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tharros-auris-black-asimi · 2 years

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Patricide

Paring: Vampire Sugar Daddy Bucky Barnes x Detective Sugar Baby Female Reader

Summary: James Buchanan Barnes-Romanov is a wealthy businessman, (and vampire), and not to mention Sugar Daddy, but most importantly, partner to the cutest human detective ever in the Big Apple— you.

You had never in your wildest dreams ever fathomed being a wealthy businessman's Sugar Baby. As a homicide detective, it was your job to solve criminal homicide cases.

This night was just supposed to be another boring night, being surrounded by rich people at a rich people's party.

But like always, a dead body suddenly springs up.

Your life's just fine and dandy.

Warnings: Modern AU, daddy issues, Vampire!Bucky (yes he is his own warning), murder mysteries, mentions of murder, public sex, Bucky's metal arm, blood drinking, dry humping, mentions of curses, a mildish plot twist at the end

Additional Notes: Hello everyone! This fic took a few days to jolt down. Regular updates for everything else will be coming along smoothly after this fic.

If you'd like to read this fic on my AO3, you can read it here.

Word Count: 10586

Three weeks before…

“Does this look okay? I don’t look fat in this, right?”

James Buchanan Barnes-Romanov gazed at you from where he was leaning against the wall.

He licked his lips. When he saw your thighs nervously quiver, his tongue licked over a canine tooth, his smirk widening when he saw you blush.

He surveyed the floral dress you had on. His index finger brushing over the v-neck of your dress, dipping dangerously to the dip in between your breasts. You nearly swatted at his hand.

“I just asked you to look, Sasha. I didn’t ask you to touch my titties.” You snapped at him in Russian. Amused, James only chuckled. It was deep and vibrated through his broad chest. “Don’t give me the temptation. Are you offering?” His cheeky smile made you actually swat at his hand this time.

“No,” was your clap back. Still amused with the situation, he looked down at your floral dress again. It was a bright yellow with daisies on it.

Quite frankly, as James looked at the thin but ruffled straps, he found this dress to be extremely distasteful.

He even wrinkled his nose, telling communicating to you that this wasn’t going to be the one.

“I look like a sunflower, don’t I?” You chuckled. “And a ripe banana,” James added for good measure.

“Pepper said that this looked nice on me.” You sighed as you took the dress off, before putting it back on its hanger. Putting the yellow dress on the right, it officially went into the discard pile.

“Pepper does not have any taste in fashion,” James told you bluntly. You only raised an eyebrow at him. “Yeah? And you do?” You challenged him.

A deeply offended noise came from your companion. He even spluttered at you! “Taste? Taste in fashion?” his voice was shrill, which only reminded you of Mrs. Bennett from Pride and Prejudice. “I have an impeccable taste in fashion, thank you very much!” He exclaimed.

You only raised an eyebrow. Clearly testing that theory. “Oh yeah?” You were just humoring him at this point. “Then why do you dress in all black?” Your teasing voice made James glare at you. “Black is a universal color!” he tried to protest.

Your snickers continued to make James glare at you. Looking at you and scowling.

Turning back to look at yourself in the mirror, you only grimaced when you laid eyes on the bright yellow floral dress. It really did make you look like a citrus fruit. Heaving it over your head, James was rewarded with a nice view of your bra and underwear. You couldn’t see his reflection in the mirror, but you could feel that he was smirking at you.

“Stop smirking at me.” You bit in his direction. Clutching his hand on his heart, James feigned sympathy. “Have pity on me kotenok. It’s been ages since I’ve seen a woman so scarcely underdressed.”

You just scowled at him, your scowl reflected in the mirror. Even though he couldn’t see his own reflection in the mirror, he saw yours.

And then, his iPhone pinged in his pants. A somewhat exciting noise came from your shopping buddy as he pulled it out of his slacks. Unlocking it with his thumb, he surveyed the message.

You saw James quickly typing back to whoever had texted him metal and human hands flying over the keyboard.

The two of you had gotten stares the very moment the two of you had stepped foot in the mall, even young children whispering amongst themselves to their parents as they surveyed the art that was his metal arm, black with enteric gold detail. Some children even had pointed excitedly to the man who had accompanied you to the past three high-end stores.

You had seen the uncomfortable look on his face. Therefore, you had hurried him along, holding onto his metal arm as hard as you could, because it was metal. Both of you had bounced through three stores already and you still hadn’t found a dress that suited you or one that you and James had liked.

You really should have just told him that he should have just dropped you off at Target or something.

But then again, that would have made James horrified. As your Sugar Daddy, he had told you straight up from the moment that he had matched with you was that he wanted to spoil you. If you had asked him to just drop you off at Target, he probably would have had a meltdown or something.

So yeah. Target?

Out of the question.

Originally when you had signed up for the SugarDaddy website, all you had wanted was a way out. You had been a good kid in school. Hell, when you had written your essay on how a fascist government could easily overturn a democracy and the steps how to get there, all you had wanted was to join the FBI or something like that.

You had wanted to just have an out from your abusive home life.

And then, by the grace of the Fates themselves, your friend at the time had suggested you join this SugarDaddy website. With her encouragement, you had matched and met James.

James had changed your life for the better. You didn’t know what you could have done without him. And especially with what happened to you?

Yes. You wouldn’t trade being his Sugar Baby for anything else in the world.

Nope.

Nada.

Now you were a homicide detective and James was your partner. Amongst the business that he ran with his best pal in the whole wide world, Steve Rogers. Or, as you had affectionately put in your phone as Steeb. As the man had told you himself, he liked having hobbies. You just guessed that it got really lonely for him, sulking and acting like a depressed emo boy all the time.

“Well, there’s more reject dresses than accept dresses.” A sigh came from you as you finally slipped your maxi dress back on. Bending down a little so you could brush down the colorful skirt, your back straightened up as you got up.

When you turned to look back at James, you saw that he was staring at you.

As usual.

“You weren’t ogling me, were you?” Your playful, teasing tone made James just continue to look at you. “If I told you the only thing I’d want to do to you at this very moment was bend you over and fuck you in his changing room, would you say no?” He questioned.

A humming noise came from you as you pondered it. Thought about it. You weren’t one to say yes or no to sex. Sex to you was just different. You were what some people might have called a demisexual, someone who only had sex with people if you had a strong emotional bond. Your friend Val who had majored in Psychology and who was now dating her girlfriend Jane Foster had suggested that due to your upbringing, maybe that had played a part in it. And you weren’t about to disprove her argument. She was the professional after all.

“I mean,” you responded with a shrug, “—we are in a public place. I’d rather not get kicked out of Gucci.”

“Fair point.” James shrugged as he grabbed your rejected dresses, which were most of the dresses you had originally started with. You slipped on your shoes before you grabbed the accepted pile and unlocked the changing room door. James followed you out as he watched the surprised look of the lady upfront when he made sure to put the rejected dresses still on their hangers, on the rack.

“These didn’t work out. Geez… maybe I should start working out more… I take the damn subway every day…” Your mutters followed James’s snickers as the two of you headed to the register, ready for him to purchase all of your dresses.

“There’s always Versace. You always have better luck with Versace,” he suggested to you. At his suggestion, you turned your head to the side. Even though the two of you were currently still in line. “You have a point,” you nodded in agreement. “But, wouldn’t it be better to check out other stores too? I mean we did Gucci, we did Tom Ford, we did Chanel… that can��t be the only store right?”

“There’s always cider too,” James supplied. “Yeah, but that takes a bit to ship. And the event is in about a few weeks.” You were pursing your lips into a line now as the line slowly pushed you and James to the front.

“At least the dresses on there look nice. Maybe you could pair it with those Choo’s I bought you last month.” James’s suggestion didn’t fly by you unnoticed. The Choo’s he had bought you last month had looked nice. And they were comfortable. If you said so yourself.

“Those Meria’s you bought me were pretty nice,” you acknowledged with a nod as you continued to think. As the line became shorter and both of you were pushed further and further towards the front, James made sure to steer you forward.

“We can try Versace, See if there’s anything I like. But before that, can we get pretzels? I’m hungry,” the two of you had walked to a register and the woman up front had started to scan in your clothes. Dress after dress was put through, the price tag only getting higher and higher with each scan.

During the start of your relationship, you had been uncomfortable going shopping at very expensive stores, or even entertaining the thought, because you hadn’t grown up in a stable environment. Your father had spent most of your paycheck on booze, and without the extra jobs you had picked up, you probably wouldn’t even have made the rent on time. As time went on though, you were slowly coming around to treating yourself more often. Maybe buying a nice bottle of bubbly champagne every once and a while.

“Pretzels with cheese and caramel sauce, right?” James inquired. Just to make sure. Eager nods confirmed his hunch.

“Okay. We’ll go for a lunch break, and then we’ll go to Versace.” he determined once he swiped his card. You saw the matte black card and James decided to carry the bags himself. The two of you walked out of Gucci together.

After finding a pretzel place, you and James had managed to find a table and you dug into your food. James pulled out his phone, checking up on emails while you enjoyed the pure goodness that was pretzels.

Every so often, he’d peek his eyes over at you. You’d have dipped your pretzel into one of your sauces before you took a bite.

“So, just as a heads up, we’re gonna be going to the Carter Gala next month.”

James’s words made you look up from your precious pretzels.

Nods. Nods came from you.

Chew. Chew. Chew.

Munch. Munch. Munch.

Once he saw you swallow, you spoke. “The Carter family? How rich are they, from a scale from one to ten?”

“Solid twelve.”

Major eyebrow game was coming from you. You raised both eyebrows in astonishment. “A twelve, huh Sasha? That’s a first. What kind of company are they?”

“Investments. Like mine.” James supplied. You nodded in understanding. “So they’re rich rich. Gotcha.” Returning back to your food, you tore your last pretzel in half, dipping it in your caramel sauce. You had already finished with your cheese sauce. And all that was left was your caramel sauce. “Nothing beats this caramel sauce,” you sighed dreamily as you took a bite. A satisfied hum coming from you. James just watched you with an amused expression on his face.

“Anything else I should know about them?” You piped up. “Just be careful around them. They’re… superficial. The eldest Carter daughter is a bit… full of herself. Her younger sister though, she’s a nice girl.” James explained.

“Understood.”

Now that you had finished your food, you stood up. Holding your bag of empty wrappers and empty soda cup. You threw away your bag in the trash bin before James joined you, bags in his hand.

“To Versace?”

“To Versace it is.”

Back in the present, around roughly eight thirty PM…

“I knew we should have never gotten those drinks!” You hissed as you desperately tried to run in the heels that you were currently sporting on your feet.

Biting down the urge to just say “ow ow ow ow ow ow ow” a million times over, James just happily jogged next to you as if it was no sweat.

Which, unfortunately for you, was not helping.

It was totally not helping.

“Show off,” you muttered to yourself, much to James’s amusement. He didn’t snicker or laugh at you. Instead, he gave you one of his hidden smiles.

You were touched. Really, you were truly touched. James usually never smiled in public. Only when the two of you were alone, would he ever smile. Usually, he would just scowl or brood.

But in quiet moments like these, you saw those smiles he only reserved for you. It made your hand fall into his, grasping it.

“Thank you. I appreciate you, James.”

“I appreciate you too, kotenok.” was his quiet reply.

“James Barnes-Romanov and Miss Daaé.”

If you hadn’t been so focused on being rigid and focused, your legs probably would have given out on how low James’s voice was. He was a walking, screaming definition of daddy. Not to mention, for tonight’s event, he wore an all-black suit. A complete matte black suit, with polished dress shoes to match. His shoulder-length, chestnut hair was brushed and tucked behind his ears.

You were standing so close to him, gripping his hand so hard that you could smell his cologne on him. That dark, musky scent was beginning to drive you up the walls. Pretty soon, if you didn’t contain yourself, you’d probably be reduced to a bitch in heat.

It was ridiculous.

Utterly fucking ridiculous.

It was embarrassing, was what it was. You were going to hit the big three and zero in a couple of years, and this was how you were acting? Like you just wanted him to drag you to the nearest closet and fuck your brains out?

Seriously?

You needed to get a grip on yourself.

Like, ASAP.

Cause this shit was downright embarrassing.

“Oh! Right this way,” you had snapped out of your thoughts as James tugged you along, following the server to your table. Thanks to James’s connections, you were seated directly with the Carter family. As the two of you walked through the huge ballroom that had been converted and decorated for tonight’s event, you couldn’t help but feel your nerves act up again.

Even though you were dressed in the most expensive shit James could buy and spoil you in, you were reminded of just how much you didn’t belong here.

You had grown up poor. Barely being able to put food on the table. You had juggled so many jobs as a teenager, leading up to your young adult years because your father had spent so much of it. Instead of running away, like you always had imagined when you were younger.

God, you should have done that. It would have saved you the intense heartbreak and what had happened next.

You had only sat in your chair for a few minutes before chaos had begun.

Someone had bumped into you, and almost immediately, you seized up in a panic.

James knew you didn’t like being touched. Not by anyone that you didn’t know. So he scooted his chair a little closer to you. Putting his arm around you to assure you that he was still here. In an effort to calm you down.

Fortunately for him, you did calm down. Somewhat. But you were still on high alert.

“Who was that?” Was your hushed whisper.

“Just some random person. You’re alright, kotenok.” James reassured you. Grabbing the glass of water, you took a gulp in order to soothe your nerves. Nearly slamming it down, your companion noticed that your hand shook a little when you eventually put it down.

You always hated coming to events like these. Being surrounded by rich people who had nothing better to do than flex their money and brag about how much money they had. Like it was their world, and all the poor people just lived in it.

These people that were surrounding you were so detached from reality.

Some of them, anyway.

James saw you take another sip of your glass of water. “I hear the food is going to be great tonight,” he whispered quietly in your ear. “So don’t drink too much water.”

“Aye aye, Captain.” Was your dry response.

“Oh! James! How nice it is to see you!”

Amanda Carter, the wife of Harrison Carter, with her dark brown hair, mixed in with white was all nice and curly, donning a Gucci dress and Gucci heels. You could tell because smack-dab in the middle was the Gucci gold logo. Her dress was black, so it didn’t clash with the shoes. The older woman had made her way over to her table, smiling at James. When she laid eyes on you however, she frowned a little.

“I don’t believe I’ve met your date, James.” She said, a slight strain in her voice. It was as if she could smell that you weren’t rich.

Did rich people have a poor people radar or something? Like how some people had a gaydar?

It would be something that you would look into.

… or maybe it was just an Amanda Carter thing?

It was anybody’s guess, you supposed.

“This is my partner, Miss Daaé.” James’s voice was smooth as he spoke your name, introducing you to the other woman. Amanda raised a light eyebrow at you. “Daaé? Swedish?” she questioned you. She even pulled up a seat next to you so she could talk to you.

“Yes,” you gave her a nod. “My father was born in Sweden. His family immigrated to the US when he was nine months old.”

“Where in Sweden?” Amanda was continuing to question you, and you secretly wanted to die inside.

This was why you didn’t like coming to these events.

Usually, most of the time, James was the one who did all the talking. He was much better at it than you were. People flocked to him whenever he entered a room. Like he was a god, and the people at the events were his subjects. They hung on his every word. He could easily command a room without never even speaking. It was mesmerizing, the way your Sugar Daddy worked.

Snapping out of your sudden thoughts, you answered her. “Sigtuna. It’s a small town. My grandfather was a fisherman and my grandmother was a stay-at-home mother before they relocated to Queens with my father.”

“Hmm. How interesting.”

Turning her attention away from you, Amanda focused her attention on James instead. “James, I need to ask you about the—“

“No.” James fired his quick reply.

You took your phone, unlocking it with your thumb. You had just been about to click on Instagram when you heard James’s cool response. He said it faster than someone could say “Jesus.”

“I’m sorry?”

You heard Amanda’s nervous chuckle. However, you paid her no heed as you saw a text message notification from a friend pop up. Clicking on said notification, you quickly texted her back. For occasions like this, you always set your phone on silent mode. Despite disliking events like these, you still wanted to remain respectable.

“I said no. End of story.” James’s response cut her like a knife. “But James, you must see the positives,” Amanda tried to protest, but James quickly interrupted her. “You tried with Steve, Amanda. He already has someone else. You will not be trying this with me.”

“She isn’t even rich!” Amanda’s hiss reply finally made you look up from your phone. Quickly shutting it off and putting it back in your purse, you asked. “And why does her social standing matter? I am sitting right here, Mrs. Carter. I am James’s date. I have been his date for many years. So has Steven’s. They are very much happy together. I am very much poor, and so is Steve’s girlfriend. If James does not agree with the match, then please leave it at that. Your daughter’s net worth is far more than what I will ever make in my lifetime. Perhaps you should be looking into who is most experienced and qualified in inheriting your company unless you would like it to be bought by someone else. Instead of trying to marry your daughter off to the net richest person in line.”

Your cut-throat, straight-to-the-point response had Amanda gaping. You simply just raised an eyebrow with a look that said, your play.

For a few seconds, she looked flabbergasted.

“Excuse me, ma’am? Would you like a glass of champagne?” A server who had been walking by asked you. Effectively breaking the tense silence.

“I’d be thrilled, thank you.” You smiled politely and even thanked the server again when you accepted your glass of bubbly.

Taking a sip of your champagne, you watched Amanda’s face redden with embarrassment. From where James’s hand was under the table, he grasped your hand and gave it a firm squeeze.

Feeling the bubbly sensation playing around in your throat, you heard a young woman’s voice call out.

“Mother!”

A brunette young woman wearing a long, puffy red dress with a sparkly, scooped neckline. Complete with gold strappy heels that clicked and hid her feet. She made her way towards your table. Following her was a blonde-haired young woman with a silver dress that wasn’t poofy, but had a long skirt and silver heels. You noticed the brunette-haired woman’s hair was curled, while the blonde-haired woman was not. Instead, it was flat. However, she did offer you and James a polite smile.

“Mother! Did James say yes?” The brunette-haired woman asked enthusiastically.

“Doesn’t she understand that you’re literally right here?” You turned to James so you could whisper in his ear. “No,” snorted James. “If anything, she probably wouldn’t even know I was here at all.”

Resisting the urge to snort in your champagne glass, you just took another sip of the bubbly goodness to conceal your amusement.

“Why doesn’t he tell you himself, darling?”

Amanda’s smile was unkind. James could see that. He would hate to have her as an in-law.

“I said no.”

The smile on the brunette-haired woman’s face fell. “But why not?” she screeched. Having turned her sudden fury to the man in question.

And it was just then that you realized at her outburst, that you were in for a very long night.

Nine PM…

Margaret “Peggy” Carter was fuming.

Fuming!

Enraged!

Pissed off!

Seated at the Carter table, she watched with envious eyes as James interacted with his date. They exchanged quiet, unspoken words in Russian. Peggy could tell it was Russian, but she had absolutely no clue what they were talking about.

“I’m telling you, Sasha, there’s no need to put caviar on these eggs benedicts. They ruin everything,” you sighed to James.

“They provide a nice pop in your mouth, kotenok.” James’s reply had you simply sighing softly to him in return.

“Is there going to be pasta on the menu? What kind of pasta is it going to be? Pasta aglio olio?” You decided to switch the subject.

“Cacio e pepe,” James informed you lightly. A sort of pleased noise came from you.

“Oh, I haven’t had that in ages…”

But then, you were suddenly scrunching up your nose and frowning. Peggy wondered what kind of shit you were going to spew out of your mouth next.

“But that isn’t fancy though… it’s just pepper, cheese, and pasta water…” your frown intensified as you looked at James.

“Should I eat that?”

“Yes.” nodded James firmly.

“Yes, you should.”

“You know, if you’re going to talk shit, speak in English so we know what you’re saying.”

Almost immediately, you nearly frowned at the brunette-haired woman.

No.

Peggy Carter.

The eldest daughter of the Carter fortune, and the heiress of the company. You had noticed that she had been practically giving “fuck me” eyes to James for nearly almost an hour. You weren’t usually a jealous or possessive person, but boy oh boy— did Peggy kick that zero up to a ten so quick. So fucking quick. You even had the passing thought of gripping James’s thigh and maybe glaring daggers at her, so she knew who James belonged to.

Was that a toxic mindset to have?

Yeah.

Should you have had that mindset at the time being?

No. Fucking hell no. You should not have had that mindset at all.

But right here, right now— you did.

Oh yes, you did.

One-hundred percent, you did.

And it was pissing you off.

Why were you even acting like this?

It baffled you.

But, as you replied to the eldest Carter daughter, you bit down on that bile you felt in your throat.

“I was just asking James what kind of pasta we were having. I was hoping to have pasta aglio e olio. It isn’t hard to cook. And it also doesn’t have a lot of ingredients.”

“Oh, I love pasta aglio e oilo!” The blonde woman, Sharon you learned her name was, beamed at you. Finding a friend through all of this mess, you offered her a genuine smile in return.

“I’m usually really lazy,” Sharon continued on. “So whenever I don’t feel like whipping up a masterpiece, I usually make that.”

“I’m lazy all of the time,” your response had Sharon absolutely laughing. “—so I make that most of the time. James wonders why I haven’t gotten sick of it yet.”

“And I still also wonder why you make it so spicy,” James’s added mutter made you snort this time. “Because I like it spicy, Sasha. That’s why.” Your rebuttal just made James roll his eyes in kind. You knew he was teasing though.

“And,” you added because you were on a roll tonight. “Your white boy self can’t handle much spice anyway.”

James just scoffed at that notion.

But the two of you knew better.

It wasn’t like he could eat human food anyway.

Sharon was about to ask you another question, but Peggy suddenly spoke.

“Mother, I think I leaked through. Can I go to the bathroom for a quick second?” the eldest Carter child asked her mother. “Of course, darling.” Amanda smiled at her. Peggy quickly excused herself and quickly bolted for the ladies' room.

James watched as she left, doing the staring thing he always did. He smelled the blood, but deep in his gut, he could feel something wrong.

The blood didn’t smell right.

Why didn’t the blood smell right?

As people talked and gossiped, he turned his direction back to the stage. While you were on your phone, mindlessly scrolling. Replying back to texts, if you felt like it.

All of a sudden, a few minutes later, the lights went out. Endless voices cried out in surprise, but James remained calm, cool, and collected in his seat. You shut off your phone again, feeling for your purse. Once you found it, you slipped your phone back inside.

Then an announcer’s voice, a man’s, rang out from the mic.

“Can I have your attention, please?”

There was a high-pitched ringing. It made most people cover their ears, James included.

“Fuck,” you heard him utter under his breath. You patted his shoulder in reassurance.

“… we’re so sorry about that,” you heard the man standing up front at the podium, on the stage chuckle nervously. “Please give us a moment. The feedback is a little messy…”

All of a sudden, James squeezed your hand three times.

It suddenly set you on alert. You didn’t allow it to show on your face though. By now, you were a seasoned professional. Really, you should have tried out for an Off-Broadway play with your acting skills. It could be a smash hit.

Those three squeezes.

Something was wrong.

The announcer’s next words quickly snapped you out of your thoughts.

“… Please welcome to the stage, Harrison Carter!”

You and James politely clapped along with everyone else, but that terrible feeling in your gut wouldn’t leave you.

As the spotlights shined on the stage, you saw Harrison Carter walk out. Dressed in a pinpoint black suit, you watched as he walked.

Only…

Your eyes widened.

He only took a few steps forward, before he fell onto the stage face first.

A gleaming silver knife was embedded into his back, and the handle was pure silver as well.

Someone screamed.

People started to get up.

Some even started running towards the doors in a panic.

Pretty soon, nearly everyone was in a panic. You saw Amanda Carter screaming, pleading for help as tears streamed down her face. Ruining her makeup. Sharon was screaming too, shouting for her father as she started to run towards the stage, only to be held back by SP. Still, Sharon tried her most damn to claw free, in order to get to her father.

Only you and James were the only ones who did not panic.

“Police! Someone call the police!” You heard Amanda scream. It was at that moment, that you stood up.

“You don’t need to call the police.”

Amanda turned wildly to you. She whirled her head in your direction, anger, grief, and pain written all over her face.

“My husband’s just been murdered!” She screamed at you.

Unbothered, your hand dove straight down into your purse before you found it.

Pulling it out, you flashed it in her face.

“Hello, ma’am. I’m sorry for not telling you all the stuff earlier. I’m Detective Daaé. And this is my partner, James Buchanan Barnes.”

Roughly around nine forty five PM…

Police arrived on the scene roughly a couple of minutes later.

Which, you didn’t blame them.

Late New York traffic was a bitch. Especially because the venue was a bit far away from the police station.

Many of your colleagues were giving you amused or confused looks. The ones that were amused joked with you when they got there.

“And once again, Daaé has beat us again to the scene of the crime.” Peter Quill, your fellow co-worker joked.

You just rolled your eyes good-naturedly as you did your usual fist bump with him.

“Suck a dick, Quill.” You responded to him bluntly, causing him to laugh. James just stood a few feet away from you, staring.

“He’s doin’ the starin’ thing again,” remarked Helen Cho, the Head of the Medical Examination center as she walked past you. You just let out a snort as the Korean woman made her way to the stage, to look at the body. James was unaffected, still doing the staring thing as he always did. Striding his way toward you, the tall, broad-shouldered man put his hands on your shoulders, using the top of your head as a little stool for his head.

“Oh look,” snickered Mantis, who was Helen’s assistant from the Medical Examination Center. “They’re flirting again everyone.”

“Highly unusual,” another voice piped up that James didn’t recognize. Nor did he put a name to the face.

“Alright— settle down. All of you.”

Captain Carol Danvers briskly walked into the room. A hard look on her face as she scanned the area. People had been cleared out of the crime scene, and they were instructed to not tell anyone of what had happened and were sent home. Needless to say, this gala banquet definitely hit in your Top Five Most Exciting Gala Events ever. Other than that one time where some dude named Carter Baizen had walked up to the stage and slapped the shit out of another guy named John Walker for badmouthing his wife.

That event however, would remain the number one spot in your heart. Oh yes, you cherished that moment so deeply.

“Remember that one time, at the one gala where Carter Baizen slapped the shit outta John Walker?” You said causally to your partner in crime as your Captain walked closer and closer to the harmonious duo that was you and your Sugar Daddy.

“Mhmmm. And he told him to ‘keep my wife’s name out of your fucking mouth.’ Oh yes, I remember. People filmed that. It went viral. So sad that Frank’s sex tape beat that video.” James nodded in a solemn way as you let out a very unladylike snort at his response. Finding it absolutely hilarious. “Frank is definitely attractive. I see how his personal assistant slept with him. He definitely has a very nice oral game.”

“And what about my oral game? Are you saying his is better than mine?” questioned James.

“Well, I’ve never been eaten out by Frank before. Perhaps I’ll set an appointment so I can compare my notes,” you hummed in reply. At James’s scowl, you hid your laugh.

“Daaé. Romanov. This isn’t time for social hour.” Carol told the two of you sternly. You gazed up at the man who was currently using you as a resting stool for his chin. “You heard the Captain,” you informed your partner cheerfully. With a low grumble, James detached himself from you. However, he did hold your hand.

“Where’s the Carter family?” Having switched to English, you stared at your Captain head-on.

“In the foyer area,” Carol informed you. “Thanks, boss! Man… I was really looking forward to eating that caico e pepe, Sasha… I’m hungry now…” Were your words as you walked out of the huge ballroom, James walking beside you as always. “We can pick up something on the way home?” He suggested. Pausing in your thoughts but continuing your merry way, you said. “Oh yeah… that Chinese restaurant is usually open until two AM, right?” At James’s confirming nod, you relaxed a little.

“Oh noooo… this means I’m gonna feel bad after I eat it,” you groaned in dismay. “Well, I’ll have to bake some veggies for lunch or something… sweet potato fries… would that cut it?” You wondered.

“Sweet potato fries with broccoli and onions?” James suggested helpfully. “And maybe some eggs? Y’know… for protein?” You threw in. Just to have more ideas and options.

“Mmm… eggs…” James sighed to himself. “Oh yeah, that flan I had yesterday was pretty good,” you acknowledged with a nod and slight neediness in your voice. The two of you entered the foyer area, where the remaining Carter family were standing. Absolutely swamped by police and reporters.

Mostly reporters.

“Alright, alright—“ your voice boomed over the endless shouts of reporters. Your Choo’s smack smacked against the ceramic floors of the building as you strode your way over.

Sharon Carter watched as the reporters stopped and made way for you and James. Unlike before, when you had been seated at the same table as her, you didn’t look like you clearly didn’t want to be there.

No.

You looked positively headstrong. A no-nonsense look was on your face as you eyed every Carter family member down. James was the same as always. Brooding. Watching.

“The Misses are not taking questions at this time. Thank you for your time, but you all need to leave.” Your voice rang out as reporters started to protest, but a look from you silenced them.

“Sasha,” you called out to your companion. “Let’s go.”

Ten PM…

Somehow in some way, shape, or form— you had managed to scour food for you, Amanda, Peggy, and Sharon. You happily slurped on your pasta while James sat beside you.

“Um… does he want some food?” asked Sharon awkwardly. “I’m not hungry,” James answered her smoothly. Sharon just blinked at him before nodding. Returning back to her food. You were sitting beside him, but he had snuck his leg under yours, pulling you even closer to him. The two of you were practically hip to hip. All the while there was some commotion outside, people still cleaning up the crime scene.

“So…” you looked up from your pasta. Amanda Carter was giving you a considering look. Far from the look she had been giving you earlier in the ballroom. “You’re a detective?”

“Homicide detective,” you clarified for her. “I mostly deal with domestic violence abuse victims, child abuse victims, or child neglect.”

“Ah.”

You slurped up another noodle.

Chew. Chew. Chew. Chew.

“And… how long have you been a homicide detective?” Amanda asked you again. “I was a police officer for about two years before I became a homicide detective. I’m turning twenty-seven soon.” You informed her.

A look of surprise came over her face. “I didn’t know you were twenty-seven!” proclaimed Sharon. “You don’t look like you’re twenty-seven! I thought you were still in your early twenties!”

You noticed Peggy was silent.

“Why did you become a homicide detective?”

Peggy’s question didn’t throw you off guard. Most people usually asked this question. Usually, you’d just reply with a, “Oh, personal problems” and just leave it at that.

But something was twisting deep in your gut when you looked at Peggy Carter. So when you answered her, it even surprised you.

“My dad. He wasn’t the greatest dude. I didn’t have a happy home life, so I wanted other people to at least have one.”

James’s hold on you tightened. If possible, his eyes were slowly turning dark.

You wondered when was the last time he had fed.

Had it been a week? Two? Three? Four?

Slurping up the last bit of your noodle, you put your fork down.

“Excuse me,” you apologized politely to the three women. “I need to talk to James about something.” Hissing him to get up and follow you, the two of you scurried out of the room.

James only followed you down the hallway for a few feet before he grabbed a hold of your arm, tugging you down to the empty closet he had spotted earlier when the two of you had arrived. Ignoring your hissed protests, he dragged you inside, making sure to shut the door.

“Where’s the goddamn light switch…” your hisses were cut off by you suddenly being pushed against the wall.

You couldn’t help it.

You let out a squeak of surprise.

His heavy breathing just confirmed for you that your Sugar Daddy had indeed, not fed for a while.

“Couldn’t stop thinkin’ bout how good ya smell…” his low timbre made your legs begin to twitch. Your pussy clenched around nothing as he slotted his body against yours, something akin to a growl erupting from his throat.

“Oh, Kitten. I can smell you. Can smell how wet you’ve been for me. You’re bein’ needy and bratty, aren’t cha?”

His words made you bite down a whimper. You were still feeling horny as shit.

“Didn’t like the way she was looking at you,” your breath stuttered as James heard your breathy tone. “Wanted you to fuck me, Daddy. Wanted your fingers so bad…”

A deep groan came from your Daddy. “Kotenok… you don’t know what you’re askin’…”

“Uh-uh.” You shook your head no. “Know what I’m askin’.” To prove your point, you even grinded against him. James inhaled deeply, his palms nearly shaking. His gloved hand brushed over your dress, making you shudder.

Your skin felt so hot. You felt like you were on fire.

“Please,” your plea came out into a breathy whisper. “Need you, Sasha. Need you so bad.”

“Don’t tempt me,” James growled. You shamelessly rolled your hips down against him. You were also pretty sure you were breathing pretty heavily too.

“I’ll use Armadillo tonight.” You threatened him.

In the complete utter darkness, James’s nostrils flared up. “You wouldn’t dare use that toy of depravity against me.” He hissed in a confrontational tone. “You don’t fuck me, I find other means.” A triumphal tone was evident in your voice as you leaned back. Clearly thinking that you had bested your Daddy.

… until you felt a sharp canine brush over your neck. Your entire body shuddered and thrummed with need.

“I’m always three steps ahead of you, kotenok. Don’t forget that.” James hummed against your skin as his teeth trailed over your skin in a teasing manner. Just to remind you that he could bite you and sink his teeth in, but he wouldn’t. Even if he could.

“… stop teasing…” Was your soft whimper.

He could smell your arousal. It was like small little wisps of smoke floating up in his nose. Your blood sang to him and he could feel how hungry he was.

But he needed to keep himself in control. He wasn’t a monster.

Removing his glove from his left hand, he quickly shoved it in his back pocket. Your thighs pressed together in anticipation.

Lifting up the skirt of your dress, James pushed your panties to the side. Plunging a metal finger inside of you, he felt your body seize up. Your breath caught in your throat as your mouth fell open into an O. Your eyes rolled into the back of your head at the cooling sensation, compared to how hot your body felt.

“… shit…” gasped James as he let out a grunt. You were so wet and your pussy was sucking him in. His precious girl was speaking to him. And he was listening.

Without skipping a beat, he started pumping his finger in and out of you, quickly adding two more fingers before you could blink.

Your breathless moans soon filled the small, cramped space. James himself had buried his face into the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent deeply as his fingers continued to push up into your sloshing mess of a cunt. His thumb rubbed against your clit roughly, providing that much-needed friction as you grinded against him, your hips rolling down onto his. With his body pressed against yours so closely, you could feel the bulge in his pants press against you really tight. That only spurred you on getting even wetter than you already were, your arousal dripping down his fingers and onto his metal palm.

“Shit, shit, shit, shit. Fuck, Sasha. Feels so good Daddy.” You moaned pathetically like a teenage girl dry humping her boyfriend for the first time. A loose whimper fell from your lips when you felt his finger probe against your g-spot.

“Oh my god, yes. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Right there, oh my god. Don’t stop, please, please, please,” you were resisting the urge to be loud like you usually were with him. But knowing that you two were in a cramped, small space in a public setting?

High unlikely that you were going to corrupt any innocent souls tonight.

James’s pace quickened as he continued to position his fingers in and out of you, the wet squelching noises of his fingers pushing back in, shoving his fingers as deep as he could inside of you filling his ears. Along with your moans.

And when his teeth eventually sank into your neck, finally drinking from you, you came with a muffled moan. James’s flesh hand had clasped over your mouth. Silencing your noises.

They were only supposed to be for him, after all.

Removing his mouth from your neck, you felt a little light-headed. You had to take a couple of seconds to regain your composure.

Taking his metal fingers out of your gushing cunt, he slipped them into his mouth. Moaning at the pure taste of you. Your cheeks flushed.

“Sasha!” You hissed at him. Nearly choosing to swat his shoulder. But you didn’t.

“Go out first. I’ve got… unfinished business to do.”

You just blinked at him for a split second.

“Are you… hard?” Your voice was full of disbelief.

“Yes,” stated James bluntly.

“O-Oh… I mean… I-I can help, if—“ you stammers were cut off. “No,” was James’s brisk reply. You immediately stopped talking. “It’s okay. Go out first.”

Just about when you reached the door, you heard a low, “Spit in my hand.”

Turning back around, searching for James in the dark, you felt him grab your wrist and tug you towards him again.

Your hands fell to his slacks, unbuttoning the button with a low popping noise.

His voice was low. “You don’t have to help me. All I need is your spit and thoughts of your pussy. That should be more than enough help.”

Your cheeks burned. “Then gimme your hand,” you snapped at him. Although you couldn’t see him in the pitch darkness, a smile tugged at his lips.

His flesh hand gripped your chin, telling you which hand to spit into. Bending your head down, a spitting noise echoed in the quiet, small cramped space.

“See you outside, Sasha.”

Some time around eleven thirty PM…

You had been roped in with some other work, so by the time you had gotten around to finally feeling like you had peace of mind, you had lost track of where James had ended up.

Fortunately for you, James had popped up. Looking the exact same. He didn’t look like he had just masturbated himself to the near-brink of death.

Lucky bastard.

“Busied yourself in the joys of the flesh for far too long, have you?” Your crisp response had James gazing at you with utter amusement.

“What can I say,” shrugged your number one person in the world, “—you are quite the vixen.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment, Sasha.”

The two of you were walking down the hallway back to the Carter women. Mostly everyone who had been there to clean up the crime scene was already heading home. Colleagues and friends alike who you caught on their way out said goodbye. James just did his usual staring thing.

A loud piercing scream suddenly echoed down the hallway.

You took off running, even yanking off your Choo’s to get there faster.

James had never been more thankful in his long life for his enhanced endurance. His super speed. He easily caught up with you as you bolted down the hall to get to where the screaming was coming from.

Upon reaching the spot, you froze in your tracks.

There was a dead body.

Now, you had seen plenty of dead bodies in your life before. It came with the job occupation, after all.

The dead body appeared to be a woman with dark brown hair. You also noticed her hair was naturally curly. Blood splattered all over her white shirt.

Something was off, about this woman, though.

And James caught it. But, before he could voice his opinion, Peggy decided to open her mouth to shriek.

“She did it! She’s the one who murdered my dad!”

If you had been in her position, you probably would have felt pity for her. Her own father had been murdered, after all. It reminded you of your own past relationship with your father. Just the thought of him made you feel that familiar deep pain in your chest. You hadn’t felt that pain for a long time. Over the years, you had tried getting through it. You had accepted after a long time ago that you would never get over it. You still had the scars on your chest to prove it.

But day by day, that deep pain in your chest slowly loosened. That dark cloud that had followed you and loomed over you slowly went away.

Seeing this dead woman’s body and hearing Peggy’s shout had made all of your old feelings rush up to the surface again.

“… If she was the one who murdered your father, then why is she dead?”

James’s voice broke you out of your thoughts.

“Because she probably felt bad that she did it! She probably couldn’t handle the fact that she killed someone and so she had to off herself to make herself feel better!” Peggy fired right back at him. James however, was still not impressed.

“If that’s what you’re saying… then why is her jacket also still off?” came his next question.

“Fuck me gently with a chainsaw,” you breathed out. Just realizing the jacket was off.

Everything in your brain started firing at you all at once.

James saw the look on your face.

You had figured it out.

All of the puzzle pieces had fallen into place. Like the entire puzzle piece had been finished. All those jagged, uneven pieces were now in their correct place.

“You… you did it.”

Mrs. Carter cried out. Sharon looked horrified.

You were staring Peggy Carter right in the eyes.

“I didn’t do it!” She screeched. “

What evidence do you have?” She challenged you.

“Your dress.”

“What?”

“You dress,” you continued. You were looking at the poofy ballgown-like skirt with a critical eye. “You said earlier, a few minutes before the lights went out that you had leaked through. But any woman knows with that type of dress, in that type of color that anyone looking could see you had bled through it. That red color won’t cover up leakage. They’ll show the color because blood red is much darker than your dress color. But you weren’t showing.”

Peggy’s red dress looked like a candy red apple color. It reminded you of Maria Reynolds's red dress from Hamilton.

“Not to mention,” you had turned back around to look at the dead body once more. “The woman’s shoes were off. Your poofy skirt would have been able to cover your shoes. I didn’t quite see your heels before you had lifted your skirt to get up from the table. And to not mention, if your mom hadn’t forced you to wear heels at a very young age, your feet probably would’ve been sore. Or you would’ve had blisters by now. There’s no reason why the SP would her shoes off.”

“But the SP are everywhere!” Peggy’s protest made you smirk.

“Exactly.”

“What the hell are you trying to say?” Amanda shouted at you.

“Your daughter’s right. The SP are everywhere. They’ve been at these events for so long that people don’t even notice them anymore. They’re like white noise to people. And when the lights went out, it was a perfect moment for you to strike.”

“You managed to catch the SP off guard. And then after you killed her, you impersonated her. You went back inside. She had your curled hair. You were wearing sunglasses. No one would be able to tell the difference. So after you got in, you grabbed the knife and snuck up on your father, just before he was about to walk on stage. After you stabbed him, you fled. The chaos inside allowed you to change and come back inside without anyone noticing. But you forgot one thing.”

“What?” She bit at you.

“You’re still wearing the shoes.”

Sharon gasped in horror as James walked up to Peggy, only to yank up her skirt, revealing the shoes. Black booties were on her feet.

The same ones that were missing on the SPs.

“So what if I did it? You don’t have any motivation on why I would do it!” Peggy shouted at you.

“Oh. But I do.”

Peggy took a step back, just as you took a step forward. Grabbing her by the scooped collar of her neckline, you forced her to look right into your eyes.

“You wanted to get married to James. To merge your companies. To make you even richer, because you’re under his company name. He owns you.”

“How do you know that?” Sharon was surprised. Dropping Peggy for a second, you pulled out your phone. “These things are really helpful with research. And because I spend so much time with James. He tells me everything. A month before we came here, I asked him questions on the way home. He told me that he invests in your company. He bought you because your husband, Mrs. Carter, was gambling with the mob.”

“H-He… he never told—“ Amanda breathed out in horror.

“Of course he didn’t. He didn’t want to tell you he was embezzling money from the company to fund his poker games. But the mob… they aren’t kind to people who don’t pay them on time. Sooner or later, he probably figured out that they’d put a hit on him. So, he decided to compromise. And that’s where Sasha came in.”

Turning your gaze to James, you saw his wide smirk.

He loved seeing you in your element.

“A marriage between two powerful people would be extraordinary for him. He would have more access to money. More access means more money to fund his games. But, James must have figured something was up. So he said no.”

“And that’s how you found out.” You had redirected your watchful gaze back to Peggy, who was still on the floor.

“You snooped around his office one day, and you found proof of his embezzling. And then, after James said no to the match, you snapped. So, you decided to kill your father. Because you wanted the money too. He’s probably got a will somewhere, providing you, Sharon, and your mother with money if anything ever happened to him. You’re just a greedy rich bitch with a trust fund.”

Having completed your analysis, you stood there. Eyebrow raised as if waiting for something to happen.

And something did happen.

Even before you could react. Peggy got onto her feet and lunged for you.

So you did the most reasonable thing ever.

You whacked her right in the face with your purse. And when she was down, you did it again. Repeatedly hitting her with your purse, you did it until she was completely knocked out.

And okay sure, her nose was bleeding a little.

So maybe yeah, you probably had hit her a little too hard.

But anywho.

“I’ll take her into custody. You take the Carters home.”

You looked at James.

“Are you sure?” You asked him. “Yeah,” he replied. Giving him a nod, he watched as you led the remaining two Carter women out. Once he knew you were out of sight, he pulled out his phone. Unlocking it with his thumb, he opened his contacts and clicked on the right conversation. His thumbs flew over the keyboard as he began to type.

James: I went to the store but I wasn’t able to find the red bean popsicles. Is regular cherry popsicles okay?

Around one AM, ish…

By the time James had gotten home from dropping Peggy off, he heard silence.

Which wasn’t all that odd.

But then, as he walked up the stairs of the luxurious Brown Townhouse that he shared with you in Brooklyn, he heard it.

Crying. Soft sobs.

Almost immediately, he knew it was you.

Speeding up his pace, he quickly found himself in the master bedroom of the house. Opening the door fully, golden light filled in the room.

He saw your lump on the bed, shaking. Little broken sobs were coming from you as you tried to keep yourself under control.

And you had.

You had tried.

You had fucking tried to keep yourself together. Once you had escorted Amanda and Sharon Carter back to their penthouse in Manhattan, you had hailed a cab to take you back to Brooklyn. You had texted Carol on your way home, saying that you’d give her a debriefing tomorrow. Because you were frigging exhausted as shit.

So once you got home, you immediately peeled off your dress, followed by your bra and panties. Even chucking off of your shoes. Pulling yourself the hottest bath you could, you even brought out the candles.

It was gonna be that kind of night.

You sat in the tub, drowning in your thoughts for what had seemed like an eternity. When you realized that the water had gotten cold, you had stepped out. After changing into comfy clothes and blow-drying your hair, you immediately felt the bile reach up in your throat.

You had vomited in the toilet. After finishing, you rinsed your mouth and washed your face. And then brushed your teeth.

After all that, you had laid in bed until the thought had become too much.

Now, now you were spilling all of it out.

You barely even felt James sliding into the bed on the other side, trying his best to comfort you. He wrapped his arms around you.

“I couldn’t stop thinking about—“ a hiccup, “I-I… I couldn’t stop thinking about him… I-I know he’s been declared missing but I… I just… I couldn’t stop… I couldn’t stop…”

You were trembling. Shaking. Utterly in shock.

James remembered. He remembered meeting you that faithful week when everything had suddenly taken a turn for the worst. He remembered how the dinner had gone, and when the two of you had gotten in his car, he had nearly lost control.

By the end of the night, you had ended up straddling him, kissing him feverishly. You remembered he had made you cum that night. Right in his car.

It had been that same week when your father had finally snapped. Gone into the deep end. James had wired money into your account that had you paying the rent and the bills early. He had given you so much money that you had been able to pay for five months’ worth. The two of you had gotten into a heated argument.

When he had stabbed you, he had done it. Over and over. You had been laying in a pool of blood, weakly crawling to get to your phone to call James. He had been so lucky to find that his younger sister Natalia was near you. The redhead had managed to get you to the hospital while her older brother had dealt with your father.

Usually, James was not the type to enjoy punishments. Or dealing them out. That was reserved for his cousin. The head of the New York criminal underworld— Nick Fowler had to deal out punishments. Anyone who dared to cross him, or his wife would have to pay a hefty price.

James hadn’t been happy when he had found your father. But he had enjoyed killing him. Every time the hammer went down on his body and he’d heard another sickening crack of his bones breaking, it filled him with joy.

Ever since his family had been cursed with the curse of immorality and forced to walk upon this earth for centuries, James had never truly felt the feeling the people had called love.

But seeing you at the restaurant, listening to you, watching you— filled him with that strange feeling. Deep in his wretched, black ugly soul. He felt a spark. He suddenly felt as if he was living again. You were the air he suddenly breathed. You were the sunshine that shined over him. You were that light at the end of the tunnel. His light in the darkness.

For a long time now, he had accepted who he was. That he would never change. That he was incapable of changing.

So when he had murdered your father without drinking a drop of his blood, he didn’t feel bad. When your old man had been declared missing, he had reassured you that your father wouldn’t be getting anywhere near you again.

He was there every step of the way when you had decided to go to therapy. He had been there to encourage you to follow your dreams. He had been there when you had become a homicide detective. He had been there when you had confessed that you were in love with him. He had been the first one that you had ever slept with. Ever in your life.

You were his, and he was yours.

A gasp left you when his metal hand crept down your thighs, gently probing the tip of his finger around the fabric of your panties. His fingers rolled and rubbed against your clothed clit, devouring your sweet noises of pleasure as his mouth left hot kisses down the back of your neck. Going lower and lower. Flesh hand finding your shirt and bunching it up as his metal thumb rubbed circles onto your clit.

Rocking against you, his front pressed down onto your back as you felt him grinding down onto your ass. His hardened cock pressed deeper and deeper as his rubbing became quicker and faster.

All the while cries, moans, and pleas fell from you. You were breathing so heavily while you rocked your hips, grinding down onto the palm of his metal hand. Lost in the pleasure he was giving you.

“I’m— fuck I’m gonna cum,” you whimpered. “Needy lil kitten. Who’s makin’ you feel this good, huh? Tell me who’s makin’ you feel this good.” His voice ghosted over the nape of your neck.

“Daddy,” you gasped. Your mouth falling into a perfect O shape. “Daddy’s makin’ me feel this good.”

Tensely you rocked more into him. Grinding onto his palm just right. Your tits were straining and bouncing in the soft cotton material of your tank top.

“That’s right, kitten. Doin’ so well. Don’t you worry. Daddy’s gonna make it all better sweetheart. Cause you’re my best girl.”

With that, you came. You whimpered and sobbed. Crying out loud when your climax overwhelmed you, soaking you through as your legs continued to shake. The aftershocks of your orgasm being ridden through as James humped himself like a teenage boy against you, his lips stuttering as he came right in his pants.

The two of you stayed in bed for a while, deciding to cuddle. Because you wanted to be as close to James as you could. He held you, having changed out of his clothes. Naked and bare beside you, your head perched on his chest as you dozed off.

Briefly, as James laid there in bed next to you, because he didn’t need sleep. He thought.

His younger adopted sister mentioned something called her “red ledger.”

“I have red in my ledger,” he remembered her telling him once. It had probably been a few decades ago at this point. But he had remembered her words, how she explained to him that there had been patches in her past that she wasn’t proud of. She had killed people in order for her family to stay together.

Ivan. Melina. Yelena. That was her family. And her family had accepted him in, along with his cousins. They became his second family. He had killed in order to keep his new family together.

But when he killed in your name… it was different. You were more than family. You weren’t someone he just protected because he wanted to.

He chose to protect you.

You were the light of his life. His joy. His girl.

As Natalia said, he also had red in his ledger. And it was okay.

No one would ever take you away from him ever again.

Pretty soon, he’d be sure that Nick would put his plan into action. Once Peggy got in jail, he would leave it to his cousin.

Accidents happened in jail all the time.

For now though, James wouldn’t dwell on those thoughts. Instead, he focused on holding you, whispering in your ear about how much he loved you.

Everything would be fine and dandy.

Taglist: @bxnnywriting, @greeneyedblondie44, @hawsx3, @sunflowerfive

Random Tags: @buckysswinter, @extremelyblackandwhite, @turbolisedcomet

#vampire!bucky barnes x asian!reader #vampire!bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x asian!reader #bucky barnes x reader #dark!bucky barnes x asian!reader #dark!bucky x reader #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes fanfiction

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everythingsinred · 1 year

Text

what follows is a long, rambly, and possibly sappy thank you note to the best fandom ive ever involved myself in. if you have ever sent me an ask, commented on my fics, or replied to a post i made (or even liked it tbh)--then this post is for you. (and this is most certainly not a good-bye or even close; i just occasionally get into sappy moods)

i want to start working on a career that i like, and my mom’s recommendation was to start a writing blog (she insisted i dont call it that though--to call it a “website” so it sounds more professional when i apply for writing gigs). its not the first time shes given me that advice but i have for some reason always resisted that idea before. “nobody would read it” was always the bottom line. that whole “it has to be perfect to make up for the fact that it’s me” has always been my outlook on anything i produce. its why i feel so poorly whenever i post a new chapter of a fic or any art ever. its why im taking so long on the next batch of ga essays. its why ive never formally submitted any writing ever for publishing. why would anyone read anything i have to write, especially with no dead fandom to prompt them? who would choose me out of all the aspiring writers out there?

for ga it was a bit easier after a bit of breaking through the initial anxiety of sharing bits of myself. its a small fandom. not much content going around. theyd take anything right? even if it was from me!

but something really weird happened these past few years in the ga fandom. i started writing essays and became more vocal, posting my thoughts, writing a long, dark, fucked up fanfic. i got feedback from people who wanted more from me. theyd ask me my thoughts on things, when id never considered myself an authority on anything or even very interesting to talk to (a lifetime of being the substitute friend will do that to you). ppl sent me asks about questions. they replied to my posts to further discuss things. me! what on earth?

then it got weirder. i posted my weird messed up little fic and now every once in a while ill get a comment from a person that says that my fic is their favorite, not just in the fandom, but ever. EVER. what? a couple of people have told me that they’d read anything i wrote, even if it had nothing to do with gakuen alice.

that they’d read something just because it was me.

this isnt a rant or a vent. something has changed in my self esteem in the past few years because today, when my mom told me i should start a “writing website” and post weekly writing, it actually sounded like a decent idea. no part of her advice was different than it had ever been, but i was. i could for the first time imagine starting a blog (website) and picture someone actually liking what they found there. and that’s bc of the ga fandom and bc of the writing ive done it for it and SPECIFICALLY the writing ive actually had the guts to share.

none of it has been perfect. im lazy when it comes to self-editing and when i finish writing a chapter im eager to just throw it out there instead of rereading it once, let alone twice. a lot of it has been imperfect, but you guys still read it. you enjoyed it, even. “it has to be perfect to make up for the fact that it’s me” has never been a problem for you. for whatever reason, quite a few of you like me, like my writing, like my ideas and thoughts. a couple of years ago i wouldnt have been able to fathom that, not even in my wildest dreams.

im proud of myself for taking those first steps a couple years back, for posting those first couple posts and letting myself get involved in the fandom for a manga ive loved for half my life. im proud because if i hadnt done that, then maybe my self esteem wouldnt have developed like this. maybe i wouldnt have been able to picture a career in publishing as clearly as i can now. i obviously still have issues as far as my self esteem is concerned. i second-guess myself. i talk down to myself. i put off rereading bc i dont want to hate what i create. but you guys have helped me like my writing and helped me see that other people can like it too.

i am beyond grateful for that. i dont get a lot of traction or feedback like i would if i were in a larger fandom, but i dont mind. the feedback that i do get is of such good quality and has meant so much to me that it has potentially changed my life. i just needed you all to know that. that the people who have sent me asks, both on and off anon, requesting my thoughts on any topic; the people who leave comments on ffn and ao3, giving support ranging from long paragraphs to a brief sentence; the people who dm me or message me to share their thoughts on my work; the people who commented on my natsumikan essays telling me that ive helped them see something from a different perspective--you all have helped me see that there’s value in the things i create.

i just want to say thank you. it has meant so much to me so far to be able to feel so confident in my writing. i really didnt even notice the change until today. how bizarre is it that something so important can change without you even noticing? i look forward to sharing more with you, from more fics to the mikan essay (which still has to be perfect, just maybe not as perfect as it wouldve had to be a few years ago lol).

don’t be nervous that this a good-bye. it is not. it’s strange because whenever i’ve said anything like this (sent a message of adoration to a person i love, for example), people think it’s a bad sign. that i’m saying good-bye, or that it’s somehow a sign of something unsaid. i understand. this kind of nonsense sappiness (like all that stuff i wrote up there ^) is usually saved for the ffn bio when someone is leaving the site, for the good-bye post when someone decides to leave a fandom. “you’ve all meant so much to me and i’m leaving now.” that’s because usually people save all the important things for the end. you only say how you’ve felt when you say farewell. i don’t think life should be that way. i’m not saying good-bye, i’m saying i love you. i think people should say that more. i want people to feel good about themselves for what they’ve done, however small, to make my life--and undoubtedly the lives of others--a little brighter. and you have. you should know and i don’t intend to keep it to myself until i say good-bye (whenever or even if that happens).

tldr; i love you gakuen alice fandom <3 youre not dead because dead things cant give life the way you have.

#me and the gakuen alice fandom: a love story for the ages #my beautiful messiah.#if i ever come across as confident #especially in my older posts #that is incidental. i am always nervous to press post. this fandom has helped me grow so much yall have no idea #ga #gakuen alice #little anya things #this is partially a musing on my conversation w my mother abt the website #but also partially a response to every post on the ga tag complaining abt the dead fandom #i feel like its maybe unfair to judge the fandom based on how few ppl post (when its not even that few--i do track the tag)#when so many ppl love it and are eager to jump in on conversations to talk about it #it may be small but its passionate. passion is the lifeblood of any media that has stuck around in ppls hearts as long as ga has #i dont think that should be understated #my advice as someone who also mourned the 'death' of the fandom:#talk anyway.#youll bring all the ghosts out <3 and theyre for the most part quite friendly #if nobody reads this thats okay. i just needed to say it

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sunshineseung · 3 years

Text

Journal Part 3 // Jeongin

🍄 | genre: smut ☁️ | pairing: Yang Jeongin x female!reader 🌿 | wc: 4.3k 🌸 | includes: milf!reader x babysitter!college student!jeongin, “mommy”, shower/morning sex, handjob (m!receiving), cum swallowing, smut within smut [mentions of punishment, spanking, pegging, free use, “mistress”, flogging, chastity], masturbation, brief phone sex, bratty jeongin, punishment, spanking with hand, grinding, overstimulation (m!receiving), PIV (riding, cowgirl/reverse cowgirl), unprotected sex, creampie, aftercare… phew good luck

🌊 | One | Two | Three | Four | Five | Six | Finale |

The morning sun blinds Jeongin through the curtains, and he lazily rubs his eyes to see steam coming from under the bathroom door. You’ve already gotten up to get a shower, but you so rudely forgot to invite the sweet college boy blissfully sleeping next to you. Jeongin springs out of bed with a little too much energy and sneaks into your bathroom, being as quiet as possible.

“Jeongin, I know you’re there.” You fold your arms as you face the clear shower door Jeongin’s silhouette was on. He freezes, shrugs, and opens the shower door just enough so you could see only half of his body.

“May I come in?”

You sigh and swing open the door fully, making sure no water can get out. “Sure, baby.”

Jeongin gets giddy and hops in, smiling brightly as you continue to lather soap on your body. Suddenly, he hugs you from behind, pulling you as close to his body as possible. You feel his semi-erection on your back, but that’s not your focus right now. You just want to be clean for your day off.

“Thank you for letting me stay over.” Jeongin nuzzles his head in the back of your neck, cuddling you under the running water. “I really enjoyed last night. Did you?”

“Yes, sweetheart. I enjoyed it a lot.” Your reassurance makes him blush, and he’s happy you can’t see the flustered expression on his face. He doesn’t know what to do next. Luckily, you have plans. “Hey, Jeongin, do you write… fantasies about us in class?”

“Oh, uh, sometimes. I make sure no one sees, though.” He backs away, leaning on the far shower wall. “I mostly write in my composition class.”

“Who’s the professor?” You turn around, facing him fully, pinning him to the wall with your eyes.

“Mr. Lee?”

“Lee what?”

“Lee… Minho?”

Damnit. Of course. Of course it was going to be your ex husband. Admittedly, this wasn’t the best time to interrogate Jeongin, but it’s still early, and the kids aren’t up yet, so you have time to turn this around.

“Mommy, can you put shampoo in my hair?” Jeongin’s cute little voice almost makes your heart burst, and it’s practically impossible for you to say no now. Jeongin turns around and kneels, patiently waiting for you to wash his hair. You squeeze some shampoo into your hand and spread it through Jeongin’s wet hair, making sure it suds on his scalp. He hums in content, loving the feeling of your hands through his hair. “Thank you.”

“No problem, baby.” You kiss the back of his neck, making a shiver run down his spine. You hear the light sounds of Jeongin touching himself, slowly and quietly enough that he hopes you don’t notice, but you obviously do considering you see his right shoulder moving.

Once the shampoo is finally rinsed out of his hair, you pull him onto you, his back falling against your chest and stomach. You run your hands over his abs before taking a hold of his cock, wrapping your fingers around it gently before slowly jerking him back and forth. Jeongin weakly bucks his hips into your hand, dazed and clouded with neediness.

“You like when mommy touches you like this, huh?” The water sprinkles down onto Jeongin’s cock, creating a weak lubricant for your hand. He doesn’t answer you; he can only whimper, too far gone to even form a thought. He slipped into this headspace so fast, and it kind of shocks you. Jeongin rustles in your arms, seeming to wish to break free from your hold. “What’s wrong, baby?”

“W-want to see you.” Jeongin squeaks out, prompting you to turn around and pin him against the wall so the water hits your back. You get on your knees, looking up at him as his face is bright red and his eyes are half-lidded. “You’re so pretty, mommy.”

“Aw, is my little boy trying to compliment me so he can cum?” You go back to stroking his cock, licking the tip once to remind him of how your mouth feels. His sensitive cock begins to twitch, begging to release. Another lick, this time from his balls to his tip, and he’s cumming on your face, shooting his load across your features, mostly in your mouth.

You wipe the cum from your face to your mouth, swallowing every last bit of his tasty release. Jeongin only watches, eyes glued to your mouth, but he doesn’t know if he can kiss you considering you just ate his cum.

“Mommy, can I kiss you?” You look up and him and groan as you stand up, your knees feeling the repercussions of kneeling on the hard shower floor. He raises his chin as you grasp his face, pulling his soft lips to yours, kissing you sweetly. You press your body against his, your tits coming in contact with his chest, and he has to fight every thought to snap his neck down to look at your chest. Still, your lips were made for each other, perfectly in sync with every ministration. He’d be a fool to break this kiss right now.

Nothing in Jeongin’s wildest dreams could have prepared him for being with you, even if it isn’t anything serious. He loved just being in your presence, focused on your every word and every action, mentally taking notes so his memories of his time with you could be as vivid as possible.

On the other hand, nothing in your wildest dreams could prepare you for your ex-husband rudely coming back into your life only to shame you for possibly having a relationship with another consenting adult. When he called you last night, you had no idea Jeongin was one of your students, but somehow, Minho saw what he was writing in his little notebook, and it all seemed too descriptive to be fake. Jeongin was younger when he saw Minho the most, and there was no way Jeongin could recognize him as his ex-neighbor now. It was all an innocent mistake that cost you a lot of sleep last night.

You weren’t thinking about that now. All you could think about was what time it was, because your daughters would be awake any minute and you always make them breakfast on your days off. You break the kiss and get out of the shower with Jeongin, graciously helping each other dry off, and you go out to begin making waffles for your kids.

“I didn’t know you could cook!” Jeongin sits at the dining table, full of glee just like a child would be. “Can I stay for breakfast?”

“Jeongin, you can stay as long as you’d like.” You press the waffle iron closed, beginning to cook the first of three. “But no funny business. I don’t want the girls to know what’s going on between us.”

“Oh, that’s okay! I just know there’s no fresh breakfast at my house.” He laughs a little, lounging back in the wooden chair. “I’ll leave after I eat so you have a day with your kids, and I also have homework to do.”

“They give you kids homework on the weekends?” You sound almost offended by the thought of doing any type of schoolwork on your days off. “From what I can remember, we never got homework on the weekends, or if we did, I certainly didn’t do it!”

You both laugh, then go back to a comfortable silence. It felt right. Having another adult in the house, someone to talk to who isn’t only talking to you because of work. This is what you’ve been missing.

When your daughters wake up, they’re shocked to see Jeongin sitting at the table, but they’re also happy to see him. They drag him out of his seat at the table so he can play with them before you tell them to behave.

“Jeongin is a guest this morning. Treat him nice!”

Jeongin’s embarrassed to admit that he almost said yes mommy, but the glorious taste of the syrup-covered waffles takes his mind off that. You just lean against the counter and watch them eat, sipping your coffee as the sun continues to rise.

🍓🍰🐤🍀💐🍯

“Jeongin, where were you last night?” Felix says through his headset, waiting for his game to load. “We need a team of four!”

“I thought Hyunjin would have been on.” Jeongin yawns, tired after having you wake him so early. “I was busy, sorry.”

“Busy doesn’t mean writing in your diary, Yang.” Jisung chimes in, calling Jeongin by his family name as if it’s an insult.

“First of all, it’s not a diary, and second of all, I was busy with a… girl.” Jeongin hesitates to give away too much information, but he folds the seconds he’s brought back to where he was last night: under you.

“Aw, our baby Innie has a girlfriend?” The group fills with oohs and ahhs as Jeongin groans and rolls his eyes, adjusting his headset out of frustration. “Let us meet her! C'mon man!”

“You can’t meet her. We aren’t dating.” Jeongin threatens to leave before they drop the topic, but he can’t stop thinking about you, being already semi-hard by the end of their first match. The team berates him for his poor playing, but they can’t even fathom the thoughts going through Jeongin’s head that he can’t wait to put into his journal.

I want mommy to punish me. Punish me for these thoughts, punish me for touching myself without her, punish me for anything she pleases. Her perverted little boy wants to be ruined, and yet she’s so gentle with me. I don’t care if the sound of her spanking me wakes up her kids. It’ll be worth it just to feel her treat me like I’m her servant who lives to please, because I am. I’m nothing but a vessel she should be free to use at her will. I’m her toy. All hers.

Jeongin’s phone pings from the other side of his desk. It’s a text message from his favorite neighbor, and what perfect timing too. In your little text conversation, you and Jeongin discuss the babysitting times for the week, and don’t even manage to mention anything about sex. As upsetting as this is, while he waits for your answers, he’s diligently jotting down all of his twisted fantasies.

“You take my strap so well, honey.” She thrusts into my ass again, this time going even deeper than before. I hold my legs up with my hands around my tights, spreading my ass for her to fuck. My cock is leaking with precum while she strokes it with one hand and plays with my nipples with her other. “Dumb little boy’s being so good for me now.”

When you finally say goodbye over text, Jeongin shoots back a short “can we call?” As strange as you thought this text was, you press his number, soon to be greeted with the heavy breaths of the young boy. Luckily, the girls were asleep and you were alone in your bedroom, so you could say anything.

“Aw, is my boy all needy while he’s alone?” You tease him across the line, although you could just yell this out your window to his. Jeongin slips his pants down his thighs to release his cock, playfully touching his tip before gripping his shaft and stroking himself slowly. “Are you thinking about mommy?”

“Y-yes, I’m thinking about you, mommy.” How he got so excited so quickly is beyond his own understanding, but just from hearing your lustful voice, Jeongin’s already brainless, hardly able to utter a simple sentence.

“Good boy. You’re always such a good boy, huh?”

“Only for you, mommy.”

“Then why does my good boy want to be punished?” Jeongin’s breath hitches, suddenly remembering the short, revealing conversation with you about wanting to be used. “I wouldn’t want to punish you without a reason, my little prince.”

“Wh-what can I do?” He heaves out, quickening his pace on his dick. “Give me rules, mommy. I want to break them.”

“Oh, pretty boy wants rules now?” You take a moment to ponder, hearing the light sound of skin slapping from the other side of the phone. “Stop jerking off. No masturbating without my permission.”

Jeongin freezes, taking his hand off his cock slowly, writhing from the ruined orgasm he was so close to having. He sighs to catch his breath, pulling the phone away so you couldn’t hear how desperate he was to be touched. “What else?”

“Hm,” you scratch your chin in thought, “you have to show me everything you write in your little journal, got it?” “E-everything?”

“Everything.” Jeongin’s focus goes to the journal, looking at the depraved words he scratched onto the page. If he wants to get what he wants, he has to show you just so you know how much he wants this. “Yes ma’am.”

“One more thing, baby.” Jeongin’s worn out just from the first two rules. One more might break him. “Promise to take care of yourself. Brush your teeth, eat your meals, drink water, ya’know, things like that. I don’t want this rule broken.”

The sudden overflowing of care and wholesomeness makes Jeongin’s face turn red, partially because you’re so sweet and partially because he forgot to eat dinner today. He nods before realizing this was a phone call and squeaking out a meek “of course”.

“Don’t break these rules, okay sweetheart? Or else you’ll be punished… unless you break the last rule. Then I’ll give you a stern talking to. Got it?”

“Yes, mommy. I understand.” Jeongin pulls his pants up, cock now fully limp. “See you tomorrow!”

“Yup, good night.” You both hang up, setting your phones down for the night. Jeongin sits back in his desk chair, feeling victorious after finally cementing a sure-fire way to get his ass spanked. Before he goes to bed, he has to eat dinner. No way he’s getting a stern talking to!

🍓🍰🐤🍀💐🍯

When you come home from work on Monday, Jeongin’s watching TV (scrolling through his phone) while the girls were most likely asleep. You come sit next to him, tossing your bag next to the couch and figuratively letting your hair down, unbuttoning a few buttons on your work shirt.

“Hey, Y/n! The girls were great today.” Jeongin smiles, folding his hands in his lap. “They went to bed like two hours ago. It was an early night for them I guess.”

“Yeah, they were up early this morning, even before me.” You both laugh, finally being able to get down to business, at least in Jeongin’s mind.

“I ate three meals today, I drank three bottles of water, and I brushed my teeth this morning.” Jeongin sounds oddly proud of himself for doing what most people think is the bare minimum. “I showered, I took my meds, and most importantly, I didn’t jerk off.”

��Good boy.” You kiss him on the cheek and pull his head into your chest so he’s leaning on one of your tits. “My Jeonginnie is always so good for me.”

“Can I get a reward?” His puppy eyes look up at you, warming your heart from the long day at work. He looked so sweet and innocent, just pretty enough for you to destroy.

“Hold on, baby. You didn’t forget the second rule, did you?” You tap the side of his head and point to his bookbag. “Show me your journal.”

“B-but mommy, that’s embarrassing.” He whines, turning off your chest and to his bag, leaning away before unzipping his bag. “Do you have to?”

“Don’t be bratty with me. I just called you my good boy!” You reach for the bag, but Jeongin pulls it back to him. He hides it behind his back, putting his nose up at you. “Jeongin…”

“No!”

“Give me the j-“

“Make me.”

You lean into him, suffocating the younger boy with your shadow. Now standing over him, you put your hands on his face, cupping his cheeks before one hand pulls back and harshly slaps him across his handsome face. He doesn’t whine in pain, though, he just moans.

“M-more.”

“What was that, baby?”

He begins to repeat himself, but you slap him again before he can finish the word. His face is red as a tomato, and you don’t care whether that’s from your hand or his blushing. Looking down, you can clearly see how hard he is in his pants. You remove your hands from his face and press one down onto his bulge, making his face contort into a wince.

“Does my little boy want me to touch his cock?” You taunt, tilting your head as if the answer isn’t obvious. “Or more importantly, does he deserve it?”

“I’m n-not letting you read my journal.”

You huff and straighten your posture, taking his wrist in your hand and making him stand up with you, leading him to your bedroom. You slam the door behind you just quiet enough not to wake the kids. When you turn around, Jeongin is bent over the bed with his pants down to his ankles. He’s shaking. You like that.

“Take your clothes off, bitch.” He kicks his pants away while tossing his shirt off and pulling down his underwear at lighting speed. You sit on the bed and pat your lap, signaling Jeongin to bend over you, which he obediently does. “My little boy’s being bad today. Why?”

“I don’t want you reading what’s in my journal.” He sounds angry when you know it’s all for show.

“You don’t think I already know what perverted filth is in there?” You spank him, quickly making a red mark on his pale ass. He groans, bucking his hips into your leg for some friction. “You just want mommy to treat you like this, don’t you?”

“Yes mommy.” Another spank hits his ass, causing him to jolt forward. You bite your lip looking down at him, just now noticing how muscular he is.

“Count for me.” You spank him again, and again, and again, as he pliantly counts and whines, his cock dangling below him fully erect. By the end, he’s out of breath, and he isn’t even doing any of the work.

“Ten.” You pet his back while his ass is red as ever, looking like it can’t take any more hits of your palm. You kiss him on the shoulder, an especially soft moment after what just occurred. “Mommy?”

“Yes, dear?”

“I’ll show you my journal now.” He can’t move, but the journal is still out in his bag.

“I’ll go get it, baby boy. Lay down on the pillows. I want to read your slutty little stories to you.” He gets off your lap and lays back while you go out to the living room to get the journal. You sift through his bag, looking back and forth between binders and folders, but you don’t see it anywhere. You bring the bag into the bedroom, tossing it on the bed. “Where is it?”

Jeongin does the same as you, sifting through the bag with no sight of his precious journal. His heart stops for a minute, beginning to break into a cold sweat.

“Where did you see it last?”

“I was writing in it during my comp class.”

Lee Minho teaches that class. Your ex-husband teaches that class. This feels like the end of the world, and unlike earlier, you’re now genuinely angry. Your face begins to boil as you throw the bookbag off the bed and undress down to your panties. Climbing on top of Jeongin, you press your cunt down onto his cock, applying just enough pressure to make you both moan.

“Dumb little boy wants to ruin me, don’t you?” You wrap your hands around his neck, not choking him, but rather threatening him. “You want Lee Minho to know about us. You want him to have your stupid fucking diary so he can read all of your slutty fantasies.” Your grip tightens around his neck slightly, and Jeongin looks like he’s in pure bliss. He can’t even defend himself. He loves this too much.

“I love you, mommy.” He hums, leaning back into the bed as you begin to tease his cock with your slick panties, grinding against him.

“You don’t love me, Jeongin. You just love when I treat you like my little toy.” You lean down to make a dark hickey on his neck, something his friends will surely tease him for the next day. “All mine. You’re only mine.”

“Y-yes mommy. All yours. Only yours.” He moans loudly, suddenly nearing his high just from your grinding. The cloth of your panties feel like heaven. He can’t help it!

You look down to see him shoot his load on himself, spurts of his hot cum covering his abs and chest. He looks so pathetic, but at least he’s yours.

Pushing your panties aside, you slip him inside you, overstimulating him with your tight cunt. You bounce a few times on him before stopping your movements completely, bending over to put your tits in his face. He grabs your tits and sucks them, jumping back and forth between them every couple of seconds. Your hands are still around his neck, keeping him down on the mattress, unable to move.

“You love being mommy’s toy, huh?” You start to choke him more as you pull your tits out of his face, starting to ride him again. “Ah~ and mommy loves your cock, babydoll.”

Jeongin’s overwhelmed. He just came but he feels his second orgasm rapidly approaching. He can’t think or speak. All he can do is moan and whine “mommy” over and over again.

“Let me try something, my little prince.” That was always his favorite pet name you gave him. He thought he was about to cum, but you pull off of him, rotating your body so Jeongin has a perfect view of your ass. You sink back down onto him, his cock filling up your pussy again.

He felt so relieved being inside your warm cunt again, but now you start riding him harder and faster, his cock hitting so deep inside you with each thrust. He can’t hold it anymore. Jeongin’s cum fills you up, dripping down out of your pussy and onto the base of his cock.

He feels so weak under you. He’s in pain from the overstimulation, but he can’t deny that he adores feeling like this. The safe word isn’t even in his mind. He just wants you.

“Mommy’s gonna cum, alright?” You start to tighten around him, your movements getting sloppy and labored. “Hold my hips like a good boy. I want you to fuck me just like this.”

Jeongin’s hands hesitantly move to your hips, holding you up while his hips begin to stutter and thrust into you, fucking his cum deeper inside you. The convulsions of your dripping pussy is making his head spin. If he cums again, he’ll be so embarrassed, but the more he fucks you, the more his cock twitches.

“Good little boy. Such a nice cock, baby. Mm, so good.” Words mindlessly fly out of your mouth as you slam your ass against him, forcing him to bottom out. Neither of you move as you cum on him, your cunt tightening its grip on his length. Jeongin shuts his eyes as he ruts into you, cumming the same time as you. It feels euphoric to both of you. Jeongin’s hands move from your hips to your ass, massaging the skin as you come down from your highs.

“Thank you, mommy.” Jeongin whines as you get off of him, cum dripping out of you onto Jeongin. You hold it in as best you can as you lay down next to him, your legs feeling too fuzzy to get you anywhere. Jeongin nuzzles into your chest, holding you as close to him as possible.

You kiss his forehead before getting up to clean the mess you two made, mostly the mess between your legs. Coming back with water for your pretty little submissive, you lay back down to cuddle with your sweet boy.

“You need to get that journal back, Jeongin.”

“I will, Y/n. Don’t worry. No one will read it.”

🍓🍰🐤🍀💐🍯

His finger wraps around the thin paper to flip the page, only getting a fourth of the way through the messy journal. Everything is vile, and more importantly, everything is about his ex-wife.

Lee Minho’s cock is hard in his hand as he strokes himself back and forth, biting down on his lip so he doesn’t moan too loudly to alert his girlfriend in the other room. He can’t believe the raunchy smut he’s reading can turn him on this much.

“F-fuck, Y/n. My cock is so much better than this college boy’s.”

Minho gets vivid flashbacks to him dominating you, tying you up and spanking you with his paddle. Your teary eyes were always his favorite, especially when the tears were mixed with his cum.

He looks back at the page after returning from his haze of days gone by. His cock starts to twitch as his eyes skim the page, focusing on the parts with your name.

Y/n’s arm enters my peripheral as she hits me again with her flogger, the leather straps leaving red marks against my back. I lose balance, unable to catch myself on the hands that are cuffed behind me. I fall onto my face, and Y/n laughs at my pathetic form. “Dumb slut can’t even stay on his knees for his mistress.” Her heel presses against my spine, arching my back with force. “Ten more, then I’ll remove the cage, got it?”

Minho tosses the book aside as his pace quickens, cumming all over his lap. He looks down at the mess he made, his sweatpants covered in the reminder that he’s still head-over-heels for his ex-wife.

taglist: @milkym00n @sparklysung @fanchengsgf @sailorhyunjinz @gothicstay if you wanna be tagged in part four, send me an ask :)

#skz smut #stray kids smut #jeongin smut #yang jeongin smut #i.n smut #kpop smut

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astrangewoman · 2 years

Text

I’m so fucking excited to marry this human.

I wonder what 2014 me would think about the fact that I got all of my engagement photos back this week and that I’m literally getting married in 6 months. little Bex deserved all of the love that current Bex is getting from this incredible human being. I wish I could go back in time and let her know. even in her wildest dreams, I don’t think she’d ever fathom this person I’ve become, nor would she have been able to foresee the kind of person I get to spend the rest of my life with.

sometimes I think about my past self and I get emotional bc all she ever, ever, ever wanted was love and acceptance and just the freedom to exist, without having to work super hard to be lovable or even likable, without having to always be put-together, or the best at something, or pleasing everyone in the room, or making sure that everyone else’s needs were met before her own. she just wanted to be and to be celebrated just for being. I get to do that now, and that’s pretty fucking special.

and I mean, it’s not solely bc I’ve found a partner that I want to spend eternity with, either. it’s just personal growth, I think. Marshal obviously helps bc he has no wild expectations for me. he doesn’t put me down or make me feel like I need to fit in one way or another. he just fucking vibes through life, as douchey as that sentence sounds, and wants me to do that too. but also, I’ve finally reached the point in my life where I just let that happen. of course I still have hang ups and anxieties and sometimes I still feel like I’m never truly enough for any given situation, but in general, my confidence continues to become sturdier and stronger. I started by building a foundation for myself (w/ a lot of help from years of therapy) and then Marshal has helped and is helping me finish it.

I hope I would make little me proud. I love her so much, flaws and attention- and love-seeking and all. I think she’d really like to hang out with me now. I think she’d be excited to know how we’ve turned out. how we’re continuing to grow and get comfortable in our own skin and talents. how we actually love ourself now. that’s a big one. I think she’d be thrilled about that.

#personal #hi #chuck

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thenovelartist · 3 years

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A Blanc Slate, Chapter 9

25. Study

They didn’t meet in the bars of the Eiffel Tower, which might have been for the best. Ladybug couldn’t help but recall that day in the rain he’d first appeared to her, his suit whiter than snow, and almost completely cut her from his life. No matter how much she tried to cling to the hope Chat had changed, part of her still worried he would try to do that.

When she landed in the back alley they agreed to meet up in, she caught sight of her partner, collapsed on the ground and leaning against a building. His head was propped up, facing the moon and highlighting the paleness of his skin. For a moment, she studied her partner, taking in everything from his posture to his expression to even the finest details of how handsome he still looked to her despite his clear exhaustion.

Eventually, his eyes opened, and that hazy green gaze of his landed on her. With a fortifying breath, he heaved himself up from his spot, but he didn’t move any closer to her. Instead, he stood an arm’s length from the wall, likely to catch himself if his shaky balance was any indication.

“Hey,” was all she managed to say. She could have kicked herself because she had so many more things she wanted to say, but when it came down to it, it all died on her tongue.

“Hey,” he responded. He then held out a large, brown book to her. “Here.”

She blinked a few times as she looked at the book in his hands, her mind slowly catching up as she realized where she’d seen the cover before. “Is this…?”

“It contains all kinds of information about the miraculous,” Chat said. “Hawkmoth had it, but then I learned Mayura stole it, so I had to hunt it down. Which was why it took me so long to get this book for you.”

She stared at the book, stunned. Master Fu had given her the digital files he’d had when he transferred the guardian task over to her. But she realized Chat hadn’t known that, hence why he’d gone hunting for this. “Chat…”

“Here,” he said, waving the book out and expecting her to take it.

So she did, grabbing the familiar tome carefully.

“All I can hope for is that you’ll be able to find the information you need in that thing to fix what I broke,” he said, ears falling in guilt as his hand fell away, dropping the book completely into her hands. “I’m sorry; I’m leaving you to clean up this mess, but I can’t keep this ring any longer, and you know why.”

He then grabbed hold of his miraculous, ready to pull it off. “I know you always made a fuss about identities,” he continued. “So whether you want to know—”

“I want to know,” she cut in instinctually. “I… I know what I used to say, so I know this is really hypocritical of me, but… but now, I really do want to know. Because I want to keep in contact with you, Chat. I… it would hurt too much to just let you go.”

Pain flashed through his eyes at her words. With a sigh, he hung his head, his hands falling and bracing on his hips. For that moment, Ladybug could feel just how exhausted he was.

“Geez,” he spat. “I ask you that question for years, and the one time I hope you won’t press, you go on and decide to.”

“I know,” she said. “Trust me; I know. But things changed. Hawkmoth is gone, there aren’t any more threats, and if I’m left to chose between protecting identities or giving you up, then there’s only one answer to that.”

Chat quirked a brow at her before shaking his head. “When you phrase it like that, the answer really is obvious.”

“Glad you realize that much,” she said, her smile so weak it barely lasted two seconds.

He sighed, running his hand roughly through his hair. “Fine,” he said. “So be it. I won’t fight you.”

She let out a breath she hadn’t even realized she’d been holding.

But she found herself breathless again when Chat looked back up at her, his eyes glassy. “We’ll continue this conversation later, but for now, Ladybug, I beg of you, just… leave me be for a month, at least. Then you can hunt me down and hound me and whatever. I just… can’t deal with this now. Please.”

Her heart shattered, not because of his words, but because her cat was so thoroughly and completely broken. He wasn’t even pushing her away anymore. He was tired and confused and struggling to come to terms with so many things, some of which not even Ladybug could guess. However, he wasn’t cutting her out completely, so she could give him space.

But not at this moment.

Without thinking, she stepped forward and took her cat in her arms, hugging him tightly and holding him close. “Then just let me have this moment,” she said. “I’m okay with giving you space after this. Just know I want to be here for you, kitty. In any way you’ll let me”

He’d frozen the second she wrapped her arms around him, but gradually, he relaxed, his chin coming to rest on top of her head as he began leaning into her embrace until she realized she was now the only thing keeping him upright.

“Sorry,” he muttered.

“It’s okay,” she whispered back, bracing herself so she could support him. “I’m here. It’s okay.”

He took a shaky breath. Then another. And Ladybug didn’t let go, letting him take his time and relishing any time he gave her.

“Claws in.”

His voice broke the long silence as a flash of green lit the alleyway. That’s when she realized she was no longer holding Chat Noir, but rather the boy behind that mask. And with their current position, she couldn’t even see him.

Still, she didn’t move. And she wouldn’t until he was ready to let her go. Because first and foremost, even before being his partner, she was his support.

Quite literally.

26. Reverse Crush

After a moment, Chat, er… the man who was Chat shifted his footing so as to stand on his own two feet. Ladybug continued to hold him steady until she felt he was standing without her assistance before she took a half-step back.

“Sorry,” he muttered, his voice rough with exhaustion.

“It’s o—”

She did not get to finish her ‘okay’, because she was now able to look up at the man she’d called her partner for years. Never in her wildest dreams did she think she’d be stunned speechless by his face.

But… here she was. Because it was a face all too familiar to her.

“Adrien?”

A weak half-smile ticked up the corners of his lips. “Yeah,” he mumbled, voice dejected for some reason she couldn’t quite fathom. “That’s me. Perfect poster boy of Paris.”

Oh… she supposed he was. He was one of Paris’s most prolific models, up until the downfall of his father.

Shit. His father…

Her mind was positively reeling with all the new information as she rapidly put pieces of information together. Ladybug’s vision blurred as tears began dripping from her eyes. Because in the end, the one thing her mind still clung to above all else was he wasn’t just Chat anymore; he was Adrien. He was her friend both in and out of the suit. And for the past two months, she’d watched him suffer and struggle trying to balance the weight of the world on his shoulders.

“How the hell are you still standing?”

That… was not what she’d wanted to say.

He quirked a brow. “What?”

All her earlier prepared speeches were no longer relevant or even able to be remembered at this point. And no other words seemed to be coming to her. Adrien was still waiting for an answer, and finally, after swiping the tears off her face, she figured out how to give him one. “Spots off.”

In a flash of pink, she turned to Marinette. Never did either of their gazes leave the other, Marinette intent on watching Adrien’s expression while she was sure Adrien just didn’t have the thought to look away. Now, she was watching as confusion and shock played out on his face.

And when he stumbled backwards, she reached for him best she could.

She only partly stopped his fall, Adrien having mostly caught himself against the wall. Still, he slid down to the ground, basically unable to hold himself up, and Marinette, in helping him down, found herself half-way on top of him.

“Holy shit,” he muttered, running his hands down his face before peeking back at her through is fingers.

“Is that a good thing or a bad thing or a ‘you don’t know how to process this’ thing?” she asked, her heart racing a mile a minute. “Because I’m kinda somewhere between the first and last myself.”

She didn’t get an answer. Instead, Adrien slung his arms around her, pulling her close and clinging to her like his lifeline.

She sighed, tension leaving her body in an instant as a relieved smile spread across her face. “Okay. I’m okay with this.”

“Last one.”

“Huh? Oh,” she said, taking a moment to realize what he meant. “Then take all the time you need. I don’t have a second boy to worry about anymore; I’ve just got one that’s been giving me two sets of heart attacks. So feel free to hog my night.”

A weak chuckle rolled through him. Marinette gladly took that win.

“Well,” she continued, settling into his embrace while she embraced him back. “Guess I know why you were pushing Marinette to stay with Adrien. You could have just asked me as Adrien, though.”

He shrugged. “I… realized I really wanted you there. I just… didn’t know how to say it.”

“You could have told me outright.”

“It sounded too selfish.”

“Never.”

“Sorry,” he whispered.

“Chat could have also asked Ladybug for the same,” Marinette added. “In fact, I wanted Chat to ask me.”

“It now makes sense why you were doing that,” he muttered, burying his face in her shoulder. “Pushing me to meet with you.”

“I thought you loved Ladybug.”

“I did,” he answered. “And I do.”

“So you were pushing her away because you didn’t want her hurt? Because you have a tendency to take everything on your own shoulders?”

He shrugged, but Marinette knew it was because he was reluctant to admit she was right.

“So what made Marinette different?” she asked. “That you would choose her over Ladybug.”

There was a long pause, and for a moment, she was worried he wouldn’t answer. “Well…” he finally admitted. “The little spitfire wouldn’t leave me the hell alone, and she kinda grew on me.” He squeezed her tighter. “But, I’m really glad she did.”

I am, too. “So you would have given up the love of your life for a girl you didn’t love but who forced herself into your life?”

“I tried pushing you away, too,” he said. “But you wouldn’t let me do that. And then… I guess after a while, you just… I don’t know, wore me down enough where I couldn’t push you away anymore.”

“I’m glad,” she said. “Even if I was being annoying.”

He huffed.

“Now, I guess the real question is: is Chat going to push Ladybug away, too?”

He paused, lifting his head up off her shoulder so he could look at her properly. Before he could even speak, Marinette was able to relax upon taking in the sincere expression he was wearing. “No,” he said. “He won’t.”

Relief flooded her, and an exhaustion she could not have predicted hit her like a truck. She snuggled back into his chest, happy to hold him and be held by him, even if it was in some dark, dingy, moonlit back alley. “I’m really glad to hear that."

27. Singing

They ended up back at Adrien’s place. In the end, Marinette did take the ring from him. Of course, she hadn’t wanted to. Not in the slightest. But when it came down to the fact that his ring was making him sick, she also didn’t want to leave it with him a moment more. She’d figure out how to fix it later, planning to ask Tikki for help as well as scour that book for any clues.

But at the moment, she was more concerned getting her partner to bed. Starting tonight, she would nurse him back to health, and there was nothing he could do to prevent her from doing that.

Thankfully, he didn’t seem apt to oppose.

Upon crashing down into his bed, Adrien reached a hand out for her. She couldn’t help but smile, settling down next to him and letting him wrap an arm around her.

“You got very needy,” she teased, thinking about how only a couple months ago, he had been completely adamant about cutting her out of his life. It was quite the change, but Marinette wasn’t complaining.

He just grunted, burying his head in her shoulder.

Giggling, Marinette began stroking his hair, absently humming a happy tune.

“You have a pretty voice,” he muttered.

“It’s the closest to a purr I have,” she shot back.

He hummed. “Now I know why you always made me purr against my will.”

She scoffed, amused. “When was it ever against your will?”

His silence was enough of an answer.

For now, she let it go, going back to her singing and continuing to do so until she felt his deep, steady breathing indicate he was asleep.

She smiled but didn’t stop stroking his hair. “My good kitty,” she murmured, her heart finally able to settle calmly for the first time in ages. He was back where he belonged: by her side.

Actually, he was closer than that but still perfectly in place. And Marinette wouldn’t have it any other way.

#just finish it #miraculous ladybug #marichatmay2021 #This story has just devolved into and I'm sorry if it's a mess

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fettsvette · 3 years

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Under the Crimson Moon

You have your period and feel gross. Boba Fett wants to fuck. A little blood never stopped the greatest bounty hunter in the galaxy from doing his job, and doing it damn well.

Pairing: Boba Fett x Reader Words: 7.2k Rating: Explicit Warnings: Menstruation/blood kink, penetrative sex

Can be found on Archive of Our Own here.

Mando’a terminology:

cyar’ika - Mando’a term of affection meaning sweetheart, darling, beloved

“If I want you to do something, girl

We both know that you will

I’m a dirty old man with a dirty set of dreams

Take off that dress if you wanna keep it clean...”

‘Up in Them Guts,’ Brendan Kelly and the Wandering Birds

You hadn’t known he was coming until he’d actually arrived.

One minute, you had been in a deep sleep, wrapped in the warm blankets that shrouded the king-sized bed, and then suddenly, you were wide awake. Because you’d heard it, and you knew in your heart of hearts that it hadn’t been the lasting echo of a dream.

The sound of heavy bootsteps and the unmistakable jangle of spurs echoed in the crisp night air, emanating down the hall towards your bedroom doorway.

You sat up quickly, blood roaring in your ears and your heart pounding wildly in your chest, and your head snapped towards the entryway, illuminated only by the moonlight flooding in through the bay window.

And there he was, stepping out of the deep midnight shadows with that slow, methodical walk that seemed to encompass his very being: Boba Fett, the greatest and most feared bounty hunter to ever live.

And your lover.

If you didn’t know better, you would’ve sworn he was a statue of some ancient warrior, carved from marble and brought to life by a warlock’s spell. The way he stood unmoving and ramrod straight, just staring at you, always sent a thrill down your spine, his expression unreadable behind the darkened, T-shaped visor of his helmet.

But still you groaned - not out of arousal, the expected reaction to the presence of the imposing yet entirely irresistible man who was currently gazing at you - but out of annoyance. You squeezed your eyes shut, almost willing him to disappear, to take the hint, by the time you opened them again.

His timing couldn’t have been worse.

“Boba, please go away ... ” You grumbled pathetically under your breath, cracking an eye open to look up at the silent figure clad in dark green armor, looking at you expectantly. You heard him let out a sharp hiss under the helmet, and he gave a start, his head snapping downwards, and you just knew he was glaring at you murderously. You had no idea how he’d heard you from all the way across the room, but he had.

“ Oh ? What’s that , girly? You don’t like me anymore?” He stalked forward slowly, and the question came not with a teasing edge nor with an air of apprehension, but with an icy lilt to it. It chilled your blood, and it occurred to you that you may have just made a huge mistake in telling Boba Fett himself to fuck off. As much as you enjoyed the sexual satisfaction you got from these illicit romps with one of the most dangerous men in the known universe, the confident realization that he could potentially grow angry or bored enough to dispose of you at any time without even batting an eye absolutely terrified you. He was a bounty hunter, after all. At the same time, though, that same fear excited you beyond the wildest depths of your imagination. He’d shown you time and time again just how deadly he could be, and yet you had never turned away when you’d had the chance. And there had been plenty of those times.

“ No ! Boba, no. I - I s-still like you. Of c-course I still like you. But…” You began, stuttering and stammering like a nervous child, but stopped abruptly when Fett took another step forward, spurs clanking again. He either didn’t notice the effect his brief intimidation had on you, or he didn’t care. You assumed it was most likely the second one.

“ There’s a problem. ” Fett wasn’t asking you. It was a statement. Maybe another time you would have attempted to lie your way out of it just to save yourself the embarrassment that you knew was coming, but tonight you couldn’t even find the energy to attempt it.

“I can’t tonight. I just... can’t .” You murmured, almost tearfully defeated, gingerly sitting up in the bed to take a better look at your nighttime visitor. You could see yourself reflected in the viewscreen of his helmet, disheveled from sleep and sickly-looking, although you didn’t know if that was a trick of the moonlight or a sign of your current condition. Despite the intense cramping in your belly that was overtaking most other sensations, you still felt a flutter of longing travel to your loins upon seeing Boba Fett. How badly you wanted to grab him by that clunky belt and drag him down onto the bed next to you, free him from his trousers, and ride him until you found your release, but your body wasn’t in agreement with your wishes in the least bit. You took a deep breath, and steadily looked him in the eye.

“ I got my period this morning. ”

Silence. Not even a tilt of the dented helmet, a gesture you sometimes received after making references that he didn’t understand.

Feeling your cheeks aflame and slightly embarrassed by the lack of response, you tried again.

“...I’m menstruating, Boba. You know… moon blood? The curse? I don’t know if that’s a thing that happens to people where you come from, but I’m bleeding out of my vagina and I feel fucking miserable and -”

Fett cut off your babbling with a sharp gesture through the air with one hand, the other settled nonchalantly on his hip as he shifted his weight. He let out a gruff sigh that lifted and dropped his shoulders in an almost comical display of exasperation.

“I know what it is. I’ve been with enough humanoid females in my lifetime. Is that supposed to change our plans tonight, little one?”

It was your turn to go silent. You should have known something venomous and snarky like that would’ve been his answer. And of course he had more experience than you, he was older - by just how much, you weren’t exactly sure. He’d never shared his age, and you didn’t ask. He barely spoke as it was. And you still had yet to see his face. He’d never offered to show you, however, as if it were some closely guarded secret only he was the keeper of. And you didn’t dare try removing that strange, heavy helmet of his yourself. Boba Fett had never hurt you, but you felt if you were to reach underneath the sharp edges of his armor, peel it away from the complicated, mysterious creature underneath, there was no telling what he would do.

Hell, you had never even seen this man’s face and yet you had let him fuck you within an inch of your life . You’d never been ‘that kind of girl’ before you’d met him, upsetting everything you thought you’d known about yourself and the universe around you, but here you were. And here he was.

But his comment about being with other women in his past still spun ‘round your head like some mad arachnid’s twisted web, and made you wonder if he was presently doing this very same dance elsewhere - in other cities, on other worlds.

‘ If this is just a physical thing, no strings attached… ’ You found yourself brooding as you watched him languidly stalk over to the window next to your bed, tilting the green and red helmet upwards and search the night sky for things you could only vaguely guess at if you tried, ‘ Then why am I jealous of something I don’t even know is really happening? ’

“I just thought...you wouldn’t be… into that ...” You finally replied, meek as a mouse, and instantly trailed off once you realized you had no idea what else to say to him on this matter, your face burning. You should have been overwhelmed with desire at Boba wanting to fuck you this badly, but you found yourself apprehensive and shy - over a little bit of blood . It was times like this that you couldn’t fathom why a man from outer space, an intergalactic cowboy like something out of a comic book, had fallen from the sky and had chosen you.

His head turning slowly in your direction, Fett marched back towards the end of your bed, his hands gripping the leather belt at his waist.

“Your condition doesn’t matter to me. It’s a basic bodily function. Have you forgotten, foolish girl? I take what I want, when I want it .” He intoned brusquely, and your eyes widened, a delicious chill crawling up your spine, and you felt your cunt clench at nothing. The crimson tide had come in, and he still wanted to claim you.

Usually, you talked enough for the both of you. Now you found yourself utterly speechless.

There was silence while he stood at the end of the bed, and you goggled blankly at him. Fett was challenging you. He showed no signs of leaving, or of heeding your apprehension in the least bit. He just continued to stand there and stare mutely, stubbornly standing his ground. Damn it.

He had played this strange game several times before after one of your numerous meetings, lingering after it had become clear that you were way too fucked out to stay awake any longer. He’d never forced you into a situation that you hadn’t been game for, but he always seemed to want to make sure you knew who exactly owned you - or your cunt , at least.

So he hung around. You’d mostly hear him pacing the room, sometimes quietly rummaging through your bookshelves as if in a library, but more often than not, he would sit himself in the chair across the room, large gloved hands gripping the armrests and well-muscled legs spread mockingly wide, reclining back and holding a silent vigil over you as you fell asleep. He was always long gone when you awoke, although once there had been some sort of dried flower left behind on your nightstand, dark red petals with a metallic tint to them - quite obviously nothing that had grown on this planet. You had asked him about it the next time he had shown up, after an excruciating three month absence that he re-emerged from with several more dents in and copious chips of paint missing from his armor. He had gruffly feigned any knowledge of the gift, his focus only on the flower between your legs. The dried one, however - the little token of his appreciation or whatever you wanted to call it - stayed pressed inside one of your favorite books.

As a reminder.

Boba hadn’t moved in a while, still penetrating you with his eyes through that damned visor, when you finally decided to give in to him. You wanted him. Badly. Your reproductive system was in full rebellion against the idea and you felt fucking gross, but you weren’t sure you cared any longer. You needed him, couldn’t resist him. Hadn’t you read somewhere that orgasms were supposed to help relieve menstrual cramps, anyway?

You bit your lip and let him have his way.

“In that case, Boba… I think I might feel a little bit better if you fucked me.”

The self-satisfied, smug chuckle came like a rumble of thunder.

“Well, well… that’s my good girl. ”

He was across the room in the time it took you to blink.

Boba was extraordinarily light on his feet for a big man, and he was on top of you in the span of a breath. Rough leather gloves formed a vice around the muscle and bone of your wrists, pinning your arms above your head. You let out a shriek of surprise rather than pain - while his grip was firm, it didn’t necessarily hurt - and he answered with a low growl, kneeling on either side of your hips. He used one huge hand to continue pinning both of your wrists down, the other masterfully unclipping the heavy armor of his codpiece. You let out a near-hysterical giggle as Boba tossed it to the side and it unceremoniously hit the carpeted floor with a harsh thunk , smiling even broader as he brought the same hand up to rest against your cheek, stroking the flushed skin there.

“I told you, girl. I always get what I want, when I want it . Tonight isn’t going to be an exception just because you’re cycling and feeling sorry for yourself. If you’re not going to cooperate with me, nice and easy... too bad .”

Gooseflesh broke out all over your body at his words. You were absolutely fucking drenched for him already, and you wished he would just hurry up and take you already, tear off your panties and fuck into you until you were screaming yourself hoarse. You still weren’t sure of where exactly the man who called himself Boba Fett had come from, or why he was here , or why he’d chosen to mark you for his territory on this shitty little backwater world. Fucking hell, you didn’t even really know this man at all, did you? All you did know is that you were addicted to his touch, and despite your initial hesitations, you were practically begging for it now.

Boba used his free hand to slightly peel back the blankets concealing your thin nightie and period panties. With a contented hum, he lazily reached out to trace a thick gloved finger right along the line of your slit, and you let out a high-pitched, keening whimper, your hips twitching up involuntarily towards his touch. Boba clucked his tongue disapprovingly and shook his head at you, sighing and looking up towards the ceiling.

“How pathetic … is that really all it takes to make you fall apart for me, sweet girl?” Boba teased, releasing his grip on your wrists momentarily in order to fully pull the covers off the bed and toss them onto the floor. It only took those few seconds for you to take him unawares, weaseling out from underneath his looming form and using both hands to forcefully shove him backwards. Caught off guard by your unexpected show of strength, Boba fell on his back with a startled grunt, which was immediately followed by a groan as he watched you crawl on top of him. With shaking legs, you straddled his waist and positioned your heat right over his generous crotch, planting your sweaty palms against the reassuring coldness of his armor, and began to sloppily grind into him, dropping down to lie flat against his abdomen as you continued.

Trying to conceal his own quiet moans underneath his helmet, Boba allowed you to frantically grind your hips against the growing hardness in his trousers for a few more moments, one large hand cupping your ass and the other on your undulating back, holding you steady as you hectically rocked back and forth, up and down. You whined pitiably and grasped at the grooves of his breastplate like a drowning woman before his tolerance towards your juvenile ministrations finally ran thin. As you went to roll your hips against the outline of his length yet again, Boba grunted bestially and grasped you by the waist, pushing you off of him roughly so that you went tumbling onto your back next to him. Your chest heaving, you looked sideways at him with heavy-lidded eyes, your cheeks burning with desire. The dark helmet slowly tilted to the side as Boba stared at you, and you heard a disgusted scoff echo from within.

“That’s enough, you. Kriff, you’re a desperate little thing, aren’t you? Rutting in my lap like a loth-cat in heat and I’ve barely even touched you. Is that what you want, princess? Do you want me to touch you?” He purred mockingly, reaching down to lightly stroke your outer thigh with a gloved hand, briefly squeezing the soft flesh there and leaving fingermarks in his wake. You let out a throaty groan and thrust your hips towards his retreating hand, needing to feel his touch on your body, on your core.

“I need you to touch me, Boba, plea-” He reached out and grabbed you by the face, squeezing your cheeks together hard enough for it to almost be painful, and you let out a squeak as he tightened his grip, turning your face towards his.

“Oh no, little one. It’s not going to be that easy to get what you want from me, not after the way you carried on earlier.” He lowered his helmet until the forehead of it was touching your own damp one, and as you stared into the blackness of his visor, you found yourself wondering what color Boba’s eyes were, and what he would do if you were to reach up and pull that big green bucket away from his face. Before you could even truly consider it, though, he loosened his grip and released your cheeks. You exhaled sharply, a rush of cool air gradually taking the place of the rough leather on your skin.

Boba sat back on his knees, and grabbed you under your arms, hoisting you up and pivoting your body so you were now hanging off the bed, your feet dangling several inches above the floor. He lowered you slowly, making sure your feet were flat on the ground before he let his hands leave your sides, fingers purposefully trailing and pressing into the supple, pliant flesh of your still-covered, swollen breasts as he withdrew. The sensation of his trace along the tender tissues set your nerves on fire, and your nipples hardened to an almost excruciatingly painful degree. You considered reaching out to snatch one of those gauntleted wrists and plant his hand right on your tit, willing him to knead and squeeze and flick at the oversensitive bud at its tip, but were brought back to reality by a sharp smack to your ass.

You yelped, grabbing at your backside and whirling around to see Boba sitting on the bed, staring at you. He had taken his gloves off, and had swatted you with them, both forming a makeshift crop in his calloused hand. He let out an amused snort at your look of shock, and patted the palm of his other hand with the fisted leather.

“Go to the ‘fresher and clean yourself up.” You sensed by the edge to Boba’s voice that his patience was running low, and he gestured vaguely to the doorway with a jerk of his head. His rugged timbre crackled through the vocoder of the helmet, adding an even more ominous tone to his speech. He reclined on your bed, his ankles crossed nonchalantly, armored form looking massive and mind-bogglingly out of place as he lounged back against the pillows. It would have almost been a comical sight if it hadn’t been for the heady arousal you could sense in his gaze.

“And take that kriffing absorbent out while you’re in there. I want you nice and wet and open for me.”

You felt your heart sink right to your cunt at his last words. Stars, you were fucking dripping for him. A wave of liquid heat that had nothing to do with your cycle had pooled between your legs, and you felt your knees buckle as visions of what intense pleasures this man might put you through tonight swam in your mind. You shambled to the bathroom on legs that seemed to be made of gelatin, breathing heavily through your nose, trying to keep calm as you wiped away the sweat that had accumulated on your body in an attempt to make yourself somewhat presentable. You splashed your face with cold water to keep yourself from falling faint at the knowledge of what was to come, glancing at yourself in the mirror briefly. Your eyes were glassy, your pupils blown wide, almost completely black in the harsh light. A fresh round of cramps erupted in a band around your groin, and you were starting to think you’d die if Boba didn’t fuck you soon. Resting one leg on the toilet seat, you shoved your panties to the side and slowly removed the offending menstrual cup that you had inserted before you’d retired for the night, hastily discarding it in the bin. You didn’t care if it had tipped over and made a mess, you’d clean it up in the morning. All you cared about right now was getting back to Boba and feeling him twitch and throb inside of you.

He was waiting for you when you re-emerged, immediately rising to stand on the side of the bed. Beckoning you with the crook of a finger, he held out his hand to you as you practically ran towards him. As soon as the pads of your fingers had made contact with his, he spun you around to lie flat on the bed, head propped up behind the pillows, feet planted on the mattress and your legs spread so that he had a perfect view of your damp panties. Whether it was blood or arousal or a mixture of both, you weren’t sure - free-bleeding had never been your ‘thing’ and you weren’t sure if you liked the feeling - but as Boba climbed back onto the bed, openly admiring the wetness between your legs, you began to think that maybe it was something you could get used to.

He yanked down your underwear in one deft movement, grabbing hold of your calves one by one to remove your panties from around your legs, and tossed them to the side, where they landed in a crumple. He immediately leaned forward to spread your wet lips apart with his rough fingers, and you heard a sharp intake of breath come from underneath the helmet. It was barely audible, and you could tell that it had been involuntary from the way he had attempted to cut it off before it had even truly escaped. You flung one arm across your eyes, blushing furiously as you felt two thick fingers shallowly dip into your folds, swiping upwards briefly to gather some of the slick gathered there, then retreating just as quickly, before you could buck your hips into the welcome presence.

“ Such a dirty girl …” He cooed darkly, and you opened your eyes cautiously just to see what exactly he was talking about. He perched above you on his knees, gazing at his own hand, the one he had just been briefly exploring your wetness with.

His fingers were coated in blood - your blood, your menstrual blood - and he was smearing the red between his thumb, index, and middle fingers, as if utterly fascinated by it. His helmet briefly dipped down to his fingers as he greedily inhaled your most secret scent, and the low groan he released made you throw your own head back in an echo, fire traveling from your slick cunt throughout your body. Your cry came out much louder than anticipated, and his head immediately snapped up, his hidden eyes boring into you. You embarrassedly tore your eyes away from the darkened visor and noticed the impressive bulge straining at the crotch of his flight suit, along with the telltale damp patch that could only mean his cock was already weeping precum - fuck, this was turning him on.

He moved forward once more, brushing your legs further apart with a swat of the backside of his other hand and, resting his palm atop your shaking knee, almost calculatingly smeared the blood from his fingers along your inner thigh, back and forth, until the digits were nearly clean. You noticed a bit of dried redness still staining his skin, and the sight made you dizzy with arousal.

You threw your head back against the pillows once more and whined morosely at the mark your essence had left on him, offering no resistance when Boba grabbed you by your elbows, easing you onto your feet in front of his own kneeling form.

“Up you get, girl. Come on.”

You looked down at him, slightly puzzled as to exactly what he was doing, until he sharply prodded the backs of your knees with his arm, causing you to stumble forward. He caught your fall by positioning one thick thigh to rest between your legs, and you landed with your sopping core pressed directly against the grey fabric of his flight suit. Upon realizing your situation, you clutched at his biceps and buried your face in his neck with a muffled groan, every fiber of your being going into restraining yourself from fucking against the expanse of hard muscle. Boba Fett had remembered what you liked best, and he’d weaponized it.

“Go on. Ride my thigh, little one. Make yourself nice and slick so you’re ready to take my cock inside of you. You’ll probably have to cum at least once before you can handle it - I'm too big for you, aren’t I? ...But that’s what you want, isn’t it? My cock in your pretty little pussy?” Boba asked sweetly, his tone oozing with sarcasm. He jiggled his leg ever so slightly, and a shockwave of pure pleasure coursed through your veins, and you couldn’t help but let out a strangled squeal. Your calves shook in a futile attempt to hold yourself still despite it, to not give in to what he expected of you.

Boba had another idea though. He growled and clutched at your hips and began forcefully dragging you back and forth across the coarse material of his pants, causing you to emit a wail that echoed throughout the room. Boba hummed, satisfied with the effect his domination of your movements had on you, and lowered his head so that he was whispering in your ear, the sound delightfully harsh and metallic through his helmet’s vocoder.

“What was that, precious thing? You love fucking yourself against my leg like the needy little brat that you are, I know you do… now say it . Answer me, girl.” Boba punctuated his order with a slap to your ass, aggressively driving the muscle of his thigh up into your quim.

“Y-yes, Boba…” You weakly murmured, hiding your face against his shoulder, thighs clenching around his upper leg like a vise, your hips finally - almost involuntarily - thrusting into the meat of Boba’s thigh in time with the rhythm he jerked them back and forth with. “I… I l-love fucking m-myself on your thigh…”

“ Very good …” Boba chuckled darkly to himself as he continued to bounce his leg up and down while guiding your hips with his firm, strong hands, reveling in the soft grunts you let out as he controlled your riding of his thigh. He began flexing his quadricep to usher your impending orgasm along, occasionally pressing the tops of your thighs down to create more friction against your clit, friction you desperately needed as you chased your first release.

Your hips started to stutter much sooner than you had anticipated and you locked your arms around Boba’s neck in a death grip, lifting your face away from its place pressed against his breastplate to look into his eyes through the blackness of the T-shaped visor. Boba pinched the tip of your chin with his index finger and thumb, keeping your head in place so you were forced to meet his gaze as you came, his other hand planted firmly on your waist as he continued to shove your body back and forth.

“Come on, sweet thing. Cum on my thigh for me,” Boba encouraged as your grunting turned into high-pitched whines, spaced out with every push of your hips into his leg. Wriggling yourself in small circles and grinding your clit into the rough flak of his flight suit, you tipped your head back as you were finally pushed over the edge. Your inner walls clenched around nothing, devastating waves of pleasure rolling through your cunt and up through your clit as you rode out your orgasm. Boba didn’t slow his ministrations in the least bit, continuing to pump his leg up and down, holding you tightly in place as the spasms finally began to slow down and your clit became horribly oversensitive, until he finally allowed you to push yourself away from him, falling back onto the bed, panting loudly.

Trembling and shivering from the orgasm that had ripped cataclysmically through your body, you laid back on the bed, chest heaving violently, legs splayed and arms thrown limply above your head. You opened your watering eyes briefly to look at Boba, and they widened considerably when you saw that he was curiously running his fingers over several incredibly noticeable stains on the thigh of his flight suit.

Incredibly noticeable dark red stains. More like streaks, actually, following the line your pussy had made rutting against his thigh as you had sought your climax on the thick canvas.

You felt the warmth drain from your face, slightly horrified and ready to sink into the floor out of embarrassment. You’d been bleeding like a stuck pig all over his leg as he’d forced your orgasm out of you, and you hadn’t even realized it.

“Oh, Boba … I…” You began, rising up on your elbows, trying to think of what to say to placate him so he wouldn’t reprimand you for ruining a part of the armor that he cherished more than most other things. He was staring at you, unmoving, and that’s when you noticed his hands were actually shaking . The heat immediately rushed back to your face tenfold, and your cunt grew even warmer, your own arousal coating your inner thighs anew at how much of a mess you’d made of this man, in more ways than one.

“ Filthy girl. I’m going to fuck you hard for that.” The words came out in a feral snarl, and suddenly his hands were around your throat. You let out a gasping whoop as the air was forced from your lungs, although he wasn’t choking you hard enough to cause damage. The moderate pressure on your windpipe sent black spots to your vision, your own hands coming up to scrabble at the backs of his, more out of longing for his touch than a desire for him to stop, and Boba knew your limits by now. It ended soon enough, his iron grip relaxing almost as quickly as it had begun, and you gulped in fresh air. He ghosted the backs of his fingers over your exposed neck for a moment, wordlessly making sure that you were okay, and you pressed a chaste kiss to his knuckles as he dragged the digits over your mouth for a brief moment. Another growl left his lips as you did so, and your hammering heart flipped in your chest as you felt him still quaking from just how horny he was, how eager to finally take you.

Boba hurriedly unbuttoned the fly of his trousers, his normally deft fingers stumbling in his aroused rush to free himself. You couldn’t imagine just how turned on he must be to completely lose his cool like this, and it dazed you to comprehend that he was like this because of you . He finally shoved aside the rough material and pulled his cock free. You’d seen him too many times to count, but that first glimpse still sent your mind reeling. He was fucking huge. A perfect eight inches, ever-so-slightly curved to the right, veiny and deliciously wide, the glans plump and dusky pink and already slick with precum. He’d gone commando under his flight suit, and you found yourself wondering if he did all the time. You hoped so - it was fucking hot .

“Boba, wait - are you absolutely sure you want to do this? It’s… going to... make a mess…” You said weakly, grasping at his bracer with your trembling fingers and feeling as if you might faint as he lined up his considerable girth against your entrance. You felt the fat head of his cock against your lips, and it was like every nerve-ending in your body was fucking screaming at the tease.

He paused for a moment, sitting back and studying you intently, slowly pumping his engorged member and spreading glistening precum over the velvety, blunt head with a still-bloodstained thumb. A taunting rumble emanated from under his helmet, and his length twitched in his hand. Leaning down to cup your face with one hand, the other on the root of his erection, hot and hard and throbbing against you, you could hear the smirk in Boba’s voice.

“Oh, princess… I’m a bounty hunter. A little blood has never scared me.”

He entered you without any further warning, one deep, agonizingly slow thrust, and it felt like you were being ripped apart from the inside in the best way. No matter how many times you’d taken him, no matter how drenched and ready you were for him, Boba Fett’s cock was massive , the biggest you’d ever had. Tears sprang to your eyes and you wrapped your arms around his neck, knees involuntarily drawing up so that you could wrap your legs around his still-clothed waist, wanting him closer and deeper despite the initial burn. He bottomed out just as he was starting to hurt beyond your threshold, just as you were considering asking him to stop, letting out a deep, low groan as his balls and the dark patch of curls surrounding them made contact with your skin. You could feel the seam of his trousers against your ass as well, the knowledge that he hadn’t even bothered to take off his pants in order to fuck you sending a thrill up your spine.

And then he started to move.

Boba pistoned his hips back and forth at a near-frantic pace right from the start, already grunting with the exertion, and you knew that he was trying his hardest to keep some semblance of rhythm, to not mindlessly fuck into you like a wild animal, solely focused on chasing his own orgasm. Your whole body moving with every thrust, your cloth-covered tits bouncing as he slammed into you, you looked down between your bodies and watched his thick cock slide in and out of you. Your walls squeezed and fluttered urgently as you noticed the wet sheen of your blood coating his member as he plunged deeper and deeper into you. He dragged his cock out of you until only the head was still sitting inside, then rammed back home - once, twice; you began to lose count as your mind became hazy with the pleasure.

“Take the helmet off.” You found yourself gasping out, and Boba stopped as if he’d been frozen in time. He pulled his head back slightly to stare directly into your eyes, holding his body still above you.

“Please,” you continued, “I want to see you, I need you to kiss me, I need to see your face, pleaseplease please, Boba-“ You chanted as if in prayer, stopping mid-sentence as you realized just how still he had become.

Boba gave no discernible reply, either audibly or physically, but you could still feel his surprise through your hands, the taut muscles under your touch having suddenly turned to stone. He didn’t even seem to be breathing. Panic rising in your gut, you expected him to pull himself from inside of you and push you away, to disappear into the night never to be seen again, you began to utter a quiet “I’m sorry, Bo-“ when he shushed you with a hiss, and reached down between your bodies to press his index and middle fingers to your clit, rubbing slow, lackadaisical circles over the swollen nub. He chuckled from somewhere low in his chest, both at your pleading to see his face, and your renewed mewls of ecstasy at his teasing fingers.

“Hush, little princess. Some other time.”

With that, he pressed his fingers into your waist and lifted you off your back with ease, scooting himself to the edge of the bed so that his legs were hanging over the side, your own positioned on either side of his waist so that you were sitting flush in his lap, your thighs pressed firmly to his, his pulsating member buried deep inside of you. Boba gave you a moment to settle in his lap and adjust to the new position, then wrapped one arm around your waist to keep you from tumbling backwards and began slamming into you with an almost murderous intensity, his other arm reaching between you and covering your pussy with his hand, using his thumb to rub frenzied circles into your engorged clit, periodically pinching and flicking. You bit back a scream and your walls clenched painfully around his cock, and buried your face in the scratchy material protecting his throat. Your head tucked underneath the lip of his helmet, you could hear Boba panting and letting out throaty little moans, the sound unaltered by his vocoder at this angle, and the rasp of his true voice made you squirm with delight, grinding back against the sharp, shallow juts up into your core.

You felt a dampness forming on the material beneath your slack-jawed mouth as he fucked up into you; knowing that you were drooling right onto his clothing, completely cock-dumb and at the mercy of the man jackhammering into you, seemed to set off fireworks within your core. You heard a whining noise, steadily growing louder and higher-pitched as it went on, and it took a moment for you to realize that you were making that sound. Your second orgasm was building faster and faster, your own movements becoming hectic and sloppy against his rhythmic thrusting, and you persisted crying out wordlessly, rocking wildly on Boba’s lap. He continued to pound into you, growling and grunting like a beast, and that’s when you began to scream in earnest, the blunt tip of his cock finally scraping against that sweet spot deep inside your core, again and again and again.

Boba brought one hand up to stroke your cheek as his aggressive thrusts bounced you up and down in his lap, a soft shushing noise emanating from underneath the helmet. When that didn’t work to stifle your cries, he clamped one hand over your mouth, squeezing your face with the force of it.

“There you go, little one. That’s it, come on… cum on my cock. Let me make you feel good…” He murmured, thrusting up into you one final time and grinding his hips in a semi-circle as he did, his glans catching against the spongy patch deep inside you again, finally setting off a volley of apocalyptic spasms throughout your cunt. You clenched painfully around Boba, your pussy fluttering, your entire body shuddering and heaving with the waves of pleasure rolling through your system. The orgasm dragged on and on as Boba continued to grind into you and you shrieked into his hand, tears rolling down your cheeks from the intensity of it. His thrusts were too overstimulating, bordering on painful, as the spasms finally began to ebb, but Boba’s movements had become increasingly erratic, his own grunts louder, and finally - with a muttered curse in a guttural language you didn’t recognize - he harshly yanked himself out of your still-spasming cunt and pressed his cock against your belly. Streaks of Boba’s cum spurted up, leaving his mark all over the front of your nightie. When he was sure his cock had been milked for all it was worth, just before he began to go soft, Boba quickly lifted your ass up with one hand and sank you back down onto him, causing you to gasp and rut against him several times in your overstimulated state. He stilled you by wrapping an arm around your waist, resting his chin atop the crown of your hair, both of you completely exhausted and unable to even consider a second round anytime soon.

For a few minutes afterwards, you were pliant and vulnerable in his arms, your cheek pressed against the cool armor of his breastplate, shivering both with delight and the aftershocks of your climax. Boba’s own chest heaved as he attempted to catch his breath, his fingers running up and down your back, occasionally wiping the sweat and tears away from your face. You found yourself clinging desperately to his shoulder pauldrons, silently willing him not to move, to finally stay the night by your side. Neither one of you spoke, but you didn’t need to. You could have fallen asleep in his lap like this, legs dangling on both sides of his hips, his cock still inside of you, a strangely comforting sense of fullness.

It was too good to last, of course. With a relaxed sigh, Boba shifted, slowly lifting you off his cock. He left your opening with a wet pop , a mixture of pinkish menstrual blood and both of your arousals dribbling down the inside of your thigh as he flopped you down on the bed, stretching lazily as if he hadn’t just fucked your brains out. He stalked off to the bathroom without a word, probably to wash your blood off of himself. You closed your eyes for a moment, almost on the cusp of sleep and still sniffling from the tears your powerful orgasm had brought on, when you heard soft bootsteps returning from the other room, followed by the feeling of a damp cloth between your legs, gently cleaning your wrecked sex. You sighed softly at the unexpected sensation, and hummed contentedly when the cloth was removed and a warm hand settled itself over your lower belly, kneading the sore flesh there.

“Feeling better, cyar’ika?” Boba asked, and his tone made your heart ache. This affection was something fairly new, and you gave an affirmative, sleepy murmur in response. He had never called you that name before - he’d never even called you your actual name before - and you wondered what it meant, but knew you would only receive a brooding stare if you deigned to ask. You were too tired to consider it, anyway. You doubted you could stay awake for much longer.

The hand withdrew from your tummy, and as your eyes fluttered closed, you saw Boba standing over you, looking every bit the fearsome warrior. He reached out and tapped his fingers under your chin delicately, and you heard the sound of spurs moving across the room, away from your bed.

“ Good. ”

He was gone in the morning, of course.

It had been silly to think maybe you’d open your eyes and see him sitting in the chair across the room, waiting for you to wake up.

The only sign that someone else had been there at all was the delicious ache between your legs that always lasted for several days after one of Boba’s visits and the lingering scent of post-coital musk in the air, as well as a few bloodstains on the sheets and dried cum on your nightshirt that you hoped would come out in the wash.

And last night’s underwear had mysteriously vanished.

You thought you had a vague idea of where it might’ve ended up.

#boba fett #boba fett fanfiction #boba fett x reader

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theteddylupinexperience · 3 years

Text

The Concert | Dio Morrissey x f!reader

AN: not a lot to say about this one, aside from the fact that I’m actually really happy with how it turned out. I always love the “best friend’s younger sister” trope, and who better to do it with than our goth king himself. Thanks as always to @pascalpanic for hyping me up and listening to me rant about mosh pits. Enjoy!

Warnings: swearing, kissing, super mild punk show related violence, brief anxiety mention, Dio is a little cringey but you like it

“Kiddo, you’re not even gonna have fun,” your brother swears, “this band is harsh no doubt, I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“As sweet as your over protection is, you’re not ditching me tonight,” you roll your eyes. Your brother is sitting on your bathroom counter watching you get ready for the concert he promised a month ago he’d take you to. You know his concern comes from a genuine place, you’d only gotten into the goth scene fairly recently, and long time fans can be really intense with “virgins.”

“Hey, uh, is Shane gonna be there?” you ask, casually as you can manage. You attempt to continue with your black eyeshadow to avoid eye contact with your brother, but he sees right through you anyways.

“First of all, you have to call him Dio while we’re in public. You are not killing the vibe on your induction night. Second of all, gross. I’m sitting right here. Drool over my best friend on your own time.” Your brother pokes your forehead with one of your makeup brushes in a scolding manor.

“Okay well first of all,” you start, “this is my time because this is my bathroom. And second of all… do YOU have any weird nickname I should be aware of before I, and I quote, kill the vibe?”

Your brother flushes slightly, looking at the ground before answering, “Uh, it’s Ghost, actually.”

You narrow your eyes at him, biting back a laugh at how ridiculous he looks, bright red ears contrasting the Doc Martens currently kicking against the floor.

“Dio and… Ghost?” He just nods, looking up at you finally.

“Well alright, my knights in dirty ass Tripp pants.” The comment earns you a laugh, and you feel a small swell of pride rise in your chest. For as insufferable as you found each other a lot of the time, your older brother really was like your best friend. His group of friends had stuck together since middle school, and had absolutely taken you under their wing when you’d let yourself really fall into your darker side. Tonight was your first real night out with everyone, and you couldn’t pretend to be more nervous. You had known your brother’s best friend Shane, Dio, since you were in third grade and had always found him fascinating. You can’t deny that he’s gorgeous, tall and lean, always wearing a leather trench coat that accentuates those features. Full, plush lips, and deep brown eyes that you want to get lost in. Just as you find yourself actually getting lost in the thought of Dio, you’re startled back to reality when your brother turns your hair dryer on and blows it in your face.

“Yo, kid, did I lose you? We gotta go,” in your trance he’s managed to get his hair done and a subtly cool amount of eyeliner. You can only hope not to look like a child, or god forbid a drone, next to him and his friends. “Don’t be nervous, just get your shoes on.”

When you get your boots laced up, you give yourself one last glance in the mirror, fluffing your hair to make it look less obviously styled, and run out the door.

When you arrive at the venue, if you could call it that, it looks more like a rundown warehouse, the music is already in full swing. “The openers always fuckin’ suck, kid,” your brother had told you, “we always show up at least an hour late.”

You’re rocking nervously on your heels, stuck to the ground where your brother had told you to wait while he found the group and brought them over to you. You smile widely when you see them approaching you, but are quick to cover it with what you hope is a cool smirk. Out of place doesn’t even begin to describe how you feel, it would be more accurate to say you’re on a different plane of existence. You’ve managed to transcend discomfort and now have settled into a calmer state.

“Well, well, if it isn’t Wednesday Addams herself,” a deep voice calls out from the head of the pack.

“Hey Sh- uh, Dio,” you stammer as the king himself puts his hands on your shoulders to inspect your outfit. Your stomach drops when he brushes some hair from your face. “You look good. Like you put some thought into how you look, unlike the rest of these drones.” Your face lights up at his praise, and flushes quickly when he winks at you.

Your group makes their way towards the front of the stage when you hear the headlining band announced. The first few songs go off without a hitch, the crowd moves in a seething, pulsing way to the music, and you find yourself moving along with them. You catch Dio’s eyes a couple times to find him already looking at you, his expression relaxed and amused, but his eyes dark as he takes in everything around him. You’re about to walk over and ask him to dance with you when you hear from the stage, “Alright everybody, let’s open this fucking pit!”

Your eyes widen briefly, but you try your best to stay cool in front of your brother and his friends. You can only imagine how lame Dio would find you if you lost your cool because of some moshing. Unfortunately, in your attempt to save face, you’ve distracted yourself to the people around you and find yourself getting shoved, almost to the ground. Your brother hurries over and helps you up, and you assure him you’re fine. It’s nothing you can’t handle. He keeps his grip on you a moment longer, and ruffles your hair before jumping into the circle pit himself. You do your best to keep dancing around, staying away from everyone jumping and shoving each other as much as you can, and for a few minutes you’re surprisingly successful.

The next song that plays is even more intense than the last, and you find yourself crowded against the stage trying to stay away from everything. Your heart rate quickens, and you can feel an anxiety attack trying to creep its way up your spine. You look around desperately, searching for your brother so you can beg him to take you home, when a hand on your shoulder startles you.

Warm brown eyes search your own, “Didn’t mean to scare you, darling, but do you want to get out of here?”

You nod up at Dio, and he takes your hand, guiding you in front of him towards a side door. One of his hands rests protectively against the small of your back, and you shudder at the warmth. You’re outside, the air is cool against the sweat on your skin, and yet Dio’s hand never leaves yours.

“D’you wanna sit?” He gestures to a bench resting against the side of the building.

“I-” your voice cracks, and you clear your throat to find some volume, “Sure, that sounds nice.”

The pair of you sit in silence for a moment while you catch your breath, you can feel Dio’s eyes boring into you, but can’t bear to look at him. “God, I’m so sorry, Shane,” you whisper, “Er, Dio, fuck, sorry again.”

“Don’t apologize, darling, it’s just you and me out here.” You finally dare to look up, and he’s smiling gently at you, holding both of your hands in one of his, and rubbing the other soothingly up your back. “I know the first time can be intense, to say the least. It’s a madhouse in there, and those fucking drones don’t know any better than to push everyone around. It should be a crime to scare or shove anyone as perfect as you.”

You huff out a strangled laugh at his words, and move your hands to fiddle with the rings on his fingers. “Why are you being so nice to me?”

“Because you’re my best friend’s little sister,” he starts, and his grip on your back tightens when disappointment crosses your features, “and because you are the most beautiful creature I have ever laid eyes on. If someone as ethereal as you will even allow me in your presence, I have done something right.”

You turn your body towards him completely, searching his face. The strong, confident, devil may care Dio from inside is nothing compared to the patient, sweet, borderline insecure Shane you’re talking to out here. You reach your hand up to caress his face, smoothing down his dyed black curls, tracing your thumb against his full bottom lip. Shane melts into your touch, a content sigh leaving his lips at the contact, the heat of your skin against his feels more powerful than the sun at this moment. When you run your thumb nail against the sensitive skin behind his ear, his eyes snap open.

“Can I- would you… would you be mad if I kissed you?” He asks, his voice shy, but his eyes full of want.

‘I’ll be mad if you don’t,” you laugh incredulously. Shane places one hand against your jaw, and the other one slides up your back to rest in your hair. The cool metal of his rings feels electric, but nothing could compare to the jolt you feel when his lips meet yours. He’s soft, so much gentler than you imagined he’d be, and he takes his time losing himself in the feeling of your lips moving against his. He pulls away too soon, and you grab the front of his jacket to pull him back to you.

This kiss is not as gentle, but it is equally as sweet and intoxicating. His hand tightens on your scalp, and his tongue presses against the seam of your lips. You gasp, and he takes the opportunity to slip his tongue against yours. He tastes like clove cigarettes and Jaeger, and it’s fucking incredible. He’s more perfect than your wildest dreams of him, and the low moan he lets out when you scratch your nails up his back makes you reconsider everything you’ve ever thought about heaven.

Eventually you have to breathe, so you pull back just a bit and rest your forehead against his. “Wow,” you manage to get out. Shane laughs, the sound is more musical than anything you’ve heard tonight.

“Wow is correct, my darling, you are truly more ethereal than I could have fathomed.” He kisses you again, softly on the lips, and then places another on your cheek. “Do you think I could take you out for real sometime soon?”

You bite your lip to prevent a giddy smile from breaking across your face, and nod quickly. “I actually found this record store with its own coffee shop a couple towns over, we could check that out, maybe? I mean, I’ve liked you since freshman year, so anything you want to do would be perfect. You’re perfect, Dio.”

His ears flush an adorable pink, and he smiles almost shyly up at you. “Shane,” he says, “Call me Shane.”

You beam up at him, “Shane.”

He stands up, takes your hand, and leads you back into the concert venue. Walking arm in arm with the king, you feel like you could jump right in the middle of that mosh pit and come out on top. Shane guides you back to your friends, and you try not to get overwhelmed by the stares and whispers when people see you together. Your brother catches a glimpse of you, his eyes drop down to where your hand is connected with Shane’s, and you brace yourself for an obnoxious or over protective comment.

“It’s about goddamn time.”

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal imagine #shane dio morrissey #dio morrissey #dio morrissey imagine #dio morrissey x reader

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starlightrows · 3 years

Text

Something of Your Own

Pairing: Din Djarin x reader

Words: 1.8k

Tags: Hurt Comfort, angst, happy ending

Summary: Din takes you in after your village is destroyed

AN: Originally posted on AO3 in November 2020

Sitting against the wall in the hull of the ship, you rolled the small silver ball over towards the kid. He catches it and gets distracted looking at his tiny reflection again. He chirped happily, probably overjoyed to have a playmate on this lonely ship, and tries to roll it back.

You had only been traveling with the Mandalorian and his foundling son for a few months. So far it wasn’t so bad. You had been taking care of children almost your whole life, and this child was surprisingly easy to care for. Entertain him for most of the day, feed him often, hold him while he falls asleep, and he’s a perfect angel. Your new traveling companion had made him sound like a little terror. You supposed that was because he couldn’t afford to give all of his attention to him. That’s why you’re here, isn’t it. Well, that and having nowhere else to go.

The Mandalorian had come to your village asking if anyone had heard of a people called The Jedi. No one in the village had. You had never seen a Mandalorian before either. He had asked if there were other villages nearby he could ask. You offered him a place to stay for the night, and set out for the neighboring villages in the morning. He was reluctant, but the child seemed so attached to you. Continually trying to climb your skits and touch your face. So he agreed.

He regretted that decision. The nights on your planet were long, and dark. And his that darkness a massive ship flew overhead, landing on the outskirts of the village. Armored soldiers poured out of ship, and began breaking into homes. Demanding to know where to find the Mandalorian and his charge.

The Mandalorian awoke to screams and sound of blaster fire coming from somewhere else in the village. His helmet went on and he leaped from the bed, plucking the sleeping child from the pram, and yanking open the door to the bedroom. Only to find you at the door about to knock.

“Help us!” You shouted. He thrust the child into your arms, and went back to put on the few pieces of armor he had removed to sleep.

Coming back out of the room, he grabbed your shoulders roughly “Take the child back to my ship, lock yourself in there and do not let anyone in” You were frozen in terror, clutching the baby to your chest. “Go!” He shouted

So you did. Out the back door, and behind the row of homes and businesses you had lived in your whole life. Blindly you ran for the ship. The sound of your friends and neighbors screams pounded in your head, how the baby was sleeping through this you could not fathom.

Finally reaching the ship you climbed in, and sealed the door. You sunk to the floor, exactly where you sat now, and you waited. Tears streaming down your face. You had no idea how long you sat there, if you fell asleep at any point. The ship’s hull was pitch black and soundless, save for the soft breathing of the baby and your muffled crying.

The sound of the being opened from the outside scared you. Jumping to your feet, and retreating further into the darkness hoping you wouldn’t run into anything. Dull orange light streamed into the hull, and you heard your name being called out. It was the Mandalorian.

You emerged from the darkness, tired puffy eyes looking at him expectantly. Suddenly you were more terrified than you had been the entire night. Your village. Your home. Your whole life. What had happened? What was left?

You advanced towards him. But he stopped you with a gentle hand. “I’m sorry” that was the only thing he could say. An apology. Fresh tears sprang to your eyes. You pressed the child into his arms, and ran passed him.

You didn’t know what you would find when you got there. All you knew was you had to see it. You didn’t stop running until you saw the smoke rising from the ashes... your entire life had been reduced to rubble. You sobbed, like never before.

Eventually the Mandalorian had followed you back into the ruins of your village. He asked if there was somewhere you wanted to go, if you had friends or family. This was it. This was your whole life. You had nowhere to go. He offered to take you with him.

“Come with us. You can leave whenever you’d like. And I can pay you for your help with the kid,”

It was the only option you had, so here you were. Rocketing through the stars, on your way to an uncertain future, with a baby and a man who’s name you didn’t know and face you will never see.

You were pulled from your thoughts by the sound of Mando’s footsteps descending the ladder from the cockpit. The baby toddled over to the landing, having lost all interest in the silver ball rolling back towards you. Mando bent down and picked up the child, he approached you as you stood up.

“We’ll be landing soon,” he told you “There’s someone I need to talk to on this planet. And they have a market where we can resupply”

You nod quietly. After these last few months, you were still mourning the loss of your village. Going into towns and markets on other planets was exciting but it made you long for home. You had never left your home world, visiting other planets exposed you to things you never would have imagined in your wildest dreams.

Planets covered in dense forests, others with endless expanses of water, not to long ago you had been to a planet that had man made structures covering every surface area... You had come from a farming planet, that sold crops and livestock to intergalactic traders. You knew there were other worlds in the universe, other species, but it was so much more vast than you could have imagined.

The planet you were visiting today was beautiful. Enormous mountains jutted from the ground, fields of tall grass and wildflowers, and clear springs. The village was busy, full of travelers stopping for more fuel, supplies, a place to stay for the night, or just somewhere to stretch their legs and breathe fresh air.

Mando watched as you step off of the ship, holding his son.

“Have you ever seen anything so beautiful?” You asked the child softly. He replied in his garbled little chirps.

Mando felt his chest tighten. The guilt of being the reason you had nowhere to go weighed heavily on him. But bringing you to beautiful places like this, that you may have otherwise never experienced made him feel a little bit better. He didn’t want to admit he was taking you to some of the more interesting places he had visited in his travels, and tried to find nice places for you to stay and take care of the baby when he had to catch a bounty.

“Ready?” He asked. You smiled and nodded, following him towards the town.

Every time they stopped a new planet, Mando knew there was a chance you would not continue with him. But if truth be told, he didn’t want that to happen. He had grown fond of you these last few months. Having a second set of hands around to do things on the ship and someone to make sure the kid was always looked after, were more than welcome. But it was more than that, it was you. You were kind, and gentle. Respectful of his culture, and eager to learn and see everything. He didn’t want you to find a new place to settle. But that wasn’t his choice to make.

He thought about this as you walked together through the market. You held the child against your chest, letting him look out at all of the people and shops. You pointed out various things to him, and spoke with such care.

He left you with some credits, and instructions on where to meet back up with him when you were done shopping and he was finished with his meeting. He had been trying to give you more credits than you needed recently. A couple weeks back, he had snapped at you in a hurry to leave the planet he had left you and kid on for a few days...

“Get your things, we’re leaving”

You stood up, with the child in your arms and walked out of the small inn. He didn’t miss your words under your breath as you passed him.

“I don’t have any things,”

You were right, all you had was the clothes on your back. And the credits he gave you after returning from cashing in on bounties. It was his fault, and he knew it.

You walked around the market, trying to make sure you had enough of a variety of foods to take with you onto the ship. You picked up some strips of bandage cloth, and bacta pads as well. Your companion made more use of those than you would like to admit.

You passed by a clothing stall, and stopped short. Looking down at the kid in his tan robes. It wouldn’t hurt to get him a second set, he did get dirty a lot when you stayed on a planet for a few days. You stepped into the stall, and began looking to find children’s clothing.

The fabric the clothing is made of on this planet is so vastly different from the clothes your own people wore. You ran your fingers over a pair of dark brown trousers.

“What do you think little friend?” You asked the child “maybe we both need something new”

Mando approached the massive shade tree, seeing you and the baby leaning against the trunk and sharing a piece of fruit. He saw that you had several packages of supplies for the ship sitting next to you, and a leather pack. He also noticed the child wore new, grey robes. And you. You wore new well fitting trousers, tunic, boots and coat. He couldn’t help but notice how attractive you looked. The child scampered towards him, and raised his little arms. He shouldered the child, and offered you a hand to stand up.

“You look nice,” he said, somewhat dumbly.

“Thank you,” you replied, taking his hand. You gathered the packages and supplies. “I figured I would need some better clothes if I’m gonna keep up with the little womp rat” You scritched behind the child’s floppy ears. The baby cooed at your touch.

Mando felt comforted walking back to the ship. If you were willing to spend money on things to better help you take care of the kid, maybe you would stay longer.

Din Djarin Tag List: @spideysimpossiblegirl

#the mandalorian #din djarin #din djarin x reader #The Mandalorian x reader #Back logged fic

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chews-erotically · 4 years

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Waxing Gibbous

Pairing: Ezra + femNurse! Reader

Rating: Hard M / 18+ ONLY

Warnings: Angst/violence/gore/blood/mentions of prostitution/SMUT(eventual)/veryinaccuratesurgicalprocedure

Honestly words have been fermenting in my brain for many moons. I am new to this, so please be gentle. I have written before, however never for a fandom. Special thank you to @yespolkadotkitty and @rzrcst for their support and encouragement, it truly means the world to me.

Summary: You are a nurse on the Green moon contracted to care for a group of prospectors. An act of violence forces you to flee your camp. Ezra finds you.

Words: 2376

PART ONE

The first time Ezra fell, it was with the Saters. You’d been hunched in a cordoned-off section of tent, dust motes waxing and waning against the haze of thick, dank air. At least you could breathe, a small mercy it was to remove your helmets and sit unfettered in the musty inner folds of the makeshift barracks.

The Sater stank. When he sneered at you, his grey lips parted to reveal the jagged tombstones of his teeth. When you had first sat down and dispelled with the perfunctory greetings, choking down the offering of what always reminded you of unsweetened Turkish coffee mixed with engine oil, his eyes made no attempt to hide the way they had raked over you as if you were some shiny toy. Or a bag of meat. You were under no delusions when it came to the fact that you, by nature of being female, were going to be ogled. Still, it left you no less disgusted as you fought to keep your face impassive while his eyes honed in on your chest.

Ezra sat beside you on the narrow bench, hunched forward with forearms balanced on knees that were spread to allow for his head to clear the sunken canvas ceiling. His expression was equally neutral, the only hint of tension showing in the tight bunch of muscle at his jaw. He knew as well as you that if the sater did not accept the barter, things would turn dark.

Ezra had been here longer than you. Stranded with no transport after the crew he’d arrived with turned on each other over dig locations and payload disbursement. The pod they’d arrived in had been burned, irreparably damaged and left no more than a husk in the Green due to the short-sighted fury and bullheaded ire of his hired compatriots. In the fracas, he’d sustained an injury to his right arm from a rogue thrower shot. In retrospect it could have been much worse, but the spores of mold that made the air so toxic had worked its way into his flesh the same way selfishness and suspicion had seeded the demise of his partners.

You were hired as a nurse to tend to your own hired prospecting crew, lured in with promises of adventure and treasures beyond your wildest dreams. You had known there had to be a catch, you were not so naive to believe that consequence could elude you, but you had signed the contract anyway hoping for more than the dreary clinic you’d worked in for the past five years. You were alone, you were lonely, you had no family. Your few friends had steadily drifted away from you as they met their own partners, started their own families. You were left to the ether. So you signed almost without thought when the recruiter came, signed before you had time to think it through, because you were aware that if you thought too much you’d talk yourself out of it. You knew all too well how adept you were at talking yourself out of things.

So, you’d arrived on the Green and things had proceeded as planned, uneventful for the most part. The others on the crew were respectful, if a bit distant. Nothing untoward had happened until a contractor by the name of Jorin began to take a particular interest in you. At first you’d been able to politely deflect his advances. Showing up in your tent unannounced, he feigned all manner of illness and injury to get your attention. Over time he became more aggressive, invading your space until you had told him, in no uncertain terms, that he was not welcome. It was not until he’d followed you back to your cot and tried to push you down that you’d snapped. You hadn’t meant to kill him, but the scalpel you had hidden in your fist had found its way to his carotid artery nonetheless. So you left, and you were blank and in shock and covered in someone else’s blood when Ezra found you.

He’d stood, imposing and straight-backed, hand on hip while his head followed your shambling approach. Your adrenaline was waning, and you shuffled forth on trembling legs, hands held aloft in supplication. When you reached his clearing in the midst of dense vegetation you noted his mouth moving at light-speed, the hand on his hip twitching toward the thrower he had slung across his back. As you got even closer you noticed his eyes were wide. You were not on the same transmission channel so you could not hear him. Your hands gestured as if underwater, left hand tapping your transceiver while your right held up three trembling fingers. When Ezra understood he switched the channel and immediately his animated drawl was filling your helmet.

“.....cannot fathom how you are standing in my sights looking like you’ve been baptised by Lady Bathory herself, alone? Please do tell this lonely old prospector how in Kevva’s name above you’ve found yourself in such a state of affairs?”

You noticed immediately that he did not seem at all frightened or wary of your appearance, just confused, and….excited? You gazed up into the visor through a constellation of blood spatter and freed your tongue from its bone-dry cavern, swallowing thickly.

“I didn’t mean to kill him. He tried to, to…..he came after me.”

Ezra stepped forward in what seemed a conspiratory move. You froze. Taking note, he’d immediately stepped back, but his dark eyes fastened to yours with an intensity that made you feel as though he could see through you into your very essence, every shameful childhood memory, every flaw and triumph as readable as prose on paper.

“Intention rarely informs the realities of snuffing out the flame of mortality. Between intention and action there lay an endless array of variables, something I know as well as my own name. In all my time on the Green the one thing that continues to ring true is that people here take. If you have nothing to offer, they will find something to take.”

He straightened before continuing, “Given that you are appreciably female I can imagine what it is he believed himself entitled to. You have none of that to fear from me, little stranger. I am but one lost soul amongst this verdant hellscape.”

You were still processing the events of the past several hours, and it took you some time to accustom your ears to the man’s mellifluous cadence. The people in your previous company had been stilted, blunt, mostly monosyllabic. This man before you spoke as if convinced his words would alight and manifest whatever sacred force or unimagined color the universe deemed fit to spew forth. It was incongruous. You considered your next words carefully before you spoke.

“Do you have a dwelling? A tent? I hate to impose, but this is my only suit and I’d like to get as much blood out of it as I can.”

That was how you’d become acquainted with Ezra. You’d exchanged names as you walked to his tent, and all the while Ezra pontificated. The tent was modest, two cots arranged across from one another. Equipment stacked along one canvas wall, while texts and notebooks spread across a folding table toward the front entrance. Ezra explained where the water source was located as you both disconnected your helmets and stripped your suits. The blood splashed across yours had dried to a dull rust. Almost as if it could be something other than blood. Almost.

You’d set the suit to soak in cold water and truly noticed the man in front of you for the first time. He was tall and broad-shouldered, thick locks jutting chaotically from the dome of his head and curling around the lobes of his ears. A shock of blond colored the seam of his hairline. His brow was lined with years of tension and unrest. Wide, dark eyes below pronounced brows. A prominent aquiline nose. His mouth, still moving. Always moving, as if he were trying to get every thought he had out of his head before the hourglass ran out on him.

Your eyes were next drawn to a dirty bandage circling his arm. You’d been so lost in your head over the strange turn of events that you did not notice the barely perceptible wince as he inventoried what appeared to be dried ration packets.

“What happened? To your arm, I mean?”

Ezra sighed deeply before answering. “Merely a flesh wound from an errant thrower blast while my crew and I were in the midst of parting ways. It was a most unsavory affair, I’m afraid. I don’t believe the weasel wielding the staff even meant to shoot me.”

You stepped closer, eyeing the torn, worried cloth. “You have to be careful. The spores in the air will seep into everything, especially an open wound. Your bandage is filthy. Do you mind if I take a look?”

“You have experience with dressing wounds?”

“I’m a nurse.”

You were wholly unprepared for the brilliant smile that split his face. Suddenly you could see the younger, roguish man that he had undoubtedly once been. You were suddenly overwhelmed, you could not understand how the heart in your chest fluttered as desperately as a bird beating its wings against the cage of your ribs. You felt close to panic as you realized that you were reacting this way to a man you did not know.

Careful.

“Kevva above, I must have done something right in a past life as I’ve done nothing in this one to deserve such a fortuitous gift! A nurse! An angel of mercy, a dove of benevolence!”

You felt heat rush to your face, and you cursed your feeble emotions as you turned quickly away from him. Please, ignore my abject idiocy.

“Med kit?”

“Ah, of course. My apologies, Dove, I forget myself.”

You pointedly ignored the unprompted endearment as any further contemplation on this new development would lead to literal hysteria. What the fuck is wrong with me?

Ezra sat at the table near the entrance, sweeping the array of notebooks and papers to the side. You pulled up a crate once taking the med kit and unwrapped the soiled bandaging. You understood how awkward it had to be to dress a wound with one hand, and so you were able to forgive the haphazard application. He hissed and winced again as you revealed a very red, open and angry wound bed assaulting the meat of his right bicep. Black had begun to settle in around the ragged edges. It did not look good. Your gut sank as you noticed the purplish pucker of skin surrounding a crater that oozed and tunneled, purulent drainage saturating the underlying gauze.

The mold had done a spectacular job of decaying what would have normally been a straight forward traumatic thrower wound. You were shocked that Ezra was not screaming in pain.

You kept your face studiously blank as you set out supplies: a vial of Ancef, sterile saline, bandaging, gauze, antimicrobial foam, hydrogen peroxide, a basin, and the scalpel you’d kept clutched in your fist as you’d fled. There was an injectable narcotic preloaded, you offered this to Ezra and he shook his head, his eyes still and worried. He knew it was bad, and he was scared. A wave of melancholy slammed into you and without thinking, you reached out and laid your fingers gently on his wrist.

“Hey.” He met your eyes, and they were old. Ancient, and filled with what was akin to an existential weariness. You had to dig the toe of your boot into your calf to keep your eyes from filling with tears. You cleared your throat. It did not sound like a noise you’d make. You wondered who you were, really, before speaking.

“I’m going to do the best that I can. It won’t be pretty. Your wound is badly infected. The black bits are necrotic, and if I don’t debride your wound it will spread. I’m going to try my hardest to save your arm. This is going to hurt, so I really think you should take the injection.”

Ezra’s solemn gaze swung to fasten on yours. After a pause of internal debate, he simply nodded. You filled the basin with hydrogen peroxide and placed the scalpel in. You picked up the preloaded syringe and sterile gauze and quickly discharged the narcotic serum into Ezra’s left deltoid. His eyes soon took on a haze of detachment, pupils constricting to pinpoints.

You picked up the scalpel and got to work, and Ezra finally screamed.

He kept his arm impressively still while sweat cut rivulets down the planes of his face. His jaw clenched so tightly you feared his teeth would crack and splinter- you’d finally and wordlessly paused your work to place a length of spare leather strapping between his teeth, which he clamped onto like a feral dog.

You worked quickly and wordlessly, cutting ribbons of spoiled flesh from the blessedly granulating bed of tissue and muscle beneath. Your mind worked in circular prayer, asking forgiveness from the universe for killing, for hurting. Ezra’s flesh was a sacred scroll and you were inscribing your texts upon it, begging for deliverance. It was not lost on you that the same scalpel you’d used to snuff one life was carving death out of another.

When the deed was done, you reconstituted the Ancef and injected it into the meat of his buttock. You did it quickly, too wrung out and disturbed to feel impure. There was nothing prurient about what had just happened, nothing sexy in his agony. For all of its intimacy it was brutal and ugly and traumatic. At that moment you were inextricably bound to one another.

#Ezra Ezra Prospect

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nctzendreamz · 3 years

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[7:50pm] “I never thought I’d see you again.” You speak, feeling as if you had seen a ghost. Truthfully, you were seeing a spirit. He still looks so good, but there is a dark aura around him now. His signature beanie covers his current blonde locs. If the two of you were still together, you would have told him to wear a black one instead of a green one as it’s clashing horrible.

Mark snaps around just as you expected - or hoped he would. The sound of your voice used to make him so nervous and sweaty. It seems as if you’ve lost that affect on him. The minute his eyes see you, his aura gets even darker.

“How are you here?”

He’s angry. You can hear it in the way his tounge practically stabs the root of his mouth as he questions you. The way his nostrils flare like he’s seen satan’s offspring. There’s probably a lot of feelings coming to him at once. Joy, as you would like to think he still misses you. Extreme irritation, most likely because maybe he was starting to believe that the two of you weren’t meant to be - okay, now you were giving yourself too much credit. Hope is there too though. You see right through Mark Lee as if he’s made of glass.

Maybe that’s what soulmates had the ability to do.

Or maybe, you truly were evil.

With all of your thoughts one would think hours had passed since he questioned your sudden appearance. But no, only a mere few seconds.

“I didn’t know you would be here.” You lie. Well, maybe it isn’t a lie. Technically, just because you came to the SM store doesn’t mean you knew he would be here. That wasn’t possible. All you were trying to do was support him while you were in the country. There was a part of you that hoped you could see him going to practice, or eating, but it was your wildest dream.

“You’re real bold.” He chuckles. God, you used to love it so much when it was directed towards other people he hated. But now it’s your turn, and it’s breaking you even though you would never let him see it. Not now.

“You break my heart. You leave me when I needed you most, but now that I’m doing slightly better with being without your kisses, and your hugs, and you.” He sniffles. “You want to show up. Right when I think I will be okay, you want to show up. You really are sick.”

“I’m sorry.” Is all you can say.

“That’s all? Do you realize that even with my anger I would drop everything to be with you tonight? And yet, all you can do is apologize? I wish I never met you!” He says in a hushed tone, but you felt as if you were being screamed at. It was in his doe eyes that used to love looking at you so much. “I love you, Y/N.”

He’s going back and forth, feeling everything at once, and you want to hug him. You used to hold him so tightly when he had breakdowns like this. His vibrant scent used to carry you to places beyond heaven. But you can’t. You can’t go back on your decision. He hurt you too. He was just sorry in the end after he realized how much he needed you.

“It was nice seeing you, Mark.” Is all you can fathom. You should’ve told him you love him too. Because you do. But hope was in his eyes before, and you couldn’t allow him to keep that. This was a mistake. As you stomp out of the large building in the smacking winter, to your right you see a quote painted on the wall.

“The responsibility of love; To keep another’s heart safe.”

You both failed.

#nct #nct 127 #nct mark #nct blurbs #nct blurb #mark lee #mark nct #nct angst #mark blurbs #mark blurb #kpop angst #nct imagine

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soniaxdixon · 3 years

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The New World; Series, pt. 5

Sorry this one is a bit late, I actually have an idea for a one shot so expect that hopefully either later tonight or tomorrow. Also, should I start using a prompt list to write drables and one shots. If yes, please tell me which ones. Thank you! and as always, thank you so much for reading!

pt 5 of ??

Words: 1546

Warnings: swearing, a little bit of angst, Shane being a dick

Waking up in Daryl’s strong arms was something out of your wildest dreams. Feeling him stir behind you as you gently removed his arm from around your waist, you forced yourself out of the bed, turning to look at his peaceful face. You had never seen him this content. You stretched your arms above your head, yawning before you sat back down on the bed carefully. You reached your hand over to Daryl and ran your fingers through his hair, waking him up slowly.

“Morning.”

“Mornin’” The smile that graced Daryl’s lips made your heart skip a beat. His gravelly voice sending shivers down your spine.

“I’m gonna go and have a shower.”

“Another one?”

“You wanna join me?” Within seconds Daryl was up and pulling his clothes off haphazardly, you chuckled at this sight, a complete juxtaposition to how shy he was the night before. He followed you into the bathroom like a lost puppy as you both enjoyed the hot water in the morning.

He got out of the shower first, drying off and changing into his jeans and a button up with no sleeves. He pushed his feet into his boots as you stepped out of the shower and wrapped yourself in your towel. He couldn’t help but stare at you, his eyes roaming down your body as water droplets ran down your legs.

“You’re beautiful.”

You felt your cheeks run red as you looked up into the archers eyes.

“Imma head over to the dining room, ya comin’?”

“I’ll just get changed, meet you there in a bit.”

He nodded and proceeded to unlock the door, closing it quietly behind him. You threw yourself on the bed, your lips curled into the biggest smile as you closed your eyes and thought of everything you had just experienced.

Daryl walked towards the group who were all sitting around the table as T-Dogg made breakfast. He sat down in the last available chair across from Rick. He couldn’t help but look up at Rick and think about how you were going to tell him about what you and Daryl now shared. Would you want to tell him, maybe you wanted to keep this all a secret, maybe you were embarrassed about Daryl. His mind raced through thoughts of doubt until you walked into the room and flashed him the brightest smile and all his worries melted away. You looked around for a space at the table for you but there were none, you walked towards Daryl as he realised you were looking for a place to sit, he went to push out of the chair but you stopped him, instead choosing to sit on his lap. His heart jumped and his whole body stiffened at the sudden public affection but his hands soon found your waist holding you closer to him, slowly growing more confident.

Rick looked up suddenly choking on his food, coughing sporadically as his mind attempted to work out the picture in front of him. Lori looked at him laughing as he struggled to fathom how you and Daryl ended up in this position.

“What in the hell is goin’ on here?” He finally said pointing towards you and Daryl.

“Rick, calm down.” You sternly stared your brother down as he shot daggers at Daryl. Daryl struggled to keep eye contact with the man as his palms grew itchy, he pulled his hands away from your waist rubbing them on his thighs. You looked down at the sudden loss of contact, placing your hands on top of his where they rested on his thighs as if to reassure him. Your eyes shot back up to Ricks where you mouthed ‘shut up’ to him, earning an eye roll from the sheriff.

One of Daryl’s hands found your waist again as you all sat and ate your breakfast. Eventually Rick spoke up.

“Has anyone seen Shane?”

Now you found yourself choking on your food. You felt Daryl’s grip on your waist tighten as your breath hitched in your throat. You spoke, barely above a whisper.

“Not since last night.”

“Is he alright?”

Daryl felt his blood boil, “He’ll be fine.”

“Now what’s that supposed to mean?” You could hear the anger in ricks voice, the anger he was showing towards Daryl. You placed your hand on top of Daryl’s hand that secured your waist.

“He attacked me last night, Rick.”

“Nah, he wouldn’t do that, you’re like family to him.”

“Don’t fucking put what I said down, he attacked me. In the rec room.”

“What are you saying?”

“I’m telling you that he tried to come onto me last night, that he forced me up against a wall, that he forced himself on me, slammed me to the point where I couldn’t breathe but Daryl saved me. He probably isn’t here right now because his face is all bloody and bruised but he fucking deserved it.” Tears stung your eyes as you confessed all of this in front of everyone. Rick’s eyes softened as he looked at your tears that threatened to fall. His eyes flicked to Daryl, then back to you.

“We’ll talk more about this after, y/n.”

“There isn’t anything more to say.” You stood up and began to walk back to your room when you were met face to face with Shane, standing in front of your door. You were right, his face was bloody and bruised.

You froze for a second before slight panic set in and you began to run back towards Daryl, a tight grip on your arm stopped you as you flipped back around, facing Shane.

“y/n wait!”

Before you could stop yourself, you ripped your arm away from him and kicked him hard in the shin, forcing him back as you ran again, rounding the corner to the dining area. Daryl stood up so quickly that his chair flew back as he hurried over to you. When Shane entered the dining room Daryl guided you behind him, standing in front of you like a human shield.

“I thought I fuckin’ told ya last night, ya lay a hand on her again and I’ll fuckin’ kill ya.” You had never heard such anger in Daryl’s voice, it was terrifying. Before he had the chance to do anything Rick had stepped in the way, storming over to Shane.

“You touched my baby sister last night? That true?”

“Listen man, I’m sorry, it wasn’t like that, I don’t know what came over me, ya know I would never do anything to hurt her.”

Daryl chimed in, “Yeah right, prick, that’s why she’s runnin’ away from ya.”

“I was just going to her room to apologise.”

You moved to stand next to Daryl, your hand linking with his as you spoke up “You think an apology is going to fix this Shane? Go fuck yourself.”

“I’ll deal with you later.” Rick whispered harshly to Shane.

Soon after, Jenner walked in and was instantly questioned by Dale and Andrea. He led you all into the big room, you followed Daryl, your hand staying enclosed in his.

You stood to the left of the group as Jenner brought up images of a brain on the big screen. Daryl stood behind you wrapping his arms around your waist. His sudden need to show affection to you in front of the group had butterflies in your stomach going crazy. Rick glanced over to you before setting his eyes back on the screen.

You all watched intently as Jenner explained about electrical impulses in the brain, skipping forward to ‘the first event’ where the patient, ‘test subject 19’ died.

“It invades the brain like meningitis.” You gripped Daryl’s arms at the words, starting to think of the people you had lost. Jenner scanned to the second event.

“It restarts the brain?” Lori asked as you all watched the stem relight. You continued to listen to Jenner’s strained explanation.

“You have no idea what it is do you?” Andrea chimed in. The realisation set in that Jenner truly didn’t know anything about the disease or what it meant for your future.

“Man I’m gonna get shit-faced drunk, again.” Daryl said, his arms leaving you as he started pacing. Then Dale spoke.

“Dr Jenner, I know this has been taxing for you and I hate to ask one more question, but, that clock, it’s counting down. What happens at Zero?

“The basement generators, they run out of fuel.” With that, Jenner began walking away, Rick asked the computer system to explain what he meant.

“VI, what happens when the power runs out?”

“When the power runs out, facility wide decontamination will occur.”

Now it was your turn to start pacing as Rick, Glenn, T-Dogg and Shane went to search for the generators. You felt your head grow lighter, feeling as though you were about to pass out. You hastily made your way back to your room, lying down on the bed.

Daryl came in, bottle in hand as he threw himself on the bed next to you, entangling your fingers with his. Then the lights went out. You both shot up, Daryl hopped off the bed and stuck his head outside the door. “Hey what’s goin’ on, why’s everything turnin’ off?”

#daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixion imagine #daryl dixon x you #daryl dixon x grimes reader #you x daryl dixon #y/n grimes x daryl dixon #y/n x daryl #y/n x daryl dixon #the walking dead #the walking dead fic #twd #twd fic #twd series #twd fic series

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come-on-shitty-boys · 4 years

Text

// the king. oikawa tooru //

Warnings: mentions of death

Word Count: 1.9K

Notes: This is the final installment of the mini-series “Soldier, Poet, King” influenced by the song of the same name by The Oh Hellos. I might make a second part to this or maybe just do a little drabble to finish it off?? i have to add the header later because my dumbass F O R G O T to make one and i wanna sleep ;-;

“You’re a monster.”

“I don’t care if you’re my husband. I want nothing to do with you.”

“I refuse to sleep in the same bed as you.”

“You’re just like your father, only caring when it benefits you.”

Each hateful comment that you threw at him pulled the air from his lungs. He’d never been talked to in such a way, but now, hearing those words drip like poison from the lips of his own wife was like a punch to the stomach. Tooru knew going into the marriage that things were going to be rocky, but he didn’t expect it to be this bad. He thought that given a few weeks, he’d be able to win you over with his charming personality and the two of you could enjoy a happy life together, ruling over one of the most powerful nations.

But, that was so far from the truth. Any attempts at physical contact were shoved away. Conversation was cut short by a snide remark from you, leaving the young king to sit with all of the gnawing guilt in his chest. Because, every word that you uttered, he believed to be true. He was a monster. Well, maybe not him specifically, but his family was a completely different story.

There was a reason that the Oikawa family was the head of such an immense kingdom, one that stretched farther than one could ever fathom. A feared kingdom and one with riches beyond your wildest dreams. An intimidating military with ranks upon ranks of well-equipped soldiers. Yes, that was the Riviere Kingdom, a kingdom that burned fear into its people and a king to match that scary demeanor. The king that had worn the crown before Tooru, his father, was as ruthless as they come, building the once small kingdom into the powerhouse that it is today. Smaller surrounding nations were on their knees, begging to be spared, but they were only swallowed by the overwhelming military force before there was even a chance to protest. And that was the game for years. Smaller nations were taken in, allowing the nation to swell in size and power, allowing it to move on to even bigger targets. It was monstrous.

But, it wasn’t like Tooru could do anything about it now. What did you want him to do? Give everyone their land back and let them break off into their own countries again? They would starve and die. People had become reliant on the aid of the kingdom, so who was he to just whisk that all away from them? Everything was years in the past, he had barely been born when his father's rampage had reached its peak and he was only seven when the final obstacle was conquered, too young to think any ill of his father’s ways.

The Gledria Kingdom had been the goal from the very beginning. It was the biggest and best, but late King Oikawa couldn’t have that, could he? Tooru could remember that overwhelming swell of pride that his father carried as the royal family of the newly-fallen kingdom knelt before the king in defeat. A king with weary eyes, dark circles and heavy wrinkles from years of stress, a queen with gentle features and lips that probably had the potential to carry the sweetest smile, and between them knelt a young girl, likely no older than the young prince himself. Her eyes were puffy and there was a glisten of snot streaming from her nose, the fear evident in her body as she knelt there trembling.

“I’d like to make a deal,” the fallen king states simply, his voice as commanding, steady, as if he was the one in charge. “Your son, is he betrothed already?”

Tooru’s cheeks turned hot, the attention suddenly being turned to him. “He’s not.”

“Then I would like to offer my daughter’s hand. Before you refuse, I want you to think about what this could mean for you. You are free of the burden of an even grander kingdom by letting us walk free and rebuild our home. Not only that, we are now aligned with you, your majesty. Our children will act as the peace treaty between our two kingdoms.”

It had been a tempting offer, one that was not refused. And for ten years, the deal remained in tact. The two lived in harmony, only engaging with one another when it was necessary. But, things got boring and the death of King Oikawa was coming sooner rather than later. It was his last mission. Put an end to the Gledria Kingdom.

Tooru could still remember the look on your face when you were dragged into the castle on that fateful day. You had been so eerily easy. There were no tears, no pain, just emptiness hidden behind those deep eyes. Your dress had been tattered, hair had been matted and tangled. You looked like some kind of creature that Prince Tooru had only read about. He could do nothing but watch as the handmaids took you away to clean the blood of your people off of your shell of a body.

Even now, years after the fall of your home, there was still hate and bitterness, but Tooru couldn’t even blame you. On the night of your wedding, you had refused to speak to him, let alone consummate your marriage. Shortly following the death of his father, when Prince Tooru was given his new title of King and you were crowned as his queen, there was nothing. No words of celebration, no smiles were shared. The tension in the air surrounding the young pair never dropped. If you ever looked at him, it was only through narrowed eyes. If you ever spoke to him, your words stung like a thousand wasps. You were cold to him, refusing to even give him a chance, refusing to believe that he was not his father, refusing to believe that they were anything but the same.

The people noticed it in only a matter of months. It was like the clouds had opened up and the sun was finally able to shine through. After years of war, there was peace in the kingdom once again. Aid was given to those who had lost everything and King Tooru was adament on purchasing his silks and fabrics from within the Riveire Kingdom to help support his people in an effort to get them back on their feet. Festivals that had long since stopped from fear of the late king’s wrath, now filled the squares all over again. From within the castle, there were nights where the merry cheers and laughter of people down in the village carried on the summer air as they rejoiced in a new sense of freedom that they hadn’t felt in a long time.

And it was those nights that he was able to feel closest to you. It wasn’t much, but every night that the music could be heard, he could find you on the balcony that extended from the bedroom that the two of you were meant to share. Your hair would sway gently in the warm breeze, face aglow with moonlight, letting the night consume you in all of its beauty. If he listened closely, he could hear you humming along to the tune of some song that he had heard you hum a million times, but would never tell him the name of. Some nights, if he watched you long enough, Tooru could watch you slowly start to sway as you get lost in the song that echoed in your head.

“We should go,” was all he had said to you.

It caught you off guard. There was a sudden abruptness to his words, but the gentle tone that he always used when talking to you never left. “What are you talking about?”

“A festival. We should go sometime. It could be fun, don’t you think? Mother would never let me go when I was younger. She thought commoners were filthy and when my father started his reign of terror, the festivals and parties stopped all together.” Tooru leaned on the rail of the balcony a few feet away from you, giving you your space, while still being near you. The fact that you didn’t immediately move away felt like a win in his book. “Have you ever been to one?”

You simply nod. You’re silent for a long time, he thinks the conversation is over until he sees your mouth open. “We used to go all of the time. If my father knew there was going to be a festival, he would take me. We would dance and he’d lift me up and spin me around. He would buy food and drinks for everyone there, so every single person could have a good time and not have to worry about expenditures.” Tooru looked over at you as your words trailed off. A soft smile graced your features. It was the very first smile that he had ever seen from you, but it fell quickly. “But that was before-”

“Yeah. I know.”

“I really don’t think you do. Do you really understand what your father did to us? To every single kingdom that fell on their knees before him? My people were slaughtered, Tooru. I watched my parents die because your father betrayed them and you stand here and genuinely expect me to see you in a different light. You may not be your father, but you’re still an Oikawa. You carry all of that bloodshed on your shoulders now. You could be the kindest king in the world, but nothing is going to reverse the past.”

“You’re right and I wish that there was something that I could do to fix everything. If I could go back and stop him from doing what he did to your kingdom, I would do it in a heartbeat, but we didn’t know that it was coming either. But, Y/N, we can’t keep living like this. If you don’t want to love me, I can live with that, but I beg that you let me show you that I am more than just my father’s son. I’m an Oikawa and that’s something that I can’t change, but I can change the feelings that come with hearing that name. I wish nothing but the best for my people, our people, but that has to start here.”

“What are you saying?”

“Let me take you to one festival. We can dance until your feet tire so much that I have to carry you home. I’ll spin you around until you’re so dizzy that you can’t see straight. We can eat and drink and laugh until your stomach hurts. You don’t have to say yes, but I want to show you that I am King Oikawa Tooru and I am not the same person that my father was. So, what do you say? Will you do me the honor of being my dance partner for just one festival?”

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sunflowerstache · 4 years

Text

Falling

What do you do when the person you pictured your entire life with, suddenly seems to have fallen out of love with you?

Word Count: 2.4k A/N: This is a piece for the wonderfully amazing beautiful @hsogolden Fine Line Fic Challenge! Thank you so much for putting this together Bri, it’s been so fun to read different interpretations of the songs! This one shot takes place in my Another World universe (you can find the fit here!) And this will be part 1/2 So I promise there will be a continuation of this hahaha but yeah I hope you enjoy and I can’t wait to hear your thoughts!

~~~

When you’re in the thick of it, surrounded by people chanting your name and screaming back the emotions you’d spent hours - months even - trying to perfectly articulate, making a name for yourself seems like the most important part of life. When you’re standing on a stage, in front of thousands of people who spend their hard earned money just to hear your deepest thoughts and watch you pretend to know how to dance, it awakens something inside you, makes you feel like you were born to entertain. That all the sleepless nights crying over failed attempts and constant rejections were finally worth it once you got to watch your art touch the lives of others. You hear children all over the world talk about it; aspiring to be famous when they grew up. Especially in today’s world where at the click of a button, the lives of any celebrity was at your fingertips.

But when you finally decide to take that plunge and reach for the stars, no one warns you quiet enough of the darkness fame holds. Because sure, people all over the world hold your art close to their hearts and you get awards and your fans love every part of you, but they also criticize, put down, and invade your entire life. No longer are you able to be a person who interests and hobbies; instead, you must fit into whatever size box the world has built for you. You can’t say certain things, wear certain clothes, or be seen with certain people. Because that’s how you end up on the cover of People Magazine with the whole world questioning your personal life.

The photo angirly stared up at you from the coffee table, nearly burning a whole in the side of your face while you avidly tried to avoid looking at it any longer. His familiar glazed over eyes, eyes that you had been on the receiving end of dozens of times, had taken up tracing the patterns of someone else’s cheeks, his fingers learning the curves of her back while they climbed into the dark car. Long gone were the perfectly manicured curls you had given him in the shared bathroom of your home, and instead in their place, the locks you had grown to love over the years, were flowing every which way, from her hands no doubt. If you were in a cartoon, the miniscule moment in time, captured and frozen, would have broken the short table as soon as you placed it down, the weight behind the click of a camera.

“Seems like not even their History together could keep ex 1D members turned lovers Harry Styles and Y/N L/N together. Harry was spotted outside ‘San Vicente Bungalows’ with a mystery woman… who wasn’t his longtime girlfriend and mother of their child, Isabella age 3. Trouble in paradise?”

These were the moments you wished someone had warned you about all those years ago when deciding this was the career path you wanted. You wished someone had sat you down and prepared you for the heartbreak of seeing your personal life being exploited for a quick buck. Sure, you had seen it happen to countless celebrities, but when it’s not happening to you, it doesn’t seem like a real thing that hurts the parties involved. Because if the rumors were true, then they ruin a relationship, and if they aren’t true, then those involved have to overcome the public scrutinizing their decision to stay together.

And Harry had never given you a reason to think this would happen. From the moment you met him, it wasn’t hard to see just how wonderful of a man he was. The morals he lives by and the levels of kindness he tries to spread to everyone he comes in contact with. He was more than anything you ever thought you’d end up with, and the best father to your daughter that even your wildest dreams couldn’t conjure up. But sometimes, things happen, and you can’t control them.

You thought you had prepared enough, but the second the front door opened, the feeling in your fingertips began to fade away. Every word you had strung together in your mind to help you calmly talk your boyfriend, had fizzled into nothing, and you were left with nothing but panic. This had never happened to the two of you before, and figuring out how to navigate this conversation without coming off as accusatory was nearing impossible.

“Hey baby! Sorry, I know I know I said I’d be back like an hour ago, but God, you wouldn’t believe the traffic right now! I stopped by that bakery to make it up to you though, you know, the one with the deluxe muffin things you both love?”

Not once, in all four years of your relationship, had the sound of Harry’s voice made a shiver run up your back in anything less than a pleasurable way. But sitting on the sofa while listening to him move around your kitchen, it only made you want to be sick - and you didn’t know if it was because you truly believed what was in front of you, or because you were so nervous to ask about it.

“Where’s B anyway? Usually runs right up when I open the door.” he laughed.

“With Steph.”

“Oh shit, yeah today was their Universal day, right? Surprised we haven’t gotten any videos yet.”

“Hmm.”

You knew it was only a matter of time before he started questioning your responses. Typically when he got home, both you and Bella wouldn’t leave him alone, hounding him with kisses and remarks about your day to try and make him jealous of what he missed out on. So, you sitting and not giving him much of anything was bound to raise some suspicions.

“You alright, love? Quiet today.”

“Yeah.”

“You sure? Just sound like you’re a little down. We can stay in tonight, just cuddle and watch-”

It didn’t take a rocket scientist to know why his words got cut off. The coffee table was in his direct line of view as he made his way into the living room and you’d left the magazine right on top of everything, in perfect eyesight of anyone entering the room. He’d come from a day at the studio with Kid, clad in one of his usual recording getups; loose blue jeans and a colorful sweater. His hair was just getting to a point that you dearly missed, the curls just beginning to cover the tips of his ears and a light stubble growing on the very end of his chin. A true look for a recording rock and roll artist. And you wanted to smile at how cozy he looked, to curl up next to him and love on him while you had the house to yourselves, but when you looked at him, you could only picture her.

“Y/N….”

“Did you sleep with her?”

You never meant for the conversation to start like that. You wanted to ease into it and remind him that you love and trust him, but the little part inside of you, the part of the girl who had been so hurt in past relationships and worried everything perfect you currently had would soon come crumbling down, thought otherwise. The words left your lips so quickly you didn’t even have time to second guess them. But it was almost like he wasn’t surprised by your questions at all. Instead, his shoulders sagged and his attention left you and focused on the floor while he walked to sit in front of you.

But he didn’t respond.

He didn’t even look up from his lap. He just fiddled with his fingers, intertwined and resting on his knees, knees that were brushing up against your own due to the close proximity of your bodies. The lack of eye contact was enough to lead you in the direction you never thought you’d have to think about.

“Harry. Did you sleep with her?” long gone was your quiet question, instead the loud sob of a plea left your lips.

“I - I don’t know.”

Never in a million years did you ever expect to have heard those words fall from Harry’s mouth. He was someone you trusted with every bone in your body and was the only person you could ever imagine a true future with. The person you looked forward to telling all about your day, who you would rather soak in a bath with than go to red carpets or galas. He was your person, yet here he was, demolishing every ounce of confidence you had in your relationship.

“...you don’t….know?”

“I - no.” he sighed, finally looking up at your eyes. “I was out with the guys and we had a lot to drink, we thought we finished the album, and were celebrating. I just - I didn’t stop when I knew I should have and - and I don’t remember the rest of the night.”

“When was this?”

“Beginning of the summer. After we got here from London.”

Rage replaced any former sadness when you heard his words. “That was three weeks ago Harry!”

“I know.” he was acting like a sad puppy with his tail between his legs. If it were any other circumstance, you’d be trying to comfort him and make the painful sadness in his voice go away, but you could only focus on how angry you were at him.

“Three weeks! What, were you just not going to ever tell me? Just pretend it didn’t happen and let me go on thinking everything was fucking fine and dandy?” he’d never seen you this angry, and being on the receiving end of it was sure to be disturbing, but how else were you supposed to act after hearing the love of you life potentially slept with someone else?

“No! No, obviously I wasn’t going to keep it from you but -”

“Obviously nothing, Harry! I had to find out that you slept with someone on a bloody magazine cover!”

“I didn’t sleep with her!”

“You don’t know if you slept with her! There’s a huge difference, Harry!”

How someone could even begin to rationalize what he potentially did was beyond you. You couldn’t fathom spending so long with someone and throwing it all away because of one night out with your friends. How you could disregard not only someone you claimed to love, but also the precious little girl that was created out of the love you shared.

“Five years, Harry. We’ve been together for five years, did that mean nothing to you? Did all the time we spent together mean nothing? The things we’ve seen together and secrets we shar-” you hadn’t cried so hard in a long time, but there was no use trying to bottle it all in. He deserved to see what his choice had done to you, and by the way his head was being cradled in his hands, you knew it was hitting him.

“Maybe that’s just it! We’ve been together since we were eighteen, Y/N! Maybe I’m fucking bored!”

When you woke up that morning, the thought of having to deal with the tabloids wasn’t something you even remotely thought would happen, but you could get through it, you always did. For years, they tore you and the band down, picked apart every decision you ever made and spread blatant lies, but you always got through it. You could get through it because you knew everything was a lie and you had the people you cared about most on your side.

This time, you didn’t even have that.

How were you supposed to combat the media and their hateful words, when the person in question was basically admitting they had fallen out of love with you. That every minute of the last five years meant nothing because they were now bored. Over all the intimate moments you shared and words you can’t take back. That pretty much signified the end, and there was nothing you could do about it.

The shock of what he said must have come crashing down on him, because instantly, he was trying to move closer to you, to grab your hands and make you look at his pleading eyes.

“No! No no no no, listen to me, Y/N, that wasn’t -”

But you couldn’t listen anymore. You’d had your heartbroken more times in the last twenty minutes than you had in years, and you couldn’t handle anymore. It was a feeling you had promised yourself a long time ago that you wouldn’t put yourself through again, and even if the person before you was the man you had given your entire heart and soul to, you wouldn’t wait around for him to feel the same thing.

So, you pushed his hands away.

You pushed away all of his own emotions, all of his pleading for you to come back and listen to him, and you walked away. If being in the public eye for so long had taught it anything, it was that you deserved more than what was given to you at times. Just because everyone around the world seemed to think they had a say in your life choices, doesn’t mean you should disregard what you know is best for yourself. And standing here, listening to the man you loved more than anything, say that he may have fallen out of love with you, wasn’t the best for you.

“Baby please, I’m sorry! You know I didn’t mean that.” the tears on his face were apparent even without turning around, the thickness of his voice doing enough explanation on its own.

“Do I, Harry?” you whispered, turning around so bleary eyes could meet. “Because I thought I knew everything about you, but I never thought we’d end up here.”

Without saying a word, you wiped your cheeks and made the decision to put yourself first. If you stayed any longer, more words that couldn’t be taken back would be said, only burying you deeper and deeper in a whole neither of you wanted to be a part of. You’d never been one for walking away when things got tough, because letting things fester always made it worse. However, this was something you needed time away from.

And there was no one to blame but Harry and his wandering hands

#finelineficchallenge #harry styles imagine #harry styles one shot #harry styles blurb #harry styles angst #harry styles x you #harry styles x reader

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