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ghost-writing · 5 years ago

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Fee+Bear 3/?? - Cuddle Puddle (Henry Cavill fanfic)

Word count: 0.7k

Warnings: Fee+Bear’s trademark is FLUFF.

This is another prequel of this and this (looks like I’m writing their story backwards! lol). But there might be some inconsistencies in these stories, as it’s more a collection of one-shots!

“If the kids ask you to move in before the end of the day, don’t be surprised...”

Henry looked at Sofia interrogatively. It was the first time he came over to her home, and they yet had to spend the night together. She thought Henry might be feeling lonely after spending so much time in isolation, and that maybe he would enjoy a day with those adorable little devils she had given life to. And the fact it could double as a first test, to see if said devils would like Henry, was just a lucky coincidence.

“Well, maybe not you, but they won’t let the bear leave...” She pointed at her kids and the pets. “They will at least ask for him to come back very soon.”

Kal was laying on the grass, relishing the attention Gigi was providing him. Her tiny hands were scratching his neck and the top of his head in turns, probably telling him a story she had just made up in her head, kissing his muzzle over and over. And Noah was stretched out next to Kal, looking even smaller than usual, his head resting on the beast’s chest, softly raising up and down following the rhythm of his breathing, giggling when Kal would lick his face, or at Gigi’s silliness, and petting Kit, their Shiba, who was snuggling by Noah’s side.

“You’re sure he’s okay with... this closeness?”

“If they were bothering him, he would have left. I’m sure he enjoys being told how awesome he is. He is quite vain. Bit of a diva.”

“Like... Mariah C-Hairy?” She cringed at her own joke

“I think he’s more of a Hairy’ana Grande...” They both giggled. “So, you think they like my dog?”, he playfully asked.

“Nah, they’re obviously faking it, because they want to be on my Insta...”, she answered, sarcastically.

“Oh, can I, please?” Henry took his phone out. “I won’t publish it on my public account, don’t worry.”

“Yeah, a bit early to out ourselves, considering this is only our 2nd date.”

They had both agreed on trying to be discreet until it would be too late to deny anything. (Meaning: once the paps would have caught them together.)

“So, it is a date.” He looked at her mischievously. “I thought it was only a ploy to see how the kids would react to me.” He saw her blush. “Ah! Busted!”

Trying to avoid an embarrassing confession, she deflected: “It’s not a date: we haven’t kissed or held hands...” She had asked him to keep his distance from her, as she had not talked to her children yet.

Henry had not found it difficult to not kiss her when she opened the door, because of the welcome committee made of little people and a little dog. But he couldn’t hold back any more. So, he got closer to her to show her the few snaps he just took, and allowed himself to touch her hand, lightly brushing his fingers on her soft skin. Then, he looked at her in a way he was hoping looked adoring, and just a tad indecent.

She shivered, and blushed some more. Maybe a little too indecent?

“Mamaaa! Can Kal come over again tomorrow? With Henry?”

They both laughed, as she hurriedly took a small step away from him.

“Told ya.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Later that evening, when Henry was leaving, they kissed goodbye. But Sofia, all flustered by how patient and sweet he had been with her demanding children, decided to not let him go that quickly. She pulled him inside the office, next to the hall, and proceeded to kiss him like she had not kissed him yet. It was deep, hungry, and full of promises. They were completely out of breath when they stopped, and looked at each other with surprise in their eyes.

“I should really go now...”

“Yeah, yeah, you should.” If you don’t, I’ll eat you alive...

After agreeing to planning a real date in a few days, they parted, and as she closed the door behind him, they both thought that this relationship might be a little more than they had expected it to be.

As Kal looked at him with a strange expression on his face, Henry couldn’t help but argue back: “What, Pig? You think it’s too early to fall madly in love with her? Too bad, because it’s definitely happening.”

#Fee+Bear #fanfic #Henry Cavill #henry cavill fluff #fluffy fluff of the fluffiest kind

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ghost-writing · 5 years ago

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Fee+Bear 2/?? - Home (Henry Cavill fanfic)

This is a re-post from my other blog… I’ve decided to post my writing on a separate page, it’ll be easier to access like that.

I’ve edited this a little, but there might still be some spelling mistakes & grammatical errors. (English is not my 1st language!) So, if you see something that irks you, please tell me! :)

Word count: almost 1.8k

Warnings: brief mentions of sex, AND SOPPY SUGARY FLUFF.

This is a prequel of this, but there might be some inconsistencies in the Fee+Bear stories, as it’s more a collection of one-shots, so be warned!

The sun is shining outside London. For once, the weather is great, even if a bit cold. But after spending most of the day in the garden playing with the kids and the dogs, Sofia decides to retreat to her office, because the script for episode 6 is not gonna check itself. And it needs to be sent to twins John and Paul, the writers and showrunners, for their own corrections, with still enough time left to print the final version for the whole cast and crew.

There are a lot of people depending on her now: she’s not just the star, but also one of the executive producers of her new show. A show that she’s abandoned a lot for, that she’s invested a lot in. She was working hard for it before, and is working even harder now that the lock-down is finally over, to make up for lost time.

Work is a lot on its own, but she also wants to be there for Gigi and Noah. Carmen and Elena had moved to London with her, and she owed them a huge debt for that. Their presence allowed her to dedicate herself to rehearsing and filming during the week, but she insisted on staying at home on the weekends as much as possible. Her schedule was so full, she was sure no man would have wanted to be included in that constant chaos, but Henry was not any man. He worked hard too, but came to spent most of his free time with her and her kids, instead of partying or doing whatever he used to do before they got together. She had sworn not to rush back into a relationship so quickly after her divorce, but he changed her mind easily. From the moment he met the kids, blissful, happy moments were the norm in their home when he was around.

But right now, she has to work just a little to be able to enjoy the rest of the 4-day weekend they had managed to squeeze into their extra tight work schedule. (Just one more proof that Henry was committed to their relationship.) And the quicker she gets it done, the sooner she’ll be free of it. She knows that, but she’d pushed it to later several times already.

The room is cool, which Sofia welcomes after the overheating she endured in the garden. Even in shorts and a top, the intense playing made her blood boil. But maybe that was because Henry took of his t-shirt at some point… Of course, the cat had followed her, trying to escape the ruckus Kal, Kit and the humans made (the big one being the loudest), bothering his fifth nap of the day. Sirius knows that in here, he’ll find peace and quiet, and maybe some belly rubs.

Sofia grabs the small stack of paper that’s been sitting on her desk for almost two days now, a purple pen (her designated colour for corrections, the twins using blue and green), her phone and headphones, and goes to lay on the sofa, the huge Maine Coon in tow. As soon as she settles, her head resting on a big cushion at one end, facing the door, and her bare legs and feet on the other end, Sirius looks for the best spot: her belly isn’t large enough for him to curl up in a ball on, and there’s not enough space for his large fluffy body between her and the back of the couch.

Sofia lets out a slightly annoyed sigh. “Can’t you decide already?” The black feline lifts his majestic head and looks at her right in the eyes with those enormous green marbles of his, as if to argue that this is the most important part of his routine. She melts, as usual. “Alright, baby.” She lifts him up, kisses his forehead and pets him gently, long enough for him to purr for a moment, and places him on the armrest, above her feet. She knows that in ten minutes tops, he’ll get down from there to get closer to her, demanding attention, but at least, she’ll cool down before having to deal with him. She puts the headset on, turns on some heavy rock music, like she always does when she needs to concentrate, and begins to read.

She’s about halfway through her task, and Sirius has moved spot three times, when Henry’s head peaks through the door.

“What?”, she says, taking the headphones off.

“Can I come in? I have to make a phone call.”

“Sure!” She smiles at him. “And you also need to hide from my adorable but exhausting kids, don’t you?” She winks.

He sighs deeply. “I do love them, but they. never. stop.” After removing Sirius with the utmost care and putting him gently on the ground, he sits next to her. The tiger looks at him with disdain, making Henry recoil a bit, before searching for another position of power.

“It’s all your fault, Cavill!” She brings her legs closer to her upper body to give more room to the big man. “Don’t be so goddamn nice to them, and they’ll play with each other, instead of always asking you to entertain them!”

“I tried, but I can’t say no to them! Gigi always makes that sad puppy face, and I cave… Every time!”

“Superman defeated by a pouting 6 year old… Batman’s got nothing on my girl”, she mocks. “Ok, make your call and let me finish this, please! When I’ll be done, I can teach you how to fight off the Evil Curly Dragon and her sidekick, Deadly Birdie.” She puts the headphones back on, not waiting for her boyfriend to groan at her.

Henry calls a friend or one of his brothers, presumably. She turned the music down to a more acceptable level, and she can hear him laugh. She can’t help but peak out from behind the sheets of paper every now and then: he smiles, he frowns, he makes gestures with his hands, fully immersed in his conversation. She forces herself to concentrate on her work.

Minutes pass, she’s getting close to the end of the script. Sirius is now resting on top of the sofa’s back, close to her, his legs lazily dangling on each side. His butt is turned towards his rival for Sofia’s affection, showing his disapproval.

Immersed in her script, Sofia suddenly realizes that Henry’s hand is resting on her legs. Her bare feet were now pushing on his meaty thigh, as she was looking for warmth, subconsciously. She always had cold feet, and Henry was hot in more than one way. He starts moving up from her feet, slowly caressing the ankle, then up the calf, lightly massaging the muscle with the pulp of his fingers. She looks at him, ready to scold him for distracting her, but he’s still talking over the phone, apparently unaware of what his hand his doing. He’s gone a bit quieter, so she can’t hear what he says.

From the corner of his eyes, he sees her looking at him. His hand leaves her briefly, gesturing for her to take off the headphones.

“Mum says hello!”

“Hello, Marianne! See you soon!”

“You heard that? Yeah, maybe in…”

She puts the headphones back on, decided on finishing her task rapidly. But his hand is back on her leg. His whole palm is rubbing her calf now, going back down to her feet.

“God, this is divine…”, she thinks. Henry is very tactile, and she always welcomes his gentle touch. Thinking of it, they had barely shared a moment alone yet this weekend, just the two of them… They arrived really late on Thursday night, exhausted, so she just snuggled in his arms as they both fell asleep rapidly. The children had been all over them from early Friday morning. Only last night did they finally make time for some intimacy, but they were still tired, so they did what they had to do, and quickly called it a night. Maybe he was attempting something now… She couldn’t deny it was slowly putting her in the mood.

Until he touches her sole with his thumb, which makes her wiggle her toes at the tickling feeling. She puts the script down harshly, slapping it on her thighs. He silently apologizes, continuing his conversation with his mother. This time, his hand stays still on her legs, not going back to his delightful ministrations. And she feels like pouting at him just like her daughter, to make him start again. No, she has to finish work first!

A few minutes later, she sighs with pride and relief, closing the script and throwing it in direction of the desk. It bumps on it and falls on the ground, the noise making Sirius flinch and almost fall from his perch. She turns to face Henry, who’s looking at her, a grin on his face.

As soon as she takes her headphones off, he queries “Finished now?”

“Almost! I just have to scan it and send it to the twins!”

“Can you do that a little later?” He places his hand on her exposed thigh, his expression speaking without the need for words.

“Why would I wait?”, she replies, as innocently as she can, while he stretches his gorgeous body above hers, one of his knees placed between her legs. She can feel the heat emanating from his broad chest, flowing down to her stomach, and lower.

“Because your legs are cold, and I have to warm you up… Should we go to your bedroom?”

He dives his nose in her neck, his stubble scratching at her skin deliciously, his lips and tongue tracing a wet trail on her veins and nerves. They’ve been together less than four months, but he very quickly found all of her weak spots. Only four months, but things got serious between them even before they actually could start. After talking to each other almost everyday over the phone for several months, it did not feel like they were rushing into anything thoughtlessly. Maybe it was time for another step forward…

“Our bedroom?”, she asks.

He lifts his head from her neck and looks at her, not talking for a moment. She feels worried that he won’t agree. But he kisses her lips, and she kisses him back, her arms grabbing his neck while he wraps her legs around his waist. She pushes him gently with one hand, breaking the deep kiss, needing a clear answer.

“To our bedroom, then!”, he says, the biggest of smiles illuminating his face.

#fanfic #henry cavill fic #henry cavill fluff #fluff #with a dash of smut #Fee+Bear

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ghost-writing · 5 years ago

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That's both my ladyparts and my little rabbit heart, shaking in unison...

This is FANTASTIC ! So glad to read something where, for once, dominance is not synonymous of cruelty, but of adoration. LOVE IT!!!

A big fat thank you! ♥️

Submission Is A Gift

She is standing there before him. Her fingers nervously weaving in between themselves at her midsection. She is unsure of what happens next. However, there’s a calmness in the background of her excitement. She knows this is where she wants to be.

He is sitting leaning back in a chair. His finger tracing the rim of a glass. Silent, but for his eyes. He’s admiring her. Taking her in. A calculating gaze. He takes one final sip before getting up from the chair. He walks over to her.

“I want to make one thing perfectly clear,” he said staring into her eyes. “Submission is a gift.” He begins to pace slowly around to her backside. “I don’t want to take anything from you. No, I want something,” pausing for a moment, “more than that. Everyone else wants to take from you, but not me. I only want what you’re willing to give me.”

“I know you feel the pressures of life. The burden that expectations and demands can be. I promise, you will never feel that with me.” His hands wrapping over her hips. “You are to be cherished here and so is your gift. Now that I’ve made my intentions clear, you have a decision to make.”

She feels his hands beginning to wander along the curves of her body. He whispers in her ear, “You can tell how much I want you, can’t you? But I need you to say it. I need you to say ‘yes’ to me.” His lips walking down her neck with soft, sweet kisses. “Will you give your gift to me?” His voice becoming slightly more desperate. “Please… say ‘yes.’”

She can feel herself slipping towards temptation. His touch, both exciting and comforting. “Yes,” slips from her lips in a hushed whisper. “Yes,” again. She is ready. She needs this. His hands respond to her acquiescence by slowing to a stop and resting on her hips.

He then begins to unzip her dress. It slides off of her shoulders and crumbles to the ground, revealing a finely made set of black lingerie. The lace looks so delicate on her skin. He admires her again for a moment before taking her hand in his. He looks back over his shoulder and says, “Come.”

He leads her down a darkened hallway. The only light coming from a partially opened door at the far end. She can feel that nervous excitement creeping back up with every step they take. He slides the door open to his bedroom. There is a large bed and one nightstand lamp dimly lights the room.

He takes his place in the bed, sitting up against the pillows and headboard. Still holding her hand he guides her to sit in between his legs. She leans back into him.

He can feel the tension in her body. In a soft voice, he says, “All I want you to do right now is relax.” He places his hands on her shoulders and begins to massage her. Nothing too strong. Only enough to loosen her up. A few seconds later she lets out a small laugh.

This piques his curiosity and he asks her, “Is there something funny?”

“No,” she said. “I wasn’t expecting something as innocent as a shoulder rub is all.”

“Ahh,” he let out a small laugh of his own. “Don’t worry about that. We’re just getting started. Let my hands do their work and you relax.Close your eyes, breathe, and relax.”

It was a simple enough of a request and his hands certainly did know their work. She could feel the tension leaving her body. This massage was enough to already make it feel like the world is drifting further and further away.

He could sense the tension in her body fading. The massage was lulling her into an almost dreamlike state. One foot in this world and the other somewhere far away. He continued, but slowly began to taper off. He didn’t want to end abruptly and pull her back.

Once the massage ended his hand slid down her spine. He gently pushed her limber body forward a little. She feels the clasp of her bra come undone and let out a sigh of relief as it peels away from her skin. Once it came off she fell right back into him.

He slipped his arms under hers. His hands sliding up her body until they cupped her breasts. He wasn’t pawing or squeezing at her, no, he was just holding her close to him. She leans back and turns her head away exposing her neck. Those soft, sweet kisses of his making a reappearance.

Soon after the kisses, his thumbs start to rub her nipples. He’s gentle with her. Never doing anything more than brushing them with his thumbs. As he paints her body in pleasure, she finds herself slipping even further away now.

She may be relaxed and drifting, but he can feel the subtle twitching of her hips. The hips never lie. As good as this feels now, she still wants more. She still wants to give him more.

One of his hands slide down from her breast to the front of her lacy panties. He starts again with the gentle brushing. This time with his middle finger. The lace on her panties is so thin that she might as well be wearing nothing at all.

Her breathing, while still slow, is becoming heavier and deeper. Her body feels tension again, but not like before. This tension comes from the quick shiver of pleasure pangs shooting through her body.

Three points of pleasure. The kissing on her neck. The thumb brushing over her nipple. The finger sliding over her panties. It’s beginning to become too much to contain. The first real moans escape her lips.

He takes this as a sign. This time when his finger slides up, it slides back down right under her panties. His finger immediately feels the wetness and it’s not long before her lips are sliding in between his fingers.

Even in the heat of the moment he takes his time to explore her body. He pays attention to what causes every little shiver and moan. Nothing she gives him in these moments will be forgotten because she is giving him everything.

That is, almost everything. He leans into her ear and whispers, “There’s one last thing you have to give me.” Her body instantly shivers in response to his words. She knows what that one last thing is.

She turns her head back towards him. He leans down, kissing her in between the moans. She holds onto him and he continues to hold her as he has been doing this whole time. She spreads her legs wide and arches her back as if to say, “I give all of me to you.”

Her moans become wild. Her body rocking in his arms. Pushing back into him each time the pleasure shoots through her. He holds onto her tight as she fights to regain control of her body again.

As the afterglow washes over her, she turns around in his arms and lays against his chest. Still holding her, he kisses the top of her head and strokes her hair. With nothing left to give, she has never felt more at ease.

#fic rec #not a fic per se #but fantastic

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ghost-writing · 5 years ago

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Not sure what the question is, but he is for sure the answer.

Being cheeky is acceptable in high school.

#i thought 42 was the answer...#but i'll take henry cavill i don't mind #(see what i did there?)

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ghost-writing · 5 years ago

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#cat #black cat #beautiful #but he looks so evil...

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ghost-writing · 5 years ago

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Fee+Bear 1/?? - So Far (Henry Cavill fanfic)

This is a re-post from my other blog... I’ve decided to post my writing on a separate page, it’ll be easier to access like that.

I’ve edited this a little, but there might still be some spelling mistakes & grammatical errors. (English is not my 1st language!) So, if you see something that irks you, please tell me! :)

Word count: 0.8k

Warnings: awfully sappy (made myself cry, but I cry very easily…)

Just imagine Henry dating a divorced woman, who has 3 kids already…

Sweaty and still panting, Henry opened the door and let Kal off his leash.

“Good run, right? Good boy!”

But instead of going to the kitchen as usual, Kal tried to go upstairs and whimpered.

“Kal, no!” He caught the dog by his collar just before he could escape. “You know it’s the cat’s territory!”.

“Henry! Finally!” Elena was whispering, a worried look on her face.

“What’s wrong?”, he asked. “Are Gigi and Noah ok?”

“Yes, yes, they’re fine, they’re having their breakfast with Tia. It’s Sofia…”

The blood froze slightly in his veins at the way she pronounced her name.

“She locked herself in your bathroom, she won’t open…” After an awkward pause, she added: “She’s crying. Probably a panic attack, I don’t know why… She did not have any since you moved in.”

Henry sighed: he knew about the panic attacks, she had told him everything, especially that she didn’t want her children to see her like that.

“Ok, I’ll take care of her. Tia Carmen and you, just keep the little ones busy.”

Henry did not wait for her answer, and ran upstairs with Kal.

While they made their way to the bedroom, Henry warned his four-legged friend: “Just leave Sirius alone! Now is not the time to try and kill her beloved cat…”

But the dog did not care about his mortal enemy right now, he was tracing to the master bedroom.

Once there, Henry heard the crying coming from the en-suite and knocked gently at the door: “Fee, it’s me. What’s wrong?”

The cries got louder, which made Kal scratch at the door.

“Did you get bad news? Is it work? Your mum?” He paused, seeing red for a second. “Did you fight with Mike again?”

“N-no… I’m s-so…” Deep, long sobs.

“My love, can I come in?” He used his softest voice, trying hard to not sound as worried as he actually was. The lock opened.

He pushed the door gently, in case she was still standing behind it, holding Kal who was desperately trying to get in. She was sitting on the floor, in front of the vanity cabinet. Still in her nightdress, her hair undone, a teary mess. His heart broke a little to see her like that. He hated seeing her cry.

“Where’s Sirius?”

She sniffled: “P-patio…”

He let the big Akita get in. The dog immediately went to her, delicately licking her hands and laid next to her, his huge head in her lap. She scratched his head, mechanically, still whimpering.

Henry closed the door behind him and joined them on the floor. He took her free hand in his and kissed it sweetly.

After a couple of minutes, he asked: “What’s wrong, Fee? Tell me.”

“I’m so s-sorry, Bear! I’m…” She bawled and tried to grab his t-shirt to get closer to him.

He lovingly took her in his arms, kissed her head, stroking her back tenderly. “It’s ok, it’s ok. I’m ready when you are, Fee”, he whispered.

He was prepared to wait as long as necessary for her to finally tell him what was upsetting her so much. He did not know if he had to be worried, or angry at someone. He did not know what to do other than to wait.

After a while, she calmed down slightly. Her face still nuzzled in his chest, she just said “Sink”, and gestured at it. He turned and craned his neck, noticing a thin, white plastic object placed next to the basin. He took it, and looked at it, not fully understanding what he was looking at.

“What… What does…”

“I’m sorry I’m ruining this for you, Bear! I just…” She threw her arms around his neck.

“Ruining? This… is a… negative? Right?”

“No, I’m p…”

He felt the blood drained away from his face, his breathing got difficult, he felt dizzy in a nanosecond.

“You’re pregnant?”

“Yes. And I’m so scared.”

He held her tight. “You’re sure?”

“That’s what the test says…”

“Why are you scared? You’ve been pregnant three times before!” His stomach churned at the next thought. “Is it… because of me?”

“Nooo, not you! You’re the best, Henry!” She got out of his hold and looked at him, taking his face in her hands. “But I’m 43, sweetie. And I lost a baby already. If I can’t keep this one warm for 9 months, I…” She could not finish her sentence.

“Shhh… That’s not going to happen, ok?” He took her hands in his, again. “We’ll go see the best doctors in London, or in L.A., whatever you want. We’ll do everything that needs to be done, we’ll be careful, and that baby will be perfect, just like Noah, and Gigi, and Em’! I’m sure of it! You’re such a wonderful mama.” He moved his head towards her, their foreheads touching. “We’re going to be a wonderful family, all of us…”

And he started crying too. The happiest tears of his life.

The happiest tears of his life, so far.

#fanfic #Henry Cavill #henry cavill fic #henry cavill fluff #Fee+Bear #fluffy fluff of the fluffiest kind

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ghost-writing · 5 years ago

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The Monster 3/?? - August Walker fanfic

PART THREE - Change

Word count: 2.7k

Warnings: Mentions of sex, mentions of violence and murder, swearing and bad language (in English and in Dutch!), some angst I suppose. And August Walker. (The Kingstache deserves its own warning.) And it’s probably full of typos and redundancies. If you see something that irks you, please tell me! :)

Part one can be found here, and part two here!

She felt tense. She was certain he'd try something during the “London expedition”, as Simon had named it. She had checked the reservations, and he only booked three rooms for the four of them, arguing that Simon and Niklaas could share, and assuring her that she would have her own room. Could be true, could be a ruse. Still she would've bet that Agent Control Freak had something planned. It was something in his eyes, faint but present. So she readied herself for a battle. A battle for power over the other. She would not let him get what he wanted that easily. But her team had to remain clueless of what was going on. She would not allow them to find out what was going on between the two of them. Because Niklaas would definitely use it against her.

She arrived early at the station. Simon was already there, his usual anxious self. Walker got there briefly after her. As if he had been following her. He probably had. That creep. After greeting them curtly, he sent Simon to the coffee shop. “My treat”, he said, giving him some money. She then was sure he most definitely had followed her. An intuition. Simon almost ran, happy to oblige, already salivating at the idea of fresh croissants he wouldn't pay for.

“Couldn't get them yourself?”

“Simon knows everybody's preferences in coffee. I only know how you like your tea.”

“And you know that we'll get breakfast on board with our 1st class ticket, right?”

“I do.”

She sniggered. “Ok. Spill the beans.” He lifted an eyebrow at her, trying to look perfectly innocent. “What the hell do you want, Walker?”

“I don't know what you are talking about.” He looked at someone behind her. “Den Boer. Almost late.”

“Rot op, kut”, the young agent muttered.

“What was that, Nik?” Frankie would not pass an occasion of putting that kid back in his place. He turned a deep shade of red, remembering she knew many Dutch curse words, and looked at her right in the eyes, mentally slapping her or spitting in her face, no doubt.

“I... I'm in a bad mood. Alarm clock did not go off this morning. Still, I am right on time, and Simon is not!” His triumph was short lived, as the coffee boy arrived, one hand holding a cardboard tray with four cups, and the other a bag of baked goods. Frankie's stomach growled instantly at the smell of pastry. Walker looked at her, with that unbearable smirk half hidden by his mustache, as if telling her “I knew you'd enjoy something to eat right away. Because I hid cameras in your apartment, and I know you did not eat anything since you woke up.”

“Klootzak”, she thought. “I so want to punch that smug face of his...” Apparently, she was now in a fouler mood than Niklaas.

She took it out on two croissants, eating in silence, sipping on her tea, avoiding to look at the big ass American spy who was gloating.

The speaker announcing that boarding would start shortly pulled her out of her ruminations. They all grabbed their hand-luggage, and rolled to their first class car. They were all seated around a table, so they'd be able to go through the plan again during the two hour journey. It would not be necessary, but she knew that Simon would ask the same questions again.

As she lead the way, she sat next to the window, and shuddered when Walker sat right next to her. He did not seem to notice, taking her small suitcase without asking her, lifting it above their heads. She shivered again, noticing how effortless it seemed for him, so tall and strong and...

“Frankie! What's wrong?”, Simon asked.

“Headache”, she mumbled. “Give me another croissant.” His face fell.

“I took the last one”, Niklaas said, a hint of defiance in his voice.

Frankie breathed in, through her nose, slowly, deeply. “I'll kill you for that.” Only after that thought had passed, she allowed herself to breathe out, as slowly as she could, never breaking eye contact with Niklaas. The young man was not ready to back down either.

But Simon was noticeably uneasy, trying to calm things down. “Aren't we supposed to have breakfast on board? I suppose it'll be croissants... I'll give you mine, Frankie! I've had enough already.”

“No, thank you, Simon. You don't have to deprive yourself of your breakfast for me.” She forced herself to look and smile at him. Poor Simon was always stuck between her and that shithead. Said shithead felt like he had won this battle, and looked at Walker with a huge grin on his face.

“What are you so happy about, Den Boer?” Walker couldn't stand the kid either. He usually did not care much about the people he had to work with, like Simon. Frankie was a different thing entirely, for obvious reasons. But sometimes, they'd get under his skin almost instantly, as was the case with the other junior officer. That one was not working hard enough, and acted as if he already knew everything he had to know. From experience, those were the worst kind, the most dangerous too.

“No answer? You're usually quite talkative when it comes to criticizing the Ice Queen...”

Niklaas' head almost exploded.

“Don't worry: she already knew you call her that. And worse.”

He looked at Frankie, who had murder in her eyes...

“Juniors, scram.” They didn't wait for further reasons, and left hurriedly.

“What. The. Actual. Fuck. Walker?”

She had paused between every word. Walker saw she was trying to control her wrath through her breathing, but did not understand right away why she was now so angry at him. He remained silent, not sure what answer he should give her.

“What the fuck are you doing? You are... Just... Weird. Stop being weird. Stop it! We're going to London to do a job. I don't know what's going on in your head, but get yourself in check and focus on that fucking job. For fuck sake...”

She stood up, and left him alone. He should have known treating her like a damsel in distress was not going to work. He should have known she'd put up a fight.

The rest of the journey was filled with awkward silences and quick questions about the case. When they got to the hotel, Frankie switched rooms with Simon and Niklaas: she absolutely did not want to be in the room next to Walker's, as they had a communicating door.

She barely talked to him that first day. They met the person they were supposed to get intel from, but that brought up another problem. They now had to go to the countryside to find someone else. But they'd have to conceal their identities and actual purpose. So, the whole team couldn't go, and Niklaas had the most ridiculous idea.

“Frankie, you should go with Agent Walker, pretend you're a married couple...” Again, his eyes were full of pride and mischief. He knew that would bother her. What else did he know?

While she was struggling to find an answer that wouldn't sound too angry, she heard the American say: “No. I'll go alone.”

“You'll look less threatening with a woman...”, tried Simon.

They all looked at Frankie, and something in her made their faces contort in three different expressions, but all meant “This might not be the less threatening-looking woman there is, but she'll have to make do, because it's the only one we have”. Her murderous intents had clearly reappeared.

“Maybe with a cute flowery dress...” Simon regretted his words instantly. Frankie's lips were shut tight, her jaw clenched, her anger palpable. Her silence only made her even more frightening.

“We should find another story”, cut Walker.

And then, Frankie heard herself say “We'll manage. It's only for a couple of days...”

“And at least two whole nights”, teased Niklaas, under his breath. He knew something. He definitely knew something.

Hearing that, Walker straightened his imposing frame, meaning to put an end to this silly conversation. “I said no.”

“I'm the leading officer here, CIA. You're only tagging along. And I say we're doing this. Simon, can you...” She felt queasy at the thought.

“Rent a car, search for a nice hotel in the area, and book a room for the happy couple, sure! I'll contact Emily... I mean: Agent Richards! For the details of your covert identity, Agent Walker...” And Simon skedaddled, followed by his colleague, leaving Frankie and Walker alone in his room.

After a moment of silence, Frankie trying to assert her dominance over her counterpart, Walker attempted a joke.

“Well, nobody is going to believe we're a happy couple, if you look at me that way...”

“I don't have to pretend yet.”

She moved towards the door.

“Wait! We have to... Plan this.”

“We'll have time for that while driving there. Now, I have to go shopping...” Turning around, she looked at him. “Maybe you should too.”

And she left him, confused, worried, and wondering what was wrong with his wardrobe.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next day, Walker was driving their rented car to the hotel they were supposed to sleep at. In the same room, of course. They had made contact with Peggy, the person they came all that way to meet. Peggy was now called Elizabeth, and was posing as a rich widow, taking care of a small art gallery in a picturesque village in the country side. Expecting her to be weary of strangers, they did not push their luck with her: Walker barely talked to her, most of the work was left to Frankie. She managed to have a lengthy conversation with Elizabeth, about the things a young couple could do in the area: where to eat, what to visit – even each on their own. Frankie pushed the “wife angry at her husband” story-line, because it seemed to work on their target. That woman had no trouble believing they were really married, because “Françoise” was genuinely mad at “Hank”. So, yes, Niklaas' stupid idea had actually worked, because of all the rage that tiny wife had towards her giant of a husband. The best lies are the ones anchored in truth.

But Frankie was drained, unable to conceive that she'd have to play that role for at least a couple more days, spending as many nights in the same room as him... So, when they arrived at the hotel, she went straight to the small restaurant, leaving him to take care of the reservation and the luggage. She sat at a table in a corner of the dining room, ordered a cocktail, drank it whole straight away, and ordered another, plus the lamb dish for herself, and the beef one for Walker. “Ugh! Him...” This mission was not easy, but the worse part was being with him. Him, constantly trying to hold her hand, or putting his arm around her waist or her shoulder. Him, ogling her like she was a flower and he was after her nectar. Him, his warm body, so tall and so wide, smelling so nice... Him. His huge hands. His stupid mustache. His hard cock... “Ugh!”, she hissed, full of rage and lust. She had already downed half her second glass when she saw him enter the room.

Getting inside the eating area of the inn, he saw her sitting at a table in a corner, away from the two other couple of guests who were already enjoying their meals. An older lady smiled at him, which her husband did not notice because he was focused on Franken. As he sat down in front of her, she gestured at the waitress to bring her another glass.

“I ordered food.”

“Thank you. But no drink for me?” He grabbed her glass and sniffed it. “What the hell is that?”

“Pear daiquiri. They're using local organic pears, it's nice and fresh. And it's my second glass already, because I need to unwind. Oh, here comes the third!” She finished her glass.

The waitress put the cocktail in front of Franken. “They're delicious, aren't they? Do you want one too, sir?” She smiled and batted her lashes at Walker.

“I'll have a scotch, thank you.”

He did not look at her leaving, but he noticed that whatever she did, it irritated his fake wife: she sighed in exasperation.

“We need to talk.”

She sighed some more. “Can I at least eat in peace, please?”

“It doesn't have to be a battle, we can have a quiet, civilized conversation.”

He saw rage in her eyes. He also noticed that she was exhausted. Or maybe it was the rum kicking in, or rather kicking her down.

“I'm sorry for the other night.”

This time, her face was blank. She did not believe him.

“I really am. I've thought about it a lot, and I know I made a mistake.”

Still nothing from her. How did that woman, who had looked so angry with him for the past week and a half, especially since yesterday, could now look that calm and unaffected?

“When was the last time you apologized?” Her tone was quiet, yet threatening. “To anyone.”

She looked at him right in the eyes. Walker made a mental note to never play poker with that woman, because she was not giving any clue to where she was going with that question. So, he tried sincerity, for once.

“I don't remember. It's not very often I do.”

“Why?” She drank, just a gulp.

He chuckled a little. “I don't like being wrong.”

“No, I mean, why to me? Why now?”

That's where she wanted to go. He realized she had done the same thing the other night, when she called him a boy... She had cornered him, just like now. Not leaving him any room for action, forcing him to go forward. He remembered she studied psychology and criminology. He remembered her file said she was good at interrogating suspects. He remembered how she got the man in London to tell them about Peggy and her location. He got played.

“Was it all an act? Your hostility, today?”

The waitress arrived with their plates. “Lamb?”

“That's me”, she said. “He's the beef.” The girl put their respective plates in front of them, and came back right away with Walker's scotch, trying to make eye contact, but he did not react.

Frankie smelled the food, and relaxed. She was starving, and drunk too. She cut a piece of her meat, swiped some gravy, put it in her mouth, and closed her eyes.

“Hmm... Good!” She opened her eyes, and Walker's face was another good thing. It was not the first time she saw that face, she often had that effect on people. But she was fairly surprised that a CIA agent had not seen her coming.

“It was all an act...”

“It wasn't.” She kept eating her dish. “It's really good, eat while it's still warm.”

“But...”

She cut him off. “It wasn't. I find you're insufferable. I didn't mind how smug you were, at first, but I don't know how I've managed to not slap you in the past few days... Or kick you in the balls.” She lifted her knife in front of her. “Or stab you multiple times, dismember your corpse, and disseminate the evidence across the English countryside.” She went back to eating her food like what she just said did not made her sound like a psycho. He still had not started his plate yet.

He took a deep breath, like he was about to say something, but he stopped himself, drank his glass in one go, and started his dinner.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

GUYS! You have no idea how hard it was to get to this... 3 months since I posted part 2. I wrote and re-wrote this, at least 3 times, if not 4. I just HATED what came out. I didn’t like how they were interacting with each other, or with others... It just felt WRONG.

And then, I don’t know how, Frankie changed her act, she was different: she was a mean cat and August suddenly was a little mouse stuck in her claws. And that weirdly felt RIGHT. (Maybe it’s because I watched How to Get Away with Murder. So: thank you, Annalise Keating, I guess... ^_^ )

So, I’m sorry there’s no smut (there should be in part 4, if I get to finish it!), but I’m so relieved...

#fanfic #August Walker #August Walker fic #August Walker angst #The Monster #angst

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ghost-writing · 5 years ago

Text

The Monster 2/?? - August Walker fanfic

This is a re-post from my other blog... I’ve decided to post my writing on a separate page, it’ll be easier to access like that.

I’ve edited this a little, but there might still be some spelling mistakes & grammatical errors. (English is not my 1st language!) So, if you see something that irks you, please tell me! :)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

PART TWO - Breaking

Word count: 3.2k (The bit below the 2nd gif was labeled “part 2.2″, and titled “Interlude at the office”, but it’s quite short, so I decided to not make it separate anymore.)

Warnings: Sex (unprotected), rough sex, a certain dose of violence (including light choking), SMUT, swearing and bad language. And August Walker. (The Kingstache deserves its own warning.) And it’s probably full of typos and redundancies.

Part one can be found here!

He texted her around midnight. He had tried to not give in, resisted for almost a week, but he needed to let some steam off tonight. And he thought he liked her, which was angering him even more. She was a good investigator: smart, could think outside the box, and did not take shit from anyone, not even him. He used to like that about Sloane: she commanded respect. She did not deserve it, though. He did not know yet if Annie Franken did, he had not scratched under the surface enough. But after the month he had spent here in Brussels, he could say that he almost enjoyed working with her. At the very least, she made this dull case more acceptable. He had been offended when Sloane had given him the assignment. He felt it was an insult to his previous accomplishments. And the case would last months. At least, he’d get to travel around Europe. And since that night, he thought she was another perk.

Less than five minutes into his first meeting with the captain, he had requested to see the whole team’s files. He wanted to know exactly who he was working with, especially as it was his first time working with the Nexus. The man in charge had refused, but he went higher to get them, and he got them. Detective Franken’s dossier was heavier than the others, almost as thick as the captain’s. Apart from the chief, she had been there longer than everyone on that team, which was why she was in charge, and his direct liaison officer.

She had been in a little more trouble than the others, too. Nothing important: some insubordination (from what the redacted report seemed to say, she had been right, and her senior officer got fired shortly afterwards), and a one-time misconduct while handling a criminal in her care (he was lucky to still be alive, but he had it coming). He smiled thinking about the pics of Denizio, the “victim”: covered in bruises and scratches, a couple of deep bites, a dislocated shoulder, and multiple fractures (nose in two places, left side of his face smashed in, seven ribs, and right ankle). He was impressed: she was a fighter, and a nasty one. He had searched for the video of the incident, but had not got to it yet. He didn’t doubt that the evidence had been deliberately lost, to avoid her too much trouble.

The file also contained a lot of praise: from her former chief in the federal police, and her current one. Thinking back of his first meeting with the man, all these compliments, the twinkle in his eyes: the captain admired her, maybe even had a crush on her. August understood the appeal: good at her job, and a nice rack. Maybe too virtuous, at first sight, but he could smell that there was something hidden under the surface of that porcelain skin. Something wicked. He could see it as clearly as his own darkness.

So he stole her psych evaluations, and got disappointed when he read them. All pristine. Not in an obvious, “I’ll tell them what they need to ear” way. She admitted some problems, discomfort, insomnia, anxiety even. But she had a degree in psychology and criminology: she could’ve been faking it. He listened to the tapes: she sounded genuine. Articulate, but still confused by her feelings and reactions at times. Not the reactions of a control freak, just someone genuinely trying to understand herself, and better herself. He particularly disliked the way she was bouncing ideas off the shrink, as if he had been a wall to play against. No, actually, it’s the guy he hated. He either talked too much, or didn’t ask the right questions, the ones he would’ve asked her. And she seemed to like that bespectacled poster boy of blandness. He thought for a moment that they had fucked in his office, but after a really quick check, he found out the man was a closeted gay.

And so, an hour ago, he parked his car in front of her building, trying to calm down after Sloane’s phone call, a fire burning low inside him. He texted: “Are you at your place? Can be there in 10.” He knew she was in: shortly after his arrival, she got out on the balcony, sipping a drink, looking at the horizon, stretching her limbs, trying to unwind after a long day. The answer he got ignited something else in him. “Sure.” Not yes: sure. Sure, you can come over and fuck me. Sure, I’m waiting for you, CIA. Sure. He was panting, raging. He tried to steady his breathing, which took some time. He gripped the wheel tight, his knuckles turning white. Concentrating on the air filling his lungs, then escaping, slowly. Better. Blank face, blank mind, the August Walker way. Never give too much, to anyone. So tonight, he was going to take. And he made himself a promise.“If she has changed from that black t-shirt and sweatpants from earlier, I’ll take everything I want.” He too needed to unwind.

He got out of the car, slowly making his way to the 3rd floor apartment, still breathing in patterns, not to snap too quickly with the pretty doll upstairs. He knocked, looking at the floor. Seconds stretched, and she finally opened the door. She was barefoot, naked legs, dark red satin starting a few inches above her knees. A short kimono, belt knotted tightly around her waist, modestly covering her ample breasts. Sexy, not slutty. He felt his cock twitch. She still sported the same ponytail she had earlier, but she looked younger than at work. Probably the absence of the constantly furrowed brow, which was a common look in those offices, anywhere around the world.

Pushing past her, he entered without a hello. He heard her protest: “I did not invite you in!”, and made his way into the living room.

“I am not a vampire, I don’t need your invitation.” Thinking to himself “What you are wearing is one, anyway.” He heard the door close.

“Yeah, you give more of a werewolf vibe, actually…” His cock twitched again. He turned to face her, menacingly backing her against the wall. “Doll, you have NO IDEA”, he thought.

He towered over her, a nasty look on his face. He was so close she could probably feel the warmth of his chest, though they were not touching yet.

“Don’t you like a wild beast?” He breathed her scent deeply. “Damn, you smell nice, doll!”

“Do I look like a poodle lady?”, she jested.

And all hell broke lose inside of him: he slammed his body into hers, pinning her against the wall, making her gasp from the physical shock. He grabbed her wrist in his left hand, and opened the kimono with the right: she was wearing a dark red satin balconnet bra that barely covered her breasts. He grabbed her ass: a thong. All assorted to the robe. “Something for guests.”

She was pushing her hips towards him: he growled, less than an inch from her mouth now, but instead of kissing her like she wanted him to, he bit her throat and sucked viciously. She yelped : the thought that this man could hurt her, or break her in two with ease, crossed her mind, but she was still aroused. And she could feel that he was too. She could feel his heart beating in his chest. The thought of August Walker having a heart made her chuckle, and he growled some more as a response to her silent joke. She ran her free hand in his hair and, wanting to kiss him, she grabbed him to make him move towards her face. But he snatched her wrist, brought both her arms above her head and held them secure in his gigantic left paw, still nibbling on her throat. He unbuckled his pants with his right hand, undid the zipper, moving away from her just enough to look at her heaving chest, moving up and down rapidly with desire. Her nipples were peaking out of the satin, now, hard as rocks.

He brutally yanked her thong, and she felt the elastic band clap on her hip. She almost told him that those cost a lot of money, but decided it was wisest to just go with the flow, right now. She got distracted almost immediately anyway: he took his cock out and penetrated her without holding back. As she was dripping with anticipation (she had been since receiving the text, to be honest, running to the bedroom to change out of her comfortable sweats, into something more appropriate for a booty call), he slid his entire length inside her with ease, up to the hilt, and stayed still for a few seconds, looking hungrily at her round tits, biting his lips at the sight of her exposed nipples. He let go of her wrists, leaving them tingling with the sensation of blood circulating again in her veins, and pushed the satin robe off her shoulders and arms. She let it slide off her, feeling it brushing the back of her legs as it fell to the floor.

Suddenly, he pushed the vase and the decorative bowl that were placed on the sideboard next to them, sending them crashing down, and lifted her with his other arm to sit her on the wooden piece of furniture, still inside her. He then planted both his hands on the wall, on each side of her head, framing her, leaning in, his forehead touching hers, pushing her shoulders closer against the cold surface, and he started moving his hips, back and forth, between her thighs, wide open for him, increasing the speed every few thrusts. She moaned louder, and tried to grab his shirt to open it.

“Don’t.”

That one syllable made her blood freeze, and she took her hands off him, grabbing the edge of the sideboard outside of her legs instead. He was grunting like an animal, a huge bear completely enveloping her with his frame. She had always liked big guys, she liked feeling small in their arms and under them. She didn’t need a man to protect her; it was more about being shielded from the outside world for a moment, forgetting everything but the man fucking her senseless. And this large grizzly was very good at that, even if he was rough. She liked rough. She preferred a bit of pain than feel nothing at all.

But the bear man was inflicting more than a little pain, now. His eyes were still fixed on her breasts, dark with rage, his thrusts becoming violent. His lips occasionally sucked at her nipples, more often his teeth bit into them, but he was mostly looking at her breathing in and out, slightly smiling when she’d whimper in protest. And as she started to cry a bit louder, a visible grin was adorning his face.

He stopped pumping into her, grabbed her with one arm around her waist, carrying her next to the couch. There, he pulled her off his cock, savoring her gasp, and put her down. Her legs were slightly shaking, but she did not try to hold onto him for balance. She had understood that he was in a foul mood, and did not want to be touched. “Good girl.” But he was still raging, not feeling like calming down, and she would pay the price for it, even if she behaved. But he was sure that she could take it. If she had wanted him to stop, she would’ve fought back, and he’d be in a similar state as that “poor” Denizio guy.

So, instead of feeling sorry for her, he turned her around, bent her over, and parted her legs with his hands, guiding her ankles with a feet. He slapped her ass once, twice, three times. She let a scream escape only with the first blow. He pushed her forward, so that she ended up kneeling on the sofa. But instead of letting her upper chest rest on the back of it, he grabbed the base of her ponytail in his left fist, and yanked, silently ordering her to look at him. And as soon as her eyes met his, he slid his cock back into her, making her moan loudly. He saw fire behind her pupils: she was enjoying this. Thus, he fucked her, hard and fast, into oblivion. And her cries of rapture grew louder and more desperate. He let go of her hair, seizing her elbows instead, pulling her to him, allowing him to go even faster. She came, but it still wasn’t enough for him, so he let go of her arms, and shoved her face in the seat, pushing her back with both hands. She was screaming now, her petite body jerking with each thrust. He slapped her ass some more, leaving big red marks on her pale, soft flesh, and vigorously took hold of her waist, knowing perfectly well he’d leave bruises, feeling pride at the thought.

She felt him withdrawing, turning her around to face him. She was a rag doll in his hands, unable to think for herself. Not once had she fought him, asked him to stop. She thoroughly loved being used by him. He could take whatever he wanted, right now. And he did: he bottomed out into her, making her howl, a throaty wail after her prior screaming, and pinned her down with his hips. His right hand lifted her leg up, allowing him deeper access into her cunt, and his left hand caught her throat. The surprise of his touch made her climax, her whole body shaking, her eyes rolling in her head, her back arching, her walls clenching on him. Thereby, he huffed and puffed as his own orgasm built, and swore profusely as he pulled out of her to come all over her belly and her breasts.

Both out of breath, they looked at each other, panting, completely spent. She saw a light in his eyes, hoped he would just collapse on top of her, and finally kiss her, but in an instant, his expression changed. He got up, tucking himself back in his pants, rearranging his clothes, smoothing his messy hair. And without one last look at her, he got out, his words slapping her face.

“See you at work tomorrow, Franken.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The day had been long, just like the rest of the week. She still couldn’t sit down without wincing. She couldn’t sit down at all the first day. And she had to wear a fucking turtleneck to hide the bite marks and the hickeys he had adorned her neck with. Her whole body was covered in bruises, purple finger prints on her wrists and forearms, on her hips, on her ass. She was raging inside, and he was there, working like absolutely nothing happened.

He did not avoid her, they still exchanged about the investigation, they had prepared a necessary trip to London. But it felt different than the week before, the week after that first night. Before, she had noticed his gaze, a furtive smile; once, he even had asked her if she wanted tea. But now, he was distant. Or maybe she simply wanted him to be closer.

She was angry about all the marks left on her, and she definitely would’ve preferred to be able to sit normally, but it was the way he left that hurt the most, and how he acted now. She wasn’t a fuck toy to discard after use. She didn’t want a relationship, she just wanted him to acknowledge her existence in a decent way. Say hello, and kiss her before, during and after making her climax like she hadn’t in a long, long time. She could’ve been nice to him too, reciprocate. Because whatever August Walker tried to pretend he was, deep down, he was human too. Probably. Or maybe he was just a psycho.

She could see some signs: the manipulation, the violence. She wasn’t sure about the lack of remorse or guilt. She felt he was wearing a mask, not just covering up a mistake. Doing what was expected of a cold, calculated man. But she had seen glimpses of humanity in him. He had grabbed a fantasy book left by Simon on his desk, and had smiled as if remembering the first time he had read it. She heard him hum to a song played on the radio while on a stakeout, thinking she was asleep. Not a robot, just a character he was projecting, for protection most probably. She could relate: she had tried that, but could never maintain it for too long. She still joked, she still cared. And she needed to come out for air after keeping a serious face for too long. Just like she could not let him get away with using her like he had, not without saying something.

So tonight, after sending Simon and Niklaas home, she confronted him. He was finishing the cold pizza they had earlier, mumbling about anchovies.

“How did that broom get stuck so high up your arse?”, she asked, a fake incredulous look on her face. He almost chocked on a tiny hairy fish, and he fumed.

“I’d really love to ear that story. Please, tell me how!” She batted her eyelashes, simulating fascination.

“I’m not playing this game with you…” He dropped the slice back in its box.

“No, of course not. I can’t take control of the conversation, that would belittle you, wouldn’t it?”

He remained silent, stood up and walked towards the door. Before he got there, she aimed and fired: “You lost control the other night.”

He stopped in his tracks, turned around.

“I did not.”

“Yes, you did. I had zero control, I left it to you, but you lost it anyway. If you had not lost it, you would’ve pretended. You’re a great pretender, Walker, that’s part of your job. But instead, you acted like a little boy who can’t help breaking his toys.”

“There”, she thought. He twitched when she called him a boy, almost catching fire. And right after, a flash in his eyes. Regrets. Just a hint, before snapping back.

“You enjoyed it.”

“I do like it rough, yes. But I don’t like being treated like a cheap whore.” She got on her feet, moved slowly towards him, stopping just an inch from his tall frame. “I’m not cheap in any way.”

Looking down on her, August wrapped his arm around her waist, resting his hand in the small of her back, drawing her closer to him. Almost tenderly, if it wasn’t for the hardening cock in his pants, rubbing lightly against her belly. He breathed in slowly, before what must have felt to him like spilling his guts.

“Let me take you out while we’re in London. For dinner.”

She pushed away from him, moving towards the door.

“No.” She got out of the office. “See you at work tomorrow, Walker.”

#fanfic #august walker #august walker fic #august walker smut #The Monster #smutty smut

29 notes · View notes

ghost-writing · 5 years ago

Text

The Monster 1/?? - August Walker fanfic

This is a re-post from my other blog... I’ve decided to post my writing on a separate page, it’ll be easier to access like that.

I’ve edited this a little, but there might still be some spelling mistakes & grammatical errors. (English is not my 1st language!) So, if you see something that irks you, please tell me! :)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

PART ONE: The Hammer and the Screw

Word count: 2k

Warnings: Sex (unprotected), light smut, bit of swearing, and August Walker (the Kingstache deserves it’s own warning)

They had been working on that case together for about three weeks. Was it wasted time? Or was it a mistake to take him back to her apartment? Judging by how her skin was burning under his touch, how dizzy her head got from this passionate kiss, and how big and hard his cock felt through the fabric of his pants, she was leaning towards the former. But they were working together…

It was temporary, yes, but it could pose some problems during the investigation. She was generally very professional, prided herself of being detached enough without being totally glacial. (Well, except for those who did not deserve her attention.)

But that man did not leave her cold. Tall, muscular, very handsome, and also incredibly smart, always focused. The result of good genes, no doubt, many years of training, and his experience as a CIA agent. One of their best, nonetheless. Half these attributes would turn any woman to putty in his hands. Damn, she always considered herself no ordinary woman, but this time, she couldn’t help it. She didn’t even try to fight it.

Their kiss was stalling a little, like he was waiting for her to take the next step. “How respectful!”, she thought, sarcastically. Or was he having second thoughts? She had noticed the way he had looked at her since their first meeting: with respect (she had heard her boss singing her praises as she arrived), and a drop of lust. A drop that had now turned into a more than respectable erection. “Nah, he’s probably just testing me…” To see what she’d do, or what she’d ask him to do.

Well, she was never one to play coy, so she had two options: taking his clothes off, or her own. Every time she had spotted his gaze lingering on her curves, making him avert his eyes, she had returned it, as discretely as she could, trying to imagine what he looked like naked. She had kept imagining him, back at her place… So, she went for the buckle of his belt, and she lingered her hands a little on the front of his trousers, which had the effect she expected: he grabbed her ass with both hands, and kissed her even more feverishly, before whispering in her ear: “Hmm… You have no idea how much I need this, Frankie.” His growly voice made her quiver, creating a shock-wave that traveled up and down her spine, and she felt even hornier than she already was.

“Been a while, huh? Me too…” Her fingers were now fumbling with his zipper, but their bodies were too close to give her hands enough room to be efficient. “Fuck!”, she pestered, annoyed by her own clumsiness.

He chuckled. “Nervous? I would not have thought that of you.”

“Don’t flatter yourself, CIA. I’m just a bit drunk.” And she ripped his shirt in frustration. Several buttons flew away and scattered on the floor of her living room. He grunted. Yanking at the torn collar, she said “It was already ruined anyway”. She mentally cursed because he was wearing a fucking undershirt. So she grabbed his face with both hands, and pulled him to her to resume their kissing, but he broke it off after just a couple of licks of her lips,and looked at her with a smirk.

“Don’t even think of doing the same to mine”, she warned.

So he carefully unbuttoned it, kissing her neck in the process, tickling her sensitive skin with his mustache and beard. With each button undone, he kissed a little lower, but not much; when her blouse was fully undone, he had barely got to her breasts, and had started his way back up anyway. He caressed her belly with his fingertips, grabbed her hips for a short moment, pulling her closer to him again, while making the both of them move towards the back of the apartment, to what he probably thought was the bedroom. “Or does the big CIA spy already know the floor-plan of my home?” She would not be surprised.

He gently peeled her shirt off of her, while she practically ripped his off of him. He opened the door and swiftly lifted her off her feet, as if she was light as a feather. She wrapped her legs around his waist, feeling his erection, now in full bloom, right under her core. If she had not been already, the perspective of riding that cock would’ve made her soaking wet. She had come to the conclusion that he was well endowed, picking up several clues during these long hours working together, but it was even bigger than that – and it was still imprisoned in its fabric cage. He put her down by the bed after delicately unwrapping her legs off him.

“Déshabille-toi”, she murmured in French, nibbling right under his ear lobe.

“Toi aussi”, he replied, his voice a seductive growl, his American accent making his answer singing slightly.

And for the first time since they got out of her car, about half an hour earlier, they were more than a foot apart. They both took off their pants, hurrying, making it look like the fastest one would win this competition. She took a shortcut and pulled her panties down at the same time as her grey pants, but they got stuck in her boots. She fell backwards on the bed. “Mais putain!” No, she wasn’t nervous: she was impatient.

He chortled while parting with his own boots, took his tank top off in one swift move, and stood in his briefs, looking at her in the darkness of the room. The only light coming in came from a street lamp placed one floor down. The trees and the window frame were making shadows on the ceiling. He quickly checked that nobody could see in: there was no building opposite, so he didn’t bother closing the curtains. Not that he minded an audience, but maybe she wasn’t into it. She could, really: she looked delicious in that strappy bra. He had noticed it earlier that night, while they were having a drink at the office after their very long, very arduous day: he loved lingerie, any kind of lingerie, but that kind more than others. Gothic, bondage inspired, fetish, he didn’t know how it was called, didn’t care. He only cared that it framed tits in the sexiest way, particularly luscious tits like hers.

She was still struggling with her left shoe, so he kneeled in front of her, freed her foot and pulled her fitted pants off her legs, grazing the skin of her calf with the tip of his fingers. He felt her shiver, and slowly stretched his tall, supple body over her on the bed, close enough so that his facial hair brushed her chest without their skin actually touching, supporting himself on his forearms so not to crush her. He didn’t need to instruct her: she was already moving her hands down to pull at his briefs, and subsequently grabbed his cock in her right palm, making him deeply exhale with her touch. She gave him a couple of strokes while he got rid of his underwear. “Fuck me now, CIA!” Almost an order, that he gladly obeyed, groaning “Yes, Ma'am!” in her neck while entering her.

She whimpered, needing a little time to adjust not just to the length, but to the girth of his manhood, also trying to find the right position under that statuesque man. She bent her knees up, opening her legs, locking them loosely either side of his hips. After a while, she wrapped her feet behind his knees so she could follow his rhythm more easily, and she let her hands wander on his back. Such broad shoulders! As he was still mindfully avoiding to squash her, she could also caress his chest and tousle the hair over his large pecs, down his rock-hard abs, stopping less than an inch from the base of his shaft, which made him jerk lightly, and exhale again in a long rumble.

All the while, he had not stopped kissing her neck, her throat, and the top of her breasts. She suddenly realized she was still wearing her bra, but had barely begun taking it off that he barked “No! Keep it on. I like it…”, punctuating his demand with a deeper thrust, looking back at her before attacking the flesh of her heaving chest with his lips and tongue. She moaned louder in appreciation, and he went on to kiss her lips again. But he did not kiss her, he DEVOURED her. Unashamed of the hunger he felt, taking what she would let him take, and then some.

She was out of breath, panting more and more heavily, from the lack of air, and because her heart was pounding hard in her chest, the blood rushing in her veins throughout her whole body, boiling, making her sex burn with desire for more. The feeling was familiar, but more intense than usual. Rightfully: he was more intense than the usual man. He momentarily slid out of her, and she immediately felt cold and empty. But his huge hands seized her waist, turned her around, and his cock entered her again, barely missing a beat.

She was surprised by the moan that escaped her throat. He snarled something in her ear, but she was too far gone to understand the words. She mechanically grabbed his arm with her left hand, to try and steady herself: his now vigorous pounding made her petite body jerk forward with every thrust, and she was getting dangerously closer to the edge of the bed where they laid sideways. She did not want him to stop now, not even to bring her back to him. So she moved her right hand to grab his head, yanking at his hair a bit, which made him bite her neck. She yelped again, and moaned when his tongue licked the bite.

Encouraged by her reaction, he bit her again, a little more gently, just under the first bite, and then licked again, dutifully, never slowing down the powerful pummeling of her pussy. He kept alternating bites and licks, down her neck to her shoulder.

“You did not come yet?”, he queried. “Something wrong?” He had no doubt she was enjoying herself, but wanted to know if she needed anything different in order to climax.

“God, no! Don’t stop! I’m close…” She felt him smile on her shoulder, the slight brush of his mustache tickling her some more. And he lowered his body cautiously on top of hers, gently crushing her and slowing down, the energetic slamming turning into a lingering fuck. She would’ve protested, but he proceeded to roll his hips deeper into her, and within seconds, she was clenching her walls around him, arching her back and exhaling in ecstasy, her hands wrenching and tugging at the sheets tightly.

“Oh, fuuuuuccckkkk….”, she hushed. “Wow”, she thought.

She could feel him getting close to his orgasm too, as he resumed his strenuous moves, but this time at an erratic pace. As he so graciously gave her what her body needed a few seconds ago, she returned the favor, by lifting her ass closer into his groin. She grabbed his right hand to bring his fingers to her mouth and sucked on his index for a while, before mewling “Come inside me, now, August.” Just a moment later, he shot his load, grabbing her chin between his thumb and fingers, minus the index she was now licking languidly. He moved her face upward, and kissed her temple. Letting go of her, she crashed on the mattress, as he numbly looked at the long dark lashes of her closed eyes. She had a faint smile on her face, one of pure contentment, like when you drink a tall glass of crisp water on a hot day.

“Funny they call you the Hammer”, she mumbles into the bed sheets. “'Cause you’re really good at screwing.”

#fanfic #August Walker #August Walker fic #August Walker smut #The Monster #smutty smut

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