bond with your new team and family. It’s only after a mission that things change. 

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

“Take the left! Keep your heads down and keep movin’!” Captain Price’s voice rings out in your earpiece. Everything has gone to shit. The intel you’ve been getting was entirely a trap. You’re running through an underground tunnel, Ghost and another man named Roach is running in front of you.

Roach is a quiet man, never talking or letting out a sound, but semi-friendly. From his actions and what you’ve been told of him, he does his best to complete the missions to the tea. The few interactions you’ve had with him were silent but nice. Whether or not he’s mute has crossed your mind time and mind again but you don’t ask; you’d rather leave the man be. After all, he has become something like a friend maybe even another brother.

“Copy. We’re nearly out. Roach and [Redacted] are with me,” Ghost responds, quickening his pace. The rifle smacks against your back as you speed up to keep up with the other two men. Despite the situation, the three of you remain as calm as you can be.

“You’re bein’ tracked like a rabbit is by a hound, Ghost! Move it!” The captain’s orders are clear and the worry is read between the lines. If you three don’t get out, it’s a huge blow to 141. Not only that, but Soap loses his boyfriend, Gaz loses two of his best friends as well as brothers, you three lose your lives, and Task Force 141 loses three of its members. Dying isn’t an option here.

“We have company,” Your words are muffled by your gear but the two soldiers in front of you hear them in their own pieces.

“Fuckin’ hell-” Ghost’s sentence gets cut off by gunfire from behind. Turning around, you fire the Lachmann Sub in your possession.

“We gotta go! They’re gaining!” You clip one of the enemies in the shoulder and another is hit in the stomach. Picking up the speed, the three of you try to beat them out of the tunnel. You cover the back, hoping the two get out before you. If you get surrounded, it’s over.

Thankfully, they haven’t reached the other end of the tunnel as the three of your burst out of the exit. You grab a grenade, pull the pin and throw it in the tunnel. As soon as it leaves your hands, you’re running faster to get to Roach and Ghost before anything else can; one arm wraps around each of your teammates’ necks, dragging them down to the ground as the little metal bomb goes off. Debris flies everywhere, looking for an area to land after being shot out of its place.

With the tunnel exist now collapsed along with no more flying rock and metal, you release the men. “How copy?” Crackles through each of your earpieces. You knock your forearm into Roach’s upper arm, eyes crinkling from your smile. He gives you a grateful nod, standing. You smack Ghost’s arm as he stands, glad to have escaped the enemies for now.

“Tunnel’s collapsed. We’re good. Ready for extraction, Sir,” Blunt and straight to the point are the skull-masked man’s words.

“Good. Heli’s close by. Move to the edge of the town.” With the three of you alive, you can practically feel Captain Price’s relief.

“Copy that, Captain,” Your muffled response comes before Ghost can send in his own. He scans you from the corner of his eye but doesn’t give you a retort. You do, however, hear a small huff of air leave him. You throw your arm around Roach’s neck again, puffs of air leaving you from happiness, meanwhile, his arm comes around your back. Seems the three of you live another day.

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

After that mission, Ghost tends to lurk around you more than he originally had. It didn’t help that Soap tends to tag along as well. Thankfully, he finds your jokes hilarious if the loud, boisterous laughter he lets out all the time tells you anything. His teasing ends up piling onto you as well. Before, it was light as well as spread out. Now, it’s almost like he’s talking to Ghost with all the teasing and flirting he now does with you. His boyfriend hardly seems concerned but rather encourages his behaviour. Of course, that doesn’t mean he goes easy on you when the two of your spar together. He’s dead serious when it comes to sparring; it’s only a reminder that while he does good off, he’s just as dangerous as the rest of them.

The two men seem to be fixated on wanting to help you out in training as well. More pointers plus tips are thrown your way when you practice with either of them. Sometimes, they’ll even make you coffee for those sleepless nights. Mentioning such things to Gaz and Roach only leads to your sworn brothers giving you knowing looks or a few teasing words; Gaz is the one with the teasing remarks while Roach pats your shoulder in a mocking but teasing “you poor man” way. Neither seems keen on wanting to spill the tea on why the Scottish and British men have been more affectionate.

While you enjoy their kind gestures, including their company, you’re not sure if you’re ready to admit to yourself, or them, about such feelings or relationships. On the surface, you truly do want to ask them if this is some sort of flirting schtick they have going on. Deep down though, the idea of being with anyone again makes your stomach fill with the lead. How could you enter another relationship? After the last one ended with your soon-to-be fiance’s brains splattered all over a brick wall. How can you move past that? How can you allow yourself to find someone like them? Or even better than them? The answer to that is a sigh alongside a bitter smile. The ring hiding under your tactical gloves seems to burn your skin. Truly, how can you let your first love go? After all, if you weren’t good enough to keep them alive, how can you keep these two from meeting the same gorey end?

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

“To think I’d find myself here… How fuckin’ funny,” You mumble. Another mission, this one just like all the others. Well, it would have been if you hadn’t been shot. The blood leaking from your leg alongside a knife wound to your side leave you in pain. Feeling weak isn’t something uncommon but neither is it constantly happening. Words are being spoken to you through your headset. You were to be the lookout but ended up being the enemy's first target.

“How copy?” Rings in your ears. Your eyes stare blankly in front of you. You feel pathetic. Too tired to talk. Too tired to get up. You just sit, popped up against a tree in the heavily wooded area. You’ve failed, failed, failed.

“C’mon, Mate, how do ya copy?” Soap’s voice is worried and winded. He and Ghost are the people you’ve been teamed up with and you’ve failed.

“[Redacted], how copy?” The next tone is Ghost’s. It sounds slightly strained.

“Mission Failed,” You croak, head tilted back and against the tree.

“Status report, Mate. Where are ya?” He’s rushing, possibly panicked now.

“Got two wounds. Gunshot to the thigh. Knife to the side. Bleeding pretty bad, Soap.” You close your eyes, sighing.

“State your location.” The Brit seems to be just as worried as his Scottish counterpart.

“Dunno. Woods. Against a tree… There’s a lot of blood. Feelin’ woozy.” When you open your eyes, your sight is blurred. You’re losing too much blood.

“Keep talkin’ to us then, yeah? You’ll make it out. We’ll get out together,” The Scot’s words, though hopeful, only make you scoff quietly.

“You know… If I get outta here… Think we can go out sometime? Bourbon and whiskey? The three of us?”

“When we get out, [Redacted]. There’s no if here,” The masked man makes it sound final like there’s no way you’ll die on them.

“Yeah… Yeah..” You don’t say anymore, everything slowly hazing away. It’s like your floating in winter with how cold you feel.

“[Redacted]? Don’t sleep! C’mon! Keep ya eyes open!” Soap’s words fade away along with everything else. All that waits is cold darkness.

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

“So… Think you can handle our drinking date after this?” Soap perches on the side table, messing with a lighter he took from Ghost.

“After he’s healed, Johnny. No alcohol before,” A semi-scolding is all the man gets from the brooding Ghost. You laugh slightly, jostling your wounds. You wince but wave off the concerned looks you get.

“After I’m no longer full of holes, Johnny-boy.” You take a sip of water afterwards, making Soap frown playfully.

“And to think I was gonna bring out the good shit fer ya. A shame. A damn shame.” You gently shake your head. It was a close call but Ghost got to you before you completely bled out. From what you’ve been told by Gaz, who yelled at you for an hour after you woke up from your four-day sleep, Ghost and Soap dragged you back to the helicopter. Both refused to leave your side. Captain Price ended up having to yell at the men and bribe them with a bit of alcohol to get them to even go to their own rooms. You made sure to apologize to Gaz, hugging him tightly after his blow-up. He thought he was going to lose a friend and family member so you couldn’t blame him.

Roach gave you the cold should for a while before appearing in your room with a cup of coffee. He made sure to smack the back of your head for your stupidity as well, though it was hardly rough. You grabbed the man before he could so much as bolt though when he saw you getting up to hug him. He hadn’t pushed you away though. And the captain? It felt like you were a kid again with how he pinned you with his stare. He made sure to tell you exactly how he felt, going from angry, to disappointed, to angry again. Another guy you couldn’t blame anything on. But you get to live another day at least. And you get to have that date with the two guys who were able to grab ahold of your heart after a long-time of heartache and loss.

#x male reader #x reader #my fics #fanfic #ao3 fanfic #cod x reader #cod x male reader #cod mw2 x reader #cod mw2 x male reader #poly ghoap x reader #poly ghoap x male reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost x reader #simon ghost x male reader #john soap mactavish x reader #john soap mactavish x male reader

[semperama]

Soak + dosh please

This is way too long for tumblr and I'm sorry, but it totally ran away with me. Also there is going to be a Part 2, I promise. Also I'll put it on AO3 later when I can think of a title lmao. Please forgive me because I have no idea how to write Josh yet, but this was fun!!

----

It’s probably crazy for Daniel to be in the back half of his 30s and still feel like a fucking imposter all the time.

He opens the door to Josh tossing a football back and forth from hand to hand, mouth curved into a grin, and has to bite down on the inside of his cheek just until it hurts, just to make sure this is real. He heard a story once—maybe an urban legend—about a man who was in a coma and thought he lived a whole entire life, great job and wife and kids and the whole nine. Sometimes he thinks that could be him. F1 driver, friends with fucking—movie stars and NFL players. It’s all a little much when just a minute ago he was a kid with goofy hair and crooked teeth and a sense of humor no one got.

“Hey,” Josh says, with his stupid handsome face. “Good to see you, man.”

Daniel steps back to let Josh in and wills the blood vessels in his face to fucking cool it. “Welcome to my humble abode,” he jokes. Another thing to be self-conscious about, this stupid-huge house that’s always empty. It’d be great for parties, but Daniel’s never thrown one.

They should have made other plans, Daniel thinks. A concert. A movie. A bar. Hanging out at home—who does that? Teenagers?

“Humble indeed,” Josh says with a chuckle, elbowing Daniel in the ribs as he walks by. “They don’t pay you anything to drive those cars, huh?”

“Yeah, I’m barely scraping by.” Daniel settles into the banter, grateful for it. “Can I get you anything? I have water, stale bread, maybe some mouse droppings…”

Josh throws his head back at that one, his laugh sending electric tingles down Daniel’s spine. “No beer hidden anywhere?” he asks, and Daniel grins at him, indulgent.

“I think I can rustle one up for you, maybe.”

He waves Josh out to the patio and then heads into the kitchen to grab two bottles out of the fridge. It’s the middle of the season, just a couple weeks until he has to be in Austin, so he probably should be sticking to clear liquor if anything, but who’s here to judge him?

“Did you bring that for me?” Daniel asks when he emerges into the sunshine, nodding at the football Josh cradles in one palm as the takes the beer bottle from Daniel with the other.

The corner of Josh’s mouth tilts upward. “You just about creamed yourself last time we tossed the ball around,” he says. “I figured I’d make your day.”

“My year, more like.” Daniel can’t deny it; Josh has his number on this one. “I don’t want you to be bored, though. You do this for a living.”

“You ever get tired of racing?” Josh asks.

Daniel chuckles, shaking his head. “Touche.”

There’s no grassy field behind Daniel’s house to play in, but they make do with the long strip of pool deck, all the chairs pushed to the side. At first, they just toss the ball back and forth lazily. That’s honestly enough for Daniel, just watching the satisfying spiral of the ball and feeling the slap of leather against his palms. It’s warm and breezy and Josh keeps grinning at him—he could do it all fucking day.

But eventually he gets antsy, wants to make sure Josh is still having fun, so he starts trying to make things difficult, prancing back and forth, sometimes running to the other side of the pool. It feels better when Josh is laughing at him. It feels like he’s pulling his weight.

“Come on, really throw one,” he says, holding his hands up in preparation. Josh chuckles at him, pulls his arm back, hesitates, and then lets it fly. This time, when it hits Daniel’s hands, the sound is loud, echoing. It fucking stings.

Daniel wants it again.

“Is that, like, your maximum?” he asks as he lobs it back.

Josh grins and shakes his head. “Nah, man. I don’t want to hurt you. You gotta be able to hold a steering wheel in a few days.”

“Oh, come on,” Daniel says, hopping from foot to foot and shaking out his arms. “You won’t hurt me. I can take it.”

Josh quirks and eyebrow at him. “You sure do talk a big talk, Ricciardo.”

All the blood rushes to Daniel’s face. He can only hope he’s already red enough from exertion and the sun that Josh won’t notice. Josh seems so fucking implacable, but Daniel’s been soaked in sweat and breathing hard for a while now, his t-shirt clinging to his chest. He pinches the fabric and unsticks it, letting some of the breeze in, but doesn’t help much.

“Just once,” Daniel says, unable to help the pleading note in his voice. “I want to know what it’s like.”

Josh walks over to the table near the house where their sweating beer bottles sit and takes a long swig. Daniel watches the bob of his throat, watches him lick the moisture from his bottom lip when he sets the bottle back down. When he turns back toward Daniel, he starts tossing the ball from hand to hand again, putting a spin on it, the silence stretching until it makes Daniel’s skin prickle with discomfort.

“Alright,” Josh says at last, “but I don’t want to hear your crying if it hurts.” He beckons Daniel with two fingers. “Come here. I need to show you how to catch it first.”

“I know how to catch it,” Daniel says, but he jogs over anyway.

“You know how to catch a ball thrown by a buddy,” Josh says. When Daniel stops a couple feet away, Josh lunges for his wrist and drags him in closer. “You don’t know how to catch a pass thrown by one of the most powerful arms in the NFL.”

“Fuck,” Daniel says, embarrassingly, out loud. He jerks his wrist out of Josh’s hand and wipes his palms on his shorts. “Fine, fine. Show me, then.”

Josh tucks the ball into his armpit, then cups his hands together, a foot or so out from his chest. “This is the way you have been catching it,” he says. “Which is good if you’re a professional receiver. But this time—” He brings his hands to his chest and turns his palms upward— “let it hit your chest first and kinda fall into your hands.”

He motions for Daniel to show him, and Daniel mimics his hand placement as best he can, hands cupped near his stomach. Josh rolls his eyes and puts his hands under Daniel’s, nudging them upward and squeezing, molding them into the shape he wants. His fingers are softer than Daniel thought they’d be, maybe a little callused but still gentle. Daniel can feel his heart thundering against his ribs, and he can only hope Josh can’t feel it too, close as he is.

“And, uh,” Daniel says, voice cracking, “what’ll happen if I don’t to it right?”

“Oh, nothin’ much.” Josh grins, winks at him. “Just a broken finger or two, maybe. But I hear you already have some experience with that anyway.”

Daniel lets out a nervous, high-pitched giggle. “Christ.”

“I’m just messing with you,” Josh says. “I’ve never broken anyone’s fingers.” He pushes on Daniel’s shoulder, like he’s trying to wrestle some of the tension out of him, then points past Daniel’s ear to the far side of the pool. “Go to that corner over there. Then put your hands like I showed you. I’ll put the ball where it needs to be, and you’ll be fine.”

If Josh keeps talking like that, Daniel’s pretty sure he’s going to embarrass the hell out of himself. His shorts are too loose, too thin, and he’s already half hard in them. He wonders, sometimes, if players get like this during games, if it’s normal to be turned on by the perfect tight spiral or the smack of leather against your skin. He’s not sure if it’s the game, the thrill of it, or if it’s Josh, all that power right up close, all of it focused on Daniel.

He turns and jogs back over to the far side of the pool, getting as close to the edge of the deck as he dares. Sweat is dripping into his eyes, and swiping a forearm across his head doesn’t help much. After this, a cold shower. He fucking needs it.

“Alright,” Josh calls to him, “you ready?”

Daniel puts his hands in position and looks to Josh for approval. “Like this?”

“That’s fine,” Josh says. “A little higher, maybe.” Daniel brings his hands up another inch, and Josh nods at him. “That’s good. Now…don’t move.”

The windup feels like it takes forever. Daniel watches Josh’s arm, the bulge of his bicep, the way the muscles of his forearm shift as he brings the football up past his ear. His feet jig a little, his body arcs back. The expression on his face—it’s like he’s already so fucking pleased with himself, and he ball hasn’t even left his hand yet. Daniel wants to reach down and adjust himself, but he can’t move. He isn’t allowed to move. Josh told him not to.

Then, suddenly, the ball is shooting through the air, so fast Daniel can’t even track it like he should. Good thing Josh is a pro and didn’t need Daniel to track it. It hits his chest right where it was supposed to, so hard it nearly knocks the wind out of him, and his fingers curl around it instinctively, hugging it into his body.

“Holy fuck, mate,” Daniel says in disbelief. His palms are still stinging from the last throw, and now his chest aches, and—he feels like he’s losing his mind, but he wants more. It’s still not enough. He wants to catch ten more passes like this. Twenty. He wants his whole chest to hurt, his whole body to be one big bruise.

“You okay?” Josh says, and suddenly he’s right there in front of Daniel again, prying the football out of his hands. “All good?”

“Yeah, I—” Unthinkingly, Daniel reaches down and lifts up the hem of his shirt, looks down at his chest. He expected—maybe was hoping—to see a mark there already, but the skin is just a little red, a faint starburst in the center of his breastbone.

“You’ll have a hell of a bruise there tomorrow,” Josh says. He pokes the spot with two fingers, and the throb of pain makes Daniel’s dick throb in sympathy. If Josh looks down, Daniel’s fucked.

Of course, Josh does look down.

“Hmm.” The sound comes from somewhere deep in Josh’s chest, and this time Daniel’s whole body throbs. “Is that for me? Or the ball?”

That nervous laugh bubbles out of Daniel’s mouth again. He feels so fucking unsexy right now, like he’s in one of those nightmares where’s he’s shown up to school in his underwear. “I dunno, dude,” he says. “You get a personal demonstration of the talent of someone you admire and see how you react.”

“Mhm,” Josh hums again, thoughtfully this time. “No, I know.”

He touches Daniel again, pressing his thumb against the spot on Daniel’s chest and rubbing gently. Anymore of this, and Daniel’s going to have to climb out of his own skin. He takes a deep, shaky breath and pastes on a smile, then steps backward so Josh’s hand is hovering in midair, nothing left to touch.

“Anyway.” Daniel steps out of his shoes. He tugs his shirt off the rest of the way, refusing to notice whether Josh is still looking or not. “I gotta get out of this heat. You coming?”

He’s a coward, but he doesn’t wait for Josh’s answer, only steps around him and takes a flying leap into the pool. The cool water closes over his head like relief. He floats there, weightless, until his lungs burn.

#daniel/josh #dosh #my writing #f1 #sorta #sorry but i had to post this right away #because i'm self-conscious and i'll never post it if i don't post it right now ahaha

[santacoppelia]

An angelic meta.

Ok. I'm starting my 13th rewatch of season 2, and Episode 1 made me think about the nature of angels. Not in a theological way (well, maybe a little), but in the narrative.

Before this episode, we have only met angels as they are now. I mean, we have seen Aziraphale through the ages, but the other angels we saw during season 1 (Gabriel, Michael, Uriel, Sandalphon, Anderson [sherlockian joke, sorry]) we have mostly seen them in the present age. They are mostly jerks, rigid, uptight, righteous, full of themselves, they can be cruel and sometimes downright malicious (yup, Michael and Sandalphon, I'm talking about you, utter pieces of...)

But the first minutes of season 2 present us with not 1, not 2, but THREE angels in their "factory setting" status (yup, that's sort of a reference to the fanfic with the same title, if you haven't read it, go check it on AO3). In the first 30 minutes of the season, we would also get to know Muriel, the lesser angel we've met so far.

We find out that angels can be:

Full of joy and awe

Tender

Honestly, genuinely surprised

Full of curiosity and wonder

Openly loving (that "You are funny, I love you!" gets me every time)

Enthusiastic

Generous

Naïve (infinitely naïve, even when being jerks. That's what makes some of their misconceptions, misdirections and prejudices so much fun)

This, I would say (and this is where I bring Theology into the equation) is how Divine Grace looks like. For Catholics, "grace" depends on the intermediation of the Church (one of the bones I actually had with the lot before leaving), but when you talk about angels... Well, they are created to be in full contact and awe with Divine Grace in a natural way (because they are created immersed in that grace, perfect, and they get blessed by acting in order to follow that loving nature towards God... and if they resist that nature is when and why they fall). Thomas Aquinas explained this in extenso (and my best friend, who is a Medievalist, Philosopher and fan of Thomas Aquinas has explained this to me in a 15 minute long audio, so I'm more confident about what I'm writing now, ha)

Well, now let's leave the theological bit behind. What piqued my interest was, as a matter of fact, watching Jim/Gabriel enjoying hot cocoa. We can oppose his joyful discovery to a couple of moments:

Gabriel's reaction during season 1, episode 1, when he finds Aziraphale enjoying sushi. "Why do you eat that?" and his face of disgust when thinking about "ingesting things" vs. the happiness of his experience, at every level, when he feels and tastes the cocoa (the mouthfeel, the taste, the heat, finally arriving at his stomach). He grows so fond of cocoa that it is his comfort thing for the rest of the season.

Aziraphale's first experience with food in "A Companion to Owls" (the Job minisode). At first he has the same old attitude we have seen on angels about human food: it is somewhat disgusting... But after he tries it, he discovers the huge pleasure it gives him and he goes wild with it. The love of food and the pleasure of eating exquisite things is still one of his defining traits.

But I would also put out a little note about how Aziraphale was, since the beginning, somehow conscious about the possibility of "falling from grace". If Angel! Crowley had been immersed in the creation of galaxies and stars, Aziraphale had been involved in the creation of Earth and humans. If I understood most of what my personal theologian explained to me about how the notion of "grace" had to be questioned and reinterpreted around how humans can have free will but also achieve grace, and what did that mean for the angels... Well, it redefined everything (the one who started asking all those "silly questions" around the Theology of Grace was Augustine of Hippo, and Thomas Aquinas had to rework ALL of the ideas around angelic grace using Aristotle to justify many things... And that how they came to be known as Fathers of the Church for Catholicism).

So... Angels in their "natural" state are joyous, cheerful, naïve, full of wonder and curiosity. Something (The Great War? Maybe... But maybe something before that) showed them distrust, made them rigid, self-righteous and simply... awful.

Where does this leaves my second favorite angel, Muriel? Well, they are still that sort of angel: that is one of the best things we found about them in this season, and why most of the fandom has already adopted them as our sweet child of divorce. So, she is still full of Divine Grace, and ingenuity.

This word, I believe, will become an interesting characteristic during season 3. Why? Because I'm not a native English speaker 😂. As such, it is more evident that ingenuity has a double meaning: both being an ingenue (naïf), but also being inventive, talented and witty (even wise). I offer a couple of contrasts too, to build up on this idea:

They had been called "dim" by The Metatron. I've already talked about how this is his "fatal flaw": he is underestimating his opponents and expecting everything to be predictable, but ingenuity usually beats predictability (Crowley is also a master of this)

Another character we saw during season 2 that was full of ingenuity: Shax. Yeah, she is not the sharpest tool in the shed, and she is cunning... But that's because she embodies those both sides of the idea! She is ingenuous and still asks Crowley for cues about how to work on Earth, but she is also ingenious and is always planning schemes for her own benefit (even when they blow up in her face). Also, she was the first one to determine that Gabriel had to be in the bookshop, even when she couldn't see him or detect him, and was so certain as to launch an attack.

I've rambled a lot, and I'm now a bit peckish. Do with this information what you like!

#good omens meta #good omens 2 #muriel good omens #shax good omens #crowley #aziraphale #jim short for gabriel #good omens theory #good omens and theology #not really sure if Thomas Aquinas would be happy with this #And Augustine of Hippo wouldn't be too proud of me #lord give me chastity and continence but not now

[valentine-writes]

Hello hello! Been downright dying over how much I love your AtSV work!! So I thought I would feed into it >:) If you're feeling up to it, whats been brewing in your mind about The Spot x reader? Take it platonic or romantic, either has so much potential for fun in my opinion and I guess I'm just interested in what ideas you might have?? Not a lot to work off of from what I'm asking but I hope you're able to have fun with it anyways ^^; Whether youre able to get to this request or not, thanks for reading! Love what you do :)

collision.

「 tws + notes: possibly ooc, unedited, he's kind of pathetic little meow meowified im sorry, first bit inspired by @//submurged-into-clouds !! <3 」

↳ ft. the spot

「 gn!reader, can be platonic or romantic <3 」

author's note: first, AUWJHEJSBS thank u so much!!!! im glad u like what i've written so far– and i am SUPER excited to write for the spot becuz im gon b real,,, there was a momentary lapse of insanity where i was scouring for any content of him at all. SO TY 4 UR REQ!!!! ( /)u(\ ) i hope this is ok!!! i got carried away and stuff so,, i hope this is at the Very Least coherent! leaned for platonic stuff with romantic undertones that intensify throughout so,, read it how u like ^_^

▸ we're going to start this by establishing that bro has literally No Friends anymore. you met him after the collider incident and by some miracle, some sort of mercy from a higher power in the multiverse– you ended up becoming friends with him

really, meeting him was an accident. wasn't supposed to be anything more– just him messing around with his new abilities and slipping into a random universe with no idea where he was.

and there was you.

just you. out, alone at night. just taking a walk– disrupted by someone falling out of a weird portal from the sky.

this is the day your paths crossed, the day your fates intertwined, the moment that your world collided into his.

to put more literally: the day he crashed into you very unceremoniously.

im now re-reading the title and remembering his backstory and giggling at my unintentional joke. he is not catching a break. even from me.

▸ after recovering from a random stranger from another universe tumbling into your own, you began to talk.

now– you don't remember how the conversation started, but you were glad to listen. the way which he rambled to you, words tumbling out of his mouth like they'd been on his mind for a while– you felt like he needed someone to hear him.

he's surprised. you're not bothered. not frightened. not even weirded out. but you're not indifferent. you nod along, you comment on things here and there– but you listen. you actually listen to him.

eventually, when he leaves, you're sat there for a moment. just frozen– processing whether that had really happened or not. you see the indent his body left in the grass where the two of you sat. it's evidence enough for you.

a few weeks pass and you're certain that you were just fated to meet once and never again. you were fine with this.

▸ until he randomly popped up in your living room one day.

yes, he had been actively trying to find your universe again– and as casually as he can be, is now peeking from out the portal he created, head leaning in to get a better look at you.

you're not sure how you can tell considering he has no face,,, but he's definitely smiling.

he waves to you, awkwardly, (noticing that you're just staring at him while not saying a word), "thought i would say hi, so– ...hi."

you blink at him tiredly. "dude, it's 6:30 in the morning–"

he's treating this like it's normal for people to just show up in your house. he missed you– and it's very evident.

▸ no matter what type of relationship you're in with him: you GOTTA set boundaries. being one of the only people who cares to hang around him anymore means that you're gonna be seeing a lot of him.

while he certainly hasn't completely lost grasp on the concept of privacy, it's definitely been altered by the fact he's got powers that allow him to pop up wherever he wants. he's just a teeny bit invasive.

"hello!" he'll greet, randomly poking his head through a portal he made to your bedroom.

on instinct, you throw the closest thing to you. he's just glad you reached for the pillow and not the alarm clock also at your arms reach on the bedside table.

definitely a good idea to remind him that if he wants to hang out, he should probably message you, and if he wants to show up at your house for whatever reason, he should give you a heads up.

he has nearly walked in on you changing. and has apologized a million times every time it's brought up. it fr keeps him up at night.

▸ everyone in his life leaving him def messed him up a bit. he can deny it all he wants, but he's terribly anxious that you're gonna grow tired of him and leave.

constantly like "oh my god what if they leave for someone who has a face" and itz like,,, boy,,,, stfu itz 3am

he needs reassurance, even if he never explicitly says. but you're kind to him. patient. you're pretty much an angel in his eyes.

which is why he feels comfortable texting u in the dead of night like:

(im gonna b real i dont even know why i have this image)

▸ he's dismissed by most people around him– but you've given him your time. you've shown him that you care. he's doing everything he can to be certain you'll still care for him.

the random waves of "oh no but what if they hate me" hit him HARD. especially if he hasn't seen you in a while, if you take longer to respond to his messages, if you haven't been answering his calls– bro will jump to a conclusion

"hypothesis: they dont love me anymore :("

☝️🤓 SORRY HAKJWOENDOEND he would NOT say that. im just clowning on him itz a part of my luv 4 him </3

needs to be needed. wants to be wanted.

eventually you have a long talk about this. he's got a bit of an ego after realizing how much power he truly possessed– but you gently encourage him to let it down. a simple heart to heart. and while you're certain these things aren't going to dissipate with a single conversation, you've let him know he doesn't have to deal with it alone.

▸ physical contact is a need for him. bro's touch starved. he likes linking his pinky with yours or just intertwining your fingers together. if you ever let him rest his head on your shoulder or hugged him he'd actually have to fight tears. he hasn't been given affection in a while :(

▸ he doesn't really feel like he has to hide anything around you. he really doesn't have much of a filter when you're talking to him which makes for some amusing conversation. he finds your laughter the sweetest sound in the world– he likes making you laugh :] it makes him feel like he's accomplished something

▸ the alterations to his body have caused some weird little changes that most people don't notice. one of them most noticeably to you– he'd cold. not frigid or like icy, but a lot colder than normal people tend to be.

you first notice this when you're hanging out in your bedroom. you're sitting on your bed, while he paces back and forth, rambling about another failed villainous act

(you haven't questioned his whole obsession with villainy considering that he seems pretty harmless with what he's been attempting– no matter how much he tries)

"and then– ohh, and tHEN THEY JUST—" you notice how he's gesturing frantically, exasperated, annoyed– and out of instinct to provide some sort of comfort (or at least calm him down) your hand grasps his wrist

there's a moment of silence.

his voice dwindles into a more soft, subdued tone, watching as your fingers wrap around his wrist. "wh– if you wanted me to stop talking, you could've just... just said or...."

his mind is going blank, trailing off at your touch. he doesn't remember the last time someone has held his hand or even brushed up against him without freaking out.

"you're cold." you comment, now taking his hand between both of yours, as if you were trying to heat him back up. you don't meet his eyes, simply staring at his hand.

"oh– yeah, yeah, it's just– a thing with now. came with the holes–"

the sensation of your hands gently squeezing his shuts him up. you raise his hand to your lips and gently blow hot air onto it.

your brow furrows, nose scrunching up. "you're still cold..." you mutter, more to yourself than to him. quietly, your gaze returns to his face.

"does that bother you?" you ask him, after a beat of silence.

he shakes his head. your hands let go of his– but he quietly reaches back to hold it again.

"hold on a second. why don't you try again?" he suggests. you laugh softly, knowing it's obviously just an excuse. still, you humor him.

#the spot atsv #the spot #atsv x reader #the spot x reader #the spot x y/n #jonathan ohnn #jonathon ohnn #jonathan ohnn x reader #jonathon ohnn x reader #BRO ITZ SO HARD TO TAG FOR HIM IM GONNA ANWKJWEIJE?!!]^{>]*]% #ok im normal again

[bitethedustfools]

TWST story idea (8)

Inspired by a certain beast tamer Yuu post from a long time ago. Can't remember the name, sorry.

Yuu got called a beast tamer, but the only beast they have is Grim. Comparing to Kalim, who has a whole zoo, and Rook the Hunter, who has tendencies to attract animals, as well as Riddle with his hedgehogs and flamingos, the title beast tamer should have been handed to either three of them instead of Yuu.

It was a joke. Yuu knew it the moment Crowley called them a beast tamer, perhaps to flatter them into accepting a job or something, but no matter, Yuu is a joke in everyone's eyes.

Yuu is getting sick of getting asked if they have any animals or why they are called a beast tamer and so on. They don't know how to answer those, even if they do, it's not like it's going to improve their situation anyway.

Pissed off and feeling very petty, Yuu decided to tackle this the only way they know how. All those games are not for nothing, and Yuu ks going to put it to good use. Yuu is prepared for this. The time has come, and Yuu will not stand still when they are questioned again.

Yuu is gonna catch 'em all!

Yuu immediately goes on an adventure to snatch some monsters in the wilderness, and what do you know? Yuu is really a beast tamer. The monsters they brought home speak volumes.

"What's that? Oh, I'm sorry, I couldn't hear you over the purring of my gigantic chimera right next to me. Simply put, f*ck off!"

"How did I find Cerberus? I rowed myself to the underworld, you f*cker! Don't you dare call him fake! Go eat him, Cerby!"

"Oh damn. My phoenix set someone on fire. Hey, hey! It's going to be alright, I heard the phoenix is a bird of rebirth. You're going to be fine."

"Yes, I have a griffin, yes, I have a unicorn, a pegasus, a basilisk, and also yes, I have a bunch of normal animals too. You know what I don't have? Thaumarks. Pay up, b*tch. I need to feed my babies."

It goes without fail that a different beast will accompany Yuu and Grim to class, and due to this, it's not that easy to approach Yuu anymore. The beasts are effective bodyguards. There are no more jokes about a beast tamer; Yuu is the real deal now.

The boys could go deal with school and overblots; Yuu is gonna do the equivalent of farm life in the ramshackle dorm.

A different outlook would be instead of taming beasts, Yuu tamed people instead. Yuu is getting sick of these rude people so they decided to make the bullies their 'pet'.

Savanaclaw is the first victim since most unruly and undisciplined students came from here. Since this is a dorm filled with beastmen, naturally, power rules the weak is a norm.

Yuu did something that straight-up made the Savanaclaw students docile and obedient through incredible violence, harsh discipline, and volcano-like anger. The students that followed Yuu were either full of simps or simply out of fear or respect.

Second would be Diasomnia and Yuu obtain them without lifting a finger, believe it or not. Malleus is already wrapped around Yuu's finger since the beginning, if the respected housewarden and heir to the Briar Valley is like this, it only prompted the others to follow Yuu as well. They will treat Yuu like royalty. Simply put, Yuu got the whole package without asking.

…

Couldn't decide who's next. My brain ain't braining anymore. For those who wish to use the prompt, do tag me please. I want to read.

#twisted wonderland #twst wonderland #disney twst #twst #twst yuu #writing prompt #everyone loves yuu #my attempts for crack is horrendous #my fellow writers please make it top tier comedy #I lack happiness #allow me to indulge endorphins

[the-friendly-entity]

Hello there. Can you do an imagine where the MK1 characters finding out that the reader has an abusive family and how will they react to it when they find out?

[ ~"No Your Home"~ ] - Mortal Kombat 1

Congrats on being the first user to send a question! I am so sorry for the late response on this, somehow tumblr did not notify me of this until I checked out my activity, it is a really interesting prompt/idea! hope I did it as you like <3 and if you really suffer from this, I'm so sorry for hear that :( i hope you can seek for help to get out from that dangerous relationship and be in a better place safe

What contains? Abuse Topic, Sensitive Content, Mention of Gore/Death

How is visualized as? Cople Relation Ship, Family Relation Ship, Friend Relation Ship

Raiden

-He already had some suspicious, mostly at first when he wanted to wave or put his arm up to do a high fight and you reacted so scared and tried to cover yourself with your arms, something surely dint expect Raiden you do, at first he thought it was a just a misunderstanding for the first time, but when he see this sometimes repeat he have douts

-No Only that, but you using a clothes that cover most of your body also makes him suspicious, he does not judge anyone clothes style, but he cant stop feeling something was odd about it

-He always wanted to address this but he dont know how to, until one time he found you hided crying alone, he slowly get close to you and ask you whats wrong, he surely will be ok if dint want to address this or dont feel comfortable to talk what ever is bother you, but once you told him about the abuse you suffer from you parents he get mostly froze

-He can't believe you have such abused parents, not in a literal way, you are just a good person why do you deserve to be treated like that? and mostly by you own parents, he surely will talk to you all you about it and try to find a way to fix this, he will try to talk you parent try to make a deal in the most pacifist as possible, but if you parents are really aggressive and stubborn, he will use his Earthrelm champion title for this situation, or most tense parts, use his thunder powers to scared them and show dominance that way they let you free

-His house is welcome if you dont have a place to go to live with momentary, he even dont mind if you want to live in his house permaly as long you safe is what makes him feel relief, at the moment the first Raiden will do is take you to a doctor to check all you injures you parents did to you, make sure you get fully healed

Kung Lao

-Surprisely he surely will figure out more faster a difference from Raiden, he saw your odd reactions but he thought you were just that shy or he that scarry? I mean he a very buff guy~ (in his imagination)

-Surely he will figure out in one of his jokes, tickles you or carry you up for the fun, seeing your injuries and purple marks from the clothes as been lifted up a little from the playful moment, making the joke be fully over

-He will straight up asking what happened and who did this two you?, you try to hide your injures and stay away from him, just saying is nothing but of course is not, Kung Lao will insist a lot until saying the truth, he will not leave your safe until he knows why you are hurt

-Finally, you reveal about your abused parents, ooh Kung Lao is pissed, so badly, who dare to hurt you like that!? he dont care are your parents, they need to be teaching a lesson to not hurt their own children like that, he will just straight go to your parents house and start a discussion about it, if things gets intense fight will be make (dont worry he will not muder you parents but he wish)

-After that, he will make sure you will be safe, taking you to a doctor to check the injuries, and invite you to his home so you have a place to live, if your parents dare to try to take you back he will keep sure they will not try to archive that, keep you safe is his priority

Smoke - Tomas

-I think he will be the same fast to know it as kung lao, after all, he live an abuse experience with Bi-Han so he knows the feeling, seeing you trying to cover yourself with your arms, he has a worried look, straight asking "who is hurting you?...."

-Even if try to hide as much as possible, Smoke will be keeping close to you, he wants to figure out who is hurting you, he wants to help you, there is no need for to you hided this, he wants to help...

-He will always send hints about it, hints of you have someone there to help you, trying to earn your trust and trying to free you from this prison of fear you parents as made you, making you think you have no one to help you, thanks of all this hints and support from Tomas, you finally say about you Abuse Parents

-He was not even mad, or sad, he disappointed, disappointed from your parents for do this to you, he will comfort you and make sure to you feel safe, he as raiden will try to negotiate with you parents peacefully, if things dont work out, he will not just let leave you in that bad home, he will take with you to be safe not matter how much your parents yell or try to take you, he will protect you, after all, you parents dont know who is dealing with

Kenshi Takahashi

-Well, he not a hand person so he would never have seen this odd reaction from you, even so, Sento already told him something was not ok with you, which made him be in alarm

-I think the way Kenshi will figure out about your abusive parents on his own is you two are cuddling surely you already sleeping due to how safe you feel in his arms, in an accidental touch, he feels one of you injured, confused and in worried he carefully touch your body, making as possible not uncomfortable you or not broke you personal space, after all, was your body and he was not having permission to touch it, but as he found more and more injures, he get more worried, and more when he feel a lot of them are very recent

-After that, he will ask you about it, about this injury and what or who is causing it, you try to not say it and keep it as "its not big deal", but Kenshi will make you feel safe to make you talk about if, after all he can't leave you after he found you poor body badly hurt

-After you talk about your abusive parents, he is angry but not the same angry as Kung Lao, but definitely angry, he will try to your parents in a passive-aggressively way, and if they dont want to cooperate, Kenshi just straight you take out his katana and point it at your parents, to make them know who are dealing with, after that, he will take you to a doctor to check you injures, if you need a house to live, he will ask Jhonny for make you a house where you can be safe and far away from your parents (he dont think you are safe if you live with him, due all the yakuza situation and all the stuff he have to live as part of the Eearthrelm protectors) with all the things you need, even ask Jhonny for have you a job where you can get money, but dont worry, he always will have a day he will check on ya

Reiko

-He already saw the odd reaction, and he just felt proud having no idea why you acting that way, he thinks is because he strong looking and you feel dominated by his appearance, is because you acting such way, he may have abuse of this a little, just to get proud feeling

-Maybe the way he figure out this if you have a breakdown, posebly he was training and you dint know entering straight into the mouth of the wolf he almost hit you, you lucky you was slowly entering the room to avoid the hit, and that triggers you a lot making you fall from the floor crying, he will at first chuckles about this and telling you "come on, dont be dramatic i dint even hit you by luck" but seeing you not respond is what concern him

-He will try as best to comfort you, he will carry you carefully and take you to a room where you are comfortable and safe, waiting for you to stop crying and calm you down, once you finally calm, Reiko ask for explanations about you behavior early, and you know there not excuse or way out from this, so you told him about you abuse parents

-He at firts wil be silent, but you can see his expression got serious, he straight ask you where they live, and once you father open the door he will get pass out from Reiko punch in the face and bleeding from the nose, you mother not even have time to react what happen, but lucky for her, it was they warning, because Reiko will not have mercy next time if they try to do something to you, he will take you to his home so you be safe, and take you to doctors to cure you injures, and mostly he apologies about taking chance of you trauma for fill his ego, after what all that after, he mostly more sweet with you and mostly protective

Rain

-Again, he is not a very hand person, but surely he will notice you odd behavior when he moves his staff, making you react and cover your body with you arms, he mostly ask you ok, he mostly thinks he was too close to you and almost could hurt you, but when this happens a couple of times now he have suspicious

-He will ask trick questions, making sure to get all the information he wants to know about it, to know what is causing you react that way if something happens to you to always be alert of everything, everytime he asks the question about "is someone in particular doing something at you" you get oddly quiet, his suspicious just increase

-Finally he just straigt foward about it, just asking "who is hurting you", as long you try to denied you not free from Rain until you tell the true, once you tell about you abuse parents he angry about it, you parents? that is fall so low, he will to you parents home and try to negotiate to them, and if they dont agreed, well, Rain will just drown them a little, dont worry he will not kill them even if he wish but he will just show them a little of who are dealing with, just egnoft before remove the water from they heads so they can breath

-Now safe in Rain's hands, he is your doctor! he knows how to cure your injuries and even make them they not even exist to the first place, after all, he feels angry and sad seeing your body being hurt that way, you will live in his home where you can safe from you parents

Baraka

-He already smells your blood, the smell does recent injuries you have have that have a little of your blood, maybe still bleeding a little, knowing are from you he will straightforward ask you if you ok, and he will know you are lying, his intimate appearance its not make you so much option to say about your abuse parents

-Oh he dont like that, he was a parent before the tarkat take over him so hearing about his burn his blood, he will ask you about where you parents live and not for talk, he will straight murder them, not letting anything behind, he will not let you see this tho so you will never know about the murder of you parents

-He will take you to a doctor to cure your injures and ask Syzoth help if can find you a home where you live and be safe, he wish he can be near you to keep you safe from anyone, but yea...the tarkat

-but something sure, he will be a family to you, the family you never have and the family you need it, always checking on you and telling you praises you parents never told you, he will make you have what you never had and is very aware you need that

Shang Tsung

-To be honest, he was just confused of your odd reactions but did not really think about it, i think the most way he surely find about your abused parents is when he caught you trying to heal your own injuries alone

-After hearing his voice catching you off guard his words "Why you are alone there" Having already a smug expression due to your reaction, he mostly not even ask why you have those injures and straight fogar wanted to know about them by himself, slowly surprised of how much you have, you almost a broken doll

-you have his curiousity and he ask what happen to you, his voice have nothing of pity, even if you dont want to tell him, you know you are not safe from Shang Tsung's grip and you told him about your abuse parents

-He at first will be not care and just leave you alone, but as the day passes he feels....jealous? angry? He does not even know how to figure out this feeling, he just feels "the only one who allowed to hurt you is me" thing, he not even will ask where you parents live, he will follow you from the distance and arrive at your parents home, once he knows where you parents leave, he takes they souls and problems solve~

-Knowing you eventually find they corpse you will tell Shang Tsung about it for not say almost interrogate him about it, he will act like he dont know about it with that fruity and smug expression, at least you can live in your home peacefully, but if you not feel comfortable in that house, Shang Tsung is more that happy you live with him, about you injures, I dont know, mostly you can ask about it for help you, but he will do it? you can trust him? only Shang Tsung knows that answer

Syzoth

-Again no hand person but he can smell your blood from your injures, knowing it from you he is worried, already telling you you are bleeding, making you nervous, he tries to make you be calm as possible and offer his help, he very supportive boy :(, so he find odd when you refuse his help

-Seeing the blood smell dint go away and he knew was recent each time, he found it odd, why you always bleeding? and acting like nothing is happening, he try to address this as best as possible, trying to not make you uncomfortable about the topic, he just worried about you

-Once he knows about you abusive parents, ooooh he angry, again he was a father before Shang Tsung take them, so he can accept you are suffering from you parents, he mostly will comfort you and make you feel safe, but mostly ask you to talk to them

-He will try to address it as peacefully as possible with you parents, but he will not be very patient with your parent's attitude and when his patience is over he straigth forward show his zaterran form, he dont care about what you parents think about him, he will show them do not mess with you

-After that, he invites you to live in his place, takes you to a doctor to cure your injuries and be the parent you never had, of course will be different due to Zaterran parents acting diferent from human parents, but he will try as possible to give you what you never have

Havik

-He thinks he scared you becuse of his odd powers or his scary appearance so he will not think about it, possibly the way he figure out about your abuse parents are one of does moments he talks (rants) about the abuse and suffer he feels his people and everyone have the right to live freely, all does talk make you feel motivate or more confident to talk about you abuse parents

-Once you finally tell him about it, oh you can see the HELL in his eyes, he can't believe you being abused by your own parents, someone so good and someone who can't even defend yourself, he will demand you were you parents live, and he will not talk, straight kill them

-You will shocked from so gore scene, telling Havik he didn't do that, but he with his blood hands try to comfort you, telling you is what they deserve for treating you that way, that was they punishment and now you was free from they hell

-Maybe you dont want to live with havik after that and he will respect your decision, even he feels a little sad to make you feel that way, he dont regret doing it for the good of you, and promise you will be safe under his protencion

Liu Kang

-he could noticed it, and surely could know you suffering from some sort of abuse, is was a normal reaction from someone who suffers it, he will not go straight forward making sure you say it when you feel comfortable, so he will have his hands behind!!

-He will be so sweet with you :(, making sure you have a good time knowing you passing from something horrible, is what you deserve, surely you cry sometimes when he was too sweet with you, is something you cant belive you know? it was a feeling you cant process after you get use to the abuse

-Finally thanks of Liu Kang's Actions you told him about your abuse parents, he so sad to hear this news, he thought it wil be a friend or a partner you have, but your own parents?, is heart breaking, and he promise to try to make something

-He wil not even try to look intimidating or dominant, he is a god yes but he will not use his rank for things like this, he will try to talk to you parents peacefully, and if things dont work out, well, this goes straight to judge, dont worry of course Liu Kang win it and you parents go to jail

-He will offer you multiple houses to live, and he is definitely ok if you want to live in his place, he will continue to be as sweet as he has been, trying to replace does bad experience you have, remove all that trauma and you be free from that abuse you have from you parents, and even you scared you parents come back dont worry, Liu Kang will make sure of they wont

Geras

-Yep, he knows, he already saw about your abusive parents, how they treated you and hurt you, it was something sad to see, he even saw other timelines where you parents actully love you, or straight they abandoned you or kill you...

-He dont know if he has the right to be in your life, after all are mortal decisions and he can't change those decisions, surely tell this to Liu Kang to seek of opinion about it, knowing you and Geras are close to each other he will allowed it as long you make the decision to tell him

-and there he is, being on your side, trying to show you beautiful things and make you forget about the bad experience with you parents, same as Liu Kang he will be so nice to you in his way, posebly knowing he the guardian of time surely you figure out he knows, not even telling him just asking if in a future you parents will love you or they did feel love

-Is sad to hear his answer but he wil make sure you dont have to see them anymore, no matter how hard your parents try to find you they will never be, you will be safe in your new home, and living the life you deserve it away of any danger or abuse

#Mortal Kombat Masterlist #mortal kombat 1 #MK1 #Raiden #Kung Lao #Smoke #tomas vrbada #baraka #geras #havik #kenshi takahashi #liu kang #rain #reiko #tomas vrbada x reader #Reader with abuse family #You with abuse family #Y/N with abuse family #Reader #You #Y/N #TW: Gore #TW: Death #TW: Abuse #shang tsung #Syzoth #Reptile