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samsno1 · 6 months

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One Hell Of An Agent

Sam Winchester x F!Reader

Summary: After weird deaths start happening and your friend becomes a victim of it, two men appear at your door for questioning and your day turns into the weirdest you've ever lived.

Warnings: SMUT, size kink (if you squint), oral (f. recieving), big d sam (obviously), dean gets forgotten lmao, unprotected sex (wrap it up guys), piv, tit sucking, sam is a sweetheart, pet names (doll, baby, beautiful), a bit of body insecurity but, as i said, sam is a gentleman, reader is shorter and overall smaller then sam, use of y/n, NOT PROOF READ, english isn't my first language (if i forgot anything TELL ME)

Read it on AO3

WC: 6.1k

You can learn how to change the "Y/N" for your actual name here

enjoy your meal babies, mwah mwah

It was supposed to be just another day where you went to work to get pennies in exchange for spending close to 12 hours in front of a computer screen, get back home to drink until you decided you should take a shower and sleep. Then repeat.

You, standing in your living room with a circle of kitchen salt around you and two men who were supposedly FBI agents holding shotguns and the ghost of an old woman trying to kill you, wasn't in your plans.

They both had arrived at your house in suits earlier that day, knocking on your door. You groaned and got up from the couch, leaving your beer bottle settled on the coffee table. Once you opened the door you widened your eyes at the two men standing there.

The taller one greeted himself first. He had a – almost – shoulder length brown hair and beautiful hazel eyes. To say you were shocked at how handsome he looked was an understatement. The shorter one had deep green eyes and short hair, he was pretty too but his partner…

“Hello, I'm Agent Page, this is my partner, Agent Plant” He said, showing you his badge and nodding to Plant, him copying what his partner did.

You furrowed your eyebrows, recognizing the names from the Led Zeppelin band.

“Plant and Page as in…the Led Zeppelin guys?” You questioned and they shared a look. The shorter one stepped foward, giving you a once over, clearly checking you out.

“Just a coincidence Ma'am” He said, smiling at you and you nodded, still a bit skeptical.

You opened the door wider for them both to get in.

“Come in, please. Have a seat” You said, gesturing to the couch and they sat besides each other. Page eyed the beer at the coffee table in front of him and you cringed.

“Sorry, I wasn't expecting the FBI at my door” You chuckled lightly and took the beer bottle to the kitchen in the other room. When you came back, both their eyes were on you and you felt a bit intimidated.

“Well…why are the feds at my house…?” You asked, sitting at the armchair and resting your hands on your lap, fidgeting nervously with your fingers.

Page put his elbows on his knees, his fingers crossing in front of him as he leaned forward to talk closer to you. You took notice of his big frame wondering how someone could be so…wide?

“Miss…”

“Y/N” You filled in the gap.

“Miss Y/N” He said, licking his lower lip with his tongue “We are here to ask about the recent murders around”

“Oh” You said. You knew well about one of the victims, a friend of yours. It had been a little over 2 weeks since her death but you always went with the mantra to keep going no matter what. At the memory of her you felt your throat restrict and you blinked back tears.

Page seemed to notice and put a gentle hand on your knee to comfort you. When you looked up he was smiling slightly and you calmed down.

“We know Beth was your friend and we are sorry for your loss” He said, squeezing your knee “But we'd like to ask you some questions, if you don't mind”

You nodded and looked between the both of them, taking a deep breath.

“Yeah…yeah of course” You said and he nodded, pulling his hand away from you, the warmth still lingering where he had placed it.

“Did you notice any weird behaviors before your friend passed? Like she was distant, cold…?” Plant asked and you made a face trying to remember anything. You recorded a night you two went out

“Five days or so before she died…” You started, turning your head down to stare at your fingers over your lap. “We went to a bar near my house and she kept glancing behind her, nervous, on edge, as if something would jump her at any moment. When I asked her what was wrong she looked at me, terrified, grabbed her things and bolted”

You sighed thinking you should've went with her now that she was gone.

“I tried calling, texting. Nothing. For those five days I didn't hear anything from her then…they called me announcing that she was gone” You started tearing up again and closed your eyes to hold them back.

“She didn't have anyone else, y'know, I should've been there for her, I–” You choked on an inevitable sob and covered your face with your hands. Then you felt the taller man's hand on your knee again, his thumb stroking your leg.

“We are truly sorry, it wasn't your fault” He said, a voice so comforting and calm you felt it in your heart.

You took your hands away from your face and sniffed, letting out a slight chuckle. You felt a bit embarrassed to be crying in front of them both.

“I'm sorry” You said and brushed your hair back with your hand “I think this was it. She was always a very quiet girl but sweet, caring, I couldn't think of anyone that would do this to her”

The men nodded and looked at each other, a silent conversation you weren't a part of. You looked down to see Page's hand still on your knee and you smiled to yourself. What a nice fed.

"Thanks for the information Ma'am" Page said. When they looked back at you, he patted your knee lightly and got up with his partner. You stood up as well to accompany them to the door, them both behind you.

You opened the door and looked at them both going out, your gaze lingering longer on the taller one, looking him up and down.

They turned to you with a tiny card in his hand and gave it to you, your finger brushing against his.

“If you remember anything, give us a call. Thank you for your time” He smiled warmly along with the green eyed Agent.

“Will do, thank you so much” You said, smiling back seeing them walk away to the Impala parked in front of your house.

You kept your gaze locked until they drove away, snapping you out of your daze getting back in your house and locked the door, smiling like an idiot at the image of the handsome guy you just met.

Inside the Impala, Dean kept glancing towards Sam, who had his face buried into the newpaper about the couple murders happening.

“Dude” Dean finally said, a grin on his face. Sam looked up at him and made a questioning face at his side profile.

“What?” He asked

Dean laughed lightly and looked at his brother.

“She was eating you with her eyes” Dean said and at that Sam's full attention was on him, lowering the paper with a confused face.

“Who? Y/N?” He asked and Dean nodded. Sam sighed and rolled his eyes at his brother. “Dean, c'mon” He said.

“I'm serious, the look she gave you when we left, staring you up and down like a feast” Dean laughed mischievously, looking for a couple seconds at Sam's shocked expression. “She's pretty, y'know, if you don't want it, I'll have it”

“Shut up Dean” He said but he couldn't help thinking about your looks towards him and the impulse he felt to comfort you with a hand on your leg when he realized you were upset.

Dean laughed and shook his head at the stubbornness of his brother, driving back to the cheap motel they were staying at.

Your day went by as usual, some couple more beers here, a whiskey there, some movie you had on the TV.

You ended up falling asleep on the couch for a couple hours until about 2AM when you heard a loud thud in your house and your entire body entered fight or flight mode.

You got up and kept your ears trained for any more sounds until you heard your stove, the gas being poured out in your house and the color drained from your face. What the hell?

You went into the kitchen and for sure the smell of the gas hit hard on your nose and you gagged.

Suddenly the door to the kitchen closed behind you and you jumped in shock. Your heart started ringing in your ears and your hands were trembling.

“Hello?! Is anybody there?!” You asked, your voice shaking as you went to the door. Locked. You started to panic, were you crazy? Was this a dream?

There was a noise behind you and you turned, seeing the knife cabinet open and you glued yourself to the door, trying to get the lock open when a kitchen knife started to float up and towards you.

You screamed and banged at the door.

“Help! Someone, please!” You screamed and the knife was plunged in the door, close to your head and your body fell back in the ground, tears rolling down your cheeks when everything stopped.

You slowly got up and tried to open the door. Success. You scrambled out of your kitchen and unlocked the front door, sprinting out of your house terrified.

You remembered the card the Agent gave you. You didn't know if it was okay to call him this late but you just almost died. You thought he could make an exception.

With trembling fingers, you dialed the number on your phone, putting it to your ear. Please pick up, please pick up.

“Hello? Agent Page speaking, who is this?” He said with a gruff voice, he was definitely sleeping and you felt a bit bad for waking him up.

“Agent?” You practically whispered, your voice shaky with fear.

“Y/N?” He recognized your voice and made a confused face, sitting up on the bed. “What's wrong?”

“I– I'm sorry, I know I shouldn't have called I–” You spoke fast, nervous. He took notice of that “Something happened” You said simply.

“We are on our way” He said and slipped on his shoes, already on outside clothes. He nudged Dean to wake him up. “Hang in there”

“Okay” You said in a whisper as he turned the call off, biting your thumbnail in order to stay calm in the circumstances.

Dean woke up to see Sam getting his bag ready in a frenze, a worried look in his younger brother's face.

“Y/N called, something happened, she seemed stressed, let's go” He said, throwing Dean his bag, the oldest groaning as he grabbed the keys for the Impala.

As they drove there, Sam couldn't help but get even more stressed the long it took for them to arrive. He wondered if you were okay, if you had gotten hurt, or worse. When they arrived, you were sitting on your porch, legs tucked close to your body as you shivered.

When you heard the noise of the car you got up. The two came out and you were a bit weirded out to see them in normal clothes but relieved nonetheless.

When they got closer you breathed out in relief, the taller of the two coming closer then Plant, grabbing your shoulders and eyeing you up and down, looking for any visible damage.

“Are you hurt? What happened?” He asked and you shook your head at the first question.

“I don't know…If I explain it I'll sound crazy” You said

“Oh, sweetheart, believe me, we know crazy” The green eyed Agent said and you looked at him, the nickname foreign but you brushed it off.

“I was sleeping in my couch when I woke up with a loud bang” You began. “I got up to see that my stove started leaking gas and…when I wnt to the kitchen, the door…It shut behind me, locked” You said, shakily and Page brushed his hand on your shoulder, the same way he had done to your knee earlier “I couldn't get out and a knife started to fucking float, it charged at me, caught the door and then it all just…stopped”

“I was able to leave my house and…call you” She said and looked into his eyes, the comforting gaze seeping into her. “I'm sorry, I know it's late”

“Don't bother, it's fine. Let's try and see how we can help you, okay?” He said

You looked at him, puzzled, tilting your head at him

“You believe me?” You asked and he let out an aired laugh in amusement.

“What if I tell you we aren't truly FBI agents” He said.

“Oh” You widened your eyes and looked between the both of them, shameful smiles on their faces. “Right”

“Get in, we will explain everything we can to you” He said and you nodded getting inside your house.

After a couple minutes you learned that they were actually brothers, the tall one was named Sam and the shorter was Dean. They told you all about what they did, the family business, how real the supernatural was and tried to explain that you experienced something ghost-like.

You were absolutely dumbfounded as they said all that. It was hard to believe that, how is all of it real if you hadn't seen anything your whole life similar to what they explained to you? Just now?

“Okay so…you both are like…the Ghostbusters?” But hotter. You noted, mentally.

“Basically, yeah” Dean said.

You sat there with your hands over your face. You didn't know if you wanted to laugh or cry at the situation.

The brothers walked around with the so called EMFs, machines you learned could sense the presence of ghosts.

You couldn't help but glance at Sam. His eyebrows were furrowed in concentration, his hair falling around his face and from time to time he bit his lower lip.

You were entranced at how annoyingly handsome he was until loud beeping from Dean's EMF startled you.

Sam whooped his head towards him and they shared silent looks. Sam turned to his bag and got a shotgun out and you widened your eyes at him. He took notice of that.

“They are loaded with rock salt, don't worry” He said and you made a confused face. He smiled at you and your heart skipped a beat. “Let's say…ghosts don't like salt. Salt and iron are their weaknesses” He said and you hummed in acknowledgement getting up and going to your fireplace to get an iron rod.

Sam stared at you as you walked back to him and you shrugged.

“It's iron, you said it could keep them at bay” You said and he nodded.

A loud noise startled all of you, in the kitchen, where Dean was the closest to and he cooked his gun, Sam doing the same and protecting you with his body.

“Stay behind me” He murmured to you and you nodded, iron rod in your hand prepared for any attack.

“Come on you son of a bitch!” Dean said and, as if on cue, the ghost of an old lady appeared in your kitchen and you gasped, recognizing her immediately.

“Mrs. Greene?” You whispered and apparently she heard you because in a moment she was there and in the other she was behind you.

“Y/N, watch out!” Sam yelled in front of you and you turned around, swinging your weapon and making her vanish for a couple of moments.

You were breathing heavily, your ears ringing until Sam snapped you out of your daze, turning you around by grabbing at your arm.

“Are you okay?” He asked, concern laced in his voice as he gave you a once over.

“Yeah, I think” You replied and Dean appeared as quick as possible making a circle of salt around you and Sam stepped out of it, letting your arm go.

“You need to stay there, she can't get you because of the salt” Dean said.

“You know her?” Sam asked and you looked at him, nodding.

“She was Beth's mother. Died in a car accident that…my father caused. Me and Beth bonded through their deaths but I guess her mom didn't really approve of that” You said, smiling sadly to yourself.

“Where is she buried?” Dean questioned.

“The cemetery near the only church in town. About 5 miles from here” You replied and Dean gave Sam a quick nod as he got his bag and gave his brother extra ammunition.

“I'll go do the dirty job, you, protect her, make sure that bitch doesn't kill her” Dean said as he went out the door, shutting it behind him.

You sat on the ground, in the middle of the salt circle, mindlessly playing with the iron rod in your hand. Sam looked down at you. You looked more than upset, understandably.

“Everything is going to be okay” He reassured you and you looked at him with a gentle smile. Until you weren't smiling anymore and instead was looking behind him.

“Sam, behind you!” You said, getting up again and he turned shooting the ghost and she reappeared behind you, outside of the circle.

You turned around, shaking and lifting your weapon at her. She looked down at the salt circle and the creepiest smile you've ever seen opens up in her face, sending shivers down your spine.

Suddenly the windows broke open and a strong gust of wind came in with full force. You covered your head to protect it from the glass until you looked down and the salt circle was broken around you.

Your heart dropped as she started approaching you and Sam shot her again from behind you.

To your dismay, she was behind him again, and before you could warn him about her she grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and threw him against a wall.

“Sam!” You screamed and she turned to you again, slowly walking towards your frame and you backed away, the iron rod propped in front of you protectively.

She knocked the rod out of your hand and you looked desperately at it on the ground.

Your back pressed against the wall and you closed your eyes, preparing for your death when she started screaming and you opened your eyes.

She was quite literally burning right in front of you, with her hands reaching for your throat until she was just gone, no burn marks on your ground, weirdly, and her desperation echoed through the house.

You let out a breath you didn't know you were holding, your heart beating in your ears. You heard a groan and remembered Sam was basically knocked out on the other side of the room.

You rushed to him and kneeled down besides him with a hand on his cheek and the other in one of his knee.

“Sam, are you okay?” You asked as he slowly opened his eyes. When he seemed to retrieve consciousness again he breathed in deeply and scrambled to get up but you held him down by putting a hand on his chest.

“Hey, hey, it's okay, she's…gone, I guess” You said and he focused his eyes on yours when you smiled. You felt your face heat up at the look he was giving you until Dean barged in through the front door, whistling at the mess.

He looked towards both of you on the ground and made a face, holding back a smirk.

“Burned her up…Am I interrupting something?” Dean asked playfully and you felt a tad of embarrassment, helping Sam get up with a grunt.

They started to gather their stuff and you wondered how the hell you were going to clean up your whole house. Glass and salt everywhere, a hole on the wall where Sam was thrown at.

When they were all done you got each a beer. They tried to deny it but you insisted, claiming it was a thank you treat for saving your life.

You finished all your drinks, throwing the bottles away and you walked them to the door, the Impala parked in front of your house. They got out and stood outside as you smiled at them.

“Thank you, again, really, you both saved my life” You said.

“It's nothing, really, we do this everyday” Dean said with a dismissive wave. “I'm going to load the car” Dean said, giving Sam a pat on the back and a look you didn't understand but apparently Sam did, since he gave a deep breath and a practically death glare at his brother, his chest going up and down.

“So…” He started, scratching the back of his head awkwardly.

“So?” You nudged, smiling up at him and biting your lower lip. His eyes stared at your mouth and you felt small under his gaze.

“You were amazing back there, you know?” He said, crossing his arms in front of him and smiling. “You knew what to do, few people can do what you did”

He complimented and you looked down, smiling like an idiot. He’s so sweet.

“Oh I just…went by logic I guess, nothing much. You said iron and I reached for iron” You said, fidgeting with your fingers as you looked up again.

“Yeah…” He said, looking from your eyes to your mouth and back up again. You decided to be a bit brave and got into your tiptoes to give him a kiss on the cheek, holding on his shoulder for support.

When you pulled back he didn't pull away and one of his hands cupped your cheek, looking between your eyes when he leaned into you, his lips against yours in a light kiss.

You responded almost immediately, your hand going to the back of his neck to deepen the kiss and he placed his hands on your waist. You reluctantly pulled away with a hum, dazed by the kiss with your eyes still closed.

When you opened them his eyes were on your face and you felt warm again. He pulled you back in your house and you giggled in surprise when he closed the door, his hand still holding you.

“What about your brother?” You said as he turned his attention back to you, a smirk on his face when he squeezed your waist. He leaned in closer and you held your breath.

“He can wait” He whispered against your lips before kissing you again, this time more intensely then before and you hummed, burying your hand on his hair while the other stroked his chest.

You started taking his jacket off when you stopped and pulled away.

“Is this okay? I mean I'm totally fin–” He cut you off with another mind blowing kiss and you gasped.

He shrugged off his jacket, dropping it to the ground and clasping your face in both his hands.

“Does this answer your question?” He smiled teasingly and you chuckled, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him down to kiss his lips again and his hands grabbed your hips in response.

He brushed his tongue against your lower lip and you opened your mouth to let him explore it, moaning lowly against his mouth.

He lowered his hands to the back of your thighs, not breaking the kiss, and lifted you up, wrapping your legs around his waist and you yelped in his mouth.

You noted he was big, you just didn't know he was this strong, lifting you in his arms as if you weighed nothing.

He walked to the kitchen and placed you on the counter, his hands going under your shirt and experimenting with his touches on your bare skin.

You whimpered, shivers running through your whole body as his big hands roamed through your burning skin.

You pulled away, your forehead touching his, a whispered “Fuck” coming out of your lips. Your hands went to the hem of your shirt and slowly pulled it over your head, leaving your torso bare besides your bra.

Sam drank you in, his adam apple bobbing when he swallowed and you felt embarrassed under his strong gaze, your hands slowly coming to wrap themselves around your stomach.

He held your wrists gently, pulling them away from you and his hands went up and down your arms.

“Don't hide from me, you're beautiful” He whispered and started to leave kisses down your neck, nibbling and biting where he noticed you liked the best with the noises leaving your mouth.

Your hand wrapped in his hair to pull him back to your lips, his kisses addicting like a drug.

He pulled away again to pull his shirt over his head, revealing his defined torso and your jaw physically dropped at the sight. He had some scars, some pale, old, others a pink tone, more recent but it just made him look even better, showing how much he had lived through. He chuckled at your reaction and settled his hands on your hips again, gently squeezing.

“See something you like?” He teased and you closed your mouth, your hands reaching slowly to touch his bare chest. He gasped at your feather-like touch on his tanned skin and you looked at him again, his eyes dark with desire.

“You're…stunning, like– I knew you were…muscular…from the get go but you're…” You trailed off and he chuckled, a bit embarrassed and leaned down to crash his lips against yours again.

His hands went to your back and unclasped your bra, helping you take it off and toss it on the ground along with the rest of your clothes.

His hands came to the front and grabbed at both your breasts, squeezing them and making you moan into his mouth. His fingers teased at your hardened nipples and you arched into his touch.

His mouth started trailing down towards your neck, your collarbone, until he got to the valley of your breasts and looked up at you. Your mouth was open, eyes hazed and deep breaths were making your chest go up and down. What a sight.

He closed his mouth into one of your nipples and you whined, the warmth of his tongue circling around it making you grasp at his locks with a certain strength that made him groan around your skin. His fingers teased the other breast until he switched sides, feasting on your breasts.

“Sam…” You gasped his name and he hummed in acknowledgement of your plea, pulling away from your breast with a smile. “Please”

He gave your lips a peck and went down your body again, leaving open mouthed kisses down your stomach until he got to the waistband of your jeans and looked at you again, asking for permission and you nodded at him.

His fingers popped open the button of your pants and opened the zipper. You lifted your hips to help him pull the clothing off and he dragged it down your legs slowly, drinking you in.

You felt a shiver run down your spine at his hungry gaze on your frame when his eyes noticed your soaked underwear.

He discarded your pants and ran his hands up your legs, his look never leaving your covered pussy. His hands stopped at your thighs as squeezed the flesh and you closed your legs instinctively.

He looked up at you and pried your legs open with his hands.

“What did I say about hiding from me?” He said, his tone deep and dominant making you swallow a whine as you spread your legs wider and he settled between them with a smirk.

He kissed your covered sex and you let out a low moan, his mouth traveled to your inner thighs, biting and kissing at the flesh, driving you insane.

“Please…” You begged, grabbing at his hair and he hummed.

“So desperate” He said against your skin, grasping your panties and pulling them down. You gasped at the cold air hitting your dripping core and he groaned at the sight.

He cupped your whole cunt with his hand, making your hips buck up into his touch and a low moan left your throat.

“Beautiful” He whispered and gave your thigh one last kiss. “Tell me if it's too much, okay?” He said and your heart melted.

“Okay” You breathed out and he smiled up at you. He took his hand away and you almost frowned when his lips wrapped around your clit and you moaned, bucking your hips against his mouth.

He smirked against you and put one hand over your hips to hold you still as he did wonders against your cunt. His tongue eating you out as if you were his last meal, ripping loud moans from your throat.

“Oh, fuck” You moaned, pulling at his hair “Sam– God” He hummed and groaned against your pussy sending jolts of pleasure through you.

He teased your hole with his finger, slowly entering you and stretching you out, hooking up and rubbing right at that spot and you moaned loudly.

“Jesus, fuck, right there– Shit” A string of curses left your mouth and he grinned proudly, adding another finger to your torture, making you cry out, his name slipping out of your lips.

You felt the knot inside of you tighten, your pussy clenching around his fingers and Sam knew you were about to cum.

“Cum for me, doll” He said and quickened his movements against you and your moans got louder.

“Fuck!” You groaned loudly as you finally came against his lips, your orgasm hitting you like a truck, your eyes closing in bliss, your fingers tightening in Sam's hair.

He helped you ride your orgams until the stimulation got almost painful and you started to try and close your legs.

“T'much, Sam–” You moaned and he pulled away, your juices shining against his face as he got up from his knees and grasped your waist tightly, smashing his lips against you, the foreign taste of yourself lingering on his tongue as he attacked your mouth.

“Taste as sweet as you look” He praises and you smirked.

You glance down at his still covered legs and crotch, the tent in his pants looked almost painful and you bit your lip. He noticed that and took you in his arms again, wrapping your legs around his hips, making your sensitive core grind against his jeans and you whined.

“As much as I'd like to bend you over that table and fuck you senseless” He said, getting closer to your ear and whispering: “I want to fuck you on a bed to see your cockdrunk face when I make you cum”

You shivered, not expecting these words coming out of his mouth and you attacked his neck with kisses and bites.

“My bedroom is down the hall, on the right” You mumbled against his skin, breathless, and he carried you to the room, his hands squeezing and digging in your ass as you continued marking his skin.

He gently placed you on the bed, kissing your lips hungrily and you led one of your hands down to his crotch, palming him through his jeans and he pulled away from your lips to groan, his forehead against yours.

“Fuck me, Sam” You breathed out and he kissed you one last time before standing up and unbuckling his belt and opening his zipper, dropping his pants to the ground and taking off his shoes.

You were staring, eating him with your eyes as he took off his boxers teasingly slow, stepping out of them and looking at your face for a reaction.

Your mouth watered and your pussy clenched around nothing. He was big. You expected him to be large, he was tall after all but you still were very shocked and wondered if you'd be able to take it all.

Sam seemed to notice your worries and grasped your chin to give your lips a comforting kiss. He wasn't cocky but he was aware of his size and knew it could be intimidating.

“We'll go slow, baby, if you want to stop, just say” He assured you and you felt all fuzzy and warm on the inside. It was hard to find men that actually cared and it seemed like you hit the jackpot with Sam. You nodded and he crawled over you, smashing your lips against his again.

He rubbed his cock up and down a couple times and lined it up with your entrance making you whine in anticipation. He slowly pushed into you and you pulled away to let your mouth hang open in a soundless moan.

Sam made sure to distract you from the pain, rubbing your thighs up and down and kissing your neck and collarbones. It took everything inside him to not pound into you. You tightened around him deliciously and he pressed his forehead against your shoulder.

“You feel so fucking good Y/N, God” He whisper-moaned against your ear and you hummed, your nails digging into his shoulders, definetly leaving marks to remind him for a couple days of this encounter.

“I feel so full, it feels so good” You moaned breathy as he was almost all the way inside you, his kisses soothing your hot skin, his fingernails marking your hips as he held back to let you adjust to his size once he was all the way inside.

You felt him in your throat and it took you a couple of moments to let the pain turn into pleasure and Sam was willing to wait as long as you needed.

When you finally stopped feeling the pain of the stretch you wiggled your hips against his cock and grabbed his cheek to give him a messy kiss.

“You can move, please” You said and he pulled back and forth, both of you moaning at the feeling, his dick hitting deeper than you thought was possible.

“Y/N” Sam moans against your shoulder, his strokes inside you making his whole body tremble with the tightness. His hand roams down your body until it reaches your lower stomach. He presses his hand down against your skin and you moan loudly. He grins, his breathing heavy as his hair makes a curtain around his face.

“Oh– fucking God!” You practically scream, your eyes rolling back as your nails scratch at his shoulder. He felt impossibly deeper and he quickened his thrusts, your whole body going limp and your mouth letting out incoherent babbles and moans of his name.

He was panting as he held himself up in his elbows to look at your fucked out face, kissing your cheeks and your lower lip.

“You look so pretty like this” He said against your skin as he kept his thrusts steady and deep. "I told you I wanted to look at your pretty face...when you came undone under me."

You felt your skin tingle, your body trembling and that familiar feeling on the pit of your stomach like a fire lighting up.

"The looks you were giving me..." He groaned against your skin, his hips sttutering as his orgasm came closer "I wanted to make those beautiful eyes roll back the moment I saw you" He admitted, giving your neck a harsh bite, definetly leaving a mark.

“Sam!” You moaned out, your hand tangling itself into his hair. “I'm cumming” You warned and he quickened his pace and your head shot back, exposing your throat to him.

“Cum for me beautiful” He said, leaving a hickey just below your jaw.

You unraveled below him with a loud moan of his name, your heels digging into his ass. A few more thrusts and Sam pulled out, stroking his cock one, two, three times until he came over your stomach, groaning and panting your name.

You looked at his face, sweat sticking some hairs on his face, his eyes closed, mouth agape and his hair a mess thanks to your hands.

You smiled in a daze and traced your fingers over his face and he opened his eyes, catching you already looking back at him. He leaned down and kissed you passionately for a couple seconds until he pulled away and stood up to go to your bathroom.

He came back with a wet towel to clean you up, gentle in your sensitive sex then he left the towel on the bathroom sink and layed down on the bed beside you again, pulling you into his chest and kissing the crown of your head.

You hummed as he wrapped his arms around you, massaging your sore muscles.

“That was…” You said, not finishing. No words were able to describe what you felt.

“Yeah, it was” He confirmed, smiling.

You snuggled into his chest, your hand tracing mindless patterns against his skin. Then you started to chuckle and he looked down at you.

“What?” He said with a hint of a laugh behind his tone.

“Your brother must be pissed” You said between laughs and he started to laugh too, feeling his chest vibrating against your cheek as his hand stroked your upper arm.

“I don't care, this, you, was worth it” He said and you looked up at him with a shy smile, not knowing what else to say.

After a while of silence between the two of you you started to think a bit.

“You're leaving town soon, right?” You asked and he hummed an affirmation. You hid your frown from him. “You're welcome back anytime, you know that, right?"

You said but didn't look at his face when you felt him looking down at you and he squeezed your arm as if to say I know.

You started to fall asleep against his steady breathing, your eyes heavy.

As you were almost sleeping you felt him leave a kiss on your forehead.

“I will” He whispered and you smiled to yourself, letting yourself fall asleep in his embrace.

☆

A/N: Notes and reblogs encourage me to keep writing. Feedback makes those writings better. Thank you for reading. Xoxo

#sam winchester smut #sam winchester #supernatural #supernatural fanfic #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural fic #supernatural imagine #supernatural smut #supernatural x reader #sam winchester x female reader #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester x you #sam x reader #sam x you #dean winchester #sam winchester fluff #smut

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wynnyfryd · 8 months

Text

Trailer Park Steve AU part 3

part 1 | part 2

(tw: guns, accidental death)

Robin’s already in full panic mode by the time Steve pulls up to her place, flinging the passenger door open and throwing herself into the car with so much force that the car bounces on its wheels a little. “Drive!!”

“Jesus Christ, good morning to you, too.”

“Steve!”

Steve starts to drive.

Beside him, Robin flips the visor down to look at her reflection; groans and scrubs her hands down her face in misery at whatever she sees. Steve doesn’t really get it. He thinks she looks beautiful, with her hair gently moving in the breeze from the open window, with her freckles lit up by the early morning sun.

“Ugh,” she says, turning to look at him, “I can’t believe I look like a zombie and you’re gonna make me late to the first day of school.”

“Wow.” Fuckin’ ingrate. And when he was just being so nice to her in his head. “How about a thank you, huh? ‘Thanks for picking me up, Steve. Thanks for bringing my backpack, Steve. Sorry you almost got shanked by your neighbor, Steve.’”

“You what???”

“Doesn’t matter.”

“Um, yes it very much does matter, what the—”

“—I’m just saying, a little gratitude? Wouldn’t hurt you.”

He licks at the corner of his mouth, spritzes wiper fluid to clear the bugs off the windshield. Robin’s eyes are bulging out of her head, but he really doesn’t want to talk about how he still feels the ghost press of steel against his throat, so: “You’re not even right, by the way; I don’t know why you’re complaining.”

“Huh?”

“School started yesterday. I’m making you late for the second day of school.”

“Yesss,” she draws the word out like he’s stupid, rolling her wrist in a hurry up and get it motion, “but everyone knows that syllabus day doesn’t count. The first pep rally is the real first day of school.”

Ah, there it is.

Steve steals another peek at his best friend while they’re on a straightaway, notes the nervous twitch of her hands as she goes back to fussing at her reflection; the way she’s clumping her lashes together with seven coats too many of some drugstore brand mascara. She’s wearing lipstick. “This is about Vick—”

“—Don’t talk about—”

“—It’s about Vickie, isn’t it?”

“Ughhhhh.” Robin folds forward and thunks her head against the dash. “Fine, okay? Fine! Yes! This may have something to do with a distressingly cute fellow marching band member. Are you happy now?”

“Ecstatic.”

“Oooh, big word for you, Steven.” She swats him on the shoulder, face all twisted up in offense. “Stop laughing!”

“Stop hitting me,” he laughs. “I’ll dump your ass out on this highway.”

She gasps and narrows her eyes at him. “You wouldn’t.”

Steve eases his foot onto the brake.

“Okay, okay! Mercy! I’m being an asshole, alright? I’m sorry. I’m just— I’m stressed! Being gay is very stressful.”

The knife incident pops back into his mind. “Yeah,” he mutters, “I imagine it is.”

—

He catches himself slouching down into his seat a bit when they pull up to the school. Has to force himself to sit upright, hears his mother’s tutting in his ear about bad posture and the message it projects to the world.

It’s not that he’s embarrassed to be here; really, he isn’t. He’s just hoping to avoid being spotted by the nuggets now that they go here, too, lest he be accosted for evading his chauffeur duties.

God.

Dustin’s nerd shit is infecting his brain.

Robin grabs her bag out of the back seat, plants a parting peck on Steve’s cheek as she gets out of the car. “See you later?”

“Yeah, I’ll pick you up for work.”

“Love you, dingus.”

And then he’s alone again.

With Robin gone, Steve finds himself driving. Wandering and aimless, like a ghost who doesn’t know he’s gone. It’s not like he has nothing to do — he’s supposed to be out finding a second job, finding a way to support himself and his mom, because he’s the man of the house now. Because his life has turned into one of those shitty, overcomplicated word problems from math class.

If a recently widowed mother works no hours and her minimum-wage son works as many as Family Video will allow, how much mold-riddled dogshit housing can they afford?

Not much.

Inevitably, he finds himself circling the scorched bones of Starcourt, driving tired loops around the barbed wire perimeter. His ghost likes to guide him here; can’t shake the place where he shook off the mortal coil.

He didn’t know it at the time, but Steve Harrington died the day the mall burned down. Embarrassing, to not hear the death knell as his family name went up in smoke.

It was hard to hear much at all that night, between the concussion and the fireworks and the shrieking of a monster being torn apart, but the memory caresses his mind now in cruel whispers: the headrush of victory; the blood and the sweat; the relief that they’d won, they’d done it, it’s over, they won.

Steve tugs at his bad ear ‘til the ringing subsides.

Some fucking grand prize.

The thing is, you can’t go around exploding an eldritch horror without alerting the US government, and the US government can’t go around letting major investors in a hostile commie invasion keep their assets once they find out about their treasonous schemes. It happened fast: the arrest, the bail, the impending trial and the seizure of property. Richard Harrington was once a small town god on an invisible throne, making deals with devils in shadowy boardrooms, and suddenly he was looking at life in a cell.

Maybe it was a blessing he died before his reckoning was due. Maybe it was no accident at all.

The second, and perhaps more important, thing is: stray bullets don’t care about your looming court date.

Dad had a habit of cleaning his guns while he was drunk, nursing a whiskey in one hand while he polished the gleaming barrels with the other. Pointless, really, because the guns were always pristine to begin with. Dick Harrington didn’t hunt. Didn’t shoot. Claimed the pistol was for home defense, that he kept it loaded in case anyone ever tried to hurt his family, but Steve knew the truth.

His dad just liked to flirt with death. Liked to handle pretty, deadly things, stroke his fingers over ruthless metal and feel the rush of power when he walked away unscathed.

He didn’t walk away that night.

Didn’t even face death standing.

Sliced through his femoral artery and rolled right out of his chair.

They found him lying on the ground in a dark, sticky puddle, gasping like a fish as blood spurted from his thigh. Crazy how fast it happened. Steve had been in his room when the shot rang out, and he barely managed to reach the bottom of the stairs before the gurgling noises stopped. Just boom! whizz! bang! and Dick Harrington was gone.

Maybe it’s a good thing, too, that they lost the house.

The image of his mother in the hallway that night — shellshocked in the doorway, one pale hand shaking in front of her open mouth, features wide and wet with waking horror as she stared into the room — was enough to make him never want to step foot in the place again.

So now they live in a rundown piece of shit on the wrong side of town, with hideous burnt orange carpet and wood paneled walls, with cracks in the ceiling and cigarette burns in the walls, some parting gifts from whatever feral hick lived there before them, and it feels like another cruel, cosmic joke. Like the universe is delighting in the Harringtons’ comeuppance; like the blackened beams and brick rubble of Starcourt are all twisting to form one great, mocking mouth; the better to smile and laugh at their misfortune.

You bought your bed, now you have to lie in it.

He didn’t even know that the Harringtons owned Forest Hills until it was the only asset left to their name.

He’s pretty sure his dad bought it more as a joke than a genuine investment. Meant to teach Steve a lesson, like how he used to bring home Waffle House applications whenever Steve got a C on a report card. This is your future if you don’t straighten up, son.

Kill yourself, dad.

Oh, wait.

You already did.

—

part 4

#trailer park steve au #steve harrington #robin buckley #platonic stobin #eddie munson #steddie #steddie fic #my writing #my fic #tw: guns #tw: death

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ineylesian · 9 months

Text

THRASH

SIMON “GHOST” RILEY X READER

AO3 | KINKTOBER 2023 MASTERLIST

DEBRIEF | ghost has been avoiding you since your last deployment. you think he’s hiding something.

WARNINGS | smut, handjobs, slight degrading, semi public sex, dom! reader kinda?, smug ghost

WORD COUNT | 1k

THIS WORK IS MEANT TO BE READ IN AN ADULT READER’S POINT OF VIEW. READER DISCRETION IS ADVISED.

Finally.

“Where are you going, Riley?”

Your hand encloses around the base of his arm, twisting cruelly as the other spins him your way. Black polyester shifts at your fingertips, and you feel his muscles twitch under the jacket.

Ghost looks down at you, eyes faintly parted in shock. You nearly recoil at the sight. His features are ridden with fatigue— eyeblack smudged carelessly around his lashes, hollowing out sunken eye bags that make it look like he hasn’t slept for days.

You open your mouth to question him, until your knee knocks against the fly of his jeans. Glancing down, you find yourself pressed against the outline of his cock, strained against denim and nearly searing through it.

“Huh.” You smirk, lips painted coy. “Having a rough week, honey?”

Ghost sinks down partially on the wall you have him pinned against. His hood is far gone by the winds, and you’re surprised the cigarette he dropped hasn’t blown away yet. Smile sticking to your face, one of your feet stomps on it, languidly dragging the remains against concrete.

“Thought you wouldn’t notice I wasn’t around.” His voice is low, gravely and thick with impatience because he knows he’s caught. “Guess I’m not the only bad one here.”

There’s a low ambiance from inside, softly buzzing the wall he’s pushed up against. His gaze drifts to the side, fighting the urge to push you off of him and take to the woods.

The night is young, the sun gone some hours ago when you and the rest of the Task Force arrived. Instead of drowning yourself in liquor from your recent success in Berlin, you took to shadows and scathed trees in search of your Lieutenant. He’s aware that you’ve been worried sick about him since you touched down in Germany, and he’s also aware that you no longer care due to the erection pressing against your leg.

Ghost looks back at you, shallow blues swallowed by a forlorn sky.

“Well, you got me right where you want me.”

It’s been a few days, nearly a week since you’ve seen even a shadow of Ghost around. He’s been avoiding you because of something like this? Trying to flip if on you when he’s cornered? Ridiculous.

“Always trying to soften the blow on yourself.” You scoff, fingers looping around the frame of his belt buckle. “You’re pathetic.”

Your hand pulls on the last of the zipper, pushing his belt loop to the side, and tugging his boxers down. Ghost groans, low and savory, his cock nestled against a faded scar on his abdomen. Your hand moves from the band of his underwear, fingers daintily running along the base of his dick.

Mild hums join in with the music from inside, and you hear boots kicking up dust from the exit around the corner. Ghost reaches for your hand, but you’re quick, moving the other to delve under his mask. His lips quiver under the cold press of your hand, and you smile, pressing him further toward the wall.

“Don’t want other people hearing us, yeah?”

He nods, half heartedly, blonde eyelashes shifting under amber lamplight. You hum, smoothing your pointer finger along the tip of his dick. Pre drips against your skin, warm and sticky. Low vibrations hit the hand that covers his mouth as you lather his length in his own mess.

It’s loud, the squelch that joins squawking crows and chilling drafts. Ghost’s breath is warm against your skin, choppy and dripping with saliva as you work his dick. His face drips with sweat, skin warm to the touch despite the winds that roll over it.

“Needed me this bad, huh?” You simper, teasingly squeezing his balls, hung low and heavy. “I wonder what the others would think, not being able to keep your dick in your pants. What’s gotten into you, Riley?”

Riley. He shudders, hips involuntarily bucking toward your hand. You grin, tongue lining your teeth in satisfaction. He was right, you have him exactly where you want him.

“Well,” you release your hand from his mouth, increasing the pace of your strokes as you do so. “Got anything to say?”

Ghost gasps at the release, pooling fogged breaths to the night air, other hand wiping the spit from his chin.

“A little disciplinary action couldn’t hurt.” He sighs, eyes smug and gratified. “Think I’ve learned my lesson, but you can finish your punishment if you’d like.”

You roll your eyes, watching with exasperation as his lips quirk up. He always does find a way to turn things in his favor.

“Dick.”

He hums, quiet and bobbing softly against his adam’s apple. You feel his dick throb in your hold, hot and slick against your palm. Ghost cocks one of his fingers up, motioning for you to let off. Your hand leaves his chest and his neck cranes forward, arm snaking around your waist to hold you against him.

His lips taste as they always do, remnants of war and gunpowder mixing with ashes from his last cigarette. His canines prod at the flesh of your mouth, loosening only when he feels his release nearing.

Through parted lips he moans, low and satiated. You savor every noise, feeling the last waves of ecstasy wash off as warm liquid leaks over your fingers. You part, sloppily wiping his mess of the black of your pants as he tidies himself.

“Cheers, lovie.” He tilts your chin up, the ghost of a smirk disappearing with the rise of his mask. “Won’t go off your radar like that again, yeah?”

#arqhms #🎃 arqhmskinktober23 #🎃 arqhmsfall23 #arqhmsthirst #call of duty modern warfare #simon ghost riley #ghost mw2 #cod mw22 #simon ghost riley x reader #call of duty #simon riley #ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #simon riley smut #ghost smut #simon ghost riley smut #cod smut #kinktober

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supernovafics · 5 months

Text

making a mixtape for boyfriend!eddie

wc: 730

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

“i don’t know if i should trust this since you titled it “awesome mix volume one.””

“shh, don’t make fun, or you’ll never get a volume two.”

eddie nodded and smiled at you before overdramatically making a show of “zipping his lips shut,” which only made you laugh and roll your eyes.

over the past few months of you two dating, you fell into an almost weekly pattern where eddie would play new albums for you and always make you mixtapes as ways to introduce you to his favorite bands and artists; which made sense because he loved music. and maybe you didn’t like every single song he showed you, but you loved the happy smile he’d get on his face as he played you something that you hadn’t heard of and talked about a specific instrumental part or lyric of the song.

you were a little different, you had other things that you’d drone on and on about— things that if it was anyone else eddie wouldn’t have necessarily found interesting, but just hearing you talk about it made it interesting to him. he could listen to you talk about your favorite book or some old movie you watched for forever.

these little differences between you two were probably one of your favorite parts about your dynamic.

things slightly changed last week— eddie wanted you to make him a mixtape. it was a request that slightly surprised you, but you of course did it anyway.

“okay, so there’s not, like, one genre or whatever on this, it’s kinda a little bit of everything. just some songs i’ve liked for a while and more recently, and some remind me of you and us. i think i did, like, twelve songs. i can’t fully remember now–”

eddie stopped you mid-ramble with a kiss on the cheek. “just play it, sweetheart.”

you grabbed the tape from him and got up from his bed, placing it in the tape deck of his stereo and pressing play before settling back and sitting across from him.

seconds later, the opening beats of sos by abba started playing and eddie smiled amusingly at you. “abba?”

“no questions or judgements until the end,” you told him seriously; well, as serious as you could with your boyfriend smiling at you. “just enjoy the music, munson.”

he nodded, a smile still on his face, as one of his hands started absentmindedly stroking your knee. you were wearing his hellfire t-shirt and a dark pair of his boxers; you always liked being in his clothes when you were spending the night at his place, and seeing you wear anything of his always made him fold. he would’ve been on you in an instant, kissing your lips and then finding that certain spot on your neck that always made you giggle, like he did most nights, if you two weren’t already doing this.

when the song went from abba to sweet dreams by eurythmics, eddie wanted to say something teasing but he didn’t because he knew that he would only receive a playful scolding or eye roll from you in response.

he ended up liking the queen and tears for fears songs you put on the tape, but what he enjoyed the most was admiring you, watching as you bopped your head along to the beat or mumbled some of the lyrics. in all honesty, he barely paid attention to most of the songs playing, it was too hard. you looked too adorable and that was all he really wanted to focus on.

he wanted to commit this entire moment to memory.

the last song that played was another one by abba, gimme! gimme! gimme!, which felt like a full circle kind of moment, and you didn’t make any move to grab the tape once it stopped.

“so, should i start working on volume two?” you asked playfully as you scooched closer to your boyfriend, letting your knees bump his and reaching out to grab one of his hands.

he only leaned in and kissed you in response. it was slow and sweet and he practically pulled you into his lap in the process.

you smiled at him when you pulled back a bit to catch your breath. his hand was still cupping your cheek and your lips ghosted over his as you spoke. “i’ll just take that as a yes.”

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson drabble #eddie munson smut #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson headcanons #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x fem!reader smut #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson #stranger things smut #stranger things fluff #stranger things imagine

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angellayercake · 1 year

Text

face down in décolletage - chapter 1

Papa Emeritus IV x Fem Reader | NSFW | AO3

Disclaimer: Copia talking about being face down in tits has all the feminism leaving my body. I am sorry but he can leer at my boobs any day and I would thank him. So TW for Copia being a fucking perv and kind of degrading but if you are into that we are golden!

For @ghostchems for being feral with me 💜💜 love you!

With a dramatic puff you try to blow the hair sticking to your face away. It was so damn hot today you would rather be anywhere but at work but here you are. Another day, another show. You glance down at your clipboard, Ghost. You think you have heard of them, some kind of religious band from a church. When you had first started working at the venue you used to enjoy excitedly researching all the bands that passed through but now you just looked forward to getting through the night. As you scan down your clipboard you notice your top has ridden down again. You glance around quickly and yank it back up hoping that none of the guys noticed the blue frills of your bra peeking out the top.

Maybe if you had got up earlier you would have had time to pick a different outfit or even check the weather forecast but as you had rolled out of bed and straight into the only clean clothes you had left you were stuck wearing your most revealing vest top with your most ridiculous push up bra. You had to live with the consequences of your lack of organisation combined with the stifling heat wave that had you sweating in even the little you were wearing. You just had to deal with it.

The sounds of the buses pulling in draws your attention from your wardrobe woes and back to the job at hand, which for you is making sure the band stay happy for the duration of their stay at the venue. Their rider had been prepared and set up for them and you would be on hand to help them with anything else they needed. You hoped these guys weren’t dicks, there had been a run of assholes recently that had the stupidest demands but that was the job. You watch them pile out onto the forecourt all dressed in black and wearing helmets? Masks? You can’t quite see but they all huddle together just off to the side not approaching the manager who had stepped up to greet them.

A commotion from the bus draws everyone's eyes from the group of strangely dressed musicians and you see the frontman of this band for the first time. He was wearing a burgundy tracksuit, a fake designer shirt and leather brogues. And he had just dropped an armful of juice boxes as he tripped out the bus. He knelt down scrambling to pick them all up, fumbling with the broken packaging until one of the masked people must have taken pity on him, letting him pile them up in their arms. He looks up only now taking notice of all the eyes trained on him. As he straightens up he offers an awkward wave and a forced smile until the venue manager steps forward and introduces themselves.

After a brief conversation you notice them making their way down the line of staff, which although not unheard of was unusual. The band manager would usually meet with venue staff not the talent but he must have insisted on being introduced to everyone. He shakes people's hands and gestures to the musicians behind him. You glance down at your clipboard as you wait your turn. Papa Emeritus IV and the eight Nameless Ghouls. He was the frontman and leader of the band and the Nameless Ghouls were instrumentalists. Your attention snaps back up when they reach the person beside you and you get your first proper look at him.

He’s not much taller than you and it’s hard to see much of his body under the baggy tracksuit but his face. He was oddly handsome, perfectly proportioned with strong features and carefully slicked back salt and pepper hair. The face paint he wore only accentuated his unusual mismatched eyes. But as he approaches you notice his gaze doesn’t land anywhere near your face. No he is looking directly at your boobs, with his mouth hanging open no less. You know they are very visible today but this middle aged man is gawping at you like a teenager seeing a porn mag for the first time. You clear your throat offering him your hand and he looks up at your face at last. Realising he had been caught a fetching blush grows across his cheeks that you find slightly adorable in spite of his leering. He takes your hand but as you attempt to shake it he tries to bring it up to his face. The back of your hand ends up squashed against his nose and you can feel his lip paint smudging on you. He drops your hand so quickly the momentum swings it away from you and his face is almost as red as his tracksuit when he moves on. What an odd man.

You don’t see him much for the rest of the day, you are kept so busy keeping the ‘Nameless Ghouls’ in line. They are a fun bunch, quite mischievous but polite in spite of it all. The few times you do see him you can feel his eyes all over you and you find your annoyance building. What was with this guy? You had since discovered that he was the leader of not only this very satanic rock band but also the associated religious organisation, he was well into his fifties and while he was attractive you had to admit he was really quite odd. You shrug it off though. There was only an hour left until the show and although your manager would help you if you complained, something, you weren’t sure what, was stopping you.

By the time the supporting act had finished it was all hands on deck to get the transition completed smoothly. Your arms are full of the discarded outfits of the supporting band so you can get them to the laundry when you pass by his dressing room but you are so consumed with your thoughts you fail to notice when the door opens and he steps out in front of you. You collide into him with a bump dropping everything that was piled in your arms at his feet.

‘Papa Emeritus! I’m so sorry.’ It is not lost on you that you are now taking your turn to fumble around on the floor in front of him or that where he is standing above you gives him a perfect view down your top. Your arms full once again you kneel slowly, noticing all the differences about him as you go. The scuffed brogues are gone, replaced with perfectly shined expensive looking boots. His slim calves were covered in tight denim which clung all the way up his legs. His thighs were covered in ripped fabric that did nothing to hide the shape of them. It’s lucky your hands are full because just as he seemed unable to not look at your tits you might not be able to resist running your hands up his thighs and... Your mouth goes dry when you notice the lace up fly on his trousers but you stop that thought short.

His jacket, while interesting, as distressed as his trousers with dramatic gold detailing and epaulettes, it's his face that captures your attention. He reaches down helping you back to your feet and as you stand you just stare taking in all the details of his stark black and white face paint. He is transformed, not just in how he looks although his painted face and sharp clothes differ so much from earlier. No, his whole demeanour has shifted. His nervous smile is replaced by an easy confident smirk when you meet his eyes, clearly having noticed your appraisal of him.

‘You better be coming to watch the show cara mia.’ he says as he begins to walk away from you. Occasionally you do find time to catch the performances more often you are busy all evening but the way he says it feels like an order more than a request

‘I will try after I have finished my …’ he spins back round fixing you with a demanding look.

‘No you will. I am not asking.’ He steps towards you, close to boxing you in against the closed door of his dressing room. ‘Your job is to make me happy, no? And what will make me happy is you watching the show from the side where I tell you.’ His proximity and commanding tone broker no argument so you just nod in agreement but he doesn’t give you room, just raises his eyebrows as if to communicate he is still waiting.

‘Yes Papa.’ you breath hoping that was the answer he was waiting for.

‘Bene, I will look for you cara, do not disappoint me.’ Only then does he stalk off with only a few minutes to spare.

With the threat of his disappointment hanging over you you rush through the last of your tasks before making your way to the stage. He is waiting to the side as the last checks are completed. You don’t approach him as he seems to be deep in his preparations but he spots you as he paces, nodding and pointing to an out of the way area where you still have a good view. You can hear the crowd cheering in anticipation and in only a few minutes the lights go down and the music starts to swell. He has kept up his pacing back and forth, occasionally jogging on the spot as he waits for his cue. Your attention is drawn to the stage as the pyrotechnics soar and the guitars kick in and then running up to the centre of the stage in the midst of it all is him.

The show could only be described as mesmerising. Both Papa and the Ghouls had the crowd in the palm of their hand as they performed song after song. The costume changes and confetti, the smoke and the sparks, you couldn’t look away. You almost wished you were down in the audience so you could experience it properly. However there was one particular benefit to your position and that was having a clear view of Papa’s wardrobe. Everytime he hurried back for a new outfit or prop you received a smile or a wink and as time went on more and more heated looks. You weren’t entirely sure why he had wanted you there but you got the feeling you would enjoy whatever it was.

He had announced their last song to cries of despair from the crowd but that only seemed to spur them on giving a rousing performance and he left the stage to a roar of appreciation. The ghouls continued playing as he ducked into the wardrobe for the last time, shrugging off the black jacket he was currently wearing in exchange for a dazzling blue sequined one. It reflected the light even in the dark corner of the stage you were both in. Instead of running back on stage though, this time he approached you.

‘Now there is something I need your help with cara mia, please follow me.’ He takes your hand and pulls you with him towards the narrow backstage corridor. It is very rarely used now but it was originally for performers to get from one side of the stage to the other with no hindrance but what he could need your help with here you had no idea. About halfway down he stops suddenly manoeuvring you between him and the wall in the narrow corridor

‘You hear them all screaming for me cara mia?’ He asks with a smirk. He knows full well you can hear the screaming that's why you have your ear protectors slung around your neck. His arm rests on the wall above your head bringing him so close you can feel the heat radiating off of him, and smell the spicy scent of his cologne and his exertion. He’s taller than earlier, his fancy boots giving him a boost so although he is far from towering over you, this close you need to make an effort to look up at him as you speak.

‘You must be happy, knowing that all those thousands of people enjoyed your show.’ It is quite obvious where this conversation is headed but you are curious to see how exactly he plans to proposition you when the memory of him fumbling his juice boxes is so fresh in your memory.

‘Si that should make me happy but really there is only one person I want to hear screaming tonight.’ His piercing mismatched eyes burn into yours and you know he is talking about you. You almost can’t breathe from the intensity and you wonder how this could be the same man as earlier. The only real similarity is the way his eyes trail down from your face all the way to your cleavage. Forcing yourself to finally take a deep breath you watch his eyes follow the rise and fall of your chest and you feel an unexpected heat rising within you. You weren’t a stranger to men staring at your boobs, it kind of came with the territory and usually someone staring this blatantly would earn a slap, but you enjoyed his eyes on you and it only made you want more, as it had all day. He leans in until he is close enough to whisper directly in your ear.

‘Would you like this? A little after party just for us?’ His voice is low and seductive and you are only really able to hear him because he is so close you are almost touching. ‘For me to give you your own private performance, show you all my best moves then make you scream for me?’ Without saying much of anything at all he paints such a vivid picture and you want all of it. You could feel his painted lips brushing your ear ever so slightly as you leaned in and you knew what your answer was going to be.

‘I … yes. Please.’ You feel his mouth pull into a grin as he steps even closer, his body flush with yours. You expect him to move to do something but he just continues to look at you, eyes burning into your already flushed and overheated skin. The leer he is giving you as he looks down your top shouldn’t be making you feel this way and yet you find yourself somehow desperate for the touches that look threatens.

‘Thank you, cara,’ he pinches your chin tilting it up to just the right angle so that he can slot his mouth against yours, except he doesn’t. No he locks you in with his gaze, keeping you hypnotised and still as he ghosts his lips across your cheek and down your neck and as his lips finally make contact at the juncture of your neck and collar bone do you realise that he was just positioning you to get unhindered access to your chest. But as he settles his hands on your waist and begins to gently suck your sensitive skin you can’t even bring yourself to be annoyed.

You lean your head back against the wall behind you and let your eyes drop closed so you can just concentrate on the feeling of his mouth on you. He nibbles along your collarbone soothing the marks with his tongue as he goes before dipping lower. He moans as his lips meet the curve of your breast and he stops, sucking a deep mark right in the centre before sinking his teeth into your soft flesh. It’s not deep and he doesn’t seem intent on inflicting pain on you, just feeling your body give way to him. You find your fingers woven in his hair not sure whether your intention was to push him away or pull him further in but you do neither and just let him take what he wishes. As he finishes marking you he licks a trail following the curve down into your cleavage and back up to the other side, peppering kisses everywhere he can reach.

‘Mmmm,’ he moans as if he was eating his favourite meal. ‘So good cara mia, so perfect.’ He slides his hands up from your waist until they are cupping your breasts, spreading them apart so there is just enough room to bury his face between them. His moans are muffled in his new position but that doesn’t stop you noticing him getting louder. His hands start a slow massaging squeeze that has you moaning, turning into a whine when he stops, hooking his fingers into the top of your bra and pulling back to look at you. The heat and his touches have turned your brain to mush so it takes you a moment to realise he is asking you a question and a moment longer to register what it is.

‘May I?’ he asks, starting to pull at your already revealing neckline. You can feel his knuckles brushing your nipples and you can only imagine how much better it will feel if you allow him full access. He is watching you intently so he catches your slight nod and slowly reveals them to his hungry eyes letting your top and bra bunch up just underneath like he doesn’t have the patience to wait to remove them properly. You watch his eyes light up as he sees your pierced nipples, the small gems glinting as you move even in the harsh light of the corridor.

‘Così bella mia cara,’ he whispers as he ghosts his mouth over you, the tip of his tongue flicking at one nipple then the other. He grins up at you as you gasp, his teasing touch feeling almost too much already. You think back to a moment ago when you compared him to all the other men that you caught gawping at your cleavage. You had been so wrong. Never had you had such attention lavished on you, turning you to putty in his hands just from this. He sealed his lips around a nipple, sucking it into his mouth and toying with the piercing with his tongue and the other he rolled between his fingers twisting and pulling and pinching. Your fingers tighten in his hair, encouraging him closer. He pulls off your nipple with a pop, kissing and licking across until his whole face is between them finally relinquishing your other nipple so he can push them together while shaking his head back and forth.

‘Papa?,’ another voice intrudes into your consciousness and you all of a sudden remember where you are and who you are with and the thousands of people waiting for an encore. You try to jump away from him but you are so securely pinned between him and the wall. He pulls away just as the footsteps get closer tucking you back into your top. His face paints are surprisingly intact although there are grey smudges all over you there is no hiding what was being done to you. ‘Papa,’ the stage assistant says as they round the corner and find you. ‘They are all still here calling for more.’

‘Excuse my cara. I am needed,’ he winks at you, gesturing for the assistant to go on ahead. He steps towards you pining you back in place tilting your chin up to force you to look at him once again. ‘But if you want to continue this, be in my dressing room at the end of the show.’ He turns on his heel heading in the same direction only to pause before he rounds the corner. ‘And I want you undressed.’ You are surprised your knees hadn’t buckled yet you were so worked up, the possibilities of what would happen if you followed his instructions buzzing in your mind.

The crescendo of screams as he walks back on the stage breaks you from your reverie, and forces you into action. You don’t even need to think, the decision already made by your racing heart and your wet pussy. You push off the wall knowing you only have three songs to follow his instructions but you don’t need to rush just yet as you can still hear him addressing the crowd. Exiting the corridor on the other side of the stage you listen for a moment. He hushes their screams so he can banter with them for a moment.

‘I was already at the after show party,’ He says gesturing behind him to the fictional afterparty. You laugh to yourself starting to head towards the dressing room so you can get ready for what you are sure is going to be a memorable night. But the next words out of his mouth freeze you on the spot. ‘You know I had my face down in some decolletage and someone said that they are still all here.’ A laugh barks out of you in disbelief. That smug sexy bastard!

#papa emeritus iv x reader #copia x reader #the band ghost fic #the band ghost fanfiction #my writing

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nyxx-nth · 1 month

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Ashamed to admit that just now when Cannibal by Kesha came on my brain immediately created a celebrity au where Jimmy is a controversial music artist and a string of high profile celebrity murders been happening lately….

Oh no wait, now I’m thinking of an entire au with other chars too—

Ghost is also a musical artist, being the lead singer in a band with Spooker, Colon, and Katrina (it used to be Ghost, Toast, and Katrina but a big fallout happened before any of them rose to fame that led to Toast leaving back to England and eventually becoming a model). I imagine Katrina as bassist, Spooker on drums, and Colon on guitar. Ghost used to be drummer, and Toast guitarist and lead vocalist, but Ghost took over vocals after his departure and Colon took over for Toast, with Spooker being a very last minute addition by chance when they heard how good he was and Katrina convinced Ghost having someone else on drums would leave him more time to focus on vocals and writing. Also, I feel like all of them would sing but Ghost is the one who sings most of the songs (also he can scream crazy good and I stand by that (also it’s hot af lmao)). Colon probably had mild experience in singing but has improved a lot since then, and Spooker had NO natural or learned singing skills going into the band and is still not quite up to par with his bandmates, but he’s improved /so/ much.

Toast would probably do modeling cuz, duh. But also he writes books and a lot of people won’t give them a chance because they think he’s just a pretty face but he’s actually a talented writer of supernatural mysteries. Also, more recently he got into acting and blew up on the big screen and prefers the acting gigs because he feels like he gets to showcase more of his skills and get more appreciation for them than he got in modeling.

Gavin probably is a stunt double for Toast. Besides that, I see him probably being Jimmy’s dealer (Jimmy does copious amounts of drugs he is never not on cocaine idk what to tell u /hj). He prefers to keep out of the actual spotlight of celebrity lifestyle, and instead reap his own benefits from it in the background.

Mary. Hmmm….. I feel like she needs something that’s not like, typical spotlight celebrity. I remember a certain someone (wink wink) talking about ballerina Mary… I think that’s actually perfect. She’s a skilled and renowned ballerina, but also, I think she figure skates. And does some modeling on the side—maybe how she met Toast? I’ll have to think more on it.

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eepwriting · 1 month

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Hi! Could I request a III X reader where they’re traveling with the band on a plane but III comforts reader who is afraid of flying?

Seat Buddy ✶ III x GN! Reader

Warnings: honestly none, just sweet iii. unless you’re super afraid of flying, then some bits might be uncomfortable to read.

Thank you so much for your request!! Such a cute idea 🤍

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You had joined the Sleep Token team at the beginning of the year. You were brought on as assistant and were ecstatic to tour with them. Finally getting to do what you love, traveling with a band you liked also being a huge plus.

In your excitement, you had somehow forgotten the most crucial part of touring. Traveling. When you thought about touring musicians, a big, roomy tour bus always popped into your mind. So when flight details were sent to your phone by the tour manager, you suddenly were okay with staying behind.

Alas, here you are, standing in line to board a plane. You somehow managed to keep your cool through TSA and the hour and a half chunk of time waiting to board. You had the band and the rest of the team to keep you company, take your mind off things, but as you stepped closer to the door of the plane, you felt very alone in your fear.

You hadn’t told anyone you were traveling with about this fear you had. You were determined on getting over it. Or at least, only having a slight freak out.

“What seat you got?”

You spin around to see iii standing behind you. His ticket held up between two fingers. He leans over you slightly, looking down at your ticket.

“Oh, uh, 10e.” You smile up at him, waving the piece of paper.

You hear him pull air through his teeth in a hiss. “Ohh, it looks like you’re stuck with me. Sorry about that. 10d.”

You laugh, moving up in the line. “Should be an interesting flight then.” You try to keep your voice steady as you get closer to the door.

III had always been kind to you, saying hi every time he passed you, always including you in conversations, had even recently started texting you posts he found funny. Although you hadn’t known him very long, you were glad to have a friend in close range.

You move up a final time, the energetic flight attendant at the door giving you a warm smile, welcoming you aboard.

You walk down the aisle, eyes scanning the numbers above the seats until you find row 10. A lone woman occupies the window seat and you give her a polite smile as you sit down next to her. You push your small backpack under the seat in front of you as iii stops in the aisle.

He puts his bag in the overhead compartment before taking his seat next you. You think he smiles over at you with the way his eyes crinkle.

You fasten your seatbelt after getting as comfortable as you can, pulling the strap tight. You want to reach for the safety manual that’s tucked into the seat pocket in front of you but you don’t want to freak yourself out even more than you already are. You clasp your hands in your lap and close your eyes, taking a deep breath.

“Hey, you okay?” III’s thigh bumps your knee. You turn to look at him. He’s slouching forward slightly to get a good look at your face. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

You try to smile at him. “I’m just a little afraid of flying, that’s all.” You clear your throat.

“Oh. I get it. First time?” He turns in his seat to fully look at you. You nod at him, your hands clenching and unclenching in your lap. “Well, the first time is always the scariest. I used to be scared to fly actually.” He leans in a little closer as he says this, as if it’s a secret.

“Really? And you got over it?”

“Eventually, yeah.” He nods. “Comes with the territory of the job so I kinda had to.” He shrugs his shoulders slightly.

“So, you’re just not scared to fly anymore?” You shake your head in question.

“Nope. Only thing I’m scared of is how much leg room I’ll have. I swear it gets less and less every time.” You both look down to his knees that are uncomfortably pushed up against the seat in front of him.

You laugh at his joke, feeling a small sliver of your anxiety slip away. III’s relaxed and playful nature calming your nerves.

Your head snaps up when you hear the pilot come over the intercom, greeting the passengers, telling you where you’re going, and laying out a general time frame of your flight. He introduces the flight attendant who greeted you at the door, letting her take over to demonstrate safety precautions.

III lets you lean over his lap to look down the aisle. You want to see everything she’s demonstrating, writing a mental note of all the exits. A somewhat foolproof plan of escape lingers in the back of your mind.

You check your seatbelt for the 10th time when the pilot announces that the plane would be making it’s way down the tarmac towards the runway.

III notices your uneasiness and leans over to you again. “I like to think about it like this.” His voice is quiet and calm. “What kind of stories do you hear about plane rides?” He tilts his head, eyes scanning your face.

You think for a moment before answering. “The bad, horribly terrifying ones.”

He laughs. “That’s right. You don’t hear about the thousands of successful flights that take off and land every single day. Anyone would be scared of flying if they only ever heard the bad stories.”

That is true, and it’s coming from someone who truly understands your fear. You smile at him, replaying his words in your head to calm yourself down.

The plane rolls its way to the runway, you and iii making small talk the whole time. The plane comes to a stop and it feels like an hour of waiting before the pilot announces takeoff.

You shut your eyes again, taking deep breaths when the tires start moving again, picking up speed. “You can hold my hand if that’ll help.” III’s voice is quiet next you, his shoulder leaning into yours. You quickly nod and hold your hand out, which he gladly accepts, letting you drag it to your lap. You squeeze his hand hard when the front tires lift off the ground and he squeezes back when the plane is fully off the ground.

You only open your eyes when you hear the pilot come over again, announcing an ETA and thanking everyone for flying with the airline. You look over at iii to see him watching you. “Wasn’t so bad, right? It sounds scarier than it actually is.” His hand squeezes yours again.

You nod and smile at him. You’re actually in a plane, in the air, still alive. “I guess not, no.”

You quickly learn that actual air time isn’t the part you’re scared of, just the takeoff and landing. Luckily, you don’t experience any turbulence, so you’ll have to fight that battle another day.

You find yourself able to actually relax most of the flight. III definitely helps, always keeping conversation flowing, cracking jokes, working quickly to distract you if he notices your anxiety creeping back in. He lets you grab his forearm or bicep at any sound or movement that’s even slightly out of the ordinary. Never laughing at you or making jokes at your expense.

He orders you drinks and snacks if you want them, lends you an earbud, showing you some of his favorite songs at the moment. Flips through the provided magazines with you, pointing out articles he might find interesting or tapping on pictures of travel destinations he’d like to visit someday.

You’re almost surprised when you hear the ding of the seatbelt sign and pilot announce that you’d be landing in 15 minutes or so. Time having flew by, no pun intended.

You make sure all your belongings are in order, excited to be on the ground again. This experience was not nearly as terrifying as you thought it would be, but you still had lading to get through before you could feel totally relieved.

“I’m glad you’re the one I got to sit next to, you know.” You smile at iii, bumping his leg with your knee.

“Oh wow, I’m so flattered.” He brings his hand up to his chest, his eyelashes fluttering dramatically.

You giggle and lightly swat his shoulder. “I’m serious! You were very helpful and kind today.”

He sheepishly shrugs, looking away from you, but offers you his hand. You gladly take it, holding it in your lap again. Squeezing hard when the plane jostles, front tires hitting the ground. He squeezes back when the plane comes to slow roll.

“I don’t mind being your seat buddy from now on.” He squeezes your hand twice, a smile reaching his eyes.

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This was cuteeee and fun to write. Thank you again for the request! 🤍

As always, if you like to see anything please let me know!

K. Bye bye.

#sleep token #sleep token worship #sleep token fic #sleep token x reader #sleep token iii #iii sleep token #iii x reader

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loving-azerath · 8 months

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just saw your recent post and: simon riley and sex pollen 🤭

him being like “no it’s immoral for me to do this” but his body’s saying otherwise teehee 🤭

No because LISTEN! Simon Daddy Ghost Riley would be SO CONCERNED ABOUT going too hard. He would be so desperate to fuck you but so worried about hurting you. He would be telling you to leave while holding you close to him.

Thank you to my sweet sweet Persia for talking with me about this one shot. <3

CW: DubCon (for obvious reasons), Degrading, praising, Female reader,

Normally when the guys come home from a mission there is a de-brief. Not an official one, it's you guys sitting in a circle and talking about it. Though this time you knew something was up. Price went straight to his office, locking the door. Soap and Gaz were cackling and laughing their asses off. No one informed you of what had happened. You knew though Ghost out of all would. He had a way of remaining scarily stoic during tense situation

That isn't exactly what happened though. You had knocked on his door and didn't get a response. Though you could hear the straining and the noises coming from the other side. The grunts and whines. Your cheeks flushed red at the realization of what you were hearing only it got worse when you heard your name whimpered out. That was when you knocked again. Harder. Louder. There was a more pained groan and then footsteps. Why did you do that? What did you have planned when he opened the door?

The door swings open. His balaclava still remained on his face, though he was shirtless and had the door blocking more than half of his body though you still saw the jeans. The band of his boxers.

"Gaz and Soap told me to come see you...that you could tell me what happened?" You asked

He sighed opening the door and basically pulling you inside. Your breathe hitched and your heart skipped a couple of vital beats.

"Sick of sense humor they have" He grinds out, you look up at him. The way his eyes glance over you, with what you heard brings a heat to your stomach you were used to. A flip here and a flop there with every flick of his eyes. Inhaling the scent of his room, the cologne and the wintergreen gum, the faint smell of tobacco that lingered on some of his clothes.

"What happened?" You asked softly

"Bastards were throwing vials at random. Airborne one got to Price and I" He grinds out his fingers twitches at his side. Fighting the urge to kiss you. To push you against this wall and make pretty noises come out your pretty mouth.

"Which one?" You ask, though by his reaction. By his demeanor you were sure you knew. He was less skilled at hiding the heavy lidded gaze under it. Though he was barely hiding it before.

"Sex Pollen. Bloody shit can give you a heart attack" He says sighing, you nod and blink up at him.

"Not if you....release" You struggle to say it because you know what it i insinuating and you can the tilt in his head. The slight arch of his right brow.

"You offering a hand darlin?" He asks narrowing his eyes ever so slightly. It has you gulping, tugging lightly on your bottom lip and backing up from him. The gaze seemingly controlling your actions.

"Maybe not just my hand" You say, he groans a little matching each one of your steps with one of his own until you were flush with the wall. Then with him.

"You really shouldn't have come here right now" He says his hand tracing the skin of your neck and then your shoulder. His thumb moving across your collar bone. Sending shivers down your body.

"I just wanted to know what happened" You say, it's true. Though now you found yourself wanting something so much more. "Wanted to know how you were feeling"

He chuckles softly his thumb reaching your chin and he holds it, pointing your gaze up at him.

"How I'm feeling? I am feeling like I want to fuck you against this wall until you I can't anymore. I am feeling like if you don't leave my barracks, right fuckin now. I might" He warns, yet you can't move. You aren't sure you even want to.

When you don't move his grabs onto you a little tighter, pressing against you, the warmth of his naked abdomen makes your brain short circuit. The hitched breath you pull in does the same to him.

"Darlin, last chance" He warns, yet all you do meet his eyes once again and put a hand on his chest. Not enough to push him away, more inviting than that. "Fucking hell"

The way he presses his hand to your neck, pressing you tight against the wall as he rips off his mask. Pure need and the pollen taking over every thought in his brain. His lips smashing into yours. Pulling a groan and a whimper from each of you. You practically melt against him. His heat, the heaviness of his hand on your throat. The way his other hand feels up your side and grips you tightly when he reaches your hips. It is all so dizzying. The way he presses his almost rock solid member into you.

"You knew exactly what you wanted didn't you? The moment I opened that bloody door I could practically see it written all over that beautiful fucking face" his whispered to you, his hand on your throat unmoving. His lips touching your jawline. The hand on your hip moving to the button of your jeans. His hand works like it has unbuttoned jeans by itself countless times. "Kick of your shoes. Now"

You listened and he watches you drop another inch or so. Your Combat boots always made you look taller and even when you weren't on mission you wore them with your day to day uniform. He smirks down at you. You take time to take in the features of his face before kissing you again. Slipping his tongue between your lips.

His hand moving to your waistband but you are already aiding him in removing the pants. Which causes a chuckle to vibrate lowly from his throat.

"You knew exactly...what you were fucking doing" He groans against your lips. His hand releasing from your throat. As you kick off the pants his hands slowly trace down to cup your ass. Gripping it tightly and kissing along your collar bone. Soft groans and moans escape his lips as your hands tug on his jeans. Opening the front of it up. He practically chokes on a gasp when your finger grazes his member from under his boxers.

"Fucking hell" He groans, it's like a sudden whoosh of air and then you were moved. Practically thrown on the bed watching as he moves on top of you. Kissing your lips roughly and trailing those adding in some nips at your skin as he lowers himself. "I need just a taste. I need it."

He devours you. He was indeed lying when he said he just needed a small taste because on the first touch of his tongue the moan that released from this man proved nothing but a new addiction for him. With that new addiction the man was devouring you. Fucking into his fist occasionally. The first orgasm snuck up on you, you hadn't been tensing or egging it on. It just washed over you. Your back arching and your hand moving to the nearest grip of blanket. White knuckling it as your sounds bounced off the walls.

"You sound so fucking good for me love" He groans "Need yo be in you. Can't wait any longer" He says with a growl getting onto his knees on the bed. Grabbing your hips and angling you to align with his cock. The first rut against your entrance has you both whimpering. You because you feel the head on his cock spreading you and it was the most delicious stretch you had ever had.

Him because you felt like a walking wet dream. You felt like everything he thought you would and the curses that leave his breath as she slowly pushed into you would have made a sailor retire. Not blush. Retire.

"Oh fuck you feel good" He moans, punctuating each word with a new rut as he pushes himself further. Finally sinking to to the hilt. "Fuck"

Each thrust is almost like a body slam, it leaves you slamming a hand over your mouth and moaning loudly into the palm of your hand. Looking up at the man, his veins on his arms standing out slightly, his hands gripping your hips. His face pulled into pleasure as he fucks into you.

"Gho-fuck" You tried to say his name. Though the slam of another thrusts makes you stutter.

"No no-Simon fuck darlin call me Simon" He grunts as he picks up his pace.

"Si-Simon" You moans through the stuttering of his hips and your brain. Your thought process. The moment the name leaves his thrusts get faster. Moving your leg, resting it against his body, your toes resting near his ear as he ruts into you.

His fingers move to your folds, sliding through the silky feel of them, sending jolts of pleasure to you which slowly meld into the pleasure of his thrusts. Though both unravelling you. The moans escaping your lips were almost as lewd as the sound of your bodies smacking together. The wetness from you getting all over both of your groins and thighs. Your moans turning more and more wanton has he continues to play with your already aching clit.

The ball of pleasure that has been wound so tight you could barely even think of anything else feels moments from bursting. He notices this, chuckling to himself once again.

"Oh fuck I can feel you're about to fucking cum. The way you fucking clench around me. Fucking... hell love. Fucking do it. I need to feel it." He urges you

"I want to last longer" You whined

"It won't be your last. Now fucking cum" He demands moving a hand to your throat. Tightening the grip enough to make you dizzy. The orgasm ripping through you at the same time. Strained moans an whines falling from your lips as you feel the entire wave of it crashing onto you. "Fuck oh fuck- Good fucking girl."

He didn't last too long after that. Though the thrusts turn more aggressive if that was possible. His hand snaking to your hair and pulling it to a point where he could adjust your face as he pleases.

"Look at me, I need to see those pretty fucked out eyes when I fucking cum" He groans you moaned at his words. Your face screwing into pleasure at his words alone. Every thrust was sending stars across your vision. Rising until another hard orgasm slams into you. His noises mixing with yours had you white knuckling the sheets some more. He topples over digging his fingertips so far into your hips you know there will be bruises. His body slams turning sloppy and he grinds into you further.

"Oh fuck...fucking take it" he moaned punctuation of the words followed by grinds. You could feel as he pumps inside of you. Your legs are shaking from the aftershock of the pleasure. Whimpers falling from your lips.

"Jesus Simon...your dick is fucking lethal" You deadpanned. He is panting and smirks

"Don't think I am done with you yet." He tells you

Fuck was he telling you the truth. He was far from done with you. Though he meant it in other ways than just for the night. You two fucked like this for hours. Until your body could not take anymore. you could barely move from the strain each orgasm had. Your eyelids heavy. Simon laying beside you stroking your hair with his fingers as you were falling asleep.

"Not how I wanted our first time to be." He admits, you smiled weakly at him. "Can't say I didn't enjoy it though love. Christ, you have kryptonite between your legs."

"I try" You breathe

You both had fallen asleep and chosen the next day to talk about what he meant. It was a strange beginning, but a beginning.

#pleasekillme #ghost cod #i need it #simon riley x reader #kinktober

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seat-safety-switch · 10 months

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Small towns are all about tradition. When the rest of the world is changing so quickly, the residents of tiny communities band together to maintain their way of life. All small towns must consist of three things: a general store, too much parking, and a haunted area.

General stores are so described because they're where you buy everything you could want for life in your community. Rope. Knives. Ski masks. A signed 11x14" of Jude Law. If they don't sell it, you probably don't need it, or the proprietor believes it is a Satanic plot to destroy humanity's free will. Either way, you're driving into a larger town in order to acquire it, or ordering it from the internet in the hopes that a very confused Amazon courier will accidentally end up in the town after following a ghost of his dead wife.

Parking: they've got too much of it. You'll find churches with fifty or more spots, main streets with a hundred-plus, and copious street and alley parking everywhere. Even so, someone will be in the exact spot you wanted. If you are particularly unlucky, you will find a spot, only to discover that it belongs to the neighbourhood gangster/landlord/Ford dealership owner that nobody dares mess with, setting off an explosive feud that will consume you both. Bring quarters, because a lot of these old parking meters don't take credit cards.

As for the third component, a haunted area is not particularly interesting to most visitors to the region. If you're travelling at night, sure, take a peek. Just keep in mind that you'll probably be waiting in line behind a bunch of teens who want to use the building to either satisfy a dare or get laid. Back in the 70s, it was common to find an object of untold power in these places, one that would change your fate forever, but recent changes in zoning code have largely eliminated this kind of magically-charged narrative device. I strongly recommend just going to bed early and being haunted by your regrets in life instead.

Now that you know what to expect in your local friendly small town, it's time to make a visit down there. Who knows what knick-knack, curio, or lifelong trauma you'll uncover? And if you get bored, you can always interview the most racist guy in the area and submit the transcript to the New York Times for publication.

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dinitride-art · 11 months

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Au fics that i think are neat and that i want to compile into a list because im trying to figure out how to comment on a chapter of a fic but i need time to sort out my thoughts (usually for fic recs i try to rec fics with less kudos/engagement because reasons but im just gonna throw everything in this list. probably multiple fics by the same author in the same universe because thats the one im trying to sort out my thoughts on.)

the strawberries are dying by eggowlss - historical fiction and very interesting character relationships and also character exploration within the time period. I really like this one because the pacing and tone are very gentle. There’s a srt of ebb and flow to the story that makes both the time period and the characters really fit into it. idk how to describe it i just like it a lot.

in the quiet of the night (acswy ao3 series) - they’re putting those characters in situations. It’s a very good time. 10/10 do recommend. If you haven't heard of this one though, it’s basically a modern au where everyone works at a summer camp and Mike and Will cause problems for themselves, each other, and usually everyone else around them.

si vis amari, ama by perexcri - demons and angels and heaven and hell and its honestly just one hell of a story. like ive got vivid images in my head of scenes i imagined when reading this.

you start to kiss (and the record skips) by eclipseadventure - this is a band au with a side of a secret relationship and im a sucker for secret relationships. a bit of drama/high stakes in here too which is always pretty fun.

End Racism on the OTW! - you and me and the horrible teenaged ghost who keeps eviscerating himself in our apartment makes three by TheWrongKindOfPC - i am also a sucker for buzzfeed unsolved aus. buzzfeed unsolved, hauntings, ghosts, yknow the fun stuff.

into the daylight by andiwriteordie - THIS IS NOT THE FIRST ONE, it’s just the first one that came up in my bookmarks. anyways, this is the second fic in a fantasy au series. The worldbuilding is really cool and there’s magic and history and politics and i like it a lot. the most recent chapter is spinning around in my mind.

the heartbreak prince by andiwriteordie - THIS IS THE FIRST ONE.

beneath these boughs, my devotion blooms by perexcri - this is the fic that nearly killed me. i literally cant summarize it because im still recovering from what happened to me when i read it. Did i read it in april? Maybe. Listen, it had me asking questions about things i had never considered before. its 11k but im pretty sure it took me a good few hours to read because it made me think about it so much. again, ive got a bunch of visuals running through my head. its just... so much.

sweetheart, you're so cruel by perexcri - Mike’s in a band, Will’s a music snob, they’re both contemplating their life choices. very fun, very interesting, also made me think about some things.

keep it hush by wiseatom - theres an amusement park and the horrors of customer service. and some other stuff but basically its pretty bright (the visuals of the fic in my head are bright- like sun glinting off metal- and idk how else to describe it)

the start of an age by delusionaltogether (Whyyyyy) - this ones funny and serious at times and its got Max in it. fantasy au with prince will and knight mike and a secret relationship and a small scheme between three parties that involves a fake (ish) marriage.

superhero therapy by silverluminoqity - spiderman au with a side of trauma and healing? it’s complicated theres stuff happening, i had a good time reading it.

you've got this spell on me by andiwriteordie - this one was really fun. basically its a fantasy au theres magic and mike gets himself hit with a spell that makes him fall in love with will and will freaks out about it for a while.

Daydream by disaster_energy - i really really liked this fic. its a fantasy au and its got gods and stuff and will gets chosen by the moon goddess because hes Will and everyone is like... woah.

takes one to know one by andiwriteordie - i also liked this one a lot, its a superhero au and its got ironic (like... dramatic irony- i think is what im talking about? maybe? but like fun irony) secret identities.

Love goes 'round by evil_ontheinside - conversations in a laundry mat. mikes flopping (as in, flopping around like a fish) around a bit and this was pretty cute.

my promise could be your fiend (could be the smallest of signs) by s0ld_it - spider man au, theres a bookstore involved and a lot of stuff. ive read this fic twice and greatly enjoyed it both times.

Tip-toeing on Lily-pads by cherryisgone - very very fun, fantasy au and... mike gets cursed to be a frog. can only be un-cursed with a kiss.

filling in the blanks as we go by delusionaltogether (Whyyyyy) - bookstore meetcute

there’s more but i spent all day painting my room and i am tired. Ive also got way too many bookmarks to go through and i have decided to stop here. still haven't figured out how to write that comment (but i am working on it because i love the fi(s) and ive been thinking about one specific thing that came up in a new chapter for so long). anyways, i hope someone enjoys this list of au fics from my bookmarks.

#byler #fic rec

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the-ace-with-spades · 4 months

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This, I hope, will eventually be posted on ao3 as a proper fic – current draft title is exhumation — but just in case it will not, gonna post it here and let it stew

Canon Divergence AU with secret Identity and later identity reveal drama

(also this involves the backstory from the Ghost comic because I vaguely remember reading it when I was in high school…)

Soap and Ghost meet before they become Soap and Ghost. Johnny is 20, Ghost is 25, and they’re stationed around the same place but different squads — somewhere not far away from Manchester — and they don’t know they’re both from SAS. They meet when Tommy tries to be supportive of Simon’s newly announced queerness and takes him out to a gay bar on Canal Street. Tommy is the one to chat up Johnny (while Simon, obviously not a fan of crowds or loud places, hides away in the bathroom) with ‘see, my brother this and that’ and ‘if you give my brother a chance, he will this and that’. Believe it or not, once Simon strolls back in with all his social awkwardness, Johnny is actually charmed. Things roll around for a couple of months before they admit to each other they’re in the armed forces.

By the time they find out Simon is of higher rank, they’re already gone for each other. They decide to keep going anyway — it’s legal, as of 2001, and they’re not planning on getting a civil partnership for a while, anyway, so in the end, they keep going. Simon changes his next of kin on file to Johnny, they ‘share’ a flat off base, and Johnny’s met Simon’s mum and brother. He more or less knows the lore of the Riley family, mostly how much of a piece of shite his father was and Tommy’s recently fought addiction, and somehow, Simon feels alive for the first time in his life.

It’s all going so perfect, they’ve been together for almost two years, which isn’t long for most, but feels like forever when you’re in the military. Johnny gives him a ring, a sterling silver one with thistle ornaments and a small garnet centre stone. It’s not a proposal, they can’t get married legally, and they won’t have anything but Simon’s will binding them legally for as long as they’re both in the forces — Simon doesn’t know it, but there’s a matching simple band waiting to slide in with the ring he’s got on his tags, and one day, Johnny plans for him to have a full set.

Simon and his team get send out, Simon tells him it’s going to be a long one, somewhere in one of the Americas — Central or South, if he had to guess by all the self-learning Spanish books that cluttered Simon’s bedside table — and Johnny, well, he’s got a bad feeling but when does he not, with their jobs?

Simon’s team gets back, partially. There’s talk about betrayal from his captain, and he’s painfully absent, Simon’s friends look half-dead and act half-dead and no one is telling Johnny anything. He spends his afternoons with Simon’s mum, taking care of her as best as he can while Simon is gone, even though it was never the plan, and dodges Tommy’s aggressive questions, because he knows goddamn nothing.

Johnny doesn’t give up. He waits.

Simon is gone six months — MIA, officially, but KIA in the words of anyone from the brass — when he emerges back from South America, giving Johnny a new heart and a new life. He comes back different, but Johnny doesn’t care, it’s Simon, it’s still him, and maybe there’s something dead in his eyes, and maybe he spaces out more often than not, and maybe he feels cold in Johnny’s arms, and maybe he doesn’t sleep in the same bed, but it’s still Simon, he just needs to heal and figure out how to keep on living.

And Simon tries — he’s got episodes every day, than every other day, than every week, every other week. He goes to therapy, he spends his days cooking with his mum, spends his days cleaning the whole of their flat again and again, spends his days wandering around Manchester, buying Johnny’s favourite drinks, favourite books, favourite breakfast babs.

He tells Johnny bits and pieces, about what happened, enough that Johnny can put it together in a horrifying if blurred picture, and things start to improve, slowly.

He comes back to their bed. He wakes up before Johnny, makes him breakfast, kisses him on the forehead and struggles with the crosswords from the newspapers he picked on his morning run. He goes out with his former teammates, very short trips but trips nonetheless. He stops being afraid to be alone with his nephew, stops being afraid he'll hurt him. He never quite gets used to the scars, covering them more often than not, not wanting the looks.

Second week of December, ten months after he was brought back to the UK from North America, his psychiatrist signs him off for a phased return to duty. No deployments, only base and training site duties, regular sessions with both the psychiatrist and the psychology for the first four months.

Johnny hasn’t seen his family since before Simon gone MIA — finally feeling okay-ish, Simon tells him to go Scotland for Christmas. He’s got his mum, his brother, his sister-in-law and his nephew, and he’s, weirdly, feeling almost optimistic about life.

Obviously, he can’t be happy for long and shit hits the fan.

On Christmas Day, Johnny gets a call from Greater Manchster Police. He and his sister drive down the country and in the early morning of the Boxing Day, Johnny is showed the tags with the familiar silver ring on it, sooted at the edges and slightly misshapen, melted.

Fifteen minutes after he identifies Simon’s body, they tell him he killed his whole family, probably in a PTSD induced episode, then set their house on fire and killed himself right after, when the trauma-haze went down. They tell him he was lucky not to be there when it happened.

Johnny doesn’t believe it. Simon’s mind’s been bad, but it’d always turn on Simon, not on others, he had too much control to let any episode take him over so much. So he doesn’t care what the police or the public says — he arranges the funeral and Simon is buried with the rest of his family.

Meanwhile, Simon goes on a rampage in Mexico. He kills everyone and anyone he even suspects to be involved with Roba’s people. He leaves a trail of dead people behind him for weeks until finally, the US military catches up — General Shepherd catches up and identifies him. The British Army doesn't know what to do with him — officially, he's dead already, the General Register Office has already issued his death certificate to his NOK, the armed forces had condemned his family's tragedy. His existence is…inconvenient. He is suspected to be either compromised or too unstable to be of use to the Army, even if SAS sees how valuable someone who could single-handedly destroy a whole cartel family and fake his own death could be.

Enter John Price, who had met Simon during SAS selection and had a bit too soft of a heart. There's a mural agreement — Price will take personal responsibility to keep him on a leash, at least until he proves he is not a liability, and he will remain dead on paper but active in the Army. No one is to know he is alive — not even Johnny, or maybe especially Johnny, who will be the last person anyone will see as a revenge method. Simon Riley's name is redacted from all available documents.

And thus, Ghost, a nameless lieutenant and a walking cautionary tale, is born.

The only thing Ghost has not predicted is that eventually, almost six years after he put Simon into the grave, Johnny will join the 141.

And somehow, Ghost is just Johnny's type, again.

#yes this going to be a then/now pov mix #soap angst will be like 70% of it #ghostsoap #ghoap #cod #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #fic ideas #charlie writes #haven't slept yet so going now #goodbye be back in 2h #op

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