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imthebadguyyy · 5 months

Note

Hey, hope you’re doing well? 😌✨ I saw you opened requests for Lewis and I thought about one where reader and him are out somewhere at an event and the subtle physical affection they have. They’re both rubbing the inside of each others arms at different moments and they’re also smiling at each other when the other isn’t looking 🤭 I miss seeing fluff so that’s why I’m requesting it 🤣😭😭

Sugar Sweet Kisses and Velvet Caresses

pairing : lewis hamilton x reader

fandom : f1

synopsis : lewis can't quite keep his eyes off at you at the fia prize giving, but little does he know you can't keep your eyes off of him either.

requested!

a/n : thank you sm for requesting and interacting it means the world to me!! and i hope your enjoy it ☺️ also this image of lewis goes so well with this prompt

warnings : tooth rotting fluff

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

while lewis did generally enjoy galas because it meant he could go all out and dress up to the t, the prize giving gala was just plain boring.

it was the same droll jokes and mildly tense atmosphere as both toto and christian made petty speeches, that had him rolling his eyes and downing shot after shot of the non alcoholic beverage that had been provided for the table he was sharing with valterri, and his girlfriend tiffany.

he was mildly placated by the fact that you had accompanied him to the awards show, finding time out of your busy schedule of recording and touring to join him, looking etheral beside him, albeit bored out of your mind as the both of you exchanged quiet murmurs of sarcastic comments and disguised smirks.

as the ceremony unfolded, you had also exchanged discreet yawns and shared amused glances behind the veil of forced smiles with valterri and tiffany, who also did not enjoy the formalities of the ceremony. you found yourself becoming very good friends with the finn and the aussie, and you had spent many a race in matching mercedes caps with tiffany, cheering on your merc boys.

even after valterri joined alfa romeo, your close bond remained, and you found yourself in the alfa romeo garage when the mercedes one became too unbearable.

muffling a deep sigh, your fingers couldn't help but fidget with the silky material of the pink Versace dress you had chosen for the night, eyes taking in the dimly lit room and all the people in it.

from the table next to you, susie shot you a sympathetic smile, and you smiled back, giggling when she rolled her eyes and pointed discreetly to the stage.

you missed the way lewis' eyes were resting on your figure, a soft smile gracing his lips as he took in the wide smile on your own lips, the way you seemed to glow like a flickering candle, glimmering softly in the chandelier light. he couldn't help but feel a warmth rise to his face as he took in the curve of your nose and your long eyelashes, glittering with the sparkly mascara you had worn, to the outline of your cheekbone melting into your round cheeks, and the curve of your lips, painted in a glittery nude that suited you to perfection.

he took in a sharp breath, feeling mildly winded as he saw the way a stray strand of hair framed your face, slipping out of the neat bun you had elected to don, to the way your skin shimmered softly from the highlighter your makeup artist had put on you.

he took in the sight of your bare arms, the matching butterfly tattoo you both had on display on your forearm. his eyes trailed down to your hands, nails done in the same shade of pink as your dress, and fingers adorned in multiple rings, many of them gifts from him.

he took in the sight of the deep pink dress you were wearing, hugging every curve of your body like a glove, eyes softening as he took in the roll of your tummy in the dress and the way your it highlighted your collarbone, letting him glimpse into the dots that formed constellations on the bare skin.

he followed the trail to the way your leg peeked out of the slit in the dress, to the heels that adorned your feet, and shook his head softly with a smile as he saw that the heel on your left foot was dangling off your toes, since clearly his earlier warning of aching feet had come true.

he smiled as he recalled the way you had raised an eyebrow at him, and pursed your lips into a pout, and told him "i can't, not wear these heels babe, i got them just for this event!"

he felt his heartbeat quicken as he thought to himself for the millionth time, how in the hell had he gotten lucky enough to be with the goddess of a woman sitting beside him.

of course mr smooth wasn't as smooth as he thought he was because soon enough you felt his eyes delicately tracing the expanse of well, you, and you had to hide a blush at the thought.

lewis was snapped out of his daze when george and his girlfriend, carmen, came over to talk to him as the proceedings took a break.

as he turned to talk to them, his hand reached for your leg, resting on your thigh, gently squeezing it reassuringly.

as he engaged in polite conversation, he missed the way that your gaze settled upon him, taking in the sight of him in all his glory.

he had opted for an all black outfit , and he looked nothing short of jaw droppingly stunning. you took in the slightly crooked curve on his nose, smiling softly as you remembered many a night of pressing soft kisses to it, to the gentle smile he wore, a contract to the rough beard he adorned, to the little gap in between his teeth that you so adored, that flashed when he grinned at people.

you took in the silky black suit he was wearing, compliments his features so well, and the Cartier pearl necklace that he loved so much. the v cut of his suit allowed the necklace to gleam, and his tattoos to perfectly compliment it.

you took in the sight of his hands, littered with tiny tattoos that held so much meaning to the rings that rested on his fingers, many of which were gifts from you, some silver some gold, fingers intertwined with your own.

you took in the sight of his hair in a bun as well, a few loose braids framing his face making him look godlike.

you could feel your heartbeat flutter as you questioned how exactly you had gotten lucky enough to be with the man who sat in front of you.

lewis' hand trailed up from your thigh to gently grasp your arm, rubbing it softly, making you smile.

it was your way of reminding each other that you loved each other so much, when there were others around, since neither of you were really keen on pda. after all, as taylor swift had once said, "romance isn't dead if you keep it just yours"

the both of you were the definition of 'private, not secret' everyone knew you were together since about the beginning of 2020, and you two showed up at each other's races and shows, galas and awards shows. but it was a rare occassion where you were blatantly affectionate in public. you were shy, and lewis respected that and kept public displays of affection to hand holding and feather soft kisses after wins.

as alex and lily joined the six of you, you moved your chair closer to tiffany's, and lewis moved his closer to yours, so the two of them could sit as well, and lewis found himself reaching for your hands again, thumb tracing your knuckles and bringing your hand up for a quick kiss to your knuckles.

you couldn't help but flush at the chuckles from the others, while reaching out to gently rest your hand on his arm, while your other hand remained interlocked with his on his lap.

it was no secret that the both of you were absolutely head over heels for each other, and everyone knew it. they saw it in the way lewis' looked at you, as if you had hung the sun stars and moon in the sky, and how you looked at him, as if he was the softest sunset and the brightest sunrise.

they could see it in the way he spoke about you on the rare occasions he did, with nothing but awe and admiration for the woman he loved.

they could see it in the way you wrote about him in your songs, how you called him a gentleman in a world of boys, or how he was as handsome as a mansion with a view.

so when the camera panned to the both of you, showing the both of you gazing at each other with lovestruck gazes, eyes sparkling softy and sugar sweet smiles gracing your lips, and when the world champion was announced and lewis' name resonated on the speakers, it only felt right to press your lips to his.

your lips met in a sugar-sweet dance, a delicate blend of tenderness and warmth. it was a kiss that tasted like stolen moments and whispered promises, leaving a lingering sweetness on your mouths—a delightful confection of affection that resonated long after your lips parted.

his hand squeezed yours softly as he got up to get his prize.

you couldn't help the proud tears that sprung to your eyes as you watched him get up and accept the trophy for his eighth title, marking his place as a race in a league of his own.

everyone stood up as he made his way to the stage, and to your surprise, everyone stood up and clapped, and ginger spice even mouthed a sweet "congratulations!" your way.

as lewis began his speech, you couldn't help but snap a picture of him earning giggles from everyone around you.

"today, I stand before you not just as an individual but as someone profoundly indebted to the unwavering support and love of an extraordinary woman. my heart is brimming with gratitude as i attempt to express the depth of appreciation for the incredible person who has stood by my side through thick and thin.

to my dearest y/n,

In the rollercoaster of life, you have been my anchor, my steady compass guiding me through stormy seas. your unwavering presence has been the bedrock of my strength, and your love, the fuel that propels me forward.

in moments of joy, your laughter has been the melody that serenades my soul, making the highs even more euphoric. and in times of despair, your comforting embrace has been the sanctuary where my troubles find solace.

together, we've weathered storms, faced challenges, and celebrated triumphs. your belief in me has been a constant source of inspiration, pushing me to reach for the stars even when the night seemed impenetrable.

you, my love, deserve the glory of this moment just as much as I do, because without you pushing me to be the best, i wouldn't be here. thank you for being my confidante, my partner in crime, and my greatest supporter.

to the woman who has turned ordinary days into extraordinary memories, thank you for being the sunshine in my darkest hours and the reason for my brightest smiles"

as he ended his speech, you could feel tears dripping down your face and watery laughs from all around you, as carmen lily and tiffany all hugged you and wiped tears away from their eyes. you couldn't help the happy sobs leaving your lips, mouthing a quiet "i love you" to lewis, who was making his way back to your table.

as he approached, you couldn't help but kiss him again, hands gently resting on his chest as you kissed him deeply.

as the ceremony wrapped up and everyone began to get ready to leave, your hands remained interlocked, even as toto and susie suggested getting dinner with all the mercedes members present at the event.

you were content. you were happy. and you were oh so in love.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

a/n : i hope this is what you were looking for!! as always likes reblogs comments opinions etc are appreciated!! ☺️

TAGS

f1 : @superlegend216 @ivegotparticulartaste @moon-enthusiast @ssararuffoni @theonly1outof-a-billion @ihateyougunthersteiner

all : @roslastyles420 @hopefulinlove @bluesongbird

TO BE ADDED TO THE TAGLIST SEND ME AN ASK OR A DM SPECIFYING WHICH FANDOM ❤️

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marvelfilth · 11 months

Text

Just to be clear

Pairing: Jenna Ortega x f!reader

Warnings: oblivious™ reader

Summary: you get the girl... eventually

Masterlist

You've never felt like you belonged in this industry. The people you've worked with were kind, compassionate and totally devoted to their craft, so creatively gifted it almost made you feel bleak in comparison, so you never felt like you could share your ideas with your fellow actors, you didn't feel brave enough to come up to a director and offer him your thoughts on the scene you were about to play out. You never thought you'd fit in enough to feel comfortable in the studio, cornered between blue screens and people dressed in superhero costumes, not when you got your first Golden Globe and not even when you got your first Oscar.

You still couldn't wrap your mind around the fact that you were nominated in the first place, let alone won, but the awards under your belt gave you enough credibility to pick and choose between roles offered to you, and you used it to your advantage, disregarding scripts sent to you to check the cast instead, only picking films with people you actually wanted to meet.

Your manager always tried his best to keep his hands to himself when you did that, barely holding back from slapping the back of your head every time you threw away an Oscar worthy script, huffing and rolling his eyes as he typed away on his phone.

That's why, when a script to Scream 7 landed in your mail, you snagged it away before he could burn it. After all, you've been a fan of the franchise for a long time now, you couldn't let an opportunity like that pass.

He groaned and banged the back of his head against the wall repeatedly when he saw the script in your hands, muttering something under his breath. You just smiled and made him schedule a meeting with the director.

You didn't regret your decision.

The first time you met the cast you felt a bit timid, seeing how familiar they were with each other, laughing and exchanging jabs around the table, before falling silent when they finally noticed you lingering at the door.

"Oh my god it's true!" Jasmine screeched, jumping up from her seat. Her eyes shone so brightly, you couldn't help but smile. "When Jenna told me you were casted I laughed in her face. I can't believe it!" She came to a stop in front of you, holding you by the elbow as she led you to the table. "What are you doing here with us peasants?"

You chuckled, feeling at ease and she blabbered on, gesturing wildly as she introduced you to the people in the room. Relief flooded through you with each smile sent your way, and soon enough you were seated at the round table, actively engaging in banter and laughter, your eyes crinkling in the corners and your grin so wide it made your cheeks hurt.

Working with them was as easy as breathing.

While Jasmine and Mason never failed to make you feel welcomed with their harmless jokes and good-natured teasing, Melissa took the role of an older sister, always making sure you felt comfortable around other actors and filming crew, showing you around the set and taking you to her favorite cafés. It made you feel warm all over and each night you returned to your rented apartment with a content smile.

Jenna, on the other hand, was an enigma. While everyone else took a direct approach from the first day, not shying away from questions about your previous projects, gossiping about people you've worked with and dragging you around the city whenever you had free time, she seemed to almost tiptoe around you, greeting you with a simple smile and tilt of her head and never uttering more than five words in your presence.

At first, you thought you did something wrong, your eyebrows furrowing each time she brushed past you, headphones around her neck and a small smile in place as she greeted you with a simple wave of her fingers. You always made sure to send her a small wave in return, your expression growing even more confused every time she ducked her head, her falling hair hiding a flustered expression she tried so hard to keep from showing on her face.

When you asked Melissa about it almost a month into filming she just laughed and shook her head, muttering something about clueless teenagers. It left you even more confused.

The next day after that conversation Jenna approached you during lunch, sitting beside you on a bench and offering a single earbud with that small smile in place. You beamed and took the offered item, spending the next forty minutes happily munching on your fries and listening to her playlist, occasionally stealing looks at the beautiful girl beside you.

A fry fell from your grasp each time your eyes met.

If you thought you spent a lot of time with Melissa and Jasmine, you were wrong, because now, three months into filming, you felt like you and Jenna were joined at the hip.

She grew bolder after your every interaction, monopolizing your lunch time at first, then moving on to picking you up in the morning and driving you back after a long day on set, and recently she chose to drive you both to her place instead, claiming she needed someone to watch the newest movie with, which usually ended up in you staying in her guest room after hours of heated discussions.

The mornings after those nights were your absolute favorite.

You'd wake up from your alarm to find her humming in the kitchen, cooking the two of you breakfast. She never made anything requiring much effort, sticking to scrambled eggs and toast, but sometimes you'd wake up a little earlier to surprise her with a new recipe, setting the table for two and waiting for the grumpy brunette. The smile she sent you at the sight never failed to make your heart skip a beat.

It was perfect, really, save for one thing.

Somewhere along the lines you started to fall in love.

You didn't know how it happened, you didn't expect it and you certainly didn't plan on it, but at the same time you weren't surprised.

Jenna could charm the pants off anyone without even trying, and the way almost every conversation you had with her almost always turned flirtatious made your heart swell in your chest.

"I love this shirt on you," she said one night after the movie ended, reaching forward to straighten the collar of your shirt, "you should wear it more often."

Somehow the shirt ended up in her closet, and when one day she wore it on set you almost face planted right on the ground, catching yourself at the last moment.

"I thought you wanted me to wear it more often?" You asked her at the end of the day, your cheeks reddening slightly at the way she smiled and hugged the fabric closer to her body.

"I think it looks even better on me."

You laughed it off and let her roam your closet that same night when she dropped you off, feeling warm all over at the sight of her being so comfortable in your space.

Melissa was the first one to notice the change in Jenna's wardrobe, but she didn't say anything, instead simply sending you a knowing smile and a thumbs up.

Jasmine, however, didn't notice until a few weeks later when the five of you were having a movie night at Mason's place, all tucked in the spacious couch spreading along the length of the room.

Jenna just came back from the kitchen with freshly made popcorn for the two of you when the movie was suddenly paused, making everyone in the room groan.

"Come on!" Mason threw his hands in the air, falling back against the cushions.

"What the hell is that?" She pointed a finger at the hoodie Jenna wore that night, your hoodie. Her eyes narrowed to slits, darting between the two of you and you could almost see the gears turn in her head. "Are you two fu-"

"Jasmine!" Melissa cut her off, taking the remote form the taller girl and unpausing the movie, shushing any attempts at asking questions.

You chose to ignore what was almost said, turning to focus on the movies when you felt your neck prickle. Knowing what it meant you kept your gaze pinned to the TV, ignoring a certain pair of brown eyes boring at the side of your head.

A hand sneaked up your thighs to rest at the edge of your shorts. "Are you okay?" She whispered, her voice quiet enough so only you could hear.

You nodded, not daring to look back at her, and placed your palm on top of her hand, lacing your fingers. She exhaled and slumped against your side, nestling her head on your shoulder.

Neither of you moved until the movie ended.

×××

All of it would've been perfect if you were the only one on the receiving end of her undivided attention.

Mason, who broke up with his girlfriend before filming started, seemed to always keep an eye on her, sending her secret smiles and whispering with her in corners of the set. She gladly followed him whenever he called her over, sharing quiet laughs and short hugs. You always looked away whenever you caught them, your knuckles turning white from the grip you had on your chair.

You kept telling yourself you didn't have a right to feel jealous, but deep down you knew it was a losing battle.

Maybe when she offered you an earbud she took your heart in exchange, gently cradling it in her soft palms only to squeeze it hard each time she walked away with Mason's arm slung around her shoulders.

You certainly felt like it when you noticed her drunkenly dancing with him after a game night you had at Melissa's place, all giggly smiles and sloppy steps.

You barely managed to take your eyes off the scene, focusing back on the cards you had, but no matter how hard you tried you couldn't concentrate, your mind still keen on what you knew was happening mere feet away.

Sighing, you sent an apologetic smile to the other two women and stood up to fix yourself another non-alcoholic drink in the kitchen, walking past the dancing pair and failing to notice the way Jenna reached out to grab you, almost falling at your feet before Mason managed to keep her upright.

You leaned against the counter, no longer interested in the drink and this night in general. Maybe it was time to go home.

A second later a pair of slender arms slid around your waist from behind. "Take me home?" Jenna asked, her words slurred against your back as she struggled to keep her balance. You turned around out to wrap an arm around her waist, keeping her pressed firmly against you.

You think you felt her hum against your neck before she pried away to look up at you, keeping hold of your shoulders.

You looked up from her glossy eyes to look back at Mason who was now throwing himself at the poor Melissa, almost crushing her in a hug.

Fingers wrapped around the back of your neck before your face was tugged back down, your breath hitching in your throat when your nose gently bumped into hers. "Why are you looking at him?" She pouted, her other hand coming up to cup your jaw, keeping your face firmly against her own. "Want you to look at me," she mumbled, failing to stay upright as she fell against your chest. It didn't stop her from muttering something you couldn't figure out as her hands circled your waist once again.

You closed your eyes, your grip on her waist hardening as you fought the urge to scoop her in your arms and kiss the pout away. You almost gave in to the urge when you felt her hands sneaking past the hem of your shirt to rest on the bare skin of your back, taking a deep breath you pulled her along to tell everyone you were leaving.

She fell asleep in the passenger seat of your car, your right hand tightly clasped between hers as she dozed off, quiet snores reaching your ears. You couldn't bring yourself to wake her up, instead carrying her to her apartment, barely managing to keep both of you upright as you unlocked the door with your key.

When you finally reached her bedroom she started to stir, turning her head from the spot on your shoulder to take in her surroundings. She let out a content breath at the sight of her bed, falling back against your shoulder, the grip she had on your neck was almost iron clad and you couldn't pry away no matter how hard you tried.

"Jenna," you stirred her gently, "Jen, let me go."

She hummed and pulled you against her, the two of you falling against the soft cushions.

It was the first time you slept in the same bed.

×××

"Wanna tell me about it?" Jasmine called the next morning, surprisingly chipper considering the amount of drinks she had yesterday.

"There's nothing to tell." You bit the inside of your cheek, sending a look to the girl slumped behind the counter.

She woke up with a nasty headache, groaning as she tried to shield her eyes from the sun with the back of her hand. You made fun of her only once, when you handed her water and Advil and immediately scurried away to make coffee when she threw a pillow in your face.

"Sure seemed like something," her tone was smug and you could already hear the start of her interrogation, but a groan from Jenna made her stumble over her words. It was way too quiet for a moment, before she finally screeched, "I knew it!"

Enduring her teasing turned out to be much easier than you thought, especially with Melissa's constant warning looks and Jenna's death glares sent her way whenever she as much as smirked at you. Eventually she relented, stomping her feet and grumbling about how unfun you were.

That left only Mason to torment your thoughts. He didn't do anything wrong. Hell, if anything, you were the one in the wrong with your unwarranted jealousy. But every time he stole Jenna from you during lunch, every time he jokingly jumped on her back between takes, both of them tumbling to the floor in heaps of laughter, made your chest constrict with that ugly feeling, leaving you to wallow in your misery as you tried your best to not pay attention to the pair.

You felt like shit every time he happily brought you sweets from the local bakery, pulling you tightly against his chest and ruffling your hair. He started doing that a long time ago, claiming it was his way to make you feel at home. It worked before, when you were blissfully unaware of your feelings towards a certain brunette, but now it left you feeling empty.

He was a great guy, anyone would be lucky to date him and the fact only spurred your jealousy even more.

You blinked when he waved at you, a confused expression on his face and you realized you were staring at him all this time.

"You spend a lot of time looking at him." A quiet voice came behind your shoulder.

You turned around to face Jenna, her stare so intense it almost made you look away. Almost.

"You spend a lot of time with him." You countered, crossing your arms.

Her brows knitted, frustration crinkling in her eyes. "That's what friends do."

You huffed, and finally looked away, the weight of her stare becoming too much for you to handle. "Right."

There was a blissful moment of silence before a chair scraped loudly against the floor.

"I'm going to kill you both," Melissa hissed, rising from her seat and throwing her script on the chair she occupied a second ago. "I'm this close," she pinched her thumb and forefinger until they were almost pressed, "to locking you two in some supply closet so you could finally figure this out. So please, please go away and talk like adults."

"We are talking…" you hesitantly spoke up, taking a step closer to Jenna.

The seething look the older woman sent your way almost made you stumble.

"We'll talk," Jenna cut in, taking you by the elbow and leading down the hall to a supply closet. The situation seemed so absurd you couldn't help but chuckle, Jenna's glare shutting you up not even a second later.

"Do you have feelings for him?" The words left her lips as soon as the door closed behind you.

You stopped dead in your tracks, staring at her, your mouth hanging open. The idea seemed so ridiculous you couldn't even form a sentence to deny it. She closed her eyes, crossing her arms against her chest. "So you do," she whispered, defeated.

And then it hit you.

She was jealous.

You thought back on the night she was drunk, the way she held you, not allowing you to look at him, demanding you to look at her instead, and today, when she caught you staring at him, she confronted you about it. You almost laughed at the absurdity of the situation.

The girl you fell in love with thought you were trying to steal her potential boyfriend.

You took a deep breath, blinking away the tears, your voice wavered, "I don't care about him like that." Her head shot up, her eyes focusing on your face swirled with emotion you couldn't decipher. You continued, holding her gaze, "You should go for it, though. He'd be lucky to have you."

No matter how much it hurt you to say this, you had to. He made her happy and she deserved to know she had nothing to worry about.

But as soon as the words left your lips you immediately knew it was the wrong thing to say.

"What? You think I have feelings for him?" She gaped, staring at you incredulously.

You didn't know why, but you felt really stupid at that moment. "...yes?"

She breathed in, and took measured steps towards you, leaving a few inches between you before reaching up to pull your face down, pinning you with her eyes. "And what? You want me to chase after him? Want to give me advice on how to get the man?" Her words were laced with something dangerous, and you felt like this moment was about to change your whole life.

You swallowed. "I- if that's what you want," you whispered.

She stared at you in silence for what felt like ages, before scoffing and turning around on her heel, stomping away and leaving you to your thoughts in the dimly lit space.

That was definitely the wrong thing to say.

"What the fuck did you do?" Melissa cornered you right after the filming wrapped for the day, tugging you by the elbow to her trailer, and pushing you on the uncomfortable couch.

"I think I screwed up."

"Yeah, no shit. Tell me everything."

And you did. You told her about the first time you caught yourself staring at Jenna, about the first night you spent at her apartment and the morning after that, full of soft smiles and gentle touches. You told her about the way you felt whenever you saw her wearing your clothes, how it made you giddy and full of hope. You told her about the first time you felt jealousy coursing through your veins, all those weeks ago when Mason snatched Jenna away for the first time. You told her how elated you felt when she fell asleep snuggled against you, snoring away in the crook of your neck. You wiped a stray tear and told her about what you said just hours ago.

"You're both idiots," she groaned, but pulled you into her arms, holding you tight while you tried to blink away the tears.

×××

It didn't get easier after that, if anything it all became even worse. Jenna avoided you like a plague, disappearing from sight when your eyes met, and hiding behind Mason whenever you tried to approach. You tried your best to not let the hurt show on your face, after all, you were the one to push them together, but judging by the worried look on his face, you did a very poor job.

Jasmine took it upon herself to lift your spirits, taking the empty spot by your side during lunch and carpooling with you after long days of shooting. You could see questions swimming in her eyes, could see the way her eyes darted to you whenever Jenna entered the room.

You couldn't answer her questions when you yourself didn't know the answer.

Jenna was supposed to be happy by now, but the dark circles under her eyes and slight tremble of her hands told you a different story.

You tried asking Melissa, but she just shook her head and rolled her eyes whenever you bugged her about it.

"Figure it out yourself," she said after two weeks of you begging her for answers.

You tried hard, you really did. Doesn't mean you were successful.

When the director mentioned a wrap party taking place next month, dread filled your stomach. With your mind constantly preoccupied with Jenna you didn't even notice how much time has passed.

It was time to do something.

"Are you stalking her now?" Mason asked you as he rounded his car after a long day of filming.

You blinked from your spot on the hood of Jenna's car. "Maybe."

He snorted, opening the door. "Just tell her already."

You tensed, knitting your brows. "What are you talking about?"

"Oh my god," he grumbled, throwing his head back to look at the night sky. He straightened then, and briskly walked up to you, taking hold of your shoulders. "She's in love with you." He punctuated each word with a shake to your shoulders.

He waited for you to process his words before he took a step back, watching the gears turn in your head.

You gulped, hopping off the hood, shaking your head in denial before thinking back on the conversation you had with Jenna a few weeks ago in that small supply room. The way she looked so small and defeated when she thought you had feelings for Mason, the way she stared at you when you told her she was wrong, waiting for you to say something before you screwed it all up.

Want you to look at me, she said all that time ago.

Oh God.

"She's in love with me," you whispered.

Mason almost jumped in relief, closing the distance between you in two short strides, and pulled you in his arms, pressing a kiss to your forehead, before he suddenly tensed, pushing you away. "I'll leave you to deal with that." He muttered before scurrying to his car and driving off in record time.

You looked behind your shoulder just in time to see Jenna approach you with pursed lips.

"What was that?" She asked, avoiding your eyes.

You turned around to face her, your lips stretching in a grin so wide it made you look like an idiot, or a love struck fool. You bounced on your heels, barely managing to stop yourself from lunging at the smaller woman, your eyes roaming around her form, drinking her in after so many days spent staring at her from across the room.

She finally looked up when silence stretched for a long awkward moment, her brows disappearing behind her bangs at your excited smile. A corner of her mouth went up almost unconsciously, your happiness so contagious she found herself relaxing.

And then she frowned. "What are you doing here?"

Under her scrutinizing gaze you felt like the air was sucked from your chest, but you braved on, taking the chance to make things right.

"Well, my original plan was to jump in the car with you, hoping you wouldn't throw me out." You began your rant, training your eyes on the small logo of her t-shirt. Your t-shirt, you realised after a second, the sight giving you enough confidence to look her in the eye. "I prepared this really long speech about my stupidity and jealousy clouding my thoughts and influencing my actions, and it ended in professing my feelings for you. My romantic feelings, just to be clear. Also there was a bit about fighting Mason for your affections, but it was recently pointed out to me that it's probably no longer necessary..." you trailed off, suddenly hesitant.

What if the weeks you spent gaining courage made her feelings change?

You took a deep breath and looked up just in time to see her throw herself at you, pulling you in a bruising kiss. You squeaked in surprise, eyes growing comically wide as she settled in your arms, her hands circling your neck to pull you impossibly closer.

Her lips felt like heaven, so soft and responsive and gentle, gliding against your own, her tongue swiping against your bottom lip, and then you were pushed against the hood of her car, her hands trailing down your body to hide beneath the fabric of your shirt, gripping at the burning skin of your waist hard enough to leave marks.

You pulled away for a breath, her body tensing before she saw the adoring look in your eyes and your blinding smile. "Do you want to hear the speech? I have it memorized." You asked, nuzzling your nose against her cheek.

"I want you to be quiet," she muttered, her fingers threading through your hair to pull you closer. "And you're on probation, by the way," she said, before pulling you in for another passionate kiss, pulling little whines and moans out of you as she dipped her other hand in the back pocket of your jeans, squeezing you possessively.

"Just to be clear," you mumbled between kisses, "I'm in love with you."

Her breath caught in her throat as she pulled away, looking up at you, her eyes wide and vulnerable. "Yeah?"

"Yeah." You pulled her against your chest, burrowing your face in her soft hair.

Later that night, when the two of you lay in her bed, trying to catch your breath, she burrowed into your side, mumbling something against you, her soft breath sending shivers down your spine.

"What was that?" You tugged her chin up.

Her eyes opened, alight with mischief. "I said I was the one to mail you the script."

"What? Why?"

She groaned, ducking her head. "They thought you'd never agree to a movie like that, completely disregarded my suggestion to ask you, but I had to try, so I stole the script and mailed it to you."

You bit your lip to keep yourself from grinning at her confession. "And why was it so important for me to be in this movie?"

"I wanted to meet you," she murmured, placing kisses over your collarbone, "because I've been enamored with you ever since Jasmine made me watch that stupid Marvel movie all those years ago."

You let out a surprised oh, your heart hammering against the ribcage and your mouth hanging open as you tried to process the information.

"Just to be clear..." Her hands came up to cradle your head, her thumbs trailing circles on the sensitive skin behind your ears, her eyes shining so brightly it felt like they lit the whole room. "... I'm in love with you, too."

×××

When you walked on set the next morning, your arm slung around her shoulders and her hand around your waist, almost everyone in the room let out a collective ear piercing squeal.

#jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega x you #jenna ortega #scream #wednesday #tara carpenter #jenna ortega x fem!reader #jenna ortega x y/n #just to be clear

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megamindsecretlair · 2 months

Text

Fall Into You

Pairing: Kevin Atwater x Black!Fem!/ Plus Size reader

Warnings: 18+, Minors DNI, You are in charge of your own reading experience. Intentional use of AAVE. SMUT. PWP, cursing, PIV, oral (female and male receiving) teasing/mocking, cum play, size kink, dirty talk, praise kink, all consensual. Slight power imbalance, Kevin is a landlord and reader is the tenant. No sexual favors being exchanged.

Summary: Hoping to beat the storm, Kevin comes over to fix your sink. However, the power goes out and you get to know your new landlord a little better.

Word Count: 7,402k

A/N: Hello, my loves. This has been on my brain for a while and a special gift for @babybratzmaraj. I guess I should stop apologizing for writing so much, the story gon' need what it needs. ONE SHOT. Please, please consider commenting and reblogging to help support writers! And please put ages in bios! Or get blockt!

Taglist: @planetblaque @browngirldominion @we-outsiiiide @iv0rysoap @thecookiebratz

The doorbell tore you from your thoughts as you looked out of your window. The TV stated that the storm was only getting started. Only getting started…

You inwardly groaned and fixed your glasses, heading to your door and checking the peephole. Kevin Atwater stood on the other side and your heart fluttered just seeing him. You stepped back, took a deep breath, and opened the door.

“Kevin! Thank you! You didn’t have to come today. This storm looks nasty,” you said.

Kevin smiled and shook his head. He wore a black puffer jacket zipped up and carried a small toolbox. “No problem, I promise. Chicago’s seen worse and you need a working sink,” he said.

You stepped back and let him inside, hoping that your glasses didn’t fog up from the sheer sexiness that entered your apartment.

“Huh, you decorated since last time,” he said.

You looked around at the cozy space. The walls were standard, plain cream, but you made sure to dress it up with paintings in soothing blue and ocean pieces that reminded you of your hometown. The boxes had been cleared away since the last time Kevin was over to fix your bedroom door.

“Yeah, had to make it look like I actually live here,” you said with a giggle.

Kevin laughed with you. He placed the toolbox on your small, round kitchen table and took off his jacket. You busied yourself with tidying up your clean apartment. You picked up the bowl of fruit just to…put it right back down on the sink.

You had to look anywhere but at the deep burgundy button up he wore. Or the peek of a black tank underneath. His bulging arms or the way his hips sloped just so. You had to look away so that he wouldn’t see the neon “horny” sign on your forehead.

You could not crush on your landlord. It was several kinds of wrong. But how could you not? He was so tall, charming, funny, and sweet. His juicy pink lips have been the star of multiple fantasies lately.

“...help you with that,” Kevin was saying.

“Huh? Sorry…” you said and gave him a sheepish smile. Your mind tended to go on little vacations. Especially where Kevin Atwater was concerned.

He smiled at you and began rolling up the sleeves of his shirt. “I said what did you do with the boxes? I told you I could help you with that,” he said.

You waved him off and dropped down into a nearby kitchen chair. “You already do so much for me, Kevin. I really should be paying you,” you said.

“Rent’s just fine with me. I told you to call me for whatever you need,” he said. His eyes lingered on you a second too long before he licked his lips and started rummaging around in his toolbox.

You were incapable of thinking anything but dirty thoughts when he spoke. Whether he meant it that way or not. He brought the toolbox closer to your sink. He flipped the faucet and the pipes groaned. A loud, groaning sound as if there were ghosts dancing in the pipes.

He flipped it back off and gave you a look. “You ain’t tell me it was making that kind of a noise,” he said.

“I told you it was a noise,” you said. You shrugged your shoulders and he chuckled, licking his lips as he went back to looking at the sink.

“I was thinking it was a small noise. Like something just needed some WD-40,” he said. “That…sound bad, right?” He asked.

“You’re asking me?” You shook your head dramatically. “If I knew anything about fixing sinks, I wouldn’t have asked you here during a storm.” You still felt guilty about that. You told Kevin that you could wait until it passed, that running water wasn’t that important in the grand scheme of things. You had bottles of water and the bathroom sink worked just fine to wash your hands.

As your mind wandered, you weren’t paying attention to Kevin getting closer. You didn’t notice as he stood in front of you and dropped down to a squat to look you in the eye. You shrieked when you finally saw him as he seemed to have teleported from the sink.

“There is no way in hell I’ma let my favorite tenant live here with no running water. So no more need to apologize, right?”

His raspy voice made you lose all coherent thought. You twiddled your fingers since he was too close and you gave him a light, nervous giggle. “Stop. I’m not your favorite tenant. I’ve seen the way Mrs. Brennan looks at you. Like you hang the moon,” you said.

Kevin chuckled and stood up, going back to the sink with the toolbox in his hand. He hummed. “I helped her out with something and now she keeps trying to set me up with her granddaughter,” he said.

“Oh? Does Kevin Atwater have trouble meeting women?” You teased.

He laughed as he opened the cabinet underneath. You hadn’t had a chance to get to the store for proper cleaning supplies. So far, all you had was bleach and Pinesol, a small bucket, and a pack of sponges. It was on your long, long, long list of things you needed in order to feel settled in this place.

The wind roared outside and it shook the windows. It howled. The heater was on but did little to combat the chill in the air. You would never feel settled here. The winters were a different breed. Designed to freeze you to the toes and wrack your body with uncontrollable shivers.

“I meet plenty of women. But timing and circumstances are never there,” Kevin said. He settled onto his back and turned off the water to the sink. He began working, leaning forward to grab a tool and then use it under the sink.

His shirt rode up revealing a soft middle that you wanted to sink your teeth into. He was solid and stocky, built for sturdiness.

“What do you mean by timing and circumstance?” You asked.

“Well, I did have a thing with someone but wasn’t exactly healthy. She didn’t like that I’m a cop,” he said.

“Hate to break it to you, but you’ll find that a lot of people won’t like that you’re a cop,” you said. For you, it was always, “fuck cops”. After meeting Kevin, now it was, “want to fuck that cop in particular”.

You looked useless sitting there at the kitchen table, but what else were you supposed to do? You still had some unpacking to do but you didn’t feel right leaving him alone. The place didn’t feel like yours yet. Your manners prevented you from leaving him to it as if he were some servant only here to do a job.

“That’s fair. But can’t stop me from trying,” he said.

“That’s the spirit. Are you a romantic?” You asked. You heard the words after you spoke them and shook your head, not that he could see. “Sorry, that’s rude. You don’t have to answer that.” You pushed your glasses back up your nose and blew out a quiet sigh.

“Nah, it’s cool. I guess, yeah, I would say I’m a romantic. Just waiting for the right girl. How ‘bout you come help me? Hand me that wrench,” he said. He pointed to something in his toolbox.

You stood up and got closer to him, getting down to your knees and sitting back on your legs. You picked up the nearest wrench and handed it to his outstretched hand. You shared a look with him as he took it from you and began loosening a bolt on the pipe.

“You? You into the whole thing about romance?” He asked.

“Uh, yeah. I believe it exists. How anyone can find love here when you’re freezing your ass off is beyond me,” you said.

“It’s all about layers. Undershirt, thermal, overshirt, sweater, hoodie, jacket. You’ll be warm enough,” he said.

You giggled. “Warm enough? I’d be sweating worse than…” You successfully caught yourself before mentioning sex. You bit the corners of your mouth to prevent you from giggling about that. Something about Kevin Atwater turned you into a giggling mess like some kid with a crush.

“Worse than what?” Kevin asked.

You glanced at him. His pink tongue poked out between his lips as he worked on the bolt. The screeching from the metal grated a bit and you winced.

“Worse than a sauna,” you finished lamely. He flicked a glance at you as if he knew that wasn’t what you were going to say originally. He left it alone as he hummed and returned to the bolt.

“You get used to it,” he said.

“This type of cold? No thanks,” you said.

Kevin chuckled. He sat up from the sink and fixed his shirt, lowering it over the glimpse of his stomach. He looked at you and smiled. “There’s more to Chicago than just the winter time. We have the best pizza. Everybody friendly, they just loud about it. Tell you what, why don’t you finally take me up on my offer to take you to Molly’s? It’s run by a couple of friends. They’re nice people, we’d all protect you, and you’d be able to get out and enjoy some things around here,” he said.

“A bar full of cops, doctors, and firemen? I’d feel so intimidated,” you said. You shook your head and giggled.

“Don’t. You need to get out,” he said.

“Pot, meet kettle. How many times have you been out this week?”

“Fair. But if you go out, I will too,” he said.

You held his stare and bit the corners of your mouth again. “I have so much to do here already,” you said. You didn’t like that you kept turning him down but the thought of meeting that many people at once? You wouldn’t survive it.

You knew Kevin would be nice and show you around but being at the center of attention was unbearable.

“One day I’ll get you to say yes. If you’re gonna be here, you may as well make some friends. I think you’d get along with Stella. You remind me of her,” he said.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, tough, no nonsense, funny, sweet,” he said.

“Please,” you said and giggled. Was this Stella single? Did they have something going?

Kevin opened his mouth to say something else when the wind howled louder, tearing your gaze to the window. The window shook and the lights began to flicker before they spasmed out. You shrieked as you were shrouded in darkness.

The pale, white glow of the outside gave your apartment a blue and gray tint. Like waking up in the morning and the sun was still hiding behind clouds. You stood up and went to the window but you weren’t sure what you were looking for. Only that the snow and hail seemed to fall harder, peppering the ground.

“Shoot,” you said.

Kevin stood up and moved behind you, placing one hand on your hip while he leaned behind you to look outside as well. His warm hand scorched your skin as he looked one way and then another.

“Let me see if it’s just us. Lock this door behind me,” he said.

You’d never seen this side of him yet. The kind that took charge. A new authority entered his voice, one that did not entertain disobedience. He turned and walked out and you followed behind to close and lock the door.

You paced your kitchen as you waited. You didn’t know why. Lights went out all the time. He was perfectly safe going to the basement to check the circuit breaker. Minutes passed while you piddled around, cleaning up runaway socks on the floor around the hamper.

Still had things to unload in the bathroom, but without light, you couldn’t see what you were pulling out of the box. It was too awkward holding your phone’s flashlight and the items.

A knock on your door made you jump but then you checked the peephole. Kevin stood there with his hands in his pockets, glancing around. You opened the door and let him back inside.

“Power’s out on the whole block. I already put in a call with utilities. With this kind of storm, there’s no telling when they’ll get out,” he said.

You sighed. “Oh, Kevin, I’m so sorry!” You said. You should have pushed him harder to stay home. To fix it another day.

“Hey, what did we say about apologizing?” He asked.

“Sorry! I just feel so bad. Oh! I said it again, sorry,” you said. You slapped a hand over your mouth as you couldn’t stop apologizing for trapping him here. Now what were you going to do? He couldn’t fix your sink in the dark and there was no power to cook so you couldn’t offer him a meal.

Kevin crossed towards you, invading your personal space. “No more apologizing. It’s okay,” he said.

“Well, I was going to save these until after. Since you’re stuck with me, we have cookies to hold us over,” you said.

“If I had to be stuck anywhere, I’m glad it’s with you,” he said.

You smiled and tugged on the sleeves of your purple shirt. Now that the power was out, that meant your heater was too. “Shit,” you said, realizing.

You told Kevin and he nodded. “Have you unpacked something to drink? I’ll show you how us Chicagoans stay warm,” he said.

“That’s the first thing I unpacked,” you said. You left his overwhelming presence and went to your kitchen. The plate of cookies were wrapped on the short sink so that he wouldn’t have seen it. You wanted to surprise him with gratitude for all the hard work he did around your place.

You opened a cabinet and grabbed two glasses. They clinked together as you placed them on the sink and went to a small pantry, taking out a bottle of whiskey. Kevin joined you in the kitchen to help and he whistled at the bottle. “Basil Hayden?” He asked.

“Did you expect something girly?” You asked.

“No ma’am, just didn’t take you for a whiskey type,” he said. He grinned and joined you at the table.

“Now, we don’t want to get wasted but the goal is to keep a steady drink going to stay warm. So how ‘bout some questions to get to know each other? Since we got all this time,” he said.

“Is this an interrogation?” You asked with a giggle.

“Naw, just two friends getting to know each other. So we either answer truthfully or take shots. Up for it?” He asked.

“I’m game if you are,” you said. Kevin took the lead by pouring tiny shots for you both in each glass. He pushed your glass towards you.

“You can go first,” he said.

You tapped the glass and thought about a good question to ask. “I’ll go easy. What’s a secret you’ve never told anyone?”

“That’s easy?” He asked.

You nodded. You pointed to his glass. “You can always drink up if that’s too hard on you,” you said.

He smirked. “A secret I’ve never told anyone…I once met my celebrity crush at a mall signing. She signed a poster for me. I…still have it,” he said and smiled.

“Who! Who’s your secret crush?” You asked.

“Aht, it’s my turn. Worst heartbreak?” He asked.

“Easy questions, huh?” You asked.

He shrugged. “You don’t become friends by finding out each other’s favorite colors.”

You thought about it and nodded. You told him about your worst heartbreak and how you dealt with it. How difficult it was to move on from it.

You went back and forth asking safe, but deep questions that required more than yes or no answers. You learned more about him and if it was possible, you fell for him even more.

“How in the world are you single?” You asked when it was your turn again.

Kevin chuckled and played with his glass. So far, you had taken a few shots too nervous to answer the questions he asked. He had only taken two. One for when you asked about his parents and one when you asked about his first love.

“I wish I knew. I date; you make it sound like I hide in my house after work. The shit I see every day, sometimes I just need to get it out of my head. Dating on top of that just seems cruel,” he said.

You nodded. You could respect that. You had no idea what it was like being a cop. Seeing the worst humanity had to offer and still have to come up with hope for the people who survived. Dealing with the press and the community painting cops as modern day boogeyman. Still. He was too sweet and strong to not have someone. It was criminal.

“How come you don’t have anyone?” He asked.

You fixed your glasses and shrugged. “May be a surprise to you but guys these days are…nasty. They send unsolicited dick pics, they can’t hold a conversation, and think women owe them something for buying them a drink. Like…I didn’t ask for the drink so why does that mean I have to open my legs or suck them off? Especially when they won’t even go down on a woman!”

Kevin’s surprised face made you suddenly feel the alcohol loosening your limbs and warming you up. It definitely loosened your tongue. You groaned and rubbed your forehead. “Sorry, that’s TMI,” you said.

“I would say take a drink every time you apologize, but then this bottle would be gone.”

The word was on the tip of your tongue and you bit it to keep from speaking it. He smirked at your attempt and you rolled your eyes. “You don’t know everything,” you said. Well, the door was open…

“What is your ideal woman?” You asked.

“Ideal? Shit, I just want someone I vibe with. That thinks like me. Has goals,” he said.

“Beauty? Brains?” You asked.

“Why won’t you go to Molly’s with me?” He asked.

You smiled, remembering that it was only one question per person. “I don’t know anyone. Meeting new people sucks. I don’t have the personality for great first impressions,” you said.

“You know me,” he said. “I would make sure you’re good. And you are great at first impressions. I wouldn’t have rented to you otherwise.”

“You are just being nice like always. Why is it important for me to go to Molly’s?”

“I want you to feel welcome here. Feel like you belong so you can stay,” he said.

You ducked your head, playing with your glass. The soft slide of glass on the table was the only sound in the room. Outside, the wind continued to howl as the storm carried on. You shivered, despite feeling toasty from the whiskey. Your skin felt icy. “I moved here, Kevin. That’s about as permanent as it gets.”

Kevin scooted closer. He had to spread his legs wider to accommodate your chair. The smell of him invaded your senses. The smell of whiskey on him made your head fuzzy. He brought his hand up to caress your cheek. He gently turned your head to look at him.

“This may be the drink talkin’, but you feel this too, right? Between us? If I’m imagining it, let me know now,” he said.

You looked at his lips and then back up to his eyes. He caught the movement and did the same, his gaze drifting down your face and then back up again.

“You’re not imagining it,” you said.

Kevin leaned over and captured your lips in a sweet, tender kiss that warmed you up quicker than the whiskey. You returned the kiss, sighing, tongues dueling with each other.

“Hmm, knew you’d taste sweet,” he said. He pecked your lips once, twice, and then lingered on the third time humming.

Emboldened by his actions, you leaned out of your chair. You climbed into his lap, wrapping your hands around his shoulders. Kevin sighed and put his hands on your hips, squeezing every so often.

“You don’t have to do anything you’re not comfortable with,” he said.

You smiled and kissed him again, rolling your hips. He groaned and his hands went lower to grab your ass. He gripped and massaged your ass, squeezing painfully enough to make you cry into his mouth. He growled hearing the sound, kissing you with more passion after each kiss.

“I want you, Kevin Atwater,” you said against his lips.

“Are you sure?” He asked. He leaned back and looked into your eyes. “If you’ve had too much to drink–”

“Shut up,” you said with a grin and kissed him.

You had been playing this subtle game between each other for weeks as you signed your lease and moved in. The first time you called him to tell him about your stuck doors, he showed up the next day he was free. He made conversation easy as he fixed the doors. He immediately put you at ease.

He found that your closet door was stuck too but he didn’t have time to fix it at the time. He told you that he would be back and again, he made it so easy to talk to him and time flew by when he was around. It was like you didn’t have time to think about being nervous when he was telling you about must see attractions to Chicago. He kept talking about the pizza and promised to bring one over.

He made moving there for work not feel so lonely. You were worried if you would find friends outside of work. No matter what, work friends were not true friends.

You kissed him again, your hands drifting down to start unbuttoning his shirt. The alcohol wasn’t affecting you in the way he thought. It only lowered your natural anxiousness about being bolder. Funner. More open. Going after what you wanted.

Now that you knew you weren’t crazy, that he wanted you as well, a dam broke. Kevin matched your desperateness to get your clothes off as well.

“I know another way to stay warm,” you said.

Kevin chuckled. “I told you I can help with whatever you need,” he said. “I keep my promises.”

You finally got his shirt loose and pushed it off of his shoulders. He had huge muscles, showing off a physique that made you lick your lips in anticipation. His thighs bunched underneath you and you moaned, rolling your hips against his pelvis.

His erection was thick against his jeans. Kevin grabbed the edges of your shirt and pulled it off you, revealing your bra. He moaned and kissed around your chest. His hands traveled up and down your back, warming it up just like he promised.

The black tank he wore underneath looked damn good on him but it had to go. He stopped kissing your chest long enough to let you remove it. Your hands explored his chest while he put his mouth over your nipple through the fabric.

You moaned, throwing your head back and giving him better access. He took the opportunity you presented and sucked on your titty until the fabric was soaked with his saliva. Your nipple became increasingly sensitive under his attention. You were hissing and shaking by the time he finally let go and admired his handiwork.

He switched to your other nipple, giving it the same love and attention as the first. You squirmed in his lap, unable to stop moving. Your hands moved to the back of his neck and held him to you. He groaned and continued to tug and suckle on your nipple until it was sensitive as well.

As a big girl, it was not easy to feel small. Dainty. Delicate. But you felt like that in Kevin’s capable hands. You felt worshiped. Adored. The soft light coming from outside made the room feel like a bubble. Like time stopped somewhere outside and you were free to explore. To breathe. To cherish this moment with Kevin.

He licked the swell of your breast outside of your bra and you moaned. He kissed up your neck until his lips found yours. Until he was nibbling on your lips and licking away the sting. He sucked on your bottom lip and you felt the tug in your pussy.

You were uncomfortably wet. You felt your arousal dampening your panties. You didn’t know how much longer you would hold out. Or survive.

“You squirming a lot there. You feelin’ good?” He asked.

“Yes,” you moaned.

“What I’m gon’ find when I take them panties off?” He asked.

“Me, excited. Ready for you,” you said.

“Ohh, you a little naughty on top of being sweet?”

You didn’t have time to answer. Kevin stood up, holding you, cupping your ass so you didn’t slip. He kissed you while he held you. But your heart was thumping. Thundering. “I got you, don’t you even worry,” he whispered against your lips.

The apartment was small so he crossed the space in a few steps to get to your bed. He gently laid you down and stepped back to admire how needy you were. How you stretched out on the bed and made a sublime vision of wantonness.

He bit his lip with a smirk as he unbuttoned your jeans and tugged them off your hips. Your breathing was rapid, out of control. Your chest rose and fell in quick succession. Your skin felt alive and electric. Like he needed to enter you right this second or you’d spontaneously combust.

“Look at you. Needy little thing,” he commented. His hands spanned the expanse of your thighs, rubbing and kneading.

“Oh, Kevin,” you moaned.

“So you ready for me, huh?” He asked. You watched through slitted eyes as he tilted his head. How could he be in control right now? Had it been that long for you?

You were too busy packing and saying goodbye to family and friends to worry about getting your rocks off. You were too busy working and unpacking in Chicago to worry about finding someone to relieve the pressure. The past few weeks, it had been you and Roman the Rose.

“I’m so ready,” you said, making him chuckle.

He took off his shoes, socks, and jeans and you watched him unveil parts of his body you imagined. Lusted over. Pictured way too often to ever tell him the truth.

“Mhm, we gon’ see,” he said. He joined you on the bed. Kneeling on it, the bed groaned under his weight and you smiled. Your bed had been previously unprepared for someone of his size. He dropped his lips to your chest slowly. When his breath fanned over your nipples, you moaned and twisted away from him.

He completely covered you, however, so there was no place to go. He licked the swell of your breasts again, glancing up at your reactions. You were mesmerized by him. Under his spell. One of his hands slipped up your thigh and you twinged. Goosebumps pebbled your skin but you felt like you were on fire.

He pressed a thumb over your panties and pushed in, digging the fabric past your pussy lips and groaned at the wet glide of it already. “Oh shit,” you moaned.

“Hm, look what I found,” he said against your skin.

His fingers played with your pussy over your panties and you kept moving, twisting, writhing against your bed and underneath him. Every so often, his thumb would grace your pussy lips. That hint of skin to skin contact made you hiss and roll your hips against his hand.

Kevin used his teeth to drag down the cup of your bra. He grinned finding your dark nipple and then he latched on, swirling his tongue around it in a way that let you know he’d do the same to your pussy when given the chance.

Your breaths were choppy. Belly flipping. Pussy throbbing. Hands clutching your sheets and yanking.

Your orgasm was tearing through you, stealing your breath like a thief. Stars exploded behind your eyelids as rippling pleasure traveled throughout your body. Kevin hummed through it all.

“Look so damn pretty when you cum. Gon’ look even better when I get in there. I bet you’re gonna feel good ridin’ this dick,” he said. His raspy voice was its own brand of magic. Your nipples were still sensitive under his ministrations and the painful tug felt delicious.

You whimpered. He used his teeth to drag down your other cup and gave it attention as well. His tongue flicking across the dark areola. “Shit!” You moaned.

“Mhm, let me hear it,” he said. His warm breath fanned across the wet spots he left behind and you shuddered.

“Kevin, please,” you begged.

“Naw, that beggin’ shit don’t work on me,” he said.

You whimpered once more as he rolled your nipple between his teeth. His hand went back to rubbing your pussy but this time, he finally slipped underneath. His thumb teased the area around your clit, never quite hitting it and teasing you with no mercy.

“Oh fuuck,” you moaned. You turned your head to the side and bit your sheets, turning distraught at the realization that he was going to take his time with your body. He was an explorer. He was a master conductor fine tuning your body and learning the sounds you were capable of producing.

He sucked hard on your nipple and your back left the soft sheets, arching away from the bed. “Augh,” moaned.

At the same time, he dipped a finger into your entrance getting his finger wet up to the knuckle. “Nice and fuckin’ wet. Fuck,” he moaned.

You hissed as he moved his finger in and out. His thumb continued to tease your clit, never directly touching it. It was a dual sensation that drove you insane and contracted on his finger.

“You gon’ feel this good squeezing on my dick?” He asked.

“Uh-huh,” you said and nodded. Hell yes you would. He just needed to believe you and get inside you already. You moved your hips against his finger and he hummed in appreciation.

“Oh, impatient too. You wanna cum again?” He asked.

You nodded. “Yes, please, I wanna cum,” you whined, your voice tinny and weak.

“Good girl, using your words without me having to tell you. A’right, I’ll let you cum,” he said. He pushed a second finger inside you and then began pumping in earnest. His thumb moved to rub circles around your clit and you came instantly, shouting and twitching.

“Shit, shit, shit,” you moaned as you came, eyes rolling into the back of your head. Kevin placed kisses along your chest as you did so, keeping up his particular brand of torture. He slowed down as your breathing returned to normal.

“Hmm-mm,” I can get used to that,” he said.

You struggled to your elbows and looked at him. “Fuck,” you panted.

He grinned and stood up. He slipped his fingers out of you and then licked them one by one. He moaned, closing his eyes. Fuck. It was the hottest thing you’d ever seen. He licked his fingers like runaway scoops of brownie mix left on the spatula.

You were getting worked up looking at him. He was distracted. You smirked as you leaned forward and pressed kisses to his stomach. He tensed up at the contact and you looked up at him.

He grinned at you, grabbing you by the throat. Your eyes fluttered closed. He hummed. He pulled you into a kiss. A wet, sloppy, loud one that made you hiss and scoot closer to him. You were dripping, soaked. Every movement you made called attention to the fact that you were wet as hell.

“I got somethin’ for you, but I wanna eat first. We didn’t get to them cookies you baked,” he said.

Your eyes turned watery. “Please, let me touch you, Kevin,” you said.

He planted another kiss on your lips, lingering to swipe his tongue around your lips and diving inside. Your pussy ached. You’d never felt so empty in your entire life. “You’ll get your chance to make sure my dick wet for you. I don’t wanna hurt you when I finally fuck you,” he said.

You sighed painfully through your nose. Your vision swam with tears. You were beyond horny. You didn’t think you were this insatiable. You had two orgasms already but you wanted more. You wanted more from him.

Kevin licked his lips and removed his hand from your neck.. He rubbed your lips with his thumb and then gave you a sweeter kiss this time around. “Now lean back and let me get to eatin’,” he commanded.

You needed no further encouragement as you flopped back onto the bed. He peeled your panties off, cooing at the dripping mess you were. “Hm-mm,” he sighed. He kissed your thighs as he slipped your panties off. He licked your calf. He threw your panties somewhere behind him and it landed with a soft, wet plop.

You would have felt embarrassed usually. But there was nothing but pure, uncut lust. You could taste it in the air. Feel it burning you inside and out.

Kevin hummed, stroking himself through his briefs. He spread your legs and watched as your arousal slowly leaked out of you. You felt it roll down the crack of your ass and shivered. Cool air blasted from somewhere. The wind continued to howl, adding to the soft orchestra of sounds you were currently making.

Kevin knelt down slowly and got into position between your legs. He put them over his shoulders and yanked you down to the edge of the bed. His arms hooked underneath your legs and spread you open for his meal.

He blew slowly across your wet clit and you shivered. The anticipation was worse. You couldn’t stop moving, shaking, yearning. Kevin laughed and kissed your clit. He hummed. “Taste so fuckin’ good already. You’re so wet, baby,” he said. “Gonna drown in this pretty pussy.”

“Fuck, Kevin!” You shrieked.

He chuckled. “Calm down, what you cussin’ for? I ain’t even do nothin’ yet,” he said.

You whined, rolling your hips. “Please, please, please,” you begged. You couldn’t take this teasing. You weren’t used to it. Had you even had sex before this? You thought you had decent lovers before. Men who knew what they were doing and had you screaming until the cows came home.

But Kevin? Kevin eclipsed any man that came before. You were a virgin all over again. This was your first time and your partner was an expert. A sex demon sent straight from hell.

“The more you beg, the longer I take,” he said. He licked outside of your pussy lips. He went as far as the seam and pulled back, licking down ‘till he reached your entrance. His tongue just crested the surface of it.

“Okay, I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” You yelled and huffed.

Kevin continued to tease you, drawing curses and screams and yells as he explored your body. Your thighs shook violently. Tingles turned to pinpricks against your legs the longer he held them open.

Wave upon wave of desire flooded your system. Your hands played in his hair as he worked, savoring you. He hummed every so often when you tugged on his hair or made a sound that sounded like you were near death. Near leaving this plane of existence forever.

You stopped trying to plead with him. You become engrossed in the pleasure he was giving you. You and it were one and you surrendered to the feel of him. He finally pushed in further, drawing his tongue close to your clit.

“Auhh,” you croaked.

Kevin kept going, swirling his tongue. His sloppy, loud eating was seduction personified. He sucked so hard that he made noises with your pussy.

You couldn’t say anything to let him know that you were enjoying yourself. You couldn’t encourage him to keep doing what he was doing. Your mind was gone. Gone on a different trip this time.

He sighed against your pussy and then flicked his tongue on your clit. It was your undoing. You cried out, pupils blown wide as you came and came and came. Shivers wracked your body. Kevin held you down in his powerful arms, helping you weather the tempest rushing through you.

Your fingers dug into his wild hair and pulled. It didn’t seem to faze Kevin. He continued to eat you out as if searching for the next meal course. He ate you on the way down from the high. You moaned and bit your lip, hoping pain would help dull this type of ecstasy. It did not.

Kevin smacked his lips as he slowly stopped, rolling his tongue one more time. He leaned back and surveyed his work. You heard him smacking his lips. “Makin’ such a big mess for me,” he whispered. He kissed your pussy and then leaned back.

Your eyes found his. He smirked. His beard dripped with your essence. Entire lower jaw was wet and you saw trails of your slick in his beard. He rubbed it in, moving his hand to work in what you left on him.

“How you feelin’, gorgeous?” He asked.

“Like I died,” you said.

He chuckled. “Well, now you got some work to do. Get this dick wet,” he said.

He helped you into a sitting position. You yelped, feeling the giant pool you made on the edge of the bed. You were definitely going to have to wash these immediately. He grabbed your throat, tearing your thoughts away from the bed and back onto him.

He leaned down and kissed you. Fuck, you tasted good on him. You smelled yourself and it only turned you on more. He sucked on your bottom lip and then swiped his tongue up. He made out with you and you somehow dripped more. You were a veritable slip and slide at this point. If he entered you, he’d face no resistance.

He pulled back and you smiled goofily at him. He smiled back. “Even better than I been dreamin’,” he said. He leaned back and let you go. You watched as he removed his briefs. Your eyes widened at the size of him.

He was long and thick, a deadly combination. Maybe all the prep time was more from necessity. Had he tried entering you without lube or without foreplay, that shit would hurt. You were no punk though.

You fixed your glasses and greedily took him into your mouth. You were not as nuanced as he was. You did not have time for games. You had been desperate to touch him, taste him, and explore him in the same way he did to you. You sucked the tip of him and he hissed, hands going to the side of your face.

You pushed past his hands, sucking as much of him down as you could. You used your hands on the area you couldn’t get to. You spat on his dick and used it to let your hands glide better.

“Sweet fuck,” he moaned.

You sucked on him, remembering to breathe through your nose so that you didn’t pass out doing this. Your pussy throbbed as he continued to moan and throw his head back, rolling his neck. Your drool slipped past your lips and coated his shaft. You flicked your tongue across his tip and he jerked his hips forward.

His hands on the side of your head gripped you harder and pushed you down on his dick. Deeper than you would normally take someone. You had been worried that you would puke or something. However, you relaxed your throat and worked together to soak his dick with your saliva and make sure that he wouldn’t hurt you on entry.

“Fuck, right there. Right there,” he moaned.

You moaned right back, loving the way he took control of his pleasure and used you. “Let me cum in that pussy, baby,” he said.

You looked up at him and he licked his lips. You nodded. “Yef,” you said around his dick.

He slipped out of your mouth and you sucked in deep breaths. Your head was light. Floating. Soaring. You licked your lips and rubbed your cheeks to get the ache out. But Kevin grabbed you roughly and flipped you over on the bed.

“Ouee, shit,” you groaned. You sniffled. Fuck, he was ruining you for any other guy. You would never be able to have sex with anyone else ever again! Was it too early to propose? Was it too early to ask him to move into this tiny apartment with you and deliver this every night on demand? Would that scare him away?

His large hands wrapped around your waist and pulled you back. One hand left as he guided his dick to your entrance. You sighed. There was no reason to beg him not to tease you. He wouldn’t listen either way.

Kevin shoved inside in one hard thrust that brought those stars back to your mind’s eye. “Fuuuuuuuuuuuuh,” you moaned.

As suspected, he slipped in easily thanks to the foreplay and you sucking him off. He groaned as he was fully seated and began rolling his hips, giving you long, deep strokes. He grinded in your pussy and you began to shake and shiver on him.

“Throw that shit back like you want it,” he said.

You listened, throwing it back. He was stroking so hard that you couldn’t brace yourself. You dropped down to your elbows and raised your ass higher. He moaned as he stroked deeper, hitting your sweet spot and making your toes curl.

“Kevin, Kevin, Kevin,” you chanted.

“Yeah, I know I’m hittin’ that shit. Bounce it back,” he said.

You moved your hips faster, matching his pace. He grabbed a fistful of your hair and yanked back. Your head snapped back, a bite of pain on your scalp. “Auh, auh, auh,” you croaked.

His thrusts made your ass clap on him. “Mhm, gripping that shit,” he moaned. He twisted your hair again, yanking your head back a little more and stroking into you with precision.

“Oue, baby, I’m gonna cum,” you moaned. “I’m cumming, baby.”

“Cum on then. Cum on this dick so I can nut in this pussy,” he said.

You cried. You exploded. You were ripped apart as the orgasm burrowed through your system. Your legs shook and twitched. Your pussy gripped him tight, making him snug as he pounded.

Kevin continued stroking until he groaned and busted inside of you. Hot pulses of cum signed his name in the crevices of your pussy and you moaned with him.

He slammed inside of you two more times and stilled, panting. He slowly worked his way out of you and you groaned. You immediately flopped onto the bed. Strength left you. Your energy was gone.

Kevin’s quiet huffs let you track him through the apartment. You heard water running and then he was back, cleaning you up. You whined, crying and pushing away from him. He cooed at you and gently cleaned you up.

Sleep tugged at you. You yawned. Kevin returned. You were putty in his hands as he moved you away from the mess you made. “I know another way to warm you up too,” he said.

“Hm,” you sighed.

He chuckled as he got you out of the puddle. You sighed, curling up now that you were in a dry spot. Kevin placed something onto the wet spot and then got in bed with you, pulling your back into his chest. He spread out covers over you.

You had just enough thought to take off your glasses and put it on the nightstand next to you.

His hand came around to rest against your titty, still clad in your bra. He threw one leg over you and your body instantly warmed up. He was a space heater. You snuggled into his warmth and were out like a light, with a giant smile on your face.

The END.

The Secret Kevin Atwater Files

241 notes · View notes

fuckyeahdindjarin · 1 year

Text

Grays

Frankie Morales x f!reader

{ Grays Masterlist | Main Masterlist | Grays Part II }

Rating: M

Summary: Frankie wants you to cover up his grays. You want to knock some sense into his salt-and-pepper head.

Warnings: Insecure Frankie in need of self-love comes with his own warning, Reader is a hairstylist and has a related nickname, no physical descriptions other than that Reader has hair that can be dyed, not-quite-friends to *respectfully looking* dynamics, mentions of hair, gratuitous descriptions of the male body, sexual innuendos, lots of teasing and banter.

Word count: 4.8k

Notes: The origin story is here if you missed it. This is dedicated to my Frankie soul sister LJ @prolix-yuy who encouraged me to write this many months ago ❤️ As always, I’m an anxious mess writing for a new-to-me Pedro boy, so please be gentle with me (cos it's my birthday week) 🥺

I have a part 2 (with smut) in mind. I love where this leaves off, but who am I kidding. I probably won’t be able to help myself 😂

The bell on the door chimes with a sweet tinkle, cutting through the low, insistent purr of the hair clipper buzzing in your grasp. You don’t look up as you spy broad shoulders and a battered Standard Heating Oil cap crossing the threshold out of the corner of your eye.

‘Are you lost, Morales?’ you drawl indifferently, focused on the task at hand. ‘I have an appointment with Pope today, not you.’

‘He booked it under his name. Thought you’d take it as a prank if I called in myself.’

You look up to meet his gaze reflected in the mirror sitting in front of Greg, your current customer. ‘I wonder why he’d think that.’

Frankie shrugs, leaning against the reception counter with his arms crossed. ‘Beats me.’

You snort. ‘Really? You’ve insisted loudly and repeatedly for as long as I’ve known you that you don’t see the point of going to a hairstylist when you can have Pope cut your hair with kitchen scissors in his bathtub.’

‘C’mon, Shiv.’

‘Oh, he knows my name,’ you gasp sarcastically. You turn to Greg, who’s clearly amused by this exchange, and loop him in. ‘He usually just grunts at me.’

At this point, Ashton - your apprentice and all-round salon maverick - makes an appearance. Clearly having caught the tail-end of your conversation with Frankie, he glances between the two of you with an arched eyebrow. ‘Are we back to chasing customers away, boss?’

‘Sit his ass down but he doesn’t get a free drink,’ you instruct. ‘I’ll get to him when I get to him.’

Ashton goes ahead and ignores your orders point blank, per usual. After hanging up Frankie’s jacket and settling him at the station furthest away from you in the far corner of the salon, you see him sneakily give him a coffee. He can never resist the handsome ones.

You take your sweet time with Greg, cleaning up his sideburns, even though you’re basically done with him - just to tick off your waiting customer.

Not that it works, and you know it won’t. He just sits there, his wide frame filling up the chair, still as a rock. The dog-eared, months-old magazines strategically placed on the table for idle reading lie untouched. That’s Francisco Morales for you.

You’ve been orbiting each other since sixth grade, as all kids in your close-knit neighbourhood do. In fact, most of your customers went to your school.

You don’t even remember how it started - probably at a sleepover - you discovered one day that you’re handy with box hair dye. By freshman year, you were colouring your fellow classmates’ hair in the girls’ toilets after school, earning enough pocket money to keep your cabinet at home fully-stocked with new hair products on rotation.

Your ever-changing hair colour got you into trouble with the headmaster more times than you can count, who nicknamed you Shape Shifter. Your friends abbreviated it to Shifter, then over the years, whittled it down to Shiv, and it stuck.

After being gifted a set of styling scissors for Christmas one year, you started hanging out at the neighbourhood salon, hustling for an apprenticeship. You practised what you observed on your fellow students, giving out haircuts on the bleachers on non-game days for a couple of dollars (the fee waived if something went disastrously wrong).

That’s how you first met Benny - his then cheerleader girlfriend took him in for a haircut when it got too long for her liking. When you eventually opened your own salon years later, he was your first paying customer, having come home after being honourably discharged from the army.

During the early days, when you struggled to fill your appointments and he couldn’t win a fight to save his life, you made a pact. You would do his hair at a heavy discount for his posters and promotions, and in return, he would let you use his photos for the salon’s marketing.

And it worked. Well, not that you had anything to do with him turning his fortunes around on the MMA circuit, but he had everything to do with getting customers through your door. It only got busier when Santi joined the ranks a couple of years later, and even though Will only shows up when his hair gets really unruly, they both sit in front of your camera with no complaint in return for mate’s rates.

Having these guys on your salon’s social media keeps both the gents and the ladies booking up your appointments.

Frankie Morales, though, is a different animal.

When you finally appear over his left shoulder, his coffee is all gone and he meets your eyes in the mirror nonchalantly. He’s leaning his whole weight on his right elbow on the armest, his left arm outstretched and blunt nails tapping on the table, the only hint of impatience he’s giving away.

He’s good at that - he’s the laid-back one out of the boys, the one who hangs back and observes with arms crossed, but quick to crack a grin and throw in a wicked barb when the occasion calls for it. Nothing ever seems to faze him, and probably nothing does - you hear that makes a good pilot, and from what Pope lets on, he’s a damn good one.

It also makes for highly effective bait for the ladies. He’s a popular fixture on the local bar scene - let’s face it, all of the boys are. You’ve seen him in action more than once when Benny or Pope invites you along on a night out, more often than not without Will since he had a baby girl with his high school sweetheart last year. Frankie’s brooding, quiet, beer-sipping act often works better than Benny’s over-the-top flirting or Pope’s Casanova bit.

But that’s neither here nor there.

Hands on your hips, you goad him, ‘Alright Morales, how do I know you’ll pay up, you cheap bastard?’

‘Pope says to put it on his tab.’

‘Music to my ears.’ You tap him on the shoulder. ‘Sit up and off with the cap.’

With a grumble, Frankie lifts the cap up by the beak, ducking his head as he does so. He tosses it onto the table offhandedly and shifts in his seat, but you’re not fooled by his unconvincing air of indifference. From the way he plasters his palms to the top of his denim-clad thighs, as if to stop them from fidgeting, you know he’s feeling vulnerable.

You can’t say you’ve ever seen Frankie without his headgear - now that you think about it, he’s been wearing it since high school. Heck, he might have gone through several incarnations of that blasted hat in the years in between. You’ve caught glimpses when he lifts it up to fix his hair, but otherwise, all you see is what peeks out from underneath, the longer wisps that coil around his ears and the curls at the back.

As it turns out, there’s really nothing to hide - sure, the cut is blunt and his hair lacks shine, but both can be easily fixed. You step into his space and comb through his locks, starting at the base of his skull and working your way up the sides.

The contact startles him - he practically jumps out of his skin, and you don’t miss the way the veins on the back of his hands pop and he digs his nails into his legs.

'Easy, boy,' you soothe with a teasing undertone, earning yourself a glower from the pilot. As much as you enjoy needling him, you do want your customers to be comfortable. So you let slip a deliberate but genuinely appreciative hum as the dark tendrils, subtly tinged with grays, part softly at your prying fingertips. ‘Wow, your curls are really thick.'

He looks up, an unsure frown on his brow. ‘Oh. Is that bad?’

‘No, Morales, it’s definitely a compliment,’ you tell him encouragingly - your bark has always been worse than your bite. ‘What do you use to wash your hair? It’s a bit dry.’

He shrugs. ‘Shampoo.’ At your insistent stare, he snaps, ‘What?’

‘Don’t lie to me, Morales,’ you warn him in a stern voice.

He huffs and gives in. ‘Fine. It’s a 2-in-1 body wash. I get it at the gas station, happy?’

You shoot him a smug grin as he rolls his eyes. ‘Well, you’re using proper shampoo from now on, and conditioner.’ He opens his mouth, a complaint on the tip of his tongue, when you hold a finger up at him. ‘Don’t argue with me, mister. I’ll throw in a couple of bottles on the house to get you started.’

‘Fine,’ he concedes. Unfailingly polite even when grumpy, he adds, ‘Thanks, Shiv.’

Your trusty swivelling stool screeches in protest when you drag it over on its wheels, before you take a seat and address the elephant in the room. ‘So - I’m guessing you’re here because of the wedding.’

You get a grunt in response. Scratching a particularly scrappy patch of his beard that has turned prematurely silver, he says, ‘My ma says I should cover up my old man grays for it.’

You snort, shaking your head. ‘Ha! And you tell your mother I say - hell no, ma’am! I will do no such thing.’

Frankie blinks at your unexpectedly adamant response. ‘What?’

‘I said, hell no,’ you repeat. Turning his head to the side with two fingers on his stubbled cheek, you comb his locks upwards to study the way the grays blend in softly with the umber, matching the ashen flecks in his beard. He doesn't start as badly at your touch this time, but there’s a telltale tick in his jaw, and you can almost hear the tension that thrums just below his skin where a late summer tan still lingers.

‘See how your grays are mainly coming out on the underside?’ you point out. ‘I like the way they just peek through the brown, it gives more depth to your curls. Natural highlights, if you will.’

He looks unconvinced and swipes at a smattering of silver with dismissive fingers. ‘Dunno. Thought the grays make me look old.’

You chuckle. ‘You’re no spring chicken anymore, Morales, and I mean it in a good way. Grays are natural - they will look even better when you start using actual shampoo and conditioner. Trust me, the salt and pepper works on you. I’m not dyeing your grays, and that’s that.’

For the first time today, Frankie turns his head and looks directly into your eyes. ‘My mother’s coming back to town for the wedding, you know. And she remembers where you live.’

You laugh. ‘Go ahead and send her my way, you know I’m not scared of her.’

He scoffs at your big talk. ‘You should be.’

Your relationship with the Morales matriarch is complicated, to say the least. She was always hard on you when you were a kid, thinking you were too wild and undisciplined. Now that you’re grown, you’re still torn between your admiration for her as a single mother who raised a good man, and the woman who never tires of dishing out criticism, warranted or not.

You give him a reassuring pat on the back, solid and warm under your touch. ‘Leave your mother to me, Morales. The grays stay, and I’ll make sure you steal the show at the party.’

‘Your funeral,’ he quips.

‘You just worry about getting yourself to the wedding,’ you retort, cracking your knuckles. ‘Now, are you ready for some pampering?’

Frankie rolls his eyes, but you see the corner of his mouth tick up in a vaguely upward direction - and you take it as a win.

‘Relax, Morales.’

‘I am relaxed,’ he insists through gritted teeth.

‘You’re about as relaxed as a cow on the butcher’s block. Unclench.’

For someone as economical with words as he is, his body certainly says a lot. Every single part of him seems hellbent on making his discomfort known. He breathes a frustrated exhale through his nose, brow deeply furrowed, his glare burning holes into the ceiling.

The leather seat of the backwash barely contains his tall build, his t-shirt stretched to the seams across his chest as he leans back into the basin. He’s bouncing his left leg irritably, the tight denim straining against his lap.

You try - valiantly - not to gape too obviously at the conspicuous bulge nestled snugly between his thighs under his belt buckle. But you can’t avert your eyes from something of that size. It’s against the laws of physics. Or something.

Even from where you’re standing, at the top of the basin peering down the slope of his body, its heft is clearly testing the structural integrity of the zipper of his jeans. Imagine the view from the other side -

Clearing your throat, you bodily press down on Frankie’s shoulders which are coiled up like the hood of an angry python, forcing them to loosen up. He jerks as if he’s a copper wire and you’re electricity. You tease, ‘So sensitive. You act like you’ve never felt a woman’s touch before, Morales.’

‘You know that’s not true,’ he growls at you, the prominent vein in his neck starting to pulse in frustration.

‘No, you’re right - I do know,’ you smirk, dragging out your syllables.

Your tone has him frowning at you, upside down. ‘What do you mean by that?’

‘I mean - I know,’ you repeat with a conspiratorial wink.

He narrows his eyes at you. ‘What do you know, Shiv?’

You wriggle his eyebrows at him suggestively, enjoying yourself far too much. ‘I own a salon, Morales. I hear things from the ladies about town.’

One large palm reaches up to shield his face in embarrassment, a pained groan escaping between the gaps of his fingers. ‘For fuck’s sake - kill me now.’

You laugh, wrestling his hand from his face to with an impish grin. ‘Don’t worry, I’ve only heard good things so far - Frankie big boy Morales.’

He blushes so hard that his ears and neck go a livid red, and for a minute, you’re actually worried that he’d pass out from not enough blood reaching his heart. Not keen on the prospect of having to explain to the emergency services that you teased the poor man into an aneurysm, you turn on the water and cut short your little chinwag with a good-natured chuckle.

His hands are still tightly clamped around the armrest when you carefully run the shower head along his hairline and behind his ears, soaking his curls. His biceps flex from the tight grip and the lean muscles strain against the sleeves of his t-shirt.

At least he closes his eyes when you start with the shampoo. The velvety lather froths as you patiently wash his hair, which clings to his wet curls like vanilla frosting. The deep crease between his brows eases with each gentle swipe into his locks, and the invisible force pulling his lips downwards slackens. By the time you rinse out the bubbles, you don’t miss the way the tension in his body unwittingly goes with it down the drain.

When your nails slide slickly into his hair with the conditioner, his stubborn body finally, slowly unfurls. His head tips back of its own accord, baring the column of his strong neck as he leans inadvertently into your touch. Colour returns to his knuckles when he releases his death grip on the backwash.

You smile to yourself, scraping your fingertips along his scalp in a firm massage, watching his chest rise and fall as he teeters on the brink of consciousness.

As your thumbs trace a confident path down the back of his skull, they appear to find a particularly sensitive spot near the base of his neck, and it's as if a switch is flipped. You witness the exact moment he breaks - his back arches off the leather seat, his obstinate lips part with a strangled half-sigh catching in his throat as he yields his full weight into the palm of your hands.

If you're not careful, you could get used to this.

‘Still with me, Morales?’ you tease quietly.

He garbles incoherently, and you grin.

Frankie practically molds into the chair like warm wax when you shepherd him back to the styling station. You’re so chuffed with yourself that you don’t even feel the need to gloat at the way his eyes are glazed over and how his head lolls into the soft pressure when you run a fluffy towel through his hair. The man recoiling at the mere brush of your fingers a distant memory.

You run an assessing eye over him, brushing out his locks to gauge your game plan. ‘I like this length on you, so I’ll just trim the split ends and tidy up your sideburns. You’ll benefit from some layering too - it’s a bit heavy on top right now.’

From the way he blinks owlishly at you, you know he doesn’t catch a single word. He shrugs and says matter-of-factly. ‘You can’t do worse than Pope.’

The salon is quiet this afternoon, as it tends to be on Wednesdays. You let him enjoy the peace for a little bit and tap your foot to Ashton’s playlist as your styling scissors move over his curls in metallic snips.

‘Tip your head forward for me,’ you instruct, sliding around the back of his head on your wheels as you probe, ‘So - how are you feeling about the wedding?’

The fabric of his t-shirt bunches over his shoulders as they quirk noncommittally.

‘It’s just a few days away.’

He makes an indifferent noise. But you’re not so easily dissuaded from conversation, and he knows it.

‘Can’t be easy - watching your ex get married.’

Frankie pins you with a long-suffering stare in the mirror. ‘We broke up a year ago.’

Getting onto your feet, you ruffle your fingers through the crown of his curls. ‘Yeah, but you dated for years. She sure moved on quick.’

He huffs a sardonic laugh. ‘Thanks, Shiv.’

Swapping out the styling scissors for blending shears, you argue, ‘What? It’s a legitimate observation. I’m just making conversation here.’

‘Or we could just sit here quietly.’

Ha. As if you ever listen to him. You press on, ‘Why did she invite you anyway?’

Frankie’s sigh sounds a lot like surrender as he humours you. ‘It’s a damned if she does, damned if she doesn’t kind of situation, I guess. The whole town’s invited.’

‘You sure she isn’t trying to flaunt it in your face or something?’

‘Flaunting implies I still care. I don’t.’

You give him a juvenile nudge nudge, wink wink. ‘Well, on the bright side, you’ll definitely get laid, being the heartbroken ex and all. Chicks love that shit.’

He dispatches a side-long stare in your direction. ‘I’m not heartbroken, and that’s not why I’m going. And you know none of this is any of your business, right?’

‘You’re no fun,’ you pout.

He quips, ‘As a professional hairstylist, you really should be better at making polite conversation.’

You snort. ‘Do you really think it’s a good idea to call me rude when I have scissors in my hands?’

Frankie watches you work in the comfortable lull that’s settled between you, gliding the blades along strands of his curls pulled taut, before running a fine-toothed comb through to brush out the loose tufts. Soft coils land on the floor around his chair as you work your way methodically through his layers.

‘Are you going to the wedding?’ he asks eventually.

You shrug. ‘Maybe, depends on my schedule. I gotta say, I’m kind of curious to see how tacky it will be.’

At his eyebrow sternly cocked, you argue, ‘I know she’s your ex and all, but she’s always been a bit tacky. I mean, that remodel of your house was just tragic.’

Frankie frowns. ‘How do you know all this? You’ve never been to my house.’

You wink. ‘Benny tells me everything when I do his hair.’

He pinches the bridge of his nose. ‘Of course. Benjamin fucking Miller.’

You give him a pat on the shoulder. ‘Don’t worry, I’m on your side, if it helps.’

‘I don’t need you on my side.’

You flash him an insufferable grin. ‘Too bad, Francisco. I am and there’s nothing you can do about it.’

The hairdryer drowns out any further conversation, and Frankie quietly studies you as you cord your fingers through his hair, ruffling it as it dries.

It’s still a bit damp when you switch off the hairdryer and reach up to pull a couple of jars from the shelf above. ‘On the day of the wedding, I want you to wash your hair just before you style it. You have a hairdryer at home, right?’

He throws you a pointed look. ‘I’m not a heathen.’

You grin. ‘Down boy, just checking. Now, you’ll dry your hair until it’s still a bit wet, like so.’ Presenting the styling mousse to him, you say, ‘Then go on and grab some product - you only need a dollop.’

He dips his index finger into the pot, scooping up a generous blob. Your attention is unexpectedly piqued at the sight of his hands.

Have they always been so big?

Realising he’s staring at you in wait, you shake yourself out of it. ‘Ok, rub the mousse onto your fingertips and run them all over your hair, combing from root to end.’

Frankie does as he’s told, face set to a serious scowl as he impeccably goes over each section of his locks, staring into the mirror to make sure he gets every strand. For the first time, you see the pilot in him up close, and you wonder if he’s this thorough about other things, like -

Laundry, your mind interrupts as it careens on the brink of the metaphorical gutter. Get your shit together, Shiv.

‘Good,’ you smile when he’s done, hoping he doesn't see the strain in it. ‘Now, I want you to rake your fingers through the roots when you dry your hair all the way.’ In demonstration, your nails burrow into the base of his thick hair, then you wriggle your fingers upwards towards the ends. ‘It will give you lots of volume and really show off this cut.’

Passing him the hairdryer, you watch him critically in the mirror. He imitates your movements, a bit clumsily and far too cautiously. Leaning down to his ear so he can hear you over the whir, you instruct him, ‘Don’t be gentle, Francisco. C’mon, harder, deeper - don’t hold back.’

He chokes and pins you with a wide-eyed stare in the mirror that glances right off your oblivious self. Along with your words, nothing about this exchange would register in your head in any other way until much, much later tonight, when you replay the conversation in your head in that limbo between sleep and wakefulness.

It may or may not have you squealing into your pillow in latent embarrassment - and something else.

But for now, you’re happy with the way his hair has set, and you gesture for him to switch off the hairdryer. Turning his chair towards you and away from the mirror, you scan your eyes over him and make small adjustments - tucking a couple of strands behind his ear here, a couple of final snips there.

As a final touch, you bury your fingers into his locks, dragging your fingertips through the roots to impart a final tousle so that the curls are loose and soft. You preen at the way he sways into your contact, all shyness gone, his hooded eyes half-closed - before he seems to catch himself and sits up with a self-conscious ahem.

Grabbing a small bottle from the shelf, you say, ‘Last thing - your beard is a bit dry as well. This oil will keep it nice and moisturised, just two or three drops after you wash up in the morning will do.’

Tipping his face up by the crook of your finger and opening up his neck to you, you smooth the ointment along both sides of his jaw, rubbing circles into his neatly trimmed whiskers and all the way up his sideburns. Sliding downwards, your hands seek out the closely shaved stubble tucked beneath his chin. Then, by sheer momentum, your palms continue down his throat in a slow, sticky descent, until the pads of your thumbs slot into the hollow between his collarbones, your fingers resting at the base of his neck where you feel his pulse rabbiting underneath.

The air thickens and shifts between you. When he swallows, you feel the ripple of the moment against your fingertips.

His eyes are on you, and suddenly he’s too close, his skin too hot under your hands. To your horror, something akin to shyness rears its head and you almost stumble backwards to put a safe distance between you.

Scrubbing the oily residue from your hands on a towel, you break the moment with a wink and a steadier smile than you actually feel. ‘You look good, Morales. Ready to take a look?’

‘As if you would take no for an answer,’ he mumbles under his breath. Fondness might be too strong of a word - but you don't think you're imagining the faint trace of amusement in his voice.

With a dramatic ta-da, you spin his chair around with a flourish.

Frankie Morales is obviously not a vain man - he most likely owns five pairs of jeans that he’s worn on rotation for the past fifteen years, his t-shirts are washed ragged, and his trusty leather boots have seen better days. He probably doesn’t use a mirror other than for purely utilitarian purposes, like checking if there’s something stuck in his teeth from his last meal.

But right now, by the way he’s holding his breath as he meets his own eyes in the reflection, you can tell that he’s really looking at himself for the first time in a long while.

You pretend to busy yourself with tidying up the styling station as you discreetly sneak glances at him, feeling strangely bashful for intruding in this moment. When he remembers to breathe again, he tilts his head left then to the right, and back again, even swivelling his chair from side to side so he can peer round the back.

You’ve parted his waves to the side, the lighter cut allowing his curls to carry their natural shape. The healthy sheen, courtesy of the mousse, tempers his grays to a softer, burnt silver that catches the light fetchingly as he moves. Reaching up, Frankie pushes back a stray curl that falls over his eyes, and his back straightens in a quiet show of confidence.

Running a salon is hard work and often thankless. But on days like this? You know you’re meant to do this.

A dramatic gasp draws both of your attention. Ashton is clutching at his chest, backed up against the neighbouring styling station, gaping at Frankie. ‘Mister - you look good enough to devour. Look at that salt and pepper, I’m living for the grays. Doing the Lord’s work, Shiv!’

You laugh as Frankie flushes, scratching an invisible itch on his forehead. You brush the loose hairs off his shoulders with a towel and give him a nudge. ‘See? I’m not the only one who thinks you look good with the grays. You better stock up on the condoms, Morales, the ladies will be all over you at the party.’

He shakes his head self-deprecatingly as he stands up, rubbing his palms on his jeans, uncomfortable with the scrutiny. ‘I doubt it, but - thanks. I appreciate this, Shiv.’

He shrugs on his well-loved burnt yellow jacket, the one with the sleeves perpetually folded up above his wrists and grabs his cap. You hold out a paper bag with the free shampoo and conditioner you promised him, throwing in a jar of hair mousse for good measure. ‘You’re welcome, and you better not put your hat on again this afternoon after all that hard work.’

His fingers brush yours when he takes the bag from you, then, as if it’s the logical next thing to do, he leans down to press a chaste kiss to your right cheek, his stubble coarse against your skin - and you know without looking it’s the gray patch in his beard that brushes against your jaw as he draws back. You fumble, feeling heat prickle the back of your neck and blooming in your rib cage.

He flashes you the most self-assured smile you’ve seen on him this afternoon, which has you biting your bottom lip. ‘I won’t. Maybe see you at the wedding, Shiv.’

It takes you five full seconds to regain motor functions. By the time you unstick your tongue from the roof of your mouth, Frankie’s already out of the door with a spring in his step.

In companionable silence, you and Ashton watch the pilot strut - because that’s what he’s doing, he’s strutting with a confidence that becomes him - across the road through the glass front of the salon.

‘What a dish,’ Ashton sighs dreamily, flopping into a chair as if his limbs have given out. ‘I hope he comes back soon.’

You smile. A girl could always hope.

Notes: It's the first time I'm using a nickname for a Reader, but I have a real soft spot for Shiv, and I think she deserves one. I'm not sure where the fandom stands on this, does it disqualify the fic as a reader insert? If anyone has an issue with this, please let me know! For me, Shiv has no physical descriptions so to me she's still a reader insert.

I don't know if anyone expected this kind of dynamics between these two, but it's been so much fun to write with a bit of antagonism in the mix. I hope you enjoyed this, reblogs and comments are so, so appreciated as always. Thank you for reading ❤️

#frankie morales fanfiction #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales x you #frankie morales x fem!reader #frankie morales x f!reader #frankie morales #frankie catfish morales #francisco morales #triple frontier fanfic #frankie friday #queue

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semischarmed · 7 months

Text

Guess

Shane dropped his controller as he finished another round of his favorite video game.

He paused the game to catch a breath.

“Oh, by the way Arthur’s coming over,” Shane’s roommate and best friend Noah yawned. Noah ran his hand up his shirt, showing a slight peek of his abs as he lazily scratched.

Shane could never put into words the maddening effect that particular move had on him. He didn’t know what it was about Noah, or why it took him so long to see it.

It was just something about the guy, his carefree attitude, his natural charisma, his cute smile. The guy was a gift to be around. He didn’t even think about guys that way- except Noah now, of course. Noah was different. And it was only recently that he had felt such a strong pull for the guy. Guys like Noah were like that. Warm. They had a way of making you smile fondly at the thought of them, at their laughs, at laughing with them. And before you knew it, you were blushing.

Naturally, Shane had kept quiet about his new feelings, knowing that such a confession would cause irreparable damage to their relationship. After all, they’ve been friends as far as he could remember. It was in these contemplative moments that Shane’s mask slipped, and he muttered in slight annoyance, “Arthur again?”

“Yeah bro, he’s actually a pretty fun guy to be around”. The half-asleep Noah said back. Away from the man’s line of sight, Shane grimaced.

Arthur again.

Shane noticed the two hanging out ever since their New Year’s party. He wasn’t even sure how the guy was even invited. Perhaps it was pity. Admittedly, they were all quite cruel to him in high school. Noah especially. That’s just how it was back then. Growing up in a small town had a way of turning something as inconsequential as social status into the end all be all. He was happy to have grown past it. That they had all grown past it.

Shane reasoned Noah must have felt a twinge of guilt about it all. He supposed he felt a bit guilty as well. Shane sighed as he started another match, thoughts lingering back to his roommate.

- - -

It wasn’t long before the nerdy Arthur was at their door.

It was another point of annoyance to Shane. The fact that the guy had a key to their place. Arthur merely let himself in, wordlessly plopping on the couch beside Noah.

“What game is that? Looks a bit boring?”

Shane could always count on Arthur to justify his coldness toward him. This nerd was annoying. “Doesn’t matter dude… Noah’s out cold by the way- ” He jerked his head at the collection of empty beers on the coffee table. The air was rank with the noxious mixture of the man’s natural musk and cheap beer. Shane took a swig as he continued with his match.

From the corner of his eye, Shane watched Arthur dig through Noah’s pockets. He felt him continue to dig through the jock’s pocket, lingering a bit too long before fishing out an old phone with a cracked screen. Arthur leaned forward, unlocking the phone and responding to a few messages. With a satisfied smirk, the nerd nonchalantly placed the phone back into Noah’s pocket.

Shane couldn’t focus too much on the bizarre sight before him. At least, that’s what it looked like to him- he couldn’t tell if he had just imagined the whole exchange in the heat of his particularly difficult match.

“I think we’re going to play a different game, a guessing game…” Arthur laughed as the television flashed black. He threw the remote to the floor.

“-Hey” Shane shot back in annoyance. He started to get up, only to be slammed back into the couch by his sleeping friend’s meaty hand. “What the fuck?”

Arthur leaned closer to Noah’s sleeping form as he began his game. “Guess.”

“Guess?”

“Guess.”

Despite the confusion, Shane felt paralyzed with a mix of shock and intrigue. “Guess what?”

This time, Noah jerked to life head turning just a bit too far to left. With a toothy grin, Shane’s best friend answered back. “Guess how long this hunk of meat has been mine.”

- - -

“C’mon bro, guess”.

Shane needed more answers. It made a demented sort of sense. Why would Noah, of all people, hang out with Arthur? How did Arthur inexplicably have all this access to Noah’s life? He gulped. Shit. New Year’s. “A couple weeks,” he stammered out, afraid to even speak the words.

Shane couldn’t believe how long it had been. He felt lightheaded at the thought of his best friend, of Noah being reduced to this. He thought of how many people. How had he not noticed? How had no one noticed? The implications were even graver. The fact that one person could do this- could be anyone. No. Before he could even expand his line of thought, an image of Noah’s dumb, grinning smile flashed through his mind. Noah. He felt sick at the prospect. Noah was his best friend, and he couldn’t tell for weeks.

“Wroooong” both of them hummed.

“What?”

Shane was still reeling from the initial shock. “I-I’ll call the police!” Shane stammered.

Arthur looked amused, chewing on the statement before cackling. He stroked Noah’s cheek.

“My Dad’s the police chief, dumbass... I made each of those piggies mine months ago.” Noah giggled. It was uncharacteristic, entirely unnatural for Noah.

Shane’s stomach dropped. Months?

Arthur fished out Noah’s phone again, showing Shane the police chief’s contact screen as he hit the call button.

“Hey, Pops?” Arthur asked.

“How long have you been mine?”

“Hmm, let’s see… New Years was six weeks ago… Artie, it had to have been eight mon- “

“-and?” Arthur cut him off, sounding somewhat bored.

“-aaand this little piggy loves when you pull on his strings.” The Noah’s father continued, “-aaaand this piggy loves what you’ve made him do to each of his officers-“ Shane heard the police chief audibly lick his lips before moaning “-aaand I love that you wormed into every bit of my son. Thank you for letting me feel my boy’s orgasms.” The police chief’s voice became deranged. He grunted and huffed in the background, while sounds of the police headquarters and cheering officers rang in the background. “-aaand Noah and I have never been closer”. At that, the cheering slowly dimmed and a soft groaning permeated the otherwise eerily quiet air. It was followed by wet, sticky, slapping noises before the beep of the phone hanging up. Shane noticed, ever so slightly, how each grunt and slap seemed to slowly pry open Noah and Arthur’s mouths.

Noah’s eyes squinted in glee, mouth now agape as he began playing with his nipples. In response, Arthur’s cheeks flush. He let out a warm exhale as Noah continued. “Pops was soooo easy. Idiot didn’t even realize his own son’s been the perfect puppet for ages… I played up the gay shit too, made him watch me fuck my main body in his own bed… while my strings dug into him.”

Arthur licked his lips with a sinister glee as he spoke this time. “That homophobic asshole had it coming… Once I had enough strings wormed into ol’Chief, I made him masturbate to the sight of his only son fucking me. He’s my best recruiter. You wouldn’t believe how many bodies that muscle-packed body could pull”. At this, Shane could only look at the pair with disgust. A stray tear left Noah’s right eye, as Arthur, without breaking eye contact licked it up. A tiny flicker of hope, of resistance lit in Shane’s mind, only to be smothered by crushing darkness as Noah’s hand brought Arthur’s over his package, guiding it to fondle the jock’s junk.

Noah’s eyes roll to the back of his head, grin widening as he continued to guide Arthurs hand into more aggressive kneads. ”Don’t feel bad- Artie thinks and feels for me. He loves this so I fucking love it, bro… now, back on topic” Noah’s eyes roll back, appearing normal for a second before dropping all pretense. They now shone with a perverse delight as Arthur continued.

“C’mon bro… guess again”.

Shane was revolted. Arthur was only around the last few weeks. That meant that Arthur had been behind the scenes, parading Noah’s body around like his own personal plaything even before Shane had a passing thought about the nerd. It was a horror, packaged in such a profound sense of hopelessness that Shane could only wearily try to recall any change in behavior around the New Year’s party. With a defeated sigh, Shane muttered, “months…”

“Correct”

-End Part 1-

You may have seen the original draft of this. The images on the original may have been too much for Tumblr. In any case, it felt a bit too long so I decided to break this one up.

#male possession #male body control #Male corruption

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drewsbuzzcut · 2 months

Text

So Lovely, It Feels So Right

Mat barzal x model!fem!reader

A visceral in doses fic

Warnings: SMUT, alcohol consumption, and mentions of tattoos (let me know if I missed anything)

Tonight’s the Isles wags’ annual galentine’s get together. It’s nothing fancy, just an intimate gathering at the Martin’s house. There are drinks, snacks, and a small gift exchange.

After laughing so hard your stomachs hurt and drinking various bottles of wine, it’s finally your turn to open your gift. You gently pull out the tissue paper and uncover a black thong with “i ❤️ barzal” printed on the front. You let out an infectious giggle, your cheeks growing red hot.

“Syd! Oh my god. I cannot believe you got me this,” you shriek, hands covering your eyes in faux shyness. You actually liked your little gift- that’d also be a gift for Mat.

“I wanted to get you something on brand for your relationship. We all know you love taking your man to bed. Anyways, soon you’ll be a Barzal,” she points out and you grow flustered thinking about your upcoming nuptials.

Once everyone opens their gifts and finishes their last glass of wine, someone suggests going to a tattoo shop and who are you to not go through with it? Maybe it isn’t the best idea for a bunch of inebriated women to go get tattoos, but you’ll never be one to deny a good time. Mat’s in for a treat later.

Walking up to your front door serves as a challenge, your heel keeps getting caught in the cobblestone of your driveway. It doesn’t help that your buzz is still lingering in your limbs. Finally pushing the door open, you sashay into your house. The sting of your fresh tattoo is very well present as you think about what Mat’s reaction will be like.

You walk in looking disheveled but content. Your cheeks are rosy and your eyes are glossy. Your hair is in its signature messy bun, tank top hiked up your chest to hide your newest addition to your ink collection. You don’t get far before you find Mat in the game room, playing around at the pool table.

“Baby,” you announce your presence, slowly making your way towards him.

As you round a corner of the pool table, your fingers trace the “Barzal” engraved in the wood. Your engagement ring catches every angle of the lighting, making it shine and making Mat’s heart race. He cannot wait to marry you.

“Hey, have a good night?” He asks, pulling you into his arms and swaying with you.

“A wonderful night. We laughed a lot. We also had a lot of wine,” you answer with your eyes closed in delight.

“I can tell,” that piqued your interest. You pop a single eye open.

“What do you mean?” You hop onto the edge of the pool table, arms looped over your fiancés shoulders.

“You’re all giggly and touchy. Major signs that you’re drunk,” he explains, kissing your neck.

You stay silent, too focused on his lips on your skin.

“Did Nolan go down easy?” You finally clear your head from thoughts of the man in front of you.

“Of course. He’s the most perfect baby. He had his bottle and I rocked him in the chair for a couple of hours before putting him in his crib. He’s all bundled up, too. He looks so precious,” Mat says and you coo just thinking about your baby boy.

“I’m glad he didn’t give you any trouble with his bottle. He’s been giving me hell just because I try to feed him with the bottle,” you sigh, body leaning into his.

“He’s a little momma’s boy. I can’t blame him.” You definitely agree with that.

Minutes pass by, Mat and you just looking into each other’s eyes. Every now and then he’ll play with your ring. It’s become a habit of his.

“I’m not drunk you know you,” you tut and tilt your head to the side, your eyes playfully glare him.

“Tipsy but not drunk,” you add, your heel clad feet reaching out to rub against his muscly thighs. He immediately catches your hint. You are feeling needy which is a usual occurrence when you drink wine.

“What do you need, pretty girl?” His voice gets raspy and he picks up your legs one by one and takes off your heels.

“You, baby. I need you,” you pull him down into a kiss, head starting to spin when he invades your mouth with his tongue.

His hands caress your thighs over your jeans, steadily rising to the button and zipper. The heat in the room rises and the moisture starts to collect in your underwear when he starts to undo your pants.

“Holy shit,” he murmurs when he sees your specially made panties.

You giggle and pull him into another kiss, this time you’re the one shoving your tongue down his throat. You grip and pull at his soft locks, just the way his touch grips your every nerve ending and sets them alight. Plus, the moans that vibrate through his chest are enough of a reason to not let go.

He guides you back to lay down, your body erupting in chills from his touch on your bare skin and the cold of the table. He softly squeezes at your legs in a subtle tease before pulling down your thong with his teeth, eyes zeroed in on your reaction. Just by the way your chest heaves and your legs subconsciously widen is proof enough that you’re enjoying what he’s doing.

Your core glistens for him and he wants so badly to dive into your wet folds, but he always wants to tease you. If it’s for a minute or more depends on his mood. He’s feeling giving and generous, so he won’t tease you too much but just work you up until you’re antsy. He kneels down, eyesight perfectly level with one of his favorite sights: you, wet and begging. He lays kisses up your legs, nipping tenderly at the stretch marks on your inner thighs. You reach down and intertwine your fingers with his, your ring biting at his skin, a reminder of your future. Continuing on his path upward, he purses his lips and blows a cool stream of air on your wetness, eyes darkening at your whimpers. He lets a small laugh pass through his lips and presses a sweet kiss just below your belly button.

“Do something, please,” you beg, squeezing his hand.

“Do what?” He acts innocent, but you know he’s just trying to get you to voice your needs.

“Eat me out or fuck me. Just do something,” you whine, a low scream falling from your lips as he leans up to mouth at your neck. His clothed cock rubs against your pussy, sending tingles throughout your entire body.

“You’re sexy when you’re bossy,” he whispers in your ear, sending you into a frenzy of sexual tension that’s dying to be resolved.

“If you don’t do anything, I’ll just get myself off,” you sass, closing your legs just a bit.

Mat stops you before you can close them all the way, his fingers opening you up so he can spit on your clit. The feral urge you have for him increases just by the action alone. You lift up your hips, but he quickly pins them down. Your annoyed huff turns into an airy moan when his thick fingers spreading your wetness around your fluttering hole. He delicately kisses around your mound, pressing a loving kiss to your clit.

The few deep breaths you take don’t prepare you for the way pleasure engulfs your body when Mat wraps his lips around your clit. His tongue nudges it while his lips continuously suction around the bud. You tug at your own hair, feeling your mind grow fuzzy when you hear his obscene moans. The vibration feels even better.

“You like that, baby?” He speaks his words into the apex of your thighs.

You numbly nod your head, already high on the overwhelming bliss that comes from his mouth alone.

“Words, baby,” he trades his lips for his finger tip, softly massaging slow circles into your bundle of nerves.

“I love it so much. It feels so good,” you comply albeit being breathless.

Every rational thought flees your head when he starts tracing his name with the tip of his tongue, sending you on a hazy spiral towards your orgasm.

“Fuck, baby. I’m yours,” you chant, knowing he was staking his claim even though he doesn’t need to.

You don’t even realize him pulling away until he’s pushing your tank top further up your chest, unveiling your boobs. He loves when you’re braless. He licks his lips, leaving sucking kisses all up your torso. For a quick moment you snap out of your daze, remembering your new tattoo that your fiancé still doesn’t know about. Luckily, he doesn’t pull your top off all the way.

“Is my pretty girl still sensitive?” He knows damn well your boobs are still sensitive from breastfeeding for 7 months.

You whisper a yes, but it’s quickly replaced with a cry as he softly sucks them into his mouth. It doesn’t last long because you’re still producing milk, so he decides to suck on the flesh surrounding your nipples. No low cut tops are in your future unless you want people to witness the craving Mat’s mouth had. You will definitely be looking like a cheetah after he’s done with you.

You lift your hips up into him, begging for friction, but also distracting him from eventually making his way to your tattoo. You didn’t want him to see it just yet.

He spreads your folds open again, not holding back and he immediately starts lapping up your arousal. The slurping noises fill your ears and his ravenous moans make you even wetter.

“You taste so good, pretty girl. I can eat your pretty pussy all day,” he praises, voice sweet and thick like honey.

“I love you,” you reply.

“I love you.” His words are followed by his tongue entering your weeping hole.

Your body arches off the pool table, screams and moan ripping from your throat as he fucks you with his tongue. Again, your hips lift up, but this time Mat doesn’t press them down. He holds up your lower body, burying his face in your pussy.

“Fuck. Just like that, baby. Please don’t stop.”

The vibrations from his moans and grunts make your brain short circuit, the mind numbing sensation has you in its palm.

You reach down, a hand back in his hair and the other planted on his upper back. The cold metal of your ring feels nice against his warm skin.

“I’m going to cum,” you whine, your cunt clenching down on his tongue.

“Not yet.”

“Please,” it comes out in a gasp, Mat’s thick fingers sinking into your pussy.

His fingers move slowly in a come hither motion, dragging out your pleasure and making you wait until you can let that knot in your stomach snap. His tongue flattens against your clit, his face moving side to side to continuously apply friction.

“Maty, please. I can’t do it. I need to cum, please,” you beg, legs closing around Mat’s head.

“I need you to hold it baby,” he whispers against your soaking cunt.

“I can’t. I can’t,” your body is trembling and you’re trying to steady yourself, but it feels too good. Your orgasm is on the brink of destruction.

He sets you down, one hand pressing into your lower abdomen while his fingers fuck up into you. Throwing your head back, both your arms reach out to grip onto something. Tears stream down your face, but you’ve never felt more alive.

“Cum for me, baby. Make a mess,” he finally gives you the green light.

Everything goes blurry, the pressure in your stomach releases and you feel liquid squirt out of you, and the state of euphoria your body is in is unexplainable. Mat’s fingers work you through your orgasm with slow strokes but still enough to make you twitch.

“You’re so beautiful, my love. I didn’t know you could squirt like that,” he muses, pecking your thighs.

You whimper when he pulls his fingers out. It’s erotic the way your release drips down his hand. For a moment, you think he’ll lick it up, but you’re proven wrong when he gets you to sit up. He guides his fingers to your mouth and you willingly suck on them, moaning at the taste of yourself. Your eyes peer into his eyes, hooded and dark, they reel him in. Out are his fingers, and his lips press to yours. Salacious moans pass between your mouths when he sucks on your tongue. He’ll never get tired of your taste.

“I love you,” you whimper, wrapping your arms around his neck to keep him close.

“I love you,” he whispers against your lips, nipping and pulling at your bottom one.

You smile dazedly at him, feeling sleepy and cuddly in his arms.

“Come on, baby. Let me take you upstairs and get you in a bath,” he coos, rubbing at your back.

“In one minute. I want to stay here in your arms for a little while. I missed you today,” you kiss his chin and the side of his jaw.

“Nols and I did, too,” he says.

“Tomorrow we cuddle in bed all day,” you state.

“Whatever you want. Happy Valentine’s Day, baby. I love you,” he tells you.

You look over at the clock hanging on the wall and realize it’s well past midnight.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, baby daddy. I love you so much,” you kiss him once more.

“I actually have a small surprise for you,” you whisper into his mouth.

“What’s that, pretty girl?” He looks at you expectantly.

You pull your tank top over your head with one hand, so the other can still cover up your tattoo. Slowly, you move your hand away to finally show off the ‘13.’

“Holy shit. No way, babe. That’s hot,” Mat gasps, reaching out to touch it.

“Just for you, baby,” you softly whimper, your skin still sore from the incessant needle.

He looks at you with such tender love and feral, sexual desire. You can feel the tension fill the room again, your cunt begging for him and his cock straining against his basketball shorts. You’re both in for a long night.

a/n: Happy Valentine’s Day my lovelies! I hope you know you’re loved so much🫶 I hope you all enjoy!

#mat barzal #mat barzal fanfiction #mat barzal angst #mat barzal blurb #mat barzal x reader #mat barzal smut #mat barzal imagine #mat barzal fic #mat barzal fluff #nhl imagine #nhl fic #new york islanders #visceral in doses

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shadowlali · 9 months

Text

home

COD - Phillip Graves x fem!reader

[18+] wc: 1.8k summary: phillip comes home to find his lovely fiancé lounging by the pool. masterlist

warnings: NSFW, age gap (fem!reader in her 20s and graves is in his 40s), explicit, engaged/domestic couple, oral (fem! receiving), p in v, creampie, first time writing and writing smut (i’m still learning lol), some proofreading a/n: first thing i ever wrote

You were attracted to his powerful and charming persona the first time you two met. You had gone out to a nice restaurant with your friends and the entire table was sent a round of drinks. Once the waiter told you a man at the bar had sent them as an introduction to you, you turned towards the bar and saw him. He looked to be in his 40s, with muscled arms and tailored clothing. Phillip raised his glass, smiled, and looked away. You smiled in return and were eventually persuaded by your friends to go and say thank you.

His dirty, blonde hair and blue eyes were captivating. He was older than you, confident, and cultured. It wasn’t your intention to flirt with him, only thank him for the drinks and return to your friends. However, the conversation flowed naturally and you both enjoyed being in each other’s presence. You exchanged information and a week later, you went on your first date with him.

As you two started dating, you realized just how much he loved his job and the people he worked with. Fortunately for the both of you, his busy schedule worked well as you were independent and enjoyed being on your own. His way of showing you appreciation was expensive gifts and monthly allowances.

You realized just how much fun it was to be spoiled. Once he proposed a year later, he bought you a cozy home with a vast pool in the backyard. You had mentioned before how your dream was to buy a house with a pool so you could swim and tan whenever you wanted. While he had bought the house to fulfill your dream, he couldn’t deny how much it excited him to have you slip on bikinis and relax outside.

It's the day after a fun night out with your friends and you're lounging by the pool. You've dozed off with the warm sun on your skin so you don’t hear the back door open. Phillip tried so hard to ensure his mission went well but most importantly (and selfishly), making sure the mission finished fast. He's grateful you're understanding when it comes to his line of work, but he can’t deny how much he missed you while he was away.

He rounds the pool and sees you lying face down on the chaise. You're sleeping and don’t feel his hand slowly sweeping over the back of your leg to find the warmth between your thighs. He teases the seam of your bikini and removes his hand to lightly squeeze your waist. You jump at the pressure and let out a short scream once you realize who it is.

“Baby, your home!”

He laughs as you quickly turn to wrap your arms around his neck. He smells like soap and laundry, which means he took the time to clean up at his headquarters before coming home. Phillip’s head turns to fuse his mouth to yours in a hungry kiss.

His tongue teases the seam of your lips to then push it inside your mouth the moment you give a small moan. His hands tangle in and pull your hair until you felt a slight sting on your scalp. You moan louder and begin pulling at his belt buckle. He stops your hands to slightly pull your head back.

“It's been a while since I’ve had you, doll. Lie back down. I want to taste my sweet girl,” he says, gently pushing you down.

You whine, ”Phillip please, I need you inside of me.”

“You’ll have me once you’re ready. Lie down, now,” he scolds.

You quickly lie down and spread your thighs. You can feel your wetness seeping through your tiny bikini. Your heart is beating fast in your chest and you can feel a deep pulsing inside of you. His hands pull your hips towards him and he kneels down by the end of the chair. Phillip squeezes your hips before peeling the bikini from your stickiness.

“Oh sweetheart,” he groans, ”look at how pretty your pussy is.” He gives a light kiss right above your clit, ”so wet and sweet for me.”

His tongue gives a few long swipes up and down, up and down. You shudder, “Oh fuck, Phillip!”

Phillip continues with the rough swipes of his tongue on your pussy. He adds two fingers gently into your entrance and begins thrusting them with a slight curve upwards. He missed this tremendously.

While he loves being on missions, he loves being home with you much more. Your taste and body are sweet and perfect to him. Everytime he leaves, he counts down the days until he can have you in his arms once more (and on your back). Your stomach clenches and you swipe your top to reach and twist your sensitive nipples.

“Yeah sweet girl, play with your pretty tits for me,” he says as his fingers speed up their movement.

His mouth latches onto your clit and you feel him begin to suck. He alternates between sucking your sensitive clit to giving gentle bites. His other hand holds your lower stomach down as you squirm from the pleasure. Each lick, suck, and bite feels like heaven. Your body responds to him so well.

“Please Phillip,” you whine, ”don’t stop!”

“I know baby, I know. I’ll give you what you need.”

He removes his fingers and mouth and gives three quick, stinging slaps to your pussy. You gasp loudly and clench, around nothing, empty and needy. He does it again, a few more rough swipes with his tongue and with his fingers inside of you. He likes hearing you whimper and decides to torture you once more.

Another few, quick slaps land on your clit. You feel an electric shock across your entire body until the exquisite, numbing warmth spreads throughout. He quickly sucks your clit and thrusts his fingers in as your orgasm hits you with full force.

Your warm wetness coats his tongue and he moans at the taste. After a few more moments, he removes his mouth and slows down his fingers as your full body quivers stop. His mouth presses light kisses and his tongue licks up your stickiness from your inner thighs.

He gives a light laugh, “was that good, baby?”

You can only respond with a small whimper.

He slowly makes his way up your body and presses kisses to your hips and stomach. He removes your top and gives your tits a firm squeeze. Phillip grazes his teeth around each breast until he bites and sucks each nipple.

His clothes are still on, but that doesn’t stop him from grinding down on your lower belly. Once again, you reach for his belt buckle and luckily this time he doesn’t stop you. Your hand wraps around him, so deliciously warm and hard. You begin to lightly squeeze and rub while using your other hand to tilt his head up towards you. Your mouths lock and you lap at the taste of you off his tongue.

He groans deeply and makes quick work of removing his jeans and shirt. He gives you one more hard kiss before bringing your hips down to his.

“You’re gonna remind me how flexible you are, sweet girl?” He asks, bending your thigh up to your chest.

“Yes – yes I will!” you breathe heavily as your hips began to move once you feel him slide his cock up and down your slit.

You both moan loudly once he presses himself inside. He gives one more thrust and he's fully sheathed in your warmth. His hand grips your waist to stop your rolling hips, dropping his forehead down to yours. He brushes away the hair stuck to the side of your face, both of your bodies beginning to sweat.

“You feel so perfect and warm, baby. Like you were molded just for me.” He gives a hard thrust and grunts once you squeeze down on him.

“Please Phillip, no more teasing. I need you!”

A man like him is trained to have restraint in any situation. Therefore, while it kills him to not immediately fuck you into the chaise, he decides it's worth it to tease you just a little bit more.

“What do you need, sweet girl? Tell me exactly what you need.” his hips continue their slow, controlled grind.

You whimper and pressed a kiss to his mouth and chin. Your hands run up and down his back as your nails lightly scratch him. You look up at him with wide, glazed eyes, ”I need – I need you to fuck me. Hard.”

He smiles and nips your bottom lip. He slowly pulls his hips back and immediately thrusts his cock in. The stretch and slight sting from his size feel beautiful. The orgasm he gave you made you incredibly sensitive. The veins along his cock rub back and forth against your inner walls.

His head dropped down to your neck to lap and nip at your sensitive skin. His hand travel to your thigh pushed against your chest and spread it open even more. His thrusts are hard and steady. He loves the velvet feel of your walls and how tightly you squeeze him. Your whimpers only encourage him to deepen and quicken his thrusts.

“Oh fuck, baby. Do you know how perfect you are? Do you know how perfect your pussy feels?” he groans into your ear.

It's difficult for you to respond. Your breathing becomes erratic and your nails dig deeper into his back to keep him as close as possible. Your bodies are sticky with sweat and your wetness.

The sounds in the backyard are a mixture of loud moans and your bodies slapping against each other. He moves a hand to your clit after swiping through your folds to gather your slick.

“I’m almost there baby, I need you there,” he states as he swipes his thumb quickly over your clit.

It only takes a few swipes of his thumb to take you over the edge. Your eyes roll back and your pussy squeezes hard on him. He moans loudly as his thrusts become short and sloppy. You feel his warm cum spill inside of you.

He continues moving his hips, as if making sure his cum stays deep inside. After a few moments, he stops the movement of his hips and drops his body over yours. Both of you bask in the warmth of the sun and the afterglow of your love making.

You feel so satisfied and truly happy. He's back home, safe and in your arms. He rolls off of you after a few minutes and flips you so you can lay your head on top of his chest.

“Welcome home, Phillip.”

He squeezes your hand and rubs his thumb over the ring he gave you with a smile on his face. “Thanks, sweet girl.”

#phillip graves x reader #phillip graves x female reader #phillip graves smut #cod x reader #cod mw2 #phillip graves #cod mw2 smut #graves x reader #graves x you #shadowlali

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gravehags · 4 months

Text

satan baby

Pairing: Cardinal Copia x f!Reader (Curator!Reader)

Rating: Teen

Tags: yule with the papas, secondo and terzo fighting over caroling, gift giving, and maybe...kissing

Words: 1,877

Summary: It's the most wonderful time of the year.

a/n: it's been a while my children. eat up and merry christmas to those who celebrate. a little present from me to you.

~~~

“This is Secret Santa, you’re only supposed to get a gift for one person,” you sigh, currently inundated with a pile of presents on your lap and by your feet. “What’s all this?”

“Correction, bella, this is Secret Satan where you get as many gifts for whomever you like, sì? And you’re our star this year.”

Terzo smiles warmly at you as you fidget with the fabric of your festive dark green velvet skirt. You’ve all gathered in the Papas’ private living room, the mantle of the roaring fireplace positively bedecked with greenery and a massive tree opposite. A couple weeks ago you and Copia were put in charge of creating the orange garland, a not insignificant task given the height and breadth of the noble fir. Speaking of Copia, he is sitting in a deep leather armchair, stroking his mustache thoughtfully and giving you a funny look. When you give him an exaggerated wink his lips curl into a smile and his eyes dart away as his cheeks flush.

“Another cup, signorina?”

Primo is currently standing next to the hot plate on the side table, stirring the large cauldron of mulled wine. You really shouldn’t, you already are feeling a little woozy and warm but what the hell. Christmas, right? Or Yule, rather. You nod eagerly and Primo doles out a hefty amount of the dark liquid into a mug with little rats on it, passing it to Secondo who passes it to you as Terzo hands you yet another gift to open. So far you’ve unwrapped a beautiful homemade perfume from Primo and a garnet jewelry set which you are sure is quite old and quite expensive from Terzo. Copia still clings to the small present on his lap that bears a tag with your name on it, unwilling to see it in your hands just yet. One of these presents alone would be more than enough to dazzle you but the Papas insist on spoiling you. Who are you to object?

“This one is from me,” Secondo says, smiling slightly sinisterly over the rim of his mug.

“Ominous, but okay,” you say as you unwrap the box with caution. When you gingerly open the lid and see what’s inside, you let out an undignified screech. Primo, Terzo, and Copia exchange alarmed expressions as you reach in and lift the stuffed creature from its confines to marvel at it. It’s positively hideous - a large round potato-like head, red vestments, even a glittering pectoral grucifix. You’re beaming.

“Is that supposed to be me?” Copia says, outraged and red-faced.

“He’s perfect,” you coo, holding him against you in a tight hug. “Look at his stupid little face!”

“Ah, sì, he looks just like you,” Terzo says with a grin.

“He–it–looks nothing like me. No mustache. No sideburns. Eyes are all wrong!”

“He’s beautiful,” you say, cradling the monstrosity in your arms with all the grace of Mary. “Thank you Secondo.”

“I made him myself, you know.”

“A man of many talents!”

“A man of many war crimes,” Copia growls from his spot, flinging himself backwards in his chair and crossing his arms.

“Don’t speak about our son that way!” you cry, pressing your palms to the ears of the small stuffed man.

“Our son?” Copia cocks his head with interest and the brothers all look at you in silence.

“Y-yes. He looks - mostly - like you and I am his mother. Therefore we are his parents. So step up.”

When you reach out to hand the stuffed cardinal to the real thing, he sighs and takes it in his hands.

“He is infernal,” Copia says, placing him sitting up on his lap. “But I accept him as mine.” The sight makes you scramble for your phone to take as many pictures as possible.

“What a beautiful family moment,” Terzo says, wiping a fake tear from his cheek. “Copia, I think you’re the only one left who hasn’t exchanged presents!”

Handing the doll back to you he hesitates to reach for the gift still in his lap. Primo, ever wise, interrupts to ask if anyone wants dessert while you reach down and grab the present you’ve brought for Copia. Terzo and Secondo haul themselves up with much grumbling and follow Primo out of the room to help.

“I thought you said you were only bringing a present for one person? Primo was who you drew, sì?”

“Yeah I know but,” you scoot your chair closer to him, “you’re special. You’ve been on my side since day one. I couldn’t not get you something. You mean too much to me.”

Copia blushes the fiercest shade of red you’ve seen yet as you hand him the heavy package.

“Grazie, cara mia,” he says quietly, mismatched eyes boring earnestly into yours.

“Don’t thank me yet, you haven’t opened it.”

With a smile he begins unwrapping the festive paper. When he finishes and sees what is inside his heart jumps.

“Dolcezza,” he breathes and you blush just as fiercely as him at the nickname, “this is wonderful.”

It had taken you a lot of time and a lot of money (worth every cent as far as you are concerned) to locate an antique facsimile of William Blake’s art. Admittedly, you had used a lot of the Ministry’s excellent resources to find it but all the effort was worth it for this moment. When Copia looks up at you, you swear there are tears in his eyes.

“I have never before received a gift such as this, cara. Thank you.”

When you reach out and cover his gloved hand with yours and squeeze firmly, it’s as if his whole body sinks into itself. Softly, he picks up your hand and brings it to his lips - a sweet echo of his action from the first day you met. It takes everything within you not to knock all the items out of Copia’s lap and climb in it yourself. In all honesty, you’re moments away from doing just that when the Papas return to the room with much clamor. Your heart sinks as Copia drops your hand and clears his throat, and you return to your chair from your half-risen position. When Copia looks at you and points to the small box next to him, you mouth the words “later” with a smile before accepting a comically large slice of yule log from Secondo. The rest of the evening is relatively quiet apart from the dueling rendition of “Carol of the Bells” that Secondo and Terzo fight over while Primo sleeps contentedly in his comfy armchair. When the Papas begin loudly arguing in Italian you signal to Copia and begin gathering your things in a large brown bag. Without a word the two of you slip out the door and when you hear a crash and Primo’s deep bellow ringing out you skitter away down the hall.

“Looks like we made it out just in time,” you giggle as the two of you finally slow.

“Eh, sì, it always ends like this,” Copia says with a huff and an eye roll, “they can’t help themselves.”

Copia is unaware of where he is standing but oh, you certainly are. This looks like a perfect place to stop.

“Not trying to be pushy but I think you were going to give me something?” you say, cocking your head and setting down your bag.

“Ah…yes,” he sets down the book you gifted him and thrusts out his hand with the fastidiously wrapped present within it. “For you.”

You take the gift and open it delicately and slowly and see him chew on his bottom lip slightly.

“If you don’t like it I–”

“Hush,” you say simply as you open the box. Inside, resting on dark red velvet is a simple and small golden grucifix on a delicate matching chain.

“You always wanted to be a part of the Ministry,” he says quietly, fussing with his gloves, “and I hope this lets you know that we accept you. We’ve always accepted you. I–”

You remain silent as you set down the box and put the necklace on while Copia watches. When you finish your hands don’t return to your sides but rather come up to cradle the Cardinal’s cheeks. He’s frozen as you stand just like this, thumbs brushing against his sideburns and a look on your face that he doesn’t think he has the capacity to describe. Your cheeks positively glow, your eyes seem lit from within and your lips are curled into a soft smile. They part momentarily for you to take a deep, steadying breath - inhale, exhale - before you lean forwards and gently place your lips on his. The ground shifts beneath him, the world is spinning as the fingers of your right hand begin to slide along his jaw and you tilt your head. You hesitate only for a moment, pulling back slightly before Copia grabs you insistently by the back of the head and pushes his lips back against yours. He tastes of mulling spices and his mustache tickles your upper lip, as you always knew it would. When you finally need to catch your breath he barely relinquishes his grip on you, making you laugh and kiss his chin.

“Why,” he whispers, thumb running against your cheekbone. “Why me?”

You lean forward and rest your head against his chest, close enough to hear the thud of his heart.

“It was always you,” you murmur, wrapping your arms around his waist and stroking his back. “Always. From the moment you kissed my hand the day I was hired to the moment you comforted me when I was sad and lonely. From the moment you shared your rats with me. From the moment you put me to bed when I was drunk. All of it, Copia. All of you. That’s why.”

When you pull back to look at him, there’s definitely no mistaking the tears in his eyes this time and when he frantically pulls you in for another kiss, you can feel the wetness on your own cheeks. When you pull away with a giggle he looks concerned.

“Amore mio, what is it?”

You point upwards to the healthy sprig of mistletoe hanging from the rafter.

“You had no idea did you,” you say with a grin, chin resting on his sternum.

“Who would? Who could even see that and in the dark I–” his words cut off as you gasp from the short sharp smack to your ass.

“Copia! Not in front of our child!” you chastise, reaching into the bag and pulling out the accursed doll.

“Ugh, I had forgotten about him,” Copia grouses as you take it and peck him on the cheek with it.

“What should we name him?” you muse, adjusting the doll’s pellegrina.

“I’m sure you’ll think of something suitably horrific,” he smiles, pressing a kiss to your forehead which you lean into eagerly. “Until then…shall I, eh, walk you back to your rooms?”

“Please,” and with one last long, lingering kiss with the odd cardinal doll squished between the two of you, you pick up your bag and continue the long walk back to your cozy bed with the Satanic cardinal you hoped would soon be in it.

#cardinal copia x reader #cardinal copia x f!reader #cardinal copia x female reader #cardinal copia #the band ghost #the band ghost fic #rachel writes

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shes2real · 19 days

Text

Mile high Club ♡

Featuring 🌷: cm punk + female!reader

Warning ☁️: gentle sex, unprotected p in v, praises, thigh riding, 18+ Minors, please don’t interact. Thanks! ୨୧

Word count 🌷: 673

Scenario ☁️: CM punk decides to take his wife with him to WrestleMania, it’s only right that he thanks her in a special way.

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂

The couple leisurely stretch and exchange tender morning kisses, savoring the tranquility of the early morning before the rush of the day begins. Wrestlemania is this weekend and though Phil can’t wrestle, he was excited that he’d be a commentator and he even had his own meet and greet.

Rolling their suitcases behind them, they stepped out into the cool morning air. As they made their way to the airport, Phil's voice was a steady reassurance, his words were a mix of excitement and affection. He was truly grateful to have his wife by his side after all these years.

As they rounded the corner towards the airport, a gleaming private jet awaited them, its polished exterior catching the hazy sunlight. Phil's wife's eyes widened in disbelief, her excitement palpable as she took in the sight, "Babe! Are…are you serious!?" she exclaimed, her voice tinged with disbelief.

Phil grinned, “All for you."

As they boarded the jet, the interior greeted them with luxurious comfort, plush leather seats beckoning them to sink in and relax. The ambiance was elegant yet cozy, with soft lighting creating an inviting atmosphere. Phil guided his wife towards a secluded area of the jet, a private nook designed just for them. Here, they found a cozy loveseat nestled against the window, offering breathtaking views. A small table held glasses of champagne, he picked up one while giving her the other.

“Cheers to a loving, beautiful, and supportive wife. I don’t know where I’d be without my backbone,”

The couple shared a warm kiss before the glasses clanked. As she peacefully sipped on her wine, she took in the scenery as the jet gracefully lifted off into the sky. Phil guided his wife onto his lap, as a flight attendant greeted the couple with a warm smile before presenting his wife with a bouquet of roses before leaving.

Graciously accepting the gift, she turned to face her husband, a tender smile spreading across her lips as she carefully maneuvered around his affected arm, mindful not to bump it. “Y’know you didn’t have to do all of this, right?" she murmured softly, wrapping her arm around his neck.

He shushed her gently, his lips finding hers in a tender kiss. As their tongues danced slowly and passionately against each other, she began to grind against his thigh. She began moaning into the kisses, making him pull away. He started kissing and biting her neck while his free arm guided her hips faster.

“Baby…” she breathed, her pussy throbbing as his thigh rubbed against it.

“Doin’ so good, beautiful.”

His constant praises sent her to her breaking point quicker than it should’ve, her legs began to tremble as she desperately rocked back and forth, “Good girl,” he praised, rubbing her back as she continued to ride out her orgasm.

Shakily hopping up, she noticed the wet spot on his pants. He chuckled, “It’s okay baby.”

He kept his eyes on her as she removed her panties as well as freeing his member from his jeans. As she slowly lowered herself onto him, she let out a loud moan, “Oh, fuck.”

Burying her face in his neck as she started to roll her hips, her moans were muffled as his grip tightened on her waist. As she passionately rode him, he whispered to her, “I love you.”

“Mmm, I love you more!!”

Groaning, he lifted his hips precisely and began to thrust deeply into her. His deep penetration was already causing an orgasmic effect on his wife, he wrapped himself around her as best as he could. It became too much for her to hold in as she shuddered. “I-I..” She squealed, trying to free herself from his tight embrace. Her orgasm instantly triggered him as his thrusts began to grow sloppy. As he emptied himself inside of her, she lifted up to see his cum leaking out of her.

“Guess you’re part of the mile high club now.” Phil laughed. This was definitely not the last time that they’ll ever do this.

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂

Thanks for reading babe ☁️🌷

・❥ ・ @kumapassion @bloodripleygal @romanreignsbae @pittieprincess22 @cyberdejos2 @xoxoril3yyy @rwbypatootie @solefae @adoreesun @alyyaanna @shantinextdoor @zombiedixon89 @acknowledge-reigns

#wwe smut #wwe imagines #cm punk #cm punk smut #cm punk imagine #cm punk fanfic #phil brooks #cult of personality #drabble `♡´

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willowsmarika · 1 year

Photo

an angel pulls clumps of feathers from his wings outside the gates of heaven. is this it? (honor scorned, and clothes turned to rags) is this finally humanity? a martyr rinses blood from his mouth and hands in a second-floor bathroom. is this it? (nerves aflame, and linoleum spattered red) is this finally sacrifice? (x)

For @slantedknitting as part of the @merlin-fic-server ‘s RTGE // on Ao3

#merthur #merlinedit #arthur pendragon #merlin #round table gift exchange #rtge #rtge2022 #slantedknitting #*#tw blood

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merlin-fic-server · 1 year

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[RTGE 2022] Oblivious

Recipient: bgn846 Rating: T Archive Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationship: Merlin & Arthur Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Canon Era, False Identity, Mistaken Identity, Misunderstandings, Fluff and Angst, Friendship, Oblivious Merlin (Merlin), Protective Merlin (Merlin), Hurt Merlin (Merlin), POV Merlin (Merlin), POV Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)

Summary: When Merlin first arrives in Camelot, Prince Arthur is away from the citadel. Merlin starts working for Gaius full-time and doesn’t give the Prince or the mad ramblings of a certain dragon any further thought. But destiny always finds a way: Four weeks into Merlin��s apprenticeship, an injured man walks into the infirmary and Merlin, oblivious to the fact it’s the Prince, treats him like a fellow peasant. The two of them strike up a rather unconventional friendship…

#merlin fic #merlin fanfiction #merlin & arthur #round table gift exchange #rtge

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elvenisms · 1 year

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on my doorstep —; e.m.

pairing: eddie munson x fem!reader [5.6k]

summary: An unexpected gift exchange between you and Eddie leads to an eventful Valentine's Day. 18+ MDNI

cw: smut, fluff, no use of y/n, mutual pining, best friends to lovers, first i love yous (':, sub!eddie if you squint, oral (female receiving), fingering, unprotected p in v (as always, don't do this), lovesick idiots and emotional sex.

author's note: getting this up literally ten minutes before valentine's day ends! woohoo! got carried away (as i often do), hope u like it. <3

masterlist

February 10th, 1986

It was a somewhat chilly day in Hawkins, the wind whipping around dead leaves that hadn’t yet been raked, the trees prickly and barren. Forest Hills looked its best like this, you thought; you were never one for hot summer days, or freezing winter nights.

Inside your trailer, Nancy was pouring a cup of coffee, wearing a matching set of pajamas that was oh-so her. That alone made her look more put together than you or Robin, clad in baggy, mismatched sweats.

“What time do you work, Robs?” You asked mid-yawn, blankets pooling around where you sat on the couch.

She frowned beside you, squeezed her eyes shut, and threw her head back dramatically. “Don’t remind me.”

“Can’t Steve cover for you?” Nancy rounded the corner with two steaming cups, handing them off to the two of you. “He kinda owes you. You covered for him for that date last week.”

“That is a great observation.” Robin pointed a finger at the girl, as if she’d forgotten. “I’ll call him.”

Knock, knock, knock. All three of your heads flew to the door, then back at each other, brows furrowed.

“Expecting someone?” Nancy asked, and you shook your head in response.

Curious, you threw the blankets off of you, cradling your cup of coffee as you approached the door. Maybe the kids skipped school, had some adventure planned? Maybe Eddie was bored?

You unlocked it, then swung it open—no one was there.

You looked down, confused, and were met with a sea of red; a bouquet of roses, neatly organized inside a vase, sat on your porch. On top, a small note with your name written on it.

Your jaw dropped slightly in shock. You’d almost forgotten that Valentine’s Day was fast approaching, and certainly didn’t anticipate getting any gifts. You’d been single for almost a year, and not exactly searching.

No reason, really. It just never felt right.

You picked up the bouquet, wide eyes scanning the park for any sign of who dropped it off, but you didn’t see a thing.

When you turned around, Robin almost spat out her coffee. Nancy had a huge grin on her face.

“Do you have a secret admirer?” She teased, but it was full of love.

“Not that I know of,” You sat the vase down on the table between the three of you. It really was beautiful. “But this definitely has my name on it.”

“Five bucks says I know who that’s from.” Robin raised her eyebrows, staring sheepishly over her mug.

“I don’t think I’ll take that bet,” Nancy was still grinning her face off. “I think I know, too.”

You were even more confused now. You looked between them, expectant.

“ItsobviouslyEddie,” Robin spat out, then threw a hand against her mouth. Nancy rolled her eyes.

“You could’ve given her, like, more than half a second to figure it ou—”

“What?” You interrupted, incredulous. “Why would… Eddie’s my best friend, you guys. It’s not—it’s not like that.”

It wasn’t like that; you just spent a lot of time together. Sometimes you watched movies, and fell asleep wrapped up in each other’s arms. Sometimes you’d go to his shows, watch him play guitar, and bite your lip so hard it bled. Sometimes you had… questionable dreams about him.

Okay, maybe it was like that. But not for him.

The two girls were looking at you like you just failed a polygraph test.

“Stop looking at me like that.” You grumbled, setting your coffee down on the table. “He doesn’t feel that way about me, okay? That’s not even his handwriting. It’s way too nice.”

Robin rose from the couch. “Whatever you say, chica,” She headed for the phone, eyeing you as she went. “I’m gonna call Steve.”

You looked to Nancy, who simply shrugged with a knowing smile, then back to the flowers. It wasn’t Eddie. It couldn’t be.

But what if it was?

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

February 11th, 1986

“I think I blew it.”

Eddie’s elbows rested on Steve’s kitchen counter, face buried in his hands. The house was empty, per usual, which Eddie always thought was insane—he wondered what it was like to have money for a place like this, let alone have it and never be in it.

“Oh please,” Steve had a mouth full of cereal, sitting a few feet away at the dining table. “What the hell are you talking about? You got her flowers. Girls love flowers.”

“She’s not just a girl.”

“Yeah, yeah, I get it, man. She’s a goddess, she hung the moon, she changed your life.” He gestured with his hand, rattling off the painstakingly cheesy things Eddie had said before. “Whatever, she loves flowers. Stop stressing.”

To anyone else, Steve might’ve looked like an asshole for dealing with Eddie’s anguish so casually. In reality, he quite appreciated it. Someone had to keep him grounded.

“Do you think she knows it’s me?” Eddie’s face finally left his hands, looking at his friend with a concerned expression.

“Doesn’t matter if she knows it’s you.” Steve pointed his spoon at him. “She hopes it’s you.”

“And how do we know that?”

“You know nothing, clearly.” Steve got up, carrying his empty bowl to the sink. Eddie rolled his eyes theatrically. “I, however, see how she looks at you when you’re together.”

Eddie’s heart did a little flip inside his chest. He wanted to believe that, he really did—but he doubted the words. “How… how does she look at me, then?”

Steve shrugged. “Sometimes like she wants to kiss you,” He spun on his heel, landing right across from where Eddie sat. “Sometimes like she wants to eat you.”

He swallowed harshly.

In the year that Eddie had known you, he’d been gone on you. Like, the whole time. It only got worse as you became better friends.

You’d help him study, insistent that he finally graduated, but his mind went fuzzy at your bare thighs, your floral perfume, the heat of your skin hovering just beside his. When he knew you were coming to his shows, he’d get indescribably nervous, petrified of embarrassing himself, despite knowing you probably couldn’t care less.

He thanked God he’d never seen or heard about you with another guy; at the same time, it was a little unbelievable. Hence, Steve had finally convinced him to do something—anything—remotely indicative of his feelings.

Flowers. A good way to test the waters, Eddie thought, without giving himself away.

After another thirty minutes of crisis-control, Steve drove him home. The boy gave him a comforting pat on the shoulder. “Don’t sweat it, Ed, seriously.”

He appreciated it, though it did nothing to quell his anxiety. With a nod and a weak smile, he opened the passenger-side door, making toward his trailer.

He glanced at your place as he passed it. Just two days ago, it would’ve been so easy to knock on your door, ask to hang out. It suddenly felt impossible—perhaps because he was no longer shoving his feelings for you to the wayside. He’d made a move. Maybe he’d ruined everything between the two of you.

Mind racing, he treaded up his steps, nearly crushing what laid in front of his door.

A box of chocolates.

His whole body froze, staring at them wide-eyed. Slowly, he bent down, noticing a note stuck between the ribbon. Eds.

Not Eddie, not Ed… Eds.

The nickname he’d heard fall from your sweet lips a thousand times, and hoped he’d hear a thousand more. His heart thumped wildly.

He snatched the box, free hand digging through his pocket for his key, desperate to get inside before he passed away on the spot. He rushed to the couch, studying the note with gentle hands.

All it said was his name. But right now, it felt worthy of a golden frame, a tourist attraction—as if it were the eighth wonder of the world.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

February 12th, 1986

Despite the fact that you still questioned whether or not the roses were from Eddie, today was the fourth day in a row you hadn’t heard from him. No calls, no drop in visits—it was highly unusual.

It was also a very good sign that it was, in fact, him.

You hadn’t been able to focus on anything, especially since you dropped the chocolates off at his door. If he wasn’t your so-called ‘secret admirer’, you would have to explain all of this somehow. Well, I thought it was you, because I kinda hoped it was you, and…

The thought made you shudder.

“Are you okay?” Max asked, shoving a pair of sunglasses on her head.

You snapped out of your trance, looking between her and El. “I—yeah, I’m good. Are you guys ready to go?”

The two girls had showed up on your doorstep this afternoon, all giggles and playful shoves, begging to be taken to Starcourt. They took advantage of the soft spot you had for them often.

Soon enough, your run-down car was pulling into the mall parking lot.

“Alright, two hours tops, okay? I’m on night shift tonight, I need enough time to go home and change clothes.” You put on your best parental voice, the three of you making your way toward the entrance.

The girls nodded happily, just excited to have hitched a ride at all. “You sound like Steve.” El quipped, earning a laugh from the redhead.

It would be nice to do some window-shopping, you thought, to take your mind off of things, if that was at all possible. You just wanted an answer—you wanted to be certain it was him, stop the spiral into thinking you might lose your best friend over some candy.

Something came over you just inside the mall, right as El and Max were about to split off.

“Max,” You blurted, and she looked at you questioningly. “Weird… Um, weird question. Have you seen Eddie lately? Like, in our neighborhood?”

“No, don’t think so.” She shook her head, then narrowed her eyes at you. “Why?”

“No reason.”

You really were a terrible liar. “Is he ignoring you?”

“No! I mean… yes, but—no, I don’t think so?” You bit your lip. Jesus Christ, way to keep it cool.

A maniacal grin spread across Max’s face, gesturing for El, who was preoccupied by a display, to come over. “We’re hitting Orange Julius first, and you—” She jabbed a finger into your chest. “—are telling us everything.”

For fuck’s sake.

Within ten minutes, the three of you were sitting at a table, sucking down your frozen drinks. You quietly hoped the brain freeze would give you a stroke.

“Spill.” Max commanded, both girls clearly excited for some gossip.

Before saying a word, you sat down your cup, extending both pinkies. “First of all, this stays between us, alright?”

They each hooked a pinky with their own, and you nodded, satisfied. So much for keeping your mind off of it.

“Two days ago, someone left flowers on my doorstep. And I… I hope it was Eddie, because I might’ve left chocolates on his doorstep yesterday.”

Both girls squealed, clutching each other in excitement. “But, like, I don’t know if it was him, guys.” You were quick to subdue it, putting a hand out in front of you.

“It totally was!” El chirped, and Max nodded, joining in. “You guys are, like, idiots in love.”

“We are not!” The blush on your cheeks told a much different story. “Okay, whatever. Four people have now told me it’s definitely him, so guess I have my answer.”

“You already knew the answer.” Max rolled her eyes, rising from her seat with El. “Now, go get him something nice, and we’ll meet you back here in an hour and a half.”

The two girls skipped away. You took a dramatic slurp of your Orange Julius.

Fine, you decided, less stressing, more shopping. You couldn’t take back the chocolates, so there was no point in worrying about it—que sera, sera, or however that goes.

You roamed the mall for about forty-five minutes, making pit stops at your favorite places; you bumped into the girls at Afterthoughts, where they were taking a decision on friendship bracelets very seriously. You stopped into Spencer’s, a favorite of yours for band tees and silly knick knacks—you almost got something for Eddie there, but lava lamps and mugs didn’t seem meaningful enough.

Deciding you’d figure it out later, you began making your way back to the meeting point. A display, from out of the corner of your eye, stopped you in your tracks.

You stared at it, eyes slightly glazed over. It felt insane that you were even considering it.

It felt even more insane when your feet developed a mind of your own, carrying you into the store, and back out with a small bag—which you promptly shoved in your purse.

“Do my eyes deceive me? You guys are here early?” You teased, approaching Max and El at the table from earlier. They were each carrying a few bags.

“We work fast,” El smiled, scanning you. “Did you get something for Eddie?”

“No, but I will, don’t worry.” You lied, knowing if you didn’t, they’d pester you until you showed them. “Ready to head out?”

The three of you made your way back to the car. After dropping El off at Hop’s, you headed back to Forest Hills with Max. She rested her feet on the dash.

The ride was quiet—probably due to the fact that your mind was anything but. The gift you’d picked up for Eddie was… ballsy, to say the least. You blamed your friends for these bouts of fleeting confidence, which ultimately ended in wanting to bang your head against a wall.

You parked at your place. Max hopped out, bags in tow, and made off toward her trailer.

“Thanks again,” She shouted, then gave a little nod towards your front door. “Looks like you got another delivery.”

Your head whipped toward the doorstep, approaching it with an embarrassing amount of haste. There was another delivery.

A copy of Flashdance. Your knees wavered.

Now you were certain it was Eddie; the first time you’d watched it together, you made him swear he wouldn’t tell anyone how much you loved it. Cheesy, romantic, dance films didn’t exactly fit your tough-girl image.

As giddy and lightheaded as you felt right now, maybe they were starting to.

Of course, there was a note attached. You grabbed it, eyes widening when it didn’t just say your name.

Will I be seeing you on the 14th?

No name, no signature. What a little shithead, you thought, cheeks sore from smiling so hard. You pressed both the tape and note into your chest, exhaling a shaky breath.

It was real now. Whatever part of you that still doubted Eddie’s feelings had vanished—and it left behind a mess of excitement, nerves, and anticipation.

You glanced down at your purse, having almost forgotten about what you bought. Your stomach flipped in anxiety.

One more gift.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

February 13th, 1986

Eddie missed you. Like, missed the hell out of you—which was embarrassing, considering it had been less than a week since you last hung out.

Despite being adamant he couldn’t give out anymore free rentals, Steve had scored him the copy of Flashdance. He was really just proud that Eddie hadn’t completely chickened out yet. Quite frankly, so was Eddie.

Though, that note he’d left at your door got him pretty close to it.

What if you said no? Even worse, what if you said yes, somehow under the impression that this was some lighthearted, best friend thing? Eddie didn’t think you were that oblivious, but the worst case scenario was kind of his forté.

Dustin thumped him on the back of the head. “Stop thinking about it.”

“But I’m—”

“No, nope, zip.” The smaller boy closed his fingers in front of Eddie’s face. “You can think about it tomorrow, when she professes her undying love for you.”

Eddie glared at him. The audacity was outrageous. “What do you suggest I do, then?”

Dustin glanced around the trailer. He didn’t think he’d get this far.

“Um,” He scratched the back of his neck. “We can talk about Hellfire?”

Eddie groaned, leaning back into the couch. “Henderson, I love you, I really do—but for the first time in my life, I have more pressing things to think about than Dungeons and Dragons.”

Dustin didn’t take it personally. In fact, he understood. He’d been sent here by Steve to keep Eddie’s mind off of it, which was proving useless, so he caved.

“Alright, fine.” He sighed, taking a seat beside the long-haired boy. A loaded silence ensued.

Eventually, he looked at Eddie in earnest, the corners of his lips turning up. “You think she’s the one?”

Eddie studied him for a moment. He noted the sincerity in his expression. “Yeah.” He breathed, nodding softly. “I mean, shit, yeah, I really do.”

“I think she is too, man.” Dustin grinned, in the comforting way that was uniquely his. “I mean, your one, not my one.”

Eddie chuckled at that. He might’ve been the luckiest guy in Hawkins to have such great friends—even if some of them were fifteen years old. If he had you, too, he’d be some sort of walking miracle.

“Let’s just hope—”

Knock, knock, knock. Eddie’s sentence stopped in its tracks. The two of them locked wide eyes, and Dustin broke out beaming like a schoolboy.

“Holy shit,” He giggled, watching as Eddie approached the front door slowly. “She has, like, superhuman instincts or something.”

“Shush.”

Eddie’s hand gripped the handle, overcome by a wave of anticipation. Just beyond the worn wood, he’d find the answer to his question—a question which meant so much more than its face value.

Will I be seeing you on the 14th? Am I crazy for thinking I might? Do you want me how I’ve always wanted you?

He pulled the door open, eyes already trained to the ground. There laid a small piece of paper, liable to be blown away at any moment—he picked it up, hand shaking, heartbeat in his ears.

My place, tomorrow, 8pm. Last gift is here.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

February 14th, 1986

It was 7:45pm. You sat on your couch, leg bouncing, the faint sound of crickets penetrating your walls.

It was silly, really, to be so nervous—it was Eddie. You knew Eddie like the back of your hand.

His favorite songs, the way he’d fidget with his rings when he was nervous, the little noises he made in his sleep. You could almost smell his signature cologne, musky and warm, like a campfire at midnight.

There were things you didn’t know.

You didn’t know the way his lips felt against yours. You’d long wondered whether he was a gentle or fiery lover; as much as you knew him, you still couldn’t tell.

Eddie, who’d once tended to a wound on your knee with delicate hands, wincing in sympathy whenever you did. Eddie, who was a passionate performer, owning every square inch of the stage with confidence.

A knock at the door took the wind out of you.

You stood up abruptly, smoothing out nonexistent wrinkles in your sweater, your skirt. You cursed yourself for not putting on some music, now acutely aware of the silence.

It was too late now. Fuck.

It was so much easier when it was flowers, movies, or flirty little notes on the other side of the door. You wondered if Eddie felt the same—terrified to knock and stay put, not scurry off and hide.

You clutched the doorknob, opening it slowly. Your eyes found each others’ in an instant.

He had on his leather jacket, typically reserved for shows, and a Judas Priest t-shirt. Like always, his knees showed through the holes in his jeans—a chain clipped to the belt loops.

He was perfect. And even so, he looked nervous.

“Hey.” You said softly, like a deer in headlights.

He twisted one of his rings, eyes glued to yours. “Hi.”

It was so strange, you thought, how effortless it was before; a few innocent gifts had so drastically changed the air around you both. Some scrawled out notes brought a sea of unspoken feelings to the surface.

Instinctively, your arms reached out, pulling him into your home with a lingering hug. Despite being the root of your current anxiety, you craved his comfort.

“I missed you.”

“I missed you, too.” He breathed, like feeling you in his arms was a relief. Your face was buried in his shirt, taking in the scent. Like a campfire at midnight.

After a long moment, you leaned back to look at him, his hand cradling the back of your head. You could feel his breath ghosting against your lips, chests rising and falling together.

“Can I kiss you?” Eddie whispered, heartbeat drumming against you.

Your limbs were numb. “Please.”

So, he did.

Every insecurity you had became ridiculously insignificant. The lack of music, the wrinkles in your clothes, the smudge in your eyeliner—they were like specks of dust on the Mona Lisa, because Eddie was fucking kissing you, and it felt like clicking the last piece into a ten-thousand piece puzzle.

He held you as if you were made of glass, gentle enough to bring tears to your eyes.

You finally parted, breathless, foreheads resting together. “Eds,” You murmured, hands beginning to wander, skimming over his shoulders, his chest. “I… I want to…”

“Me too.” He replied with a shaky breath, not needing you to finish the thought. “Promise me you’re sure. I’ll… shit, I’ll never forgive myself if I fuck this up.”

You won’t. You can’t. You never could.

“I’m sure.” You croaked, hands finally finding themselves in his curls. “I’ve been sure, Eds, for a year, since the moment I met y—”

He pressed his lips to yours, a different sort of passion within it. It was feverish, needy, tongues and teeth bumping into each other messily; his hands traveled down to your thighs, lifting you, and you wrapped your legs around him.

You hardly felt yourself move before you were being laid down on the soft surface of your bed. Your fingers stripped him of his jacket, tossing it off to the side, then moved to the hem of his shirt, embarrassingly eager to feel his skin against yours.

Eddie held himself up with a forearm beside your head, his other hand clutching at the sweater over your waist, finally finding the courage to lift it off of you. Underneath it, intricate black lace—a sheer one-piece that left nothing to the imagination.

He stopped kissing you. Not on purpose, but out of pure astonishment, eyes trailing your torso.

“Is this…”

“Your last gift?” Your chest was heaving now, Eddie’s eyes warming your skin, but you managed a shy smile. “Yeah, it is.”

He sat up, bringing both large hands to delicately span your ribcage. Jesus Christ, the way he was looking at you was the best kind of absurd—like you were expensive, unattainable.

You felt the cold metal of his rings through the thin fabric, and it made you keen inadvertently. His eyes immediately flicked up to your face.

“You’re gonna kill me.” He shook his head lightly, utterly awestruck. “Like, really, I might not make it out of here alive.”

You giggled, and the smile rubbed off on him. “I might not either,” You reached out, hands slipping beneath his shirt, traversing the bare skin underneath. He shivered at the feeling. “So, let’s die happy.”

That must’ve ignited something in him, because he squeezed his eyes shut at the sound of it, wasting no time in pulling his shirt over his head. You hardly had time to appreciate the sight before he was on you again.

He nipped at your jaw, your hands making quick work of the button on his jeans; at the same time, his fingers tucked themselves in the edge of your skirt, gliding it off of you.

You tangled your fingers in his curls, as if it was the only thing keeping you from floating away. Only a few thin layers were left separating you.

“So perfect,” Eddie’s hands came to your shoulders, oh-so softly hooking the straps of the lingerie, sliding them down your arms. His breath warmed your neck. “This is beautiful, but you…”

Your mouth opened and closed again, too overwhelmed by the praise to speak. You felt him drag the fabric down, an agonizing pace, until you were entirely exposed.

“You are everything to me.” He whispered, and there was a vulnerability behind it that made your heart swell.

Your fingers slipped beneath the waistband of his boxers, and he gently clutched your wrist, stopping you. You made a small noise of protest.

“Wait,” He murmured, pressing his lips to your neck, then your collarbone. His ringed fingers came up to cup one of your breasts, and your breath hitched when he kissed there, too.

He continued downward, lips trailing your navel, pausing just above where you wanted him most. His dark eyes met yours, and Christ, he looked like an angel.

“Wanna take care of you.” He gripped your hips—not forcefully, but hard enough. “Can I?”

“Please.” You didn’t even know how he meant it. You didn’t care.

His hands found their way to the backs of your thighs, giving them a gentle push, putting your center on full display for him.

It had been so long since anyone had seen you like this, and now it was Eddie; as many times as you’d imagined this scenario, you never considered it could be a reality. You felt suddenly insecure.

His face couldn’t have told a more different story.

It was as if you’d bestowed God’s greatest gift upon him with your permission—you almost couldn’t be insecure. He was doe-eyed, slack jawed, a few stray curls hanging down in his face. Clearly the least of his concerns.

As you reached to brush them away, he leaned forward, softly swiping his tongue between your folds. It caught you off guard, back arching slightly. “Shit, Eds, yes.”

Your response was all he needed to continue, attaching his mouth to you again. You half expected it to be sloppy, fast, and eager; instead, he was methodical. His tongue circled your bud slowly, dipping down to your entrance every so often, wanting to taste everything you had to offer.

He was savoring every moment. And, fuck, you thought your soul might leave your body.

“G-God, shit,” You whined, no longer in control of what left your mouth. His hair was threaded in your knuckles, which you hadn’t even noticed until a particular swirl over your clit made you tug roughly on the strands—Eddie groaned against you, movements nearly faltering.

The vibrations were almost too much, let alone the fact that he liked his hair being pulled. You felt a finger tease your entrance, eliciting a gasp among your many moans, and it didn’t take long for him to sink it into you.

“Eddie,” It came out like a weak warning. The coldness of the ring on his knuckle met your most sensitive area, and you were gone. “Oh, fuck, Eddie, m’gonna—”

He curled it inside you and whimpered, sending your body alight.

You came as if you never had before. The combination of his mouth, his finger, the sounds he was making, his goddamn ring—it was euphoric, unlike anything you’d ever experienced, rendering you a babbling mess.

He slowed down as you did, reading your body as if it were his favorite book. You thought he must’ve somehow read it a dozen times already.

Appearing at your level again, Eddie caught his breath alongside you, his voice as soft as silk. “Was that… good?”

And for fuck’s sake, he was asking in earnest, like he really didn’t know whether he’d done well.

You huffed out an incredulous laugh, and it brought a smile to his face. Your hands came up to cradle his cheeks. “The best I’ve ever had, Eds.”

That did something to him—his eyelids fluttered shut, brow furrowing. It turned him on to hear he’d satisfied you. Which, in turn, made the ache between your legs apparent again.

When you began to tug on the waistband of his boxers for a second time, he made no effort to stop you.

“Need you inside me,” It was more of a beg than a demand, barely audible, against his lips.

Finally, every piece of clothing had been discarded. Feeling him rest against your core, heavy and throbbing, made you tremble. He was already on the brink of losing his composure.

“I’ve got you, sweetheart.” He brushed the hair from your eyes, pressing a sweet kiss to the corner of your mouth. “Always. Gonna go slow, okay?”

Your heart turned inside your chest. Eddie knew it had been a while since you’d done this. You knew it has been awhile since he’d done this, too—and yet he pushed the nervousness aside, determined to be a rock for your comfort.

You nodded, nosing against his cheek, feeling safer than you ever had before.

He lined himself up with you, pushing forward gently, tip breaching your wetness. It made your jaw fall open; the stretch was good, not painful, but you still needed the time to adjust.

He reacted similarly, his mouth open slightly, the muscles in his abdomen tensing. At the same time, his eyes scanned your face for any sign of discomfort.

When he was fully seated within you, you were already panting into each other's mouths. It felt like you were complete, not only physically, but emotionally—and you knew he felt it, too, though it remained unspoken.

“Okay?” He whispered, dark orbs boring into your own.

Your body was covered in goosebumps. “Yes.”

He started to move, languidly pulling his hips back, pressing them into your own. You were desperate for each other, to feel each other; your passion didn’t choose to manifest in a rough, frenzied manner. Both of you needed to relish in every movement, every touch, every sound.

It was overwhelmingly intimate.

His left hand found your own, lacing your fingers together, pressing it into the mattress beside your head. The other cupped your face, thumb resting on your bottom lip.

You breathed out each other’s names, eyes locked. He was reaching the depths of you, brushing your sweet spot with every slow thrust, and it made a knot begin to form in your stomach.

Your free hand found his hair, gripping it again, and he shuddered out a beautiful noise. “Baby,” He keened, and his hand left your face to hold your hip, pulling out farther, rolling in deeper.

“Me too.” You croaked. It was like you shared one mind, one body, no longer needing to say what it was you felt. You just knew.

The air thickened around you, breaths becoming shorter, grips becoming tighter. A sheen of sweat covered both of your skin, fast approaching your climaxes.

“Eddie, I—” You were swept away, mind trying to force the words out, pleasure making it difficult. “I… I—”

“Tell me, baby.” He rasped, full of longing, like he hoped he already knew.

“—I love you,” It came out like a soft sob, every muscle in your body contracting.

He lost himself at that. A symphony of noises filled the small room, and you clung to him with everything you had, mind buzzing, body writhing instinctually. It was a feeling that deserved to be bottled, placed in a museum—complete and utter fulfillment, in every possible way.

You weren’t sure how long the two of you laid there, heartbeats drumming against each other, trying to come back to earth. It could’ve been a minute, an hour.

Eventually, and probably for the best, your minds wandered back to you. Eddie gently backed away, just enough to pull out of you, and quickly enveloped you in his arms again.

His chin rested on your shoulder, chest pressed to your back, both of you blissed out and fuzzy.

“By the way,” He spoke softly, arms tightening around your waist. “I love you, too. I should’ve said it earlier, but I was a little busy losing my absolute shit.”

You broke out into a laugh, the contradiction between his words and the current situation tickling you. He grinned widely into the skin of your neck.

“Who wrote that note?” You turned towards him, mind running over the events of the last few days. “The first one, with my name. I didn’t believe Rob and Nance when they said it was you—the handwriting was too nice.”

His hand came up, stroking your hair lovingly. “Steve has girly handwriting. Usually I make fun of him for it, but it got me here, so maybe I’ll stop.”

You giggled at that, and jeez, you were sure the two of you looked like idiots in love right now—faces inches apart, delicate touches wherever you could reach, absolutely beaming.

“For the record, I didn’t believe them either.” Eddie’s eyes explored your face. “Harrington, Henderson. I thought they were batshit, saying you were in love with me.”

You inched even closer to him. “Maybe we should start listening to our friends.”

“Let’s not be rash.” He joked, and you playfully pushed his chest. “But, yeah. They were right this time.”

There were a few moments of silence, the two of you taking each other in, biting back smiles.

“I love you.” You said quickly, giddily.

Eddie’s finger brushed your nose. “I love more.”

“See, that would be the case,” You began, faux seriousness painting your expression. “If I didn’t love you most.”

He wagged a finger in your face, leaning in to pepper you with kisses, and continue waging a war that would never end.

At the end of the day, three things were certain.

Firstly, you loved Eddie.

Secondly, Eddie loved you.

Thirdly, your friends were definitely going to regret encouraging you to tell each other those two things.

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #stranger things smut #happy vday whores #mine

445 notes · View notes

paperweight91 · 5 months

Note

"I’m bored and it’s Sunday." That's as good a reason as any to do another round of drabbles.

Scenario: Secret Santa gone wrong.

You put so much effort into gift giving. It's your love language! Unfortunately, it seems your Secret Santa forgot to get you something. You try hard not to be disappointed but you can't hide it from your friend. As soon as he hears what happens, he immediately goes into action to atone for your Secret Santa's mishap.

I've got several ideas for "how" based on which character you give me.

-Zombie

Omg this has so many options!!! 😭 I had three for sure pop into my head immediately…but I think the winner is…

As your best friend since childhood he just knew something was wrong when you flopped onto the couch next to him. The bond between you two so strong that words weren’t needed. He easily pulled you into his side, kissing the top of your head.

You huffed a sigh, leaning further into Cole’s strong arms. “People suck.” You could feel the tears welling in your eyes as you looked down at your hands.

“I mean that’s an understatement.” He chuckled. Cole followed your gaze to your empty hands, realizing in that moment you had nothing from the gift exchange. Knowing you as well as he did, he was instantly angered. “Oh bug, I’m sorry.” He whispered cuddling you closer.

Before you even needed to ask he was ushering you out of your “Friends-mas” party. Whisking you into his car, his own gift forgotten on the table at the party.

You sniffled from the passenger seat of his truck. Playing with your fingers. “I know it’s stupid, we don’t have to leave.” Cole had always been your biggest protector, from bullies, even from yourself. So seeing him immediately spring into action to take you away wasn’t unexpected, if not a little embarrassing.

“Are you kidding? The only reason I went was cause you were so excited.” He reached across the console to grab your hands in one of his own. Steering the truck effortlessly as he drove.

You stared out the window, knowing the familiar path to his family farm as well as your own way home. “Besides I need your help for something at the house, definitely way more fun then making small talk.” He winked as he glanced your way. It brought a small smile to your face to see Cole’s confidence.

“It better not be like last time you said you needed help.” You giggled at the memory.

You fixing Cole’s baking after his latest attempt to lock down a girl. You walked into his kitchen looking like a bomb went off, smoke still coming off the burnt cake.

Cole laughed awkwardly, “Yeah not my finest moment.” You saw the pink tinge his cheeks, this time you reached for his hand and held it firmly in yours. You couldn’t figure out why Cole had such a hard time with women. He was sweet and thoughtful, and if you were being honest devastatingly good looking.

You felt heat race through your body as your mind wandered to your forbidden thoughts about your best friend. You had always had a small crush on him, but had vowed to never let it get in the way of your friendship.

Cole gave you a quizzical look as he put the truck in park outside the guest house of his parent’s farm. “You okay?”

You tried to shake away your dirty thoughts and laughed, “Yeah, just got in my head a minute, you know me.” He still didn’t look like he believed you, but shook his head and lead you into his house.

As soon as you entered you knew exactly what he wanted your help with. Placing your hands on your hips you rolled your eyes at him. “You still haven’t decorated?!?!”

He gave you a bashful look before turning to the box on his kitchen island. “I kind of forgot, and then we always do it together, but you’ve been so busy…” he trailed off and gave you a pout.

Your smile warmed as you crossed from the entryway and came to his side. Before you could reach into the box, he pulled you back against his chest arms wrapping around you and holding you tightly to him. You laughed and screeched his name as he half carried, half dragged you to his living room.

He plopped down on the sofa, with you in his lap a broad smile on his face. He finally gave you enough room to move and you turned in his lap. Reaching up you placed both hands on his shoulders and gave him a faux scolding look. “I thought you wanted help decorating.”

His hands slipped to your hips as he settled you straddling him. You’d love to say the zip of electricity up your spine was from drinking, but you knew one glass of wine definitely wouldn’t get you to that point. Unfortunately for you this was something the two of you had done since you were teens.

“I still have to make up for your Secret Santa.” He smiled down at you stroking up and down your back soothingly.

“You don’t have to do anything Cole. It’s not that big of a deal. I’m just stupid sometimes.” You looked down at his chest. Your eyes filling with tears again.

“Nuh uh, none of that bug.” He wiped the stray tear from your cheek and tilted your face up so you would meet his eyes.

Before you knew it he had flipped you both so you were laying on your back on his couch, with Cole hovering over you. His face was suddenly serious, with a spark of mischief in his baby blues. “You’re always so thoughtful, so giving, so willing to take care of every one else. But no one takes care of my Bug, and it’s just not right.”

You could feel the air change around you both. A tension that had never existed in your friendship settling between you. Cole’s eyes were searching your face, but before he could do anything you made a decision of your own. Surging forward you locked your lips with his. Squeezing your eyes shut as you pulled away quickly, feeling suddenly like you had read the situation wrong.

“Bug, look at me.” You shook your head. This was stupid, stupid, stupid. It was then you felt Cole’s lips back on your own. Wrapping yourself around him, you gave into the moment, the little voice in your head screeching at the sheer joy of Cole returning your affection.

His tongue licked along the seam of your lips and you opened up to him without question. Your hands threading through his hair, his hands touching every inch of you he could reach. Soon you both needed to part for air but he didn’t go far, his nose nuzzling against yours.

“I’ve wanted to do that for so long.” His confession had your heart pounding in your chest so hard you feared it may burst through.

“Me too.” Was all you could squeak out before Cole was on you again.

The two of you made out like horny teenagers for what felt like hours, but only minutes at the same time. As Cole’s hands began to wander to undo the fly of your pants you stopped him. “Cole. If we do this, our friendship will never be the same.” Even though all of your fantasies about your best friend were suddenly coming true, you couldn’t help but feel dread at the thought of potentially losing your best friend.

He smiled as he looked you in the eyes, dropping down to give you another kiss that almost sent all logical thought out the window. Almost. “I don’t wanna be your friend Bug. I wanna be everything to you.”

At his confession your heart soared. Maybe it wasn’t so bad that your Secret Santa didn’t get you a gift, when you wound up with the best gift of all.

*****

@thezombieprostitute I hope this answered your ask! I kinda got a little carried away here 😅

Also I now love these two and want to keep them forever ❤️

Feedback and reblogs are dearly appreciated!! ❤️

#cole turner #cole turner x reader #paperweight drabbles #ghosted #chris evans

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torscrawls · 4 months

Text

Fractured

Summary:

“I—I don’t—” Danny hesitated. “I don’t remember.” Tucker and Sam exchanged a look and Danny tensed up. Tucker asked carefully, “What don’t you remember?” “Anything! We were in the kitchen, fighting the Lunch Lady, Sam called out to me because the ghost threw a chunk of meat and then… Then we were here.” OR Danny can’t remember anything that happens while he’s Phantom and it’s starting to catch up to him.

Words: 3 377

You can read the whole thing on AO3.

This is inspired by a holiday truce prompt from @ectospacecadet! They just had too many good ideas that my brain latched onto for the gift exchange!

“Danny! You’re back!” Sam sounded half-way to hysterical and Danny blinked open his eyes in confusion.

Tucker immediately grabbed his shoulders and shook him. “Oh my god, are you okay?!”

“…What?” Danny blinked and sat up. He looked round the lab and took in the sight of his panicking friends, the smell of smoke, and the swirling portal in front of them. “It turned on?”

“What do you mean it turned on?!” Tucker exclaimed, still gripping his shoulders too hard. “You turned it on!”

Danny frowned. “I did?”

He looked down on his aching hand, surprised at seeing the burn covering his palm. Well, that would explain the pain he felt through his whole body.

He had a vague memory of going into the portal and falling, and then… nothing. He had no idea how he had ended up on the other side of the lab.

“Yeah!” Tucker nodded. “And then you turned into a ghost and—”

Danny snapped his head up. “I turned into what?!”

“A ghost…?” Tucker trailed off.

“No I didn’t?

Sam and Tucker exchanged a look. Sam crouched down in front of him. “Danny? What do you remember?”

Danny frowned. “I walked into the portal. I think I stumbled on something, and then I fell, and then… I woke up here?” He hadn’t intended to make it a question, but he couldn’t help it. What was going on?

“You…” Sam trailed off, hesitating. “You came out of the portal though? As a ghost?”

Tucker nodded. “Yeah, you were all glowy and stuff.”

“What?” Danny frowned, looking down at his decidedly non-glowing hands. “No?”

Tucker let go of his shoulders. “You don’t remember?”

Danny shook his head.

Sam tilted her head as she studied Danny. “So you mean you don’t remember anything that happened while you were a ghost?”

“I’m not a ghost!”

“You were though,” Tucker insisted.

Sam frowned. “But we talked with you! You were… normal.”

Danny didn’t know what to say to that. Tucker shook his head. “I’m sure it’s just the shock.”

“Yeah,” Danny agreed without believing it. “Probably.”

—

It wasn’t just the shock.

During the following days he experienced several unexpected side-effects of his forgotten stunt in the ghost portal . Like falling through the floor. Dropping stuff. Turning invisible. Flying.

Which were apparently things that ghosts could do. Because he had ghost powers now.

Because he had died.

Danny’s crisis had barely started before he had to push it all down to deal with later because of a ghost attack. Apparently he hadn’t been the only ghost coming out of the newly opened portal and this one was pissed that they had changed the lunch menu.

Danny, Sam, and Tucker ducked flying sausages and waves of unidentifiable meats while they tried to come up with a solution that would make sure they left the school alive.

Danny ducked what looked like a steak morphed with a rack of ribs and swore as it absolutely demolished the table behind him.

“Danny!” Sam called out from behind him, “Watch out!”

Danny turned towards the ghost, saw the big chunk of dripping meat hurling right for his head, and instinctively pulled on the coldness in his chest and—

And blinked as he was suddenly outside the school. His arm ached.

Danny looked around with wide eyes and saw Sam and Tucker standing next to him, talking about something he couldn’t completely follow. Both of them were banged up with bruises and scabs and Danny couldn’t remember anything that had happened.

He looked down at his left arm as he took in the wound he didn’t remember getting. Danny cast around for the Lunch Lady, but he couldn’t see her anywhere, so instead he turned to his friends with a slightly strangled, “What happened?”

Tucker frowned at him. “What?”

“Where is the Lunch Lady? Are you okay? How did we end up out here?!” Danny asked with an increasing level of panic in his voice. Why couldn’t he remember anything?

Sam joined in with Tucker’s frowning. “…Danny, are you okay?”

Was he?

“I—I don’t—” Danny hesitated. “I don’t remember.”

Tucker and Sam exchanged a look and Danny tensed up. Tucker asked carefully, “What don’t you remember?”

“Anything! We were in the kitchen, fighting the Lunch Lady, Sam called out to me because the ghost threw a chunk of meat and then… Then we were here.”

Tucker blinked as his frown deepened. “Man. You turned into a ghost again and fought her!”

“I… did?”

Sam jumped in. “Yeah! All glowing and stuff.”

Tucker placed a hand on his arm. “We thought you were fine! You seemed completely fine!”

“You mean I remembered everything?” Danny wrung his hands. The wound he didn’t remember getting ached. “When I was a… ghost?”

Tucker nodded. “Yeah!”

“But then why can't I…”

“I'm sure it'll be fine,” Sam said in what Danny was sure she thought was a comforting tone of voice. It didn’t help much. “It might just be a slight hiccup? Or maybe you hit your head?”

He didn't know what kind of hiccup could erase your memory so completely, but he nodded anyway. Instead he carefully asked, “Did I… Do something weird?”

Sam tilted her head. “Weird? What do you mean?”

“When I fought the Lunch Lady. Was I… Was I acting like myself?”

Sam laughed. “Who else would you be acting like?”

“Yeah man,” Tucker agreed and punched Danny lightly in the arm. Right on his new wound. “Just because you look strange doesn’t mean that you are, you know?”

Danny didn’t know.

—

It didn't go away. If anything, it got worse. With more and more ghosts showing up through the portal he found that he more often than not needed to turn into one himself to fight them off.

Besides, every time a ghost showed up he felt this intense need to pull on the new cold residing deep in his chest, and afterwards he could never remember what happened.

It was just. Completely blank.

Apparently Phantom was just like him. Same memories, same mannerisms, same way of being. Except that he was very much dead.

Sam and Tucker had tried to find out more by talking to him and apparently he didn't have the same issues of not remembering things as Danny had. Apparently being dead meant that you remembered everything just fine, whether from when you were alive or dead. Go figure.

He knew he shouldn’t talk about him as a separate person, since apparently they were the same person, but it didn’t feel like it.

It felt like someone was taking his place.

“Maybe it’s like... A translation error? When you change from ghost to human?” Sam mused while they were walking home from school.

Tucker perked up. “Like a hard drive that’s not compatible with your system!”

Danny cast him an annoyed look. “I’m not a computer.”

Tucker wiped a fake tear from the corner of his eye. “And I mourn that fact every day.”

“This is serious!” Danny crossed his arms. They might be able to joke about this, but it wasn’t—It wasn’t funny. Not to him.

Sam raised an eyebrow. “I wasn’t kidding. Maybe there’s just something inherently different between how the living and dead think. The dead seem to be able to remember their life as humans, but maybe the same isn’t true when you go the other way.”

Danny let his crossed arms drop back down to his sides. “Maybe… But then what can I—”

He didn’t get to finish his sentence before they were interrupted by a laughing, glowing, flying, and burning robot ghost blasting through the wall of a building in front of them. “I’ll get you this time, whelp!” And he was pointing right at Danny.

Danny froze. “Who is that?!”

“What do you mean who is that?!” Sam exclaimed as she dove for cover. “It's Skulker! The ghost we fought last week, don't you reme—” Sam cut herself off.

“No, I don't,” Danny bit out.

“No time right now!” Tucker screamed as he joined her behind the bench. “Less talking, more fighting!”

And he turned to look at Danny. Danny, who was still standing frozen in the middle of the street. The ghost apparently named Skulker laughed and extended what looked like huge rockets from his shoulders.

“Danny! You have to go ghost!” Tucker called.

“I—” He hesitated. He didn’t want to. “I don’t—”

“There’s no time!” Sam yelled as she brought out her own ectogun, pitifully small in comparison to Skulker’s weapons, now aimed right at Danny. “Danny, just do it!”

Skulker fired.

Danny closed his eyes and reached for the cold inside of him.

And then he opened them again and it was over.

Tucker was next to him, smiling and jumping. “That was so cool! You just—Just flew and shot him and—!”

Danny looked down at his hands. They were smeared with green. “What did I do?”

Sam slapped him on the back with a wide smile. “You kicked Skulker’s butt!”

“I…did?” His hands started shaking.

“Danny?” Tucker asked carefully, his smile dying down. “You okay?”

Danny lowered his hands and hid them behind his back. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m good.”

Sam’s smile dropped. “No memory again?”

Danny looked away.

“Here! I took a photo this time- Maybe it will help?” Tucker said hopefully, holding out his phone to show him.

Danny grabbed the phone with shaking hands and looked down at the image of a glowing ghost with white hair and dressed in a black jumpsuit. Danny traced the outline of what was supposed to be him.

He pressed his lips together, looked away and handed the phone back to Tucker.

He didn't want to see this person, this ghost, who had stolen all of his memories, made him a fragment of himself.

It felt like dying. Like the death he had cheated when he had his portal accident was creeping up on him.

—

The ghosts got stronger and the gaps in Danny's memories got longer.

It wasn't unusual for him to forget whole days and it got harder and harder to follow along with what was going on around him. It started to leak into his every-day life as well and Danny had a suspicion it came with him becoming more ghostly even as a human. Like right now; he had been doing his homework and then—

Then he came to with something warm and wet dripping down his face. He was lying down on his back, something hard and cold beneath him. His head throbbed. Danny slowly sat up to find himself in a small crater of cracked concrete.

He looked around and his breathing hitched.

There was devastation all around. He was… He was outside the mall, or what was left of it. Collapsed walls, split streets, several demolished cars and streetlamps, and almost no humans in sight. There was a dragon in the sky above, all glowing otherworldliness and booming roars that shook the ground beneath Danny’s already rattled body.

Danny’s breathing picked up and his rib cage hurt. He couldn’t hear anything except the dragon’s loud roar echoing through his skull. He needed to get out of there. He scrambled to his hands and knees, green dripping down his nose and splattering on the cracked asphalt. And then his arms gave out.

Danny screamed into the ground in fear and frustration.

A sudden whining sound reached him and then something hot and bright slammed into the ground next to him, leaving a smoking crater.

Danny scrambled to his feet, stumbled a few steps, and then his knees buckled. His palms stung and he smelled burnt citrus and smoke. Smelled his own blood.

He didn't know who this ghost was. He didn't know what they wanted or what he himself had been doing. He didn't even know where his friends were.

As if hearing his panicked thoughts, Sam and Tucker popped up from behind an overturned car.

Sam cupped her hands over her mouth and screamed, “Danny! You okay?!”

Danny didn’t know how to answer that so he simply blinked and tried to breathe through the pain and panic.

Out of the corner of his eye he distantly noted that the ghost had turned towards his friends and raised its hands and fired another set of glowing energy. That… That wasn’t good.

“Danny!” Tucker screamed and there was real fear in his voice. Danny reacted on instinct, tugging on that cold feeling in his chest, felt the transformation pass over him, and then—

And then the fight was over. He was on the other side of town and his friends were nowhere in sight.

At least this time there weren’t any ghosts in the sky. That he could see. Danny took a step before stopping in place as an involuntary noise of pain tore from his throat.

He wouldn’t be able to make it back home by himself.

“Guys?!” He called out to the empty street. “Where are you? Are you okay?” Danny swallowed a lump in his throat. “…What happened?”

The silence was broken by a cheery tune and Danny frowned at the out-of-place sound. Then his brain registered it as his ringtone and he fumbled in his pocket for his phone. It had a new crack though the center but after a couple of tries he managed to answer the call from Tucker. “…Tuck?”

“Danny?! Where are you? You okay?”

“I—” Danny looked around and decided to answer the easier of the two questions. “I’m next to the library. In front of the park.”

“We’ll be right there!”

Then he hung up and Danny was left in silence. He limped over to the edge of the park and stood next to a cluster of trees, feeling a bit better when he was slightly hidden from view.

He zoned out, swaying where he stood and trying not to think about what had just happened. How he felt.

“Danny?”

Danny looked up, blinking in surprise when he came face to face with Tucker and Sam, both of who looked slightly scratched up but otherwise okay. They were both looking at him with worried expressions.

He opened his mouth to answer them, but all that came out was a sob.

And then there were hands on him, careful and light, but they still hurt. Everything just hurt.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay. You’re fine,” Tucker said as he frowned when he took in the state Danny was in.

Sam nodded and added, “You did it.”

Danny sucked in a shaking breath and managed, “But I didn’t. I just—We were in school and then at the mall and now I’m here, and I don’t—” his breath caught painfully in his throat. “I can’t—I can’t remember.”

The hands on his shoulders tightened as Danny slumped, his legs not able to hold him up any longer. He was carefully lowered to the ground. Sam, speaking with forced calm, “Come on, let’s sit down.”

Tucker added a slightly panicked, “And breathe, please.”

And Danny did his best to fulfill his request. They sat in silence for several long minutes as Danny got himself back under some semblance of control, the panic pushed back to its usual simmering where it always resided nowadays.

“Alright,” Danny said as he dragged a hand down his face. “So what happened this time?”

Tucker gave him a dubious look. “You sure you're good?”

Danny nodded even though he really, really wasn't. But he needed them to tell him what he had done, what had happened. “Please. I need to know.”

Sam heaved a deep sigh, leaning back on her hands from where she sat next to Danny in the grass. “Where should we even start?”

“Yeah, dude,” Tucker said as he crossed his legs, “it's starting to get hard to clue you in to what's happening every time you change.”

Sam nodded with a worried frown. “It's starting to feel like talking to two different people.”

Danny tensed in fear as a wave of fresh panic washed over him. “What do you mean? Is Phantom acting differently?”

Tucker gave him a strange look. “You aren't acting differently, it’s just hard since you don't remember anything that's going on.”

“Yeah,” Sam agreed, “it's starting to become dangerous.”

“Well, what am I supposed to do about it?” And even Danny himself was surprised at the anger in his voice, but he had run out. He was empty. He just wanted a break.

Sam shook her head, “No, that’s not what we—

“I’m so sorry that this is inconvenient to you!”

“Danny, stop,” Tucker pleaded.

“No! I’m— I can’t just— Who even am I anymore?!” Danny covered his face with his hands, not wanting to look at them anymore. “Is he the real Danny?!”

“Stop being dramatic,” Sam said, but there was more worry than annoyance in her voice and it only made Danny more scared. If even Sam was worried about this situation then he might be truly fucked.

Tucker added, “And you have to breathe.”

“Do I?! Aren't I dead?!” Danny growled as he lowered his hands back down.

“We can—” Sam said and then hesitated. “We can solve this.”

“How?!” Danny demanded.

“I don't know!” Sam threw her hands in the air. “Maybe… Maybe we should ask you when you're a ghost? Since you remember more then?”

Danny felt betrayal well up inside of him, hot and sharp and burning. And then the panic came back. “You like him better, don't you?”

Sam held her hand up in front of her with wide eyes. “No! Of course we don't! Danny, it's still you. You know that and—”

“I don’t know that!” Danny bit out. “I can’t remember anything!”

Silence. Sam and Tucker kept their eyes on the ground, their shoulders raised high.

Danny felt shame crawl up his throat; he hadn't meant to take it out on them. He slumped back where he sat, looking up at the sky. He let out a long breath, ignoring the way his ribs twinged. “Maybe my parents are right.”

Sam and Tucker both blinked at him and Sam breathed out an incredulous, “…What?”

“I mean. Phantom. He’s, I don’t know, replacing me? Isn’t that the same as haunting me?”

Tucker shook his head. “No, Danny, it’s still you.”

“No, it’s not. I can’t remember any of it,” Danny argued, but the anger was gone from his voice. He only felt tired.

“So then you're going to, what?” Sam asked incredulously, “Ask them to attack you?!”

“No. No. I just. Maybe they can help to… get rid of him? Make him go away?” Danny blinked up at the clouds in wonder. It was so simple, why hadn't he seen it before?

“Danny, no. That is not the answer,” Tucker said with a shaking voice and Danny looked down at his friends to find them looking at him with horrified expressions.

He tilted his head to the side. “Do you have a better idea? Do any of you have a single other idea on what to do? I can’t—I can’t keep doing this.”

Tucker looked down at his hands and then carefully said, “…What if you just stopped transforming into Phantom?”

“You’re the ones who always insists that I need to transform! Besides, we all know I can’t do that. Who else is going to protect everyone in town?” He paused and then pressed on, “Protect you?”

They were both silent. That was answer enough.

Danny struggled to his feet with a groan. “I want to go home. I’m tired.”

A cold feeling forced itself up his throat and escaped his lips like a dying breath. Danny slumped where he stood, too tired and worn out to hide his dismay.

Of course another ghost had to attack right now. Of course.

Sam and Tucker both raised their hands as if to stop him but Danny took a short step back to avoid it. Sam looked up at him with wet eyes as Tucker said, voice choked, “Danny you don't have to—”

But he did. He always did.

Before his friends could say something else, Danny tugged on the cold feeling in his chest and closed his eyes.

The cold spread and spread and spread.

#dp #danny phantom #dp fic #danny phantom fic #dp fanfic #me back on my angst train choo choo #i realized i have never really “killed off” danny before?#there's a first time for everything #phic #my writing #phandom truce 2023

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