#i do like the triumphant skin because a three piece suit looks good on anyone. but youre right
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acquainted
You had no intentions of becoming acquainted with the clan your family had cut ties with, but when Naoya Zenin himself is willing to teach you a lesson and you’re determined to show him what you’re capable of, it becomes a silly game of power and dominance.
REQUEST. naoya putting reader back to her place
WARNINGS: Naoya Zenin, rough sex, orgasm denial, face fucking, slight voyeurism, degradation, slight bondage, cowgirl riding, manhandling, spanking, hate sex
WC. 5.4k+
NOTES. Because Naoya is my favorite, his fic is the only one I’ve ever edited, LOL. Even though this is requested, this is written out of self-indulgence, purely because I love Naoya and even though he’s nasty, he’s my comfort character. And freaking FINALLY I have written more for this man. I worship this King 👑
There were so many ways this day had gone wrong. First, your shower broke. Second, the maintenance men couldn’t come until late in the afternoon, so you had to drive all the way to school looking like a half-mess. You weren’t a slob, of course, but you were beyond irritable at the thought your hair felt greasier than most.
So when an unfamiliar mop of blonde hair sat at your place, the sight of pierced ears meeting your gaze as you smiled at the young man, you had to clutch your bag tighter. No need to be harsh to anyone; you reminded yourself.
“Hi,” you greeted as politely as you could.
The young man in your seat was handsome — terribly so — feline eyes emphasized with an eyeliner, and stunning green eyes that peered up at you with utmost boredom. He looked familiar, but you couldn’t pinpoint where you’d seen him before.
“I believe you’re in my seat.”
You expected he’d kindly take another seat since the hall was empty, but he only leaned back in your seat, brow raised with a slight smirk. “So?”
Your mouth fell agape, hands falling at your sides. Who was this guy? “What do you mean, so? Get the fuck out of my seat.”
“Women,” he rolled his eyes, “Always so tempered and dirty mouthed,” the words felt like stinging slap in your face, and he easily read through you when he snickered to himself, waving a hand in the air as if he was swatting a fly away. “I’m already sitting here, so go find someplace else. I came here first.”
“You little — who do you think you are?”
“Who do you think you are for speaking to me? Did I give you permission?”
His condescending voice made you lunge at him if not for your friend’s hand wrapping at your arm, shooting worried glances over the guy. His smirk deepened when your friend pulled away, the words mutter under her breath. “Come on, let’s go,” she tugged you away despite your protests, pushing your shoulders down to make you sit. Once out of earshot, she rolled her eyes. “I seriously hate that guy. Don’t you ever involve yourself with him.”
“Who’s that prick anyway? He acts so high and mighty like he’s some rich daddy’s son. Look, he’s totally claiming my seat as his!”
“That’s Naoya Zenin, and yeah, he is some rich daddy’s son,” she confirmed, shivering at the mere mention of his name. “He’s an absolutely big misogynist. Don’t be fooled by his pretty face — he’s the worst fuckboy to ever exist. That dick of his isn’t worth getting fucked over. He’s already made half the women in school cry and run after him like a horde of lovesick zombies,” your friend gagged with a shake of her head, “It’s terrifying, actually.”
“Fucking asshole,” you hissed under your breath, sending side glances at the corner of your eye.
That stupid guy was still in your seat, a bored expression on his handsome face, his long lashes fluttering against his cheeks at every blink. He just had to be a sexist pig with that gorgeous face — no good men existed anymore. “Whatever. He’ll get a taste of his own medicine soon.”
“Whatever it is you’re planning, I wouldn’t recommend it.”
“I’m doing this for all of us,” you announced with your spine straightened. “I’m not letting a man walk like that acting like he’s got the whole world at his feet. I’ll teach him a lesson or two.”
“You do know he can sue you if you punch him right?”
“Who said I was going to punch him?” a smirk painted your lips at the same time he felt your eyes burning holes at the side of his face, your expression even more triumphant when he tilted his head to the side, eyebrow cocked at your gaze. He must’ve assumed you’d fallen for his looks judging by the satisfied smile on his face, making you laugh because it would be fun to teach him a lesson. “No, I have a much more interesting plan in mind.”
It turned out that Naoya wasn’t that much of a stranger.
You had his reputation to thank for — people spoke his name left and right that it was nearly impossible not to know of him. It had you wondering how you managed to live through university so long without knowing him when the name drowned you; he was a Zenin.
No wonder that name was so familiar.
The Zenin’s were a close business partner of your family, but they cut off ties with their company years ago due to them having an intolerable attitude. Clearly, it ran in the blood, and their heir manifested it so well.
Thoughts of Naoya and his stupid face were soon drowned out by expensive champagne, the golden liquid sparkling in your hands. You had to attend this dinner gala where businessmen and powerful families alike conjoined for a formal opportunity of forming connections and solidifying deals, pressuring you to be at your best behaviour lest you wanted your black card to be cut off.
You made your way through the crowd to get another one of those hors d oeuvres, opting to just sit in the corner while you watched your family plaster on big, fake smiles with even louder, faker laughter.
It was quite sad, really, that people had to do stuff like this, but who were you to complain when it was what fed you on a silver plate all the time?
For now, you just wanted to enjoy the new dress your mother had gotten you, the silk black material hugged around your curves delectably. Pearl drop earrings hung to frame the sides of your face, legs lengthened and accentuated with stiletto heels.
You felt sexy — especially when you got lingering gazes from men who were slightly older and definitely richer, though you made no move.
The last thing you wanted was to become someone’s trophy wife when you could become so much more. Plus, only your parents had the task of befriending people and building trust with others. You were only here to help represent the name somewhat with your pretty face, not really having much of an intention to be acquainted with anyone.
You swiped another glass of fizzy alcohol from the waiter that passed by, glossy red lips pinched around the glass when a sultry voice mused at your ear, “Still can’t find a seat?”
Swirling around so fast that the contents nearly poured out the glass, you weren’t surprised to see Naoya fucking Zenin stood before you, his tall stature draped in only the finest and hand-stitched three piece suit.
He looked absolutely delectable this way, earrings glimmering under the golden chandeliers and eyes lined with kohl, the aura of elegance that perfectly concealed his less than pleasing personality excessively charming.
You were beyond appalled.
“Still can’t find a brain?” you retorted with a roll of your eyes, eyes still narrowed at Naoya’s displeased ones as you dunk your drink in one go. “What are you doing here, pig?”
“I’ll let that comment slide once — only because you look hot tonight,” his predatory gaze ran over your form, the careful pattern of him pausing at the swell of your breasts sliding to the curve of your hips heating up each inch of your skin. “And it’s Naoya for you. Naoya Zenin, the rightful heir of the Zenin Corp—”
“What’s that scent you’re wearing? Baby powder? Fitting for your cute face, actually.”
Naoya’s jaw clenched, clearly unaccustomed to people cutting off his holiness, and you had to bite down on your lip to prevent the chuckles from slipping through. “It’s Tom Ford.”
“Hmm, why am I not surprised? My horrible ex also wore the same scent. Maybe it’s a trademark for all limp losers, huh?” Naoya opened his mouth to speak, but you beat him to it, stepping forward to grab at the space between his tie to pull him down. His face was mere centimetres away from you, close enough that his breath ghosted over your lips, the intense anger flaring through those eyes hot enough to burn you. “You act so smug and defensive, Naoya. Trying to have a big man personality to conceal a small dick?”
“I have nothing to prove to you.”
“You don’t need to prove me anything,” you glanced down at his pants with a smirk, ignoring the heat pulsing in your veins because the sight contradicted your words. There was a noticeable bulge inside those shiny black slacks, though the last thing you wanted him to see was the way your mouth watered in anticipation. “I already know what I need to know.”
“Yeah? You and your shitty girlfriends can’t stop talking about my dick?”
You shrugged sarcastically, “You know women. We’re tireless complainers.”
Naoya’s jaw ticked upon you using his words against him, his hands coming up to caress at your neck, his nails scratching behind the thick silver chain you wore.
From afar and in the eyes of others, people would’ve thought you and Naoya were simply getting a little too heated, his lips dipped to graze your ear while his slender fingers pressed a little tighter into your air pipe. Your positions could easily be mistaken for Naoya seducing you, and you supposed he was, since your body responded differently from your verbal protests.
“You should watch what you’re saying,” he warned, voice low with warning. “I could easily dump your body into a river and no one would even notice. In fact, maybe the world might even thank me for doing them a service and ridding them of a spiteful woman like you.”
“Oh, pretty boy,” you chuckled back and stood to your tippy toes. One of your hands wrapped around his neck to forcefully tilt his neck to yours, nose pressed above his collar to inhale the intoxicating masculine scent he wore. “You’re all bark and no bite. Why don’t you show me what you’re capable of? If you’re as awful as they make you out to be, maybe I’ll shiver enough to drop my panties for you.”
You didn’t miss the way Naoya’s hands gripped at your waist to pull you close, enticing you to continue with your insults because maybe Naoya liked this a lot more than he let on. Could it be his superiority complex didn’t always like submissive women, after all?
Well, it would make sense; everyone always liked a little challenge, didn’t they?
If that was what he wanted, then you’d be generous enough to grant it to him.
“Wouldn’t you like to get a chance to put me in my place, to teach me a lesson for defiling the oh-so-mighty Naoya Zenin?” you purposefully toned your voice down to a more breathy tone, your chest swelling with pride when Naoya sucked in a sharp inhale beside your ear.
God, he sounded beautiful — and you hadn’t even fucked him yet. Now, you were eager to hear what else those disgusting lips could be capable of other than degrading you.
Pulling away from him just to bat your lashes at him, heat pooled straight into your core when Naoya’s gaze had completely darkened, dark orbs pooled with lust and anger. Only he could make such an expression look so good.
“You don’t scare me, Zenin. You’re nothing but a small boy wearing big man pants.”
For a moment, your smile widened, believing that you’d won this time around. Naoya was still breathing hard at each brush of your stomach to his now hardening erection, but then he smirked and gently pushed you away from him. “I’m not fucking you here,” he stated calmly, not even bothering to keep his voice low. “You’re a lot dumber than I thought you’d be if you really think I’m whipping my cock out during this dreadful dinner.”
“This dreadful dinner you speak of is an opportunity for people like us to establish connections. I would’ve assumed you wanted nothing more to impress others but it seems I was wrong. If you hate this event so much, why bother coming here in the first place?”
“Just had a feeling I was going to meet a little minx,” he watched you seductively, his smirk adorned with his tongue peeking out to lick his lips — in turn wetting you in places he promised to make his by the end of the night. Curse him, you chanted in your head, curse him for being so attractive. It would’ve been easier if he was ugly. “And as always, I’m right.”
You tilted a brow, slightly impressed. “So you’ve done your background check on me. That doesn’t explain why you’re still here though. Surely a woman couldn’t be enough for a reason to make a man like you go all this way?”
“You’re right, a woman would never be a good enough reason, but I wanted to put you in your place,” his eyes flickered back up to you, now twinkling with danger and something else entirely. “Bad little girls need to be a taught to a lesson.”
“So what’re you waiting for? Go ahead and show me your ways, Zenin.”
“I will,” he nodded to himself, “I’m about to,” Naoya was nothing but confident as he strode your way until his arms was locked with yours, his breath tickling your collarbones that had unknowingly exposed itself at each heated touch. “You’re not that bad for a slut. You look like one, smell like one — I bet you also feel like one.”
A dry laugh left your lips as you fisted his shirt, mirroring his smirk to show that if a match was what he looked for, then a match he’d find indeed. Only this time, you would be worse.
“Why don’t you go ahead and find out?”
Naoya, despite being an absolutely poor excuse of a human being, was somewhat redeemable for being a man of his words. Find out he did, and he wasted no time into shoving you inside his McLaren, barely able to keep his hands off you the whole way up to his penthouse.
It was a blurry mess from there.
Moans spilled from your lips while he ripped your clothes off, not bothering to apologize that he’d just ruined one of your most prized possessions, his lust-clouded haze mumbling that he’d just buy you another one.
It was the last thing you expected to hear from him, but you couldn’t protest, not when he’d angrily snapped the buttons of his shirt away, a low growl mixing with your breathy whines as he loosened his tie.
Your eyes widened at the sight, legs rubbing together as you imagined what else he could do with that pretty tie of his.
Would he tie you to his bed, fuck you stupid and call you useless? Or perhaps, you could do it?
Naoya cut off your train of thought by pushing you back to his mattress, his hands tugging at his belt before he pulled his boxers down, his thick length slapping at his abdomen. Your mouth immediately watered at the sight. You were beyond wet from nothing but your sloppy make-out sessions, but would he fit?
Just the thought of him giving you that burning stretch made your legs spread beside his sides, the sardonic laughter ripping from Naoya’s lips absolutely disgusting.
“Fucking pathetic. You’re just like everyone else; submitting to me at the sight of my cock, but that’s not true, is it? Moment you saw me, I knew you were clenching around nothing,” he gripped at your jaw to force you to look at him. You glared up at him from his bruising hold, your cheeks squished under his rough hands. “But that’s okay; wanting me is not something you should be ashamed about. Although you should be thanking me I’m even letting you near me like this.”
“I’m so honoured. Come on, Naoya, let me feel you — let me make you feel good.”
Naoya, too lost in his ego, missed the sarcasm dripping in your voice. “So eager to be my cock sleeve, huh?” he grinned, tugging at your hair to push you deeper into his mattress. “Get on your knees. Now suck.”
He was too harsh in his pace, determined to exert his dominance over you. You could feel every ridge of his vein as he continued fucking into your mouth, his abs rippling above you. It felt like witnessing a Greek god come apart, and you took pleasure in being his ruin, prompting you to hollow your cheeks and bob your mouth up and down on his cock harder.
Naoya’s chuckles were broken and often mixed with curses of fuck, you feel so fucking good, his nails now scratching at your scalp.
Soon, Naoya stilled inside you, his hold around your head deadly to keep you in place. Tears flowed down your face as he kept thrusting inside, making sure to hit the back of your throat before his muscles tightened. Spurts of warm cum followed after that, but instead of swallowing it like you expected he’d command you to do, Naoya whipped out his cock and came all over your face, his seed shooting all over your cheeks and lips.
You took it all obediently, just enough to give him the false pretense of submissiveness that he was so willing to force from you.
While he was occupied pumping his still rock hard cock, eyes closed and massaging your scalp almost soothingly, Naoya failed to notice your hurried movements of standing from the bed, fingers looped around his tie.
A small wail resonated from him when you shoved him down onto the bed, knees locked at either sides of his waist before you tugged at the cloth wrapped around his neck. Naoya kicked his legs behind you as you tied his wrists to the bed hard enough that Naoya winced, the tie only forming tighter at each lame grapple of his.
You looked back at how he got more beautiful laid out in front of you like that, chest heaving up and down while he struggled against the restraints, face flushed with anger — no, this wasn’t anger anymore — he was furious.
“What are you doing?! Get this off me — how dare you!”
“How dare you,” you spat back, discarding your lace bra off to wipe his cum away from your face, gagging when the bitter cum left a tang on your lips. “I just got my skin appointment last week and you came on my face like that?”
Naoya kept fighting back before he realised it was a futile attempt, leaning back down onto the pillows, though that didn’t soften his heated eyes on yours. You cooed at how adorable he submitted to you, running a finger down the sides of his jaw. “Aw, don’t look so angry, baby. I’m just starting my fun,” you purred, “You should’ve known better than to mess with me, Naoya. I’m not as nice as the others. And I’ll show you just how awful I can be.”
Naoya’s breath hitched when you shimmied out of your underwear, a dark glint in your eyes as you stretched the elastic into a fake arrow until it snapped into his face.
“You fucking bitch,” he growled, turning his face away from your panties soaked with arousal. “Once I get out of here, I will ruin you.”
“Huh, yeah, sure,” you mumbled incoherently, too lost in the pleasure as you sunk down on his cock. You were right, he was fucking thick, stretching you out better than any of your toys could. Plus, he was warm and leaking with pre-cum that he slid in easily, erotic groans leaving both your mouths once he was finally seated inside you.
Naoya was growling at you to let go of him when you laughed, lifting your hips up slowly before sliding back down on him just as slow, almost as if you made love to his cock the same passionate way you did with a lover. “You do have a wonderful cock, though. I’ve never felt this good in my life,” you leaned down to lick a stripe down to his neck, allowing him to hear the needy pants you graced with him. “You feel so good, Naoya, oh. If you weren’t such an asshole, I might even fall in love with you.”
“Go faster. This is unfair!”
Naoya tried thrusting deep into you, evidently unsatisfied at this torturous pace you set, but you only gripped at his thigh in warning, your eyes no longer sweet as you glared at him.
“Nothing’s ever fair in this world, sweetheart,” you reminded him, shivering every now and then as you bounced on his cock, his length slipping past through your walls magically. “Like how such a gorgeous face and amazing dick is paired with the most disgusting personality ever. No, it’s not fair, indeed...”
You closed your eyes with your head thrown back, placing your hips flat on his pelvic bone instead, fingers rubbing at your clit while Naoya throbbed inside you, desperate for release.
The little whines you gave were nothing but mocking. You knew that Naoya suffered through this position, but did you care? Absolutely not. With Naoya’s cock stretching you full and his tip kissing your most sensitive spots, in addition to your fingers rubbing and tweaking at your clit, this was the most pleasure you’d ever gotten from sex.
You were stimulated everywhere, your other hand reached up to tug at your hardened nipples.
Your walls clenched around him, signalling him that you were close and you let out a broken moan, falling forward to gyrate your hips around his cock to push you over the edge. It wasn’t enough to get him off since you were mostly still fondling with your clit, the sounds of your moans like torture to his ears.
“No, don’t you dare cum, I swear if you—” Your orgasm washed over you comfortingly like a warm blanket. Instead of seeing white, it was like your vision cleared, the sight of the sweat that made Naoya’s hair stick to his forehead in clumps crystal clear. You prolonged your orgasm by thrusting your hips in a sickening rhythm of thrust, pause, thrust, stop — and by then Naoya was losing his mind.
Naoya lost control as he snapped his hips upwards inside you hard enough that you winced in pain, pushing off his dick until he’s left humping the empty air, his body drenched with perspiration. “No, no, no, fuck you! Get back here you useless slut!”
You lay beside him, giggling in post-orgasm bliss. Just to tease him, you rolled to his side to press a kiss to his cheek, laughing harder when your lips came in contact with his flushed skin.
“You’re so adorable like this,” you cupped his face tenderly, perfectly aware that Naoya had begun to growl, his wrists almost bruised from how hard he brawled against his tie. “If I didn’t hate you so much, I would’ve let you cum inside me,” you offered with a pat to his chest, moving off the bed with wobbly legs.
“Well, whatever, that was fun. I would say we both had the most sensual sex of our lives, but that would be a joke for you, don’t you think?” you snorted as you inserted your arms to his discarded suit jacket.
Naoya stayed still on the bed, his cock still painfully hard and slick with your cum. “Don’t look so angry, Naoya. You had it coming for you. Don’t worry, though, as a thanks for letting me cum that hard — though I mostly did all the work — I’ll keep this between us so you at least get to keep whatever’s left of your dignity,” you blew a kiss his way, “Bye, sweetie. At least now I know people weren’t exaggerating when they called you a good fuck.”
Not bothering to slip your heels back on, you looped your shoes into the curls of your fingers, about to button Naoya’s jacket as you made your way to his door.
You never got halfway across the room when strong arms suddenly lifted you off the ground, your vision transitioning from his door to the pads of his feet, your body slung across his shoulder. Naoya gripped at your ass in warning when you kicked your legs, leaving him with no choice but to hug your thighs with one arm.
The next thing you knew, he slammed the balcony doors open with one hand and slammed you on the pool table. His rough hands yanked his jacket away from your body, the chilly night of the air bringing a shiver down your spine as it hit your drenched core.
Naoya had pinned your arms flat on your back in a painful angle, making you cry out just as he kneed your legs open, his free hand that wasn’t pinning you down aligning his cock against your hole. You were a moaning mess underneath him, the pain only an intoxicating addition to the pleasure he was pounding into you. Naoya then leaned to whisper your ear, the sudden movement making his cock slide deeper into you, the pleasure overwhelming.
“Oh, Naoya, fuck—”
“I am not just a good fuck,” he corrected you, “I am Naoya Zenin — and you will do well being silent and submissive while I fuck you, do you understand?” You were too lost in the feeling of him rutting deep into you that he had you seeing white this time around. When you didn’t answer, Naoya slapped your ass, your yelps echoing from the dead night. “I asked you a question.”
“No,” you bit back, “I refuse to—” you were silenced when Naoya hit your sweet spot, laughing at your state that you were too fucked out to give him a proper answer.
Naoya’s pace was merciless as he fucked deeper into you, the hand on your ass moving up to grab at your waist to keep slamming you back to his cock. He watched as your lips sucked him in so tight that he didn’t know whether you were pushing him out or refusing to let go. Turning your head to the side to gasp for air, you opened your eyes, only to be met by the sight of men crowding on the building across yours to witness your undoing by Naoya’s hands.
“I’ve barely started and you’re already so wet for me,” he mocked in your ear. As if on cue, squelching sounds accompanied your desperate moans, hands grabbing at nothing in particular. “Shall I try upping my speed?”
“N-Naoya- there are people looking.”
“Let them see,” he seethed, using one arm to lift your other leg up to the table to gain him more access into your warm, wet cavern. The sudden stretch made your muscles ache until you lay there limp; jaw clenched at the pleasure Naoya drowned you with. “Let them know how much I’m making this pussy mine. Gosh, can you hear yourself? You sound like a dirty fucking slut,” another slap landed on your ass, hard enough to leave a mark there for tomorrow. “You claim to hate me, so then why are you dripping all over me, huh? Pathetic whore. You women are nothing but cum dumps to me.”
Naoya spread your butt cheeks open, laughing at the silly way you clenched around him every time he pulled out, your puffy lips sucking him back again until Naoya buried himself to the hilt. His dick did wonders in letting out the most erotic whines and whimpers you never thought you’d be capable of, leaving you a drooling and panting mess under him.
“You little fucker, don’t even think about cumming inside me, I will literally castrate you and feed your balls to yourself.”
“Such a dirty mouth. Though that’s expected of a nasty woman like you,” he sassed, his thrusts faltering while his hand clenched your flesh tighter. That was enough to send you over the edge when Naoya slammed his hips harder and more desperately this time around, his cock twitching against your walls. “You wish I would cum inside you. But I have a better plan in mind.”
All it took was one rough hand for him to pull you before him, pushing you down into your knees again as he came inside your mouth. You could feel your cum and his dripping onto his dark marble tiles, the white pool of liquid shining.
Naoya thrusted lazily into your mouth, a sickening grin on his face while he kept you down there. His glare deepened when you tried to pull away from him. “Swallow, you slut. Or I’m fucking your face until I break your jaw.”
Furiously, you swallowed around his cock, Naoya groaning at the feeling of your walls convulsing around him. The moment you gagged from when his tip poked the back of your throat, Naoya pushed you off him until you were left choking on the ground. You gasped for air, hands clasped around your neck, sure that you were going to have a sore jaw and a fucked throat tomorrow.
You kept glaring at Naoya, but this didn’t deter him from gripping your chin down, humming to himself upon seeing that his cum was now gone in your mouth. “Hmm, so you did swallow it like a good girl. I’m glad I’ve disciplined you well.”
“Go to hell.”
“I’m King there already, baby,” Before you could retort, his arms encircled your waist until you were heaved in his arms again. You pounded against his back because you were too done, you couldn’t do another round. Naoya sighed as he threw you in the bed as if you were a ragdoll, disappearing in the bathroom for a while before coming back with a wet towel, which he rudely flicked your way. “Clean yourself up and then leave. Take the back elevators. I don’t want the staff to see a whore leaving my place.”
“You’re the one who brought me here.”
“Only because I had a duty to put you in your place,” He stared at you with his smirk now permanent in his face, admiring the bruises he left on your body.
“We’re not over yet, Zenin. I’m going to break you one way or another.”
You rolled your eyes at him, walking to his closet to wear one of his shirts. Naoya was silent the whole time as he watched you button his shirt with trembling hands, his presence hot on your heels as he followed you out the large room.
As you were about to leave, you picked up the towel you used to clean your cum with and threw it right at his face.
Naoya dodged it easily, eyeing the towel with a scoff. “Still resilient, I see,” settling down on one of his lounge chairs like it was a throne, Naoya rested his cheek on his fist as he stared you down. “But fine — I accept your challenge. A true man never backs down from a challenge, after all.”
“Oh, honey, I’m more than just a challenge,” you sneered.
Naoya’s gaze left your eyes to stare at your perky nipples that poked through his shirt, feeling his cock swell all over again. But he was a man of control and dignity — he wouldn’t do anything more with you, not when it was clear you’ve had enough for tonight.
It didn’t bother him though, he knew he’d have more opportunities to put you in your place.
“We’ll see about that. I’ll be the one to decide your worth,” he declared oh so smugly, the mere sound of his voice pushing you to slam a fist to ruin that pretty face of his, though you held your ground, far too tired to move a muscle. Naoya saw this too, and he smiled to himself, head tilted to the side as he studied the mess he’d made of you. “Tomorrow, same time same place?”
There was no telling what pushed you to agree, but the words left your lips far too confidently for you to even wonder why.
“Be ready for me, Zenin.”
“I always am.”
All the way back to the back elevators that Naoya had directed you at, you pondered on how you’d be able to tell your parents you suddenly needed a ride home when they had no idea you left the dinner gala in the first place. But most of all, how were you supposed to tell them you’d acquainted yourself with the Zenin clan all over again?
#naoya zenin x reader#naoya zenin#naoya zenin x reader smut#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jujutsu kaisen#jujutsu kaisen smut#naoya zenin smut#jujutsu kaisen imagines#jujutsu kaisen x reader smut#jujutsu kaisen x reader imagines#naoya zenin imagines#naoya zenin x reader imagines#naoya zenin x you#naoya x you#zenin naoya#jujutsu kaisen naoya zenin#naoya zenin x you smut#naoya zenin x reader romance#naoya x reader romance#NAOYA SUPREMACY#suki: 500 milestone event#ayyyy i swear all of my naoya fics are my favorite like DUH#suki: queued
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To Be a Widow Part 2
starker, winter spider thanks again to the wonderful @wandering-night19
Peter’s past three husbands have all died under suspicious circumstances. Detective Stark was convinced that pretty Peter had something to do with it, but more and more lately, Peter’s dangerously loyal butler Bucky has become his prime suspect..read the OG post here and my part 1 to this here
The ropes binding him are impeccably knotted. No doubt, then, that Barnes has done this before.
It doesn’t stop him from testing them, from flexing his wrists and seeing if there’s any give at all, any sort of slack, any sign from God that he’s looking out for the loveable genius that is Detective Tony-
“Stark’s a liability.” Barnes hisses, voice tight and furious, even as his hands wrap bandaging over Peter’s wrist. Tony had barely even scratched him in his attempt to flee, but Bucky trails his fingers over Peter’s skin like he’s handling some precious gem, some delicate flower.
Peter sits on the edge of his bed, swinging his feet and humming. “I think we can reign him in.”
Bucky kisses Peter’s now bandaged wrist, slipping down onto one knee like a knight before his King. “He hurt you.” He beseeches quietly, almost a whine, an attack dog, a wolf, desperate to avenge his master.
Peter strokes his fingers through Barnes’ hair, soothing, the same move he used on Tony. “James...”
“Just let me-” he cuts off, a shuddering whimper, and Tony frowns, straining to see and- ah. Peter’s slipper clad foot is pressed into Bucky’s groin.
Tony feels hot under the collar, and he pulls hard on the restraints once more. Something creaks at the back of the chair and he freezes, but those honey eyes are on him. Peter smiles.
“James wants to hurt you, Tony,” Peter sighs, fingers tugging at Bucky’s hair, loving but firm. “He’s very protective of me, you know.”
“Yeah,” Tony pants, “I guessed as much.” There’s no getting out of his through brute force. Even if he managed to get out of the rope, Barnes has got a few feet on him, and Peter’s spry and nimble and surprisingly strong. “So,” if in doubt, talk it out, “you two are...”
“It’s not so much about us,” Peter drawls, “it’s much more about me. I’m trying to expand my business, Detective.”
“What business?”
“B Enterprises.”
“Never heard of them.”
Peter beams at that, getting to his feet, long silk robe of red trailing after him. He heads over to his desk, covered in important looking documents and lethal, heavy paper weights. He pours himself some scotch and toasts Tony. “Exactly. We operate in a...” Peter muses for a moment, “in a less than official capacity, I’ll admit. But we needed money. I got us some.”
“You’ve killed three people-”
“I haven’t killed anyone, Tony.” He hums sweetly. “But of course, all that aside, we do have a bit of problem now, don’t we?”
Tony swallows hard. “You gonna kill me?”
“Nonsense.” Peter waves him off, “I propose we all sleep on it. James?”
Tony barely has a second to register the grin on Bucky’s face, before he’s being hit by something blunt.
***
In the morning, sunlight trickles in.
It appears the cold spring has left then, and the beginning a of new summer threatens.
Tony blinks the black spots out of his vision, body aching. He’s still in Peter’s bedroom, still bound to a chair in the corner of the lavishly furnished master suite. Peter’s fast asleep, chest rising and falling, the height of comfort, no fear or concern creased into his angelic face.
Tony jerks when he realises Bucky is standing no less than two feet away from him: watching.
“Jeez,” Tony mutters into the quiet, trying to slow his pulse, “do you not sleep?”
“I will rip you apart.” Bucky whispers, looking like a spring about to burst.
Okay, maybe another way out. Not brute force, but finding a groove and digging. He can do that. “Sure,” he nods, “except pretty boy won’t let you. Keeps that leash on pretty tight, huh?”
Bucky says nothing to that, but his eyes are ice blue. Piercing.
Tony prods a little more. “You know, just because he didn’t have a physical hand in the killings doesn’t mean we can’t convict. We can still-”
He words are cut off suddenly when Bucky’s hand wraps around his throat, air immediately deprived, he starts to panic, can barely hear Bucky hissing into his ear. “You ever even dare hurt him I will rip you into pieces, I will-”
“Oh, James,” comes a sleepy sigh, and Tony’s dropped like he burns Bucky’s hands, gasping, choking for air, looking over to see Peter sitting up, curls a mess, adorable and defenceless. He looks like a kitten. “What did I say? I said: try not to kill our guest.”
Barnes looks like he wants to do nothing more than rip Tony’s head right off his shoulders.
Peter holds out his arms, wiggling his fingers, and Bucky goes, led by a siren, into Peter’s warm embrace.
***
Breakfast is a very dignified affair.
Tony’s unbound, but Bucky stands in front of the only door, a gun at his waist.
Peter is in black satin, shoes like polished opals, lips cherry red. The table is laden with food: bright, vibrant pieces of fruit, pinks to oranges to ocean-blues, and Tony doesn’t dare move to serve himself, so sits with an empty plate, watching Peter place a few blueberries into his own bowl.
“Please, Tony,” Peter purrs, “help yourself.”
There’s no trembling now. Peter’s completely at ease. Certain. The frailness from yesterday is gone. He’s strong, nimble, elegant. Tony pokes at a piece of pear, but doesn’t eat it.
“I’d hoped we could speak openly today, Detective. About a constructive way forward for all of us.”
Tony lifts his eyebrows. “I thought there was only one way out. You threaten to have your lackey over there kill me if I ever tell the truth.”
“Well, there’s no need for that,” Peter murmurs, popping a strawberry into his mouth. “You can tell anyone you like. Stories are just that, after all. From what I can tell, you haven’t a shred of evidence against me.”
“The books-”
“Gone now. An oversight. Thank you for alerting me.”
Tony smiles without humour. “Fine. So I have no proof. You’ll just let me go?”
“Well, I’d rather we left things on a more friendly note,” Peter pouts, long lashes batting oh-so-sweetly. “After all, Detective, I thought your desire for me was overwhelming you. A kind of madness, didn’t you call it?”
Tony can feel his cheeks heat, but he refuses to be ruffled. “A momentary lapse in judgement.”
“Really?” Peter sighs, reaching under the table, touching Tony’s knee. “That’s disappointing. I feel there’s a lot I could offer you.”
He refuses to get aroused. Refuses to react. “No, thank you.” He says curtly. “There’s nothing you have that I want.”
At that, Peter laughs. Melodic and triumphant. “Well now, I don’t think that’s quite true. I’m sure you’re used to being the smartest person in the room, Detective, but I’m afraid with me around, you might have to settle for second place. You can read people? As can I. You crave control. I can give you that- or, at least the allusion of it.”
He hates how he feels intrigued. Like a puppet with an invisible master.
Peter’s voice drops into a whisper. “I could submit to you so sweetly. All yours for you to take whenever, however you want. In return....perhaps you don’t spread those nasty, baseless rumours about me. Perhaps you leave my tragic case alone. Along with any other tragedies that might befall me.”
Tony wants to laugh. Wants to mock Peter at using his body as his bargaining chip but he wants. He wants that. Wants to feel that body beneath him, he wants-
“I could play love with you, Detective,” Peter offers, more gentle, and he reaches out to take Tony’s hand, twining their fingers together. “I could be a widow, shaken, unsure if love is for me after all, but then you...you change that.” His honey eyes fill with tears. “Oh, Detective Stark. Thank you for keeping me safe, I’m so-so grateful.” Peter grins, and Tony realises he’s leaned in, holding hands tightly. “You could hold me. Play house with me, from time to time. I’ll make dinner, dance with you, I’m very good at playing pretend, Tony.”
Tony gapes, words stuck in his throat. The kid’s a master. An actor. Sliding into each role.
But he can feel danger along the back of his neck, and he turns to see Bucky, barely contained in his jealousy.
Peter takes Tony’s chin and guides his eyes back to him. “James won’t hurt you, Tony,” he promises, “he’s just protective, that’s all.”
“You play pretend with him too?”
Peter’s mouth lifts into a smile, and Tony hates the audible jealousy in his own voice. “No, Tony,” he murmurs, a beautiful lie, “I only play pretend with you.”
***
Bucky grits his teeth watching as Tony walks down the drive and gets into his car. As soon as he’s gone, he hurries upstairs to the master bedroom.
Peter is stretched out on the bed like a pleased cat, naked, covered in red marks.
Bucky wants to howl. He immediately gets a wash cloth and some warm water, cleaning Peter up.
Peter spreads his lily-white thighs further apart, and Bucky groans at the sight.
“He was rough with you.” Bucky whimpers, swiping in gentle strokes, fumbling to soothe any aches.
“Only because I let him be,” Peter reminds, looking at Bucky over his shoulder, pink lips curving into a smile. “We can take him out whenever we like, sweetheart.”
“But you won’t.” Bucky mutters, two fingers sliding into Peter’s little hole. Gentle and soothing. “You like him.” It’s an accusation.
Peter rolls his eyes. “I like being adored, James. That’s hardly a surprise, is it?”
“But...”
“Are you feeling left out?” Peter pouts, teasing. “You want to be the one to rule me, is that it? No,” he looks him up and down, and Bucky bares himself to the gaze. Wants to be seen. “No,” Peter nods again, “you want to wrap me up in cotton wool. Keep me safe, don’t you?”
Yes. Bucky thinks desperately, nodding hard. Yes, that’s what he wants.
“He was so rough with me,” Peter hiccups, going pliant and soft into the bed sheets, slipping into Bucky’s favourite role. “Hurt me, Buck, he hurt me. Will you make it better?” He cants his hips up invitingly. “Please?”
Bucky leans down, eager, kissing down Peter’s spine, tongue finding-
“Oh!” Peter gasps, clutching at the bed sheets, “that feels-”
Yes. Bucky thinks, holding the boy’s hips, making him feel good. This is what he wants. This is what he’ll always want.
And he’ll do anything to keep it.
Tagging: @plueschpop @thestarkerisobvious @fogdog1738 @icandoakickflip @starker-stories @yeehawmyoatmeal @starker-prompt-dump @goldenmogar @everyonelovespetey @starkerintheparker @prettieststarker @itsrachael @silkystark @deliciousflapbanditfarm @prettyboy-parker @starkerrifics @angelstarker @firefandoming
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Only Dancing
Master List: @afewmarvelousthoughtsadmin
Pairing: Bucky X Reader
Summary: You don’t expect Bucky to join you for a night out. But who says an old wolf can’t learn new tricks.
(This is in the “Only For A Moment” universe but can be read as a one shot.)
Warnings: Smut, some jealousy, other than that just fluff
A/N: I feel like I should point out that I ship Okoye and M’Baku because she could handle that man.
Also, this is the last drabble before part 2 starts. So. Many. Feelings.
(Sorry if you got tagged twice. Apparently the tags didn’t take. Beginning to think that @invisibleanonymousmonsters is on to something by not fucking with a tag list because UGH sometimes it’s a pain. Anyway...
TAGS ARE OPEN 🙃
“Poetry,” Nakia says on a sigh as the knives fly back into your waiting palms. “Pure, violent, poetry.” You can’t help but laugh as the small vibranium knives slot themselves back into their holster around your wrist.
“It’s not all me, Shuri made these magical things.” They really were perfect. Calibrated to return automatically to their holster at the mere whisper of your power.
They weren’t the only magic Shuri had worked.
Originally, the thought of letting anyone - even someone like Shuri - run any kind of tests on you was at best terrifying and at worst made you contemplate murder. Now though, you couldn’t be more grateful.
Your whole life you’d been a mystery to yourself, never really knowing why you were different or really what you were capable of. After Hydra had their hands on you the sense of being a stranger in your own skin had only grown. How could anyone trust themselves when they had no way of knowing their limits or even how their body functioned?
In less than a week Shuri had, for the most part, unraveled the mystery.
Your power? A genetic anomaly, likely from your father’s side. She was still puzzling over just how that anomaly worked, how it reacted with your brain to produce your telekinesis. What she did figure out was that, as you suspected, the more you used this ability the stronger and more precise it became - with limits.
“Self-preservation will kick in at some point,” she explained when you told her about the times when you’d found your ability overwhelming. “The mind can only handle an influx of so much information at a time before it overloads.”
What Hydra had done? A bastard version of what kept Steve and Bucky spry even at 100 years old.
“The cellular regeneration is a bit slower, and it doesn’t seem to have done as much in terms of strengthening the proteins in your body,” she said. You’d stared at her blankly. “Basically,” she sighed, “you’re a really good fake to Rogers’ and Barnes’ name brand. Almost as good but your strap may break sooner than theirs.”
Once she knew how you ticked she immediately began crafting weapons unique to your abilities, like the knives - which she called Panther Teeth, fairly accurate considering they were terrifyingly sharp and small enough that they were almost unassuming.
As you weren’t an official member of the Dora Milaje you didn’t get the spear they carried, instead, Shuri made you twin short spears that hung at your side. They fired similarly to their full-size cousins but at a more rapid pace and shorter burst since your power could balance any recoil.
The best by far was the vambraces that fit around your forearms. Similar to T’Challa’s suit they absorbed kinetic energy in a fight but when paired with your power they could release that energy in more focused blasts, form a shield, or even send out a powerful wave of force.
All of Shuri’s amazing creations paired with your own growing strength made you feel like someone to be reckoned with, someone who could protect who and what she loved no matter the threat. You’d never known freedom like this.
“So, did you convince him to come tonight?” You ask Nakia as you unfasten the holsters from your wrists.
“Pff,” she scoffs. “A king can’t just go out whenever he wants.” She says in a pretty perfect imitation of T’Challa.
You laugh, “A king is still mad you declined his proposal.”
“I didn’t decline necessarily,” she says, slipping free of her training gear. “I just told him I wasn’t ready to be queen.”
“Can’t say I blame you.” The two of you settle into the steam room, your tired muscles already singing in the relaxing heat.
“What about you?”
“Hmm?”
“Did you sell that wolf of yours on making a public appearance?”
You give her a sideways glance, “What do you think?”
“I think Okoye owes me money,” Nakia says with a grin.
“What?! She actually bet that he’d come?”
“She did,” Okoye says stepping in the room to join you both.
“Time to pay up general!” Nakia goads.
“Not just yet,” a sly smile curls Okoye’s lips. “I have a plan.”
-
“How do you even know they’re both going to be at the farm?” You ask as the hovercraft sails in the direction of your home.
“I know everything,” Okoye responds.
“Not true,” Nakia quips. Okoye throws her a glare.
“She’s right. You didn’t know the name of the second Star Wars movie.”
“Those films are not in the right order!”
“You also didn’t know that Shuri was planning to sneak out to Coachella,” Nakia points out. You nod in agreement.
“Ok, fine,” she concedes with a half-hearted sigh. “M’Baku told me. T’Challa asked if he wanted to join them but-”
“But that man goes where you lead,” Nakia laughs.
“Of course he does,” Okoye says. Apparently, the leader of the Jabari had been none too friendly before the attempted usurping. Since then though, he an Okoye had grown rather close, though they refused to make anything official.
Her plan was a simple one. Since you’d brought your things to get ready at her place in the city there was no obvious reason to go back to the farm for anything unless there was something she or Nakia just desperately wanted to borrow. So, you’d all get ready and take a quick romp to the countryside to grab a necklace or earrings as to tempt your men to join up.
T’Challa may take the bait but you knew that, even though your ass looked immaculate in these high waist leather shorts, your husband would not be joining you this evening. You shared as much.
“Alright, $50 he shows,” Okoye bets.
“Oh, I’ll take that bet,” you shake her offered hand as your house comes into view through the twilight.
Sure enough, T’Challa and Bucky were sitting by the lake glasses in hand. The two men look back as you all disembark.
“Two elders enjoying a peaceful evening. It’s so cute,” Nakia jabs.
“You’re so funny,” T’Challa tosses back, dragging his eyes from her plunging neckline with visible effort and back to the water.
“Everything ok?” Bucky asks, rising to meet you. Ever the worrier.
“Yup. Nakia wanted to borrow a necklace is all.” He nods and holds the curtain open for you to go inside.
It’s now that he seems to fully take in your outfit, his eyes growing wide.
The black lace bustier you borrowed from Nakia left little to the imagination but was kept in check by the cropped moto jacket and of course, there were the leather shorts. The whole thing was finished by the heeled Doc Marten’s which you’d nearly wept over when you brought them home from your first trip shopping with Nakia. Being able to build a wardrobe again was an unexpected Wakandan perk.
You fight back a burble of laughter as you watch him swallow hard, averting his eyes from your ample chest.
Without a glance back at him you head straight to the bedroom to fish out a long chain necklace that would perfectly fit with Nakia’s deep cut neckline - this may have been a last-minute ruse but you had dressed people for a living once, you could amp up your girls look and try to bait your husband into going out with leather booty shorts at the same time.
When you turn back he’s leaning in the doorway, clearly having been staring at your ass.
“You look nice,” he says finally meeting your eyes.
“I look hot,” you counter with a smirk. “There’s a difference.”
He opens his mouth but nothing comes out. You lean in and plant a kiss on his cheek, your dark red lipstick not leaving a single mark.
“Have a good night babe,” you toss over your shoulder and head back outside.
T’Challa is chatting somewhat awkwardly with Nakia as Okoye grins like a Cheshire cat beside them.
“Got it!” You call to Nakia, holding up the necklace.
Nakia turns her back to you and you clasp it on. The gold choker adds the right amount of shimmer and the long front piece falls down into the neck of her dress drawing the eye. Perfect.
“See, it was just what this needed.”
Nakia grins, “You’re right. Ok, let’s go! Bye boys!” With that, the three of you are back on the hovercraft without another word.
-
A couple of hours later you push through the bodies on the dance floor to the booth you all claimed. Okoye and M’Baku lounge, sipping their drinks.
“I think you owe me $50,” you say, finishing your own cocktail - it didn’t do anything much for you but you did like the taste.
“The night is still young!” Okoye protests. “Did you see what they were wearing? It’s not like they could just roll out like that. Give them time.”
“I’ll make sure she pays up,” M’Baku says with a wink.
“Holding you to that!” You yell before heading back to the floor.
It felt good to have nights like this again - laughter, and friends, and music loud enough to drown every worry. You didn’t even mind the crowd, nor the stranger with his hands on your hips.
There’s a small ripple through the sea of people and you see T’Challa join Nakia on the floor. Okoye had pulled M’Baku out too, seeing them together her head falls back in a triumphant laugh. You shake your head, smiling, and continue to dance.
The feeling of someone’s eyes on you sends a tingle up your spine. Methodically you scan the pulsing dark of the club, telling yourself there is no threat despite your mind automatically assuming the worst.
In a flash of light, you see him on the other side of the floor, just beyond the crowd of bodies moving to the music. His hair hangs loose, a tight black tee strains across his chest, the left arm tucked in neatly, and his hand is shoved in the pocket of a pair of dark slim fit jeans that you’re not sure he owned before tonight.
You smile, chalking his scowl up to the loud crowded space he finds himself in. With a nod, you step away from the man you’d been dancing with and head for Bucky. When he doesn’t move forward you send a bit of your power out to wrap around him, thinking to pull him in. He doesn’t budge.
Turning away he stalks from you and the dancing crowd.
Now you’re a little confused. You walk all the way out to the open-air terrace at the back of the club. He’s nowhere to be found.
You make your way down the terrace steps to the first landing, away from the crowd. Why come all the way here… You wonder when a rough hand grips your arm spinning you back into a dim service corridor. Bucky’s body presses hard into yours pinning you to the wall.
The dark look on his face clouds his blue eyes, but still, he’s so gorgeous it makes your breath catch. Gripping your jaw with his powerful hand he tilts your face up just a bit, holding it as his kiss sears you in place. It’s a hungry, passionate, possessive kiss. His tongue immediately parting your lips, tasting you, demanding more. When he pulls back you’re panting.
Despite the heat of that kiss, his expression remains unchanged, fingers digging into your skin. Slowly his grip lessens, calloused touch trailing down your neck until they reach the collar of your jacket.
Faster than your flustered mind can process right now, he grips the collar of your jacket, using it to spin you around to face the wall. In one swift tug, he pulls the jacket down your arms, tossing it aside.
His hand rests on your chest, pressing you into him. The heat of his breath on your neck and his stubble barely scratching against your shoulder makes desire sing through your body. The sensation distracts you so much you don’t notice that his hand had migrated to the button of your shorts.
Sure fingers loosen the skin-tight garment, the zipper crawling down.
“Bucky,” you breathe in weak protest.
“Shut up,” he growls fingers dipping into you to find that you’re already dripping. Biting your lip you grind against him, always eager for his touch.
“That’s how you moved with him,” his voice is gravel rough against your ear. A light bulb goes off in your mind and your movement ceases. “Would you rather have him?” Bucky presses the outline of his hard cock against the curve of your ass.
Holy shit. You almost laugh but manage to hold it in.
“Are you jealous Mr. Barnes?”
There are no words just his ragged breath. He answers with the sound of his own zipper lowering, his hand roughly tugging your shorts down your ass.
“Answer me.” The demand in his voice makes your mouth water for some reason. Tilting your head back onto his shoulder you look into those stormcloud eyes of his.
“I only want you.” You reach for him, pulling his throbbing cock from his jeans. “I only ever want you.”
“Good.” This time his kiss is rough but fleeting before he pulls your underwear to the side and thrusts himself into you. Your hand flies to your mouth to catch your cry as your body stretches around him.
The force of him threatens to knock you off balance. He reaches his hand around both steadying you and finding your clit at the same time. Rhythmically he rolls the tender bud under his middle finger, making every nerve ending in your body vibrate. His pace quickens and you think you will not be able to hold in this scream, it’s too good, too much.
“Quiet now, sweetheart,” he says low, his own breath staggering.
Barely you manage to stifle the sound of your orgasm rocking through your body. A moment later you feel Bucky’s cock pulse, a soft moan from him making your hair stand on end.
He pulls out and you tug your shorts up. When you turn to face him he’s plucking your jacket off the ground.
“Here,” he holds it up, as you slip back into it. Once it’s on his arm wraps around your chest holding you so tight you can feel his heart still racing against your back.
“I meant it,” you say, relaxing into the comforting feel of him. “You’re all I want, Bucky.” He nods, his cheek resting against the side of your head.
“Seeing you… I don’t think I’ve ever been the jealous type but…”
“It was just dancing babe.”
He huffs out a dry laugh, “It doesn’t look like just dancing.” Turning in his arms to face him you take hold of his ass, pulling his hips to yours.
“Next time just come with me then,” you move against him. “You love to dance.”
A small smile plays on his lips, “I don’t know this kind of dancing.”
“It’s easy.” You can hear the music clear enough pouring from the open doors above you. “Just feel the music. No steps to remember. Just be present.”
Moving your hands to his hips you guide them to move with your own. Soon enough he’s getting a feel for it, letting his hands caress your curves.
“See, easy,” you say smiling up at him. “We should get going before Okoye comes looking.”
He nods. As you begin to step away he cups your cheek, pulling your mouth to his once more. This time the hunger is replaced with something far richer that sends tingles down your spine.
“I love you, Y/N.”
“I love all of you,” you respond. “Even the jealous bits.”
“Oh?”
“Yup. Especially if it gets you to fuck me in an alley, kinda hot.” He barks out a laugh.
“I’d say it’s more a hallway. What kind of husband would I be if I fucked you in an alley.”
“A fun one,” you say with a wink. Taking his hand in yours, you both head back upstairs.
“Well you two look damn near giddy,” Okoye teases. They’d all set up at one of the terrace tables.
“Just a quick dancing lesson. He’s a fast study,” you say. Bucky sits in the one open seat and you perch on his thigh.
“Uh-huh,” Nakia says with a sideways glance.
“So,” Bucky says, arm giving you a little squeeze, “You all already tired?”
“We’ve been out longer than you old wolf,” Okoye says.
“Psh,” T’Challa waves a hand. “This is weak.”
“You both rolled up maybe 20 minutes ago, what do you mean weak,” Nakia tosses back at him.
“He’s right. Didn’t look like anyone could even break a sweat dancing like that,” Bucky pokes.
“Oh, the White Wolf wants to break a sweat, eh?”
“I think he does, Oko,” Nakia answers.
“I don’t know if the colonizer can handle it,” M’Baku laughs.
“Wanna bet?” Bucky says with a wolfish grin.
Two more clubs and several hours later M’Baku is in the process of doing 100 pushups on the street with Okoye perched on his back because the colonizer had, in fact, handled it. In fact, he’d handled it better than you by mastering some new moves - you could admit you were a little jealous.
“One hundred!” Okoye declares. M’Baku stands, wiping the sweat from his brow.
“Could have just bet money you old wolf,” M’Baku grumbles.
“Too easy. And less fun for the rest of the group,” Bucky smirks, patting M’Baku on the shoulder.
Nakia gasps, shooting up from the step she’d been perched on, nose up sniffing the air.
“Chapati,” she groans.
“This is happening,” T’Challa declares, grabbing Nakia’s hand and leading her toward the intoxicating smells of meat, spices, and bread.
Within the hour, the six of you have loaded up on Chapati, Rolexes, and Bajia - the magic of meat, cheese, and starch being truly universal - and are sprawled around the king’s living space laughing and eating. It feels almost too good to be true.
In the small hours of the morning, you finally fall into bed, stomach, and heart full to bursting. Bucky flings his arm around you, holding you close.
“So,” he asks in your ear, “when’re we going dancing again?”
Tags:
@bluegirlusa1 @l0kisbitch @tazzi-baby @disagreetoagree @woodyandbuzz20-01 @mooniightbucky @saundrasays @breezy1415 @alyssaj23 @mywinterwolf @wonderlandmind4 @fairislesheets @anamcg317 @buckaroo-barness @jazztherebel @peachthatdrinkslemonade @regulusirius @auskitty @babyimp1967 @katecolleen @handplucked @stevehesaidabadlanguageword @darkdragonphoenix @issanitydead @thestorydetective @buckysstar @wintersoldierswhore @greyeyedsmile14 @watchoutforfrostbite @for-the-love-of-the-fandom @jewelofwinter @siriuslycloudy2 @hardygal69 @marvelousmeggi @jdoenson @gamorazenn @wildmoonflower @cutie1365 @demonlover87 @winterboobearsworld @this-kitten-is-smitten @damnaged-princess @amorluzymelodia @nutellakirb @nighttwingg
#bucky x reader#bucky#bucky barnes#bucky barnes x reader#bucky fluff#bucky smut#okoye#nakia#t'challa#M'Baku#wakanda
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Love Shot
Chapter 5
Pairing: Exo x Reader
Rating: Drama, Angst, Smut, Fluff
WARNINGS: Language, Eventual Violence, Lots of Smut Later on
Chapters | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 |
Jongin left the day following his midnight visit. I caved and even though it took me a few days to stop kicking myself for letting him sleep in my bed I was happy he did. I was even happier that I managed to keep my distance from them the week following, which really allowed me to focus on work. I was proud to say I had three pieces finished, and one still taking its time to dry.
We have a meeting in our house here in the next few days. If you have anything ready to be delivered please do so we can show off your work:) -Baek
I laughed at his little smiley face and quickly texted back. I decided to just get it over with so I carefully checked the two pieces I knew were dried before wrapping them gently.
As always the moment the cab I sat in turned down the long driveway I grew nervous. I never knew what to expect when I entered that house or who would be there to greet me. I found it a relief that it was just Baekhyun and Jongin who seemed to be in the house, but it was still unnerving since the last time I was with the both of them they tormented me to all hell. I secretly hoped they would take the paintings and just let me leave, but I was too hopeful.
Baekhyun opened the door with a large smile, looking just as beautiful as he usually did. His white shirt unbuttoned slightly at the top and his hair tousled as if he had just woken up from a nap. Jongin looked just as good as he appeared behind Baekhyun. Still in what I assumed was his work suit. He looked so clean cut, which made it hard to look away. He knew it.
I wanted to just drop the paintings and leave. That was my plan, but instead of taking the two large paintings from my hands they backed away, opening a space for me to walk through.
“We want to hang these now, which room were they made for?” Baekhyun said over his shoulder. Neither of the boys offered to help me.
“This one.” I said pointing to the main formal living room.
“Mind making sure it’s straight?” Jongin said, walking by me, taking one of the canvases from my hands.
I really didn't have an option other than to help them set up the paintings. My cab was quick to leave and with the amount of talking they did I knew there was no point in requesting a new one. I knew they could sense my discomfort because they both seemed to give me reassuring smiles as we moved. I sighed and followed, crossing my arms across my chest as my legs reluctantly moved forward.
I watched intently at the two standing at an awkward angle, both pairs of eyes on me as I used my hands to explain what their movements should be. When the last painting was hung Baekhyun jumped off the couch, proud of their work. I couldn't help the smile that broke out across my face seeing how happy the tedious work made him.
“Anyone else want a glass of wine?” He suggested, looking over to Jongin then back to me.
I watched Jongin smile with a small nod, his back already turning to me as he made his way down to the kitchen. I gave Baekhyun a pressed smile, which he took as a yes. He took me a different route than the one Jongin took, leading me into a large dining room that seemed to only be made of rich mahogany wood. I took a seat across from Baekhyun, hoping that when Jongin returned he would choose to sit next to Baekhyun. I don't know why I keep assuming the best of them.
I tried my hardest to keep my drinking steady and my attention on the conversation but Jongin’s constant touching was the only thing that crossed my mind. Every time anyone would laugh his hand would squeeze my knee. Every time anything was referred to me to answer, he'd press his thigh against mine. I knew as my third glass of wine was poured things were going to go bad. The wine loosened me up too much. My conscious was screaming as I laughed, swaying into Jongin’s chest before looking back at Baekhyun. I wasn't drunk. I was just tipsy enough to stop caring about my rules.
I noticed how dark Baekhyun’s eyes had gotten as I recovered myself from Jongin’s chest again, my smile dropping slightly as I reviewed the situation. Jongin’s arm had draped itself over the back of my chair, his folded leg practically resting on mine due to how close he was. Jongin seemed to realize and he lent forward, his lips brushing against my ear.
“It's almost like he knows what's under your clothes with the way he's staring at you.” he said softly. His warm finger stretched slightly to trace along my collar bone. I shivered. I opened my mouth to change the subjects, but Jongin’s voice came through once again.
“I think he wants to taste you too.” I shut my eyes, trying to push the words out of my mind as I finished the rest of my glass.
“I want to share you with my Hyung.” Jongin said just a little louder this time, as if to make sure I knew that Baekhyun had heard every word he had been saying.
My eyes widened as I looked up to Jongin, his face closer than I thought it would be. I choked slightly, looking to Baekhyun before looking back at Jongin. Both their expressions were full of lust. But not the type that made me want to squirm away. In fact it almost had the reverse effect.
I didn't even feel myself nod, but the triumphant look in Jongin’s eyes was enough proof that I had. I watched as his eyes darted to Baekhyun followed by a smile, then back to me. His hand found mine, which was resting in my lap and brought it up to his lips, kissing the back of my hand gently. My heart exploded. What had I gotten myself into? I knew I should have stopped him from pulling me up. I knew I should have asked him to let my hand go so I could just walk out the front door but I didn't have the balls… no… i didn't have the want to. I wanted this. The thought seemed like a foreigner said it. I couldn't believe my heart was beating in excitement as Jongin led me by the hand down the familiar hallway, Baekhyun following us slowly.
I turned my head over my shoulder to look at him. His hands were in his pockets and his expression had completely changed from what it was at the dinner table.
“Don't pay any mind to him. He’ll join us.” Jongin said, stopping at the top of the staircase and taking my cheeks softly into his hands. I could have sworn he was going to kiss me. My eyes fluttered shut and my chest rose drastically as I prepared myself for the heated kiss I expected. Except it never came.
Instead he chuckled, pulling my hand a little harder than before as we took a longer stride down the hallway. His teasing made me blush. Almost made me a little angry with how okay he was with doing that to me. So before he could reach for the door handle I stopped. He turned around looking at me with shocked eyes. He almost looked… afraid. I turned my head to look at Baekhyun, who had stopped at the end of the hall to watch us. I gave him a smirk, a burst of adrenaline erupting through me.
I didn't know what took over but soon my hands were pushing Jongin against the door, my hands moving down to grab his belt to pull his pelvis towards me, my own moving towards him until I had him pinned against the door. I let one hand go to wrap it around his neck, bringing his face down to mine. I pinned him to the door harder through a kiss. I couldn't believe my new found confidence, and it was obvious that neither could Jongin as his hands hesitated before wrapping around me.
I took charge rotating the two of us until my back was to the door. My hand reached down for the nob, letting my eyes open slightly to see that Baekhyun had crept up closer, watching the two of us intently. Feeling the door open I smiled, pulling Jongin in by placing both my hands on his pant line.
He seemed to be entertained with my attempt at dominating him as the feeling of a smile broke the kiss. I watched him as he looked me up and down, his eyes lingering on my hands that remained half in his pants. I took this opportunity to wait until he made eye contact, only to hold it as I slowly lifted my shirt off.
I could tell that he had enough with letting me take control. I squealed through a giggle as he gently football tackled me onto his shoulder, only to drop me gently on the bed. His body pressed its way between my legs, one of his hands not waiting a moment to hook behind one of my knees to open me wider.
His lips found mine again, kissing me deeply as his body rocked up and down my body to add just enough friction to the kiss. I managed to get my hands between the two of us, tired of the feeling of his shirt rubbing against my bare skin. I made quick work of the buttons, watching him as he sat up to drop the shirt from his shoulders. I let my fingers memorize the movement of his body, running them over his chest and down his torso.
I let my head fall back as he dropped back down, now nipping and softly sucking at my hot skin. I brought my hands up to his hair, intertwining them as he connected our lips again. The heaviness of the kiss made it hard to breath, causing small moans to escape as I tried to catch my breath. Jongin seemed to like the noise, his tongue trying to reach further down my throat as he pressed himself harder against my body. There was no question he was ready for me, with how close he was I could feel just how hard he was. So I submitted.
He had to have felt my body relax into his, my fight for dominance given up. Another moan escaped my lips as he gripped my wrists and guided above my head. He held both of my wrists in one hand now, his other trailing down my side as his body rocked against mine. I tried to encourage him to take the next step through the sounds of my moans, wanting nothing more for him to sit up and quickly remove my pants, but his hands seemed to have another idea. He pulled me till I was sitting up and kept pulling until I was sitting on the edge of the bed. For the first time since we entered the room I realized that Baekhyun had entered the room, taking a seat across the room on a seat by the closet. The room was dimly lit, making Bawkhyun almost look sinister. I eyed him, his hands folded and brought up to his lips and his eyes… His eyes so dark and lustful.
My attention was brought back by Jongin, whose hands were slipping my bra straps over my shoulders. I hadn't even realized he undid it since I was so fixated on Baekhyun. I tried to sit as straight as possible, not quite sure what to do with my body as I now exposed it to two men. Jongin rounded on me, bringing my attention back up to him as he tilted my chin up to look at him. He kissed me gently, pushing against me until I was back on my back. It was like my senses were heightened. As Jongin kissed me back onto his bed I heard Baekhyun rise, and the sound of what I assumed were the buttons of Baekhyun's shirt hitting the floor. Jongin's hands were making word of my zipper when the feeling of fingers tracing over my arm made me moan. Jongin smiled into the kiss again before his kisses moved down my neck, his hands taking my pants with him as his body lowered. He stood me up again. His arm wrapping tightly around my waist while his free hand held my neck. He allowed me to create a small space between us as I quickly unbuckled his pants. There was something in me that needed to please him. I wanted to put a show on, almost.
It was my turn to take his clothing with the movement of my body. Slowly, as I pulled his pants lower I could feel Baekhyun becoming more interested in what it was he was seeing. I dropped to my knees, peering around Jongin to make eye contact with Baekhyun. He gave me a soft smirk and a slow nod as I kissed Jongin's hip softly. I wasn't hesitant to immediately grab his dick and leave one long lick before taking him all in my mouth. The feeling of his body tensing made me smile as I pumped, turning all of my attention to him. Swirling my tongue over the tip I looked up to make eye contact with Jongin, smiling playfully as he looked down at me with an intense stare. Baekhyun had moved forward, to stand next to Jongin, His eyes now watching me more intently.
“Kneel on the bed.” He said, putting his hands on his hips.
I followed instructions, standing up from my position on the floor before backing onto the bed and resting on my knees. He brought his hand up and made a circular motion with his finger, motioning for me to turn around. I did what he asked as smoothly as possible. I bit my lip and smiled as Jongin placed himself in front of me, Kissing me deeply while Baekhyun started to run his hands over my back. Jongin released the kiss so Baekhyun could push me forward till I was resting on my elbows, his hands now gently running over my back side. I took this opportunity to reposition my lips around Jongin’s tip and slowly begin pumping my head again.
I looked right up at him and held the eye contact. At first it was to just tease him, make it seem like I was this innocent thing he was corrupting. But the longer our eyes stayed locked, the more I became obsessed with his eyes and the way they looked at me. Baekhyun's hands running gently over my back and down my legs were nothing, almost unnoticeable while I was looking into Jongin’s eyes.
The feeling of Baekhyun stretching me out was enough to release Jongin from my mouth, The feeling of Baek now picking up the pace of his pumping was enough causing me to grip tightly to Jongins hips. I couldnt believe how different the two of them were when It came to fucking. Jongin would melt into me, his hips rolling and circling me while Baekhyun was very straight and hard with his pumps.
It was hard for me to catch my breath, Baekhyun's hard pumps had tiny squeaks leaving my diaphragm as he fucked me into the wall that was Jongin. I tried and failed a few times to retake Jongin and include him in the activity, but I was afraid of biting down or squeezing too hard. He didn't seem to mind though as I held tightly to his waist.
I felt Baekhyun's hand run down my back, his hand now wrapping around my hair and as gently as he could he pulled me up till my back was pressed against his chest. I gasped loudly. The hand that had intertwined through my hair had now moved to press the skin below my navel. My head rolled back to hit his shoulder as my hands gripped tightly to his thighs behind me. With the pressure he had added it felt as if he was about to push through my skin. And it felt so good.
I didn't know I could get any more wound up than I already was, but when Jongin came closer and began to run a gentle, but quick finger over and around my clit I couldn't help the way by body contracted, causing another string of loud moans to leave my lips as the way my body shifted allowed Baekhyun to reach even deeper. The tightness in the pit of my stomach seemed to rise out of nowhere and within seconds I was releasing. My body shaking and my breath becoming audible.
The sounds of Baekhyun tapping out were made with two soft smacks to my behind. I collapsed as he pulled out, sliding to the floor with a sleepy grin that I couldn't seem to wipe. My entire body was exhausted from how tense it had become. I let out a small giggle when a now clothed Jongin crouched in front of me.
“I think you need a little more practice in lasting.” He teased. I would have gotten upset with a comment like that, but I was too tired and it wasn't like he was wrong.
“I'm sorry that you didn't get your turn.” I teased back. Baekhyun joined us, his lower half now dressed too.
I smiled and thanked him as he helped me stand and helped me to the bathroom on wobbly legs.
____________________
I woke up the next morning to someone talking loudly over me. I scrunched my nose and tried to sink deeper into Jongins chest before realizing I had once again slept over. I sat up quickly to see Kyungsoon now standing in front of me, a smug grin on his face as his eyes dropped.
Of course I was topless.
Kyungsoo’s grin turned smug as an eyebrow rose, but he didnt do anything but back away and tell me to let one of the two boys know he was looking for him once they woke up. My face was burning. I don't know why I had let myself get so comfortable with staying the night in a house full of men who all look at me like I was prey.
I quickly moved myself over Baekhyun, who grunted at my bodyweight pressing against a sensitive part. I tried to dress as quickly as I could. For every moment there was a moment Kungsoo was telling people I was once again naked lying in Jongin's bed.
“Leaving already?” Jongin said, his head now propped up on one hand as he smiled sleepily.
“Yes.” I said jumping once to get my jeans up all the way before securing my belt tighter than it should be. “And seriously, Jongin, this is never happening again.”
“You and I both no that's a lie.” He chuckled, his body now sliding off the end of the bed.
“I… I have never been so embarrassed in my entire fucking life.” I said, lowering my voice so my words wouldn't turn into a shout.
“What do you have to be embarrassed about? We had fun and it's no one will really ever know.” He said, his eyebrows now beginning to push together. I scoffed.
“I promise you everyone fucking knows.” He looked at me with a cocked head. “Kyungsoo? He barged in here right before you woke up and saw me. Shirtless. With both you and Baekhyun clinging to me.”
Jongin didn't say anything. Instead he just took a deep breath and watched my face. I don't know why, but the rims of my eyes began to prickle, and I had to look at something high incase they decided to give out on me.
“Y/n, just stay a little longer.” Jongin said, both of our attentions moving to Baekhyun who had finally started to wake up.
“Call me a cab right now.”
I was thankful that he agreed without trying to fight with me anymore. I took a seat back on the bed, my jacket now folded tightly in my arms as my head dipped. The feeling of Baekhyun's arms wrapping around my waist and his lips pressing softly against my shoulder made me shoot up.
“Sorry.” I don't know why I apologized. Yes I did. It wasn't their fault. There was no real reason for me to be mad at these two. I'm the one who agreed. They gave me plenty of opportunities to change my mind. It wasn't their fault that I had no self control.
“Lets wait downstairs.” Jongin said, gently taking my hand.
Why I was surprised to see everyone was besides me, but as the comments started to roll my way about who got me next and who was better in bed I was almost glad that Jongin was standing next to me. His hand pulled me tighter to his side as he walked me out the front door, closing it loudly as if to tell the other boys to not follow.
“Im sorry, Y/n. Honestly.” He said, his thumb running softly over my knuckles.
“For what? It's not your fault.”
“I shouldn't have let Baekhyun talk me into it. I don't know how you're feeling but I do know that you're feeling like this because of me.” He said.
The sound of the cab stopping in front of us made him finally let go of my hand. I looked at him for as long as I could. It was like he was a completely different person standing in front of me. SO I kissed him before turning on my heel and getting into the cab.
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Yowzah prompt: marry me
“I wish you could’ve been there, River. It would’ve been so much more fun.” Amy says, sighing as she leans her elbows on the table.
The three of them - River, Amy and Rory - are huddled together at the dining table, flipping through a photo album. They’ve reached their wedding day, dozens of photos of Amy and Rory having the time of their lives, and dozens more of the Doctor looking utterly ridiculous on the dancefloor.
“I was there,” River reminds her. “I just couldn’t stay very long.”
“Which isn’t the same.” Amy insists. “Right, Rory?”
She turns to her husband expectantly.
“Of course.” He nods, though he shoots River a look.
River smiles. “You know the rules, Amy.” She looks down at the photograph of her husband dancing, a sad smile on her face as she asks, “How long has it been since you’ve seen the Doctor?”
“It’s been a couple of weeks.” Rory says, noticing the way she looks at the picture. “How long has it been for you?”
River swallows. “A while.” she says softly.
She doesn’t miss the way Amy frowns at Rory but she ignores it, choosing instead to examine it carefully. She remembers that day well. Her husband was young - he hadn’t even been kissed yet. He was easy to fluster, floundering and fumbling around her, and she so misses the way he’s blushed when he asked if she was married.
It’s been too long since she’s seen him. Any version of him. It’s killing her slowly, a knife inching deeper as it twists. She feels herself just aching to see him - even if it means spending time with a version of him that doesn’t really know her yet - anything is better than not seeing him at all.
“I’m sure he’ll turn up sooner or later,” Amy says optimistically. She frowns at Rory over River’s head, jerking her head towards their daughter and mouthing do something.
“Yeah,” Rory chuckles weakly, unsure. Amy glares over at him and he clears his throat. “Um, you know how he is, River. He’ll show up when you least expect -”
Right on cue, the telltale sounds of the Tardis whooshing into their backyard fill their ears.
“That is incredible.” Rory mutters.
River doesn’t answer. She stands at rushes to the blue box, frowning and muttering under her breath. Her parents immediately follow suit, understanding that something is wrong. River places her hands gently on the door, closing her eyes as she strokes the wood.
“The Doctor’s sick. He’s been poisoned.” River says quickly, and she throws open the Tardis doors, rushing straight to the corridors.
“What?” Amy and Rory say together, their voices full of panic and worry.
“The poison isn’t lethal.” She assures them, walking so fast that the two of them have to jog to keep up. “It attacks the part of his brain that deals with memory - that’s why he couldn’t fly the Tardis. He couldn’t remember how.”
“But he’ll be okay, right?” Amy asks.
River pauses. “I’m not sure,” she admits. “The Tardis doesn’t know exactly when he ingested the poison. If we don’t administer the antidote in time he could suffer from permanent memory loss.”
She finally finds the right door and pushes it open, frowning when the darkness overtakes her eyes.
“Doctor?” she calls out tentatively.
“River!” an overly enthusiastic voice answers her, and before she can even process what’s happening, two long arms wrap themselves securely around her waist and pulls her into the darkness. She feels a warm body around her and she freezes, not quite sure what to do. “It’s been so long since I’ve seen you, honey.”
She relaxes the instant he speaks in her ear, her body letting go of the tension - until she feels two warm hands on her arse.
“Doctor.” she hisses, and he jumps off like he’s been burnt. “Rory, please turn on the lights.”
“Sorry,” the Doctor pouts, as a loud click is heard and the room is thrown into illumination. They’re in the sick bay, medical appliances lining the walls and a lone bed in the centre. “I thought they knew I’ve already seen your… you know.”
River surpresses the urge to giggle, sneaking a looks back at her parents. Rory looks like he’d rather get eaten by a bear than be a part of this conversation and Amy is looking straight at her, smirking and waggling her eyebrows.
“Sit down, sweetie.” she says, taking his hand and leading him over to the bed. “Could one of you find me a blue scanner? It’s got round buttons and a purple dial on the side.”
“River, remember that time we were getting chased by man-eating cheetahs and we ate the leaves from the Tuffle trees so we could run faster and have more energy? And we ended up having too much energy because we ate too many leaves, and we wore it all off in the bedroom for three days straight?” he chatters off in rapid speed. By the time River realises what he’s talking about, it’s too late to cut him off. From behind her, she hears Rory clearing his throat.
“Is there anything you need that isn’t in this room?” he asks, clearly uncomfortable. River takes pity on him and turns, rifling through a drawer before she hands him a piece of paper.
“That’s the recipe for the antidote. Go to the kitchen and prepare the ingredients. Make sure you wear gloves, some of the items are toxic to your skin. I’ll come and help as soon as we get him settled.” she instructs.
He nods seriously, taking off as he reads the piece of paper.
“River, do you remember it? You were still in university then, and we weren’t married yet.” His eyes widens as he looks at her, and she frowns at him.
“What’s wrong, sweetie?” she asks, wiping his forehead. He’s got a horrible fever.
“Are we married?” he asks, fearfully. “I don’t remember it, River.”
“Of course we are,” she assures him quietly, her heart stopping a little. How long has it been since he got poisoned? How long does he have left? “Of course we’re married, sweetie.”
“Don’t lie to me. You always lie to me.” He says, shaking his head. “I want to marry you now. Marry me, River. Marry me.”
“I only lie to you when I need to,” she says patiently. Behind her, Amy lets out a triumphant noise, holding up a device just like the one River described. “I don’t need to lie to you now, Doctor. We’re already married, I promise.”
“Here’s the scanner, River.” Amy says handing it over.
“Let’s do it again, then.” He says eagerly, as River places the scanner over his forehead. “A second wedding, just to make sure.”
River smiles a little. “We’ve had seven hundred and forty-four weddings.”
“Let’s make it seven hundred and forty-five, then.” He counters, his eyes wide as he looks up at her sincerely.
“Maybe,” she says quietly, pressing buttons and turning the dial. “Tell you what, if you’ll let me work quietly for about two hours, we can go get married again afterwards. Sound okay?”
He pouts. “You won’t leave without telling me again, will you? I didn’t like it last time.”
The scanner beeps as River swallows, smiling sadly. She remembers her uni days, when she was so terrified of what she was feeling that she wouldn’t let herself spend more than a day with him. That had ended as soon as she graduated - the day they got married, the very first time she told him she loved him.
“I won’t do that anymore.” She strokes the side of his face gently. “I promise.”
He nods, trusting her. “Good.”
She bends down to give him a kiss on the cheek before she turns to Amy, who’s been watching silently at the end of the bed.
“Take care of him. I’ll be back in an hour.” she says.
Amy nods tersely, before turning to the Doctor. “You look rubbish, Doctor.” Amy says to him.
“Thank you, Donna.” The Doctor says sleepily, before he dozes off.
An hour and a half later, River, Amy and Rory watch as the Doctor sleeps peacefully after receiving the antidote to the poison.
“I’ve got the morning shift tomorrow, so I need to get going.” Rory says to the both of them. “We should go.”
“You can stay if you want to. It’s a time machine, after all.” River offers. “And he’ll want to see you when he wakes up.”
“He barely said two words to us,” Amy points out. “He couldn’t remember me and he kept asking for you the entire time I watched him. If there’s anyone he wants to see when he wakes up, it’s you.”
“Spend some time with your husband, Melody.” Rory says quietly. He was always like that - firm, calm, strong but quiet. She always found comfort in the way her father would speak to her. “You know where to find us if you need us.”
River stares at them for a long moment, silently contemplating. Amy shoots her a look that plainly says she won’t hear an argument against their decision - and River finally nods.
“Thank you for helping.” she says to them, smiling gratefully.
Her parents nod in reply, her father giving her a peck on the forehead and her mother hugging her tightly before they leave. River turns to her husband.
“What did you do, sweetie?” she asks her sleeping husband, frowning in concern. She takes his hand and intertwines their fingers together.
She falls asleep beside him, their clasped hands over the space between his hearts.
When she wakes up again, her head is on his shoulder and she feels a warm hand on her cheek, fingers stroking her skin delicately. She opens her eyes to find the Doctor gazing at her, his own eyes still heavy with sleep, but his face lighting up with a delighted smile.
“It’s so good to see you, River.” he whispers.
“Take it easy,” she tells him, sitting up. Their hands are still clasped but she doesn’t let go, holding on even tighter. “The antidote will give you a mild migraine for fourteen hours.”
“Did I ask you to marry me again?” he asks, squeezing her hand.
“Yes, you did.” she confirms, nodding as a fond smile spreads across her face. She tilts her head at him. “Do you want to?” she asks back.
The Doctor smiles up at her. “Always.”
#drfic#eleven x river#river x eleven#river x doctor#yowzah fic#yowzah#dwfic#doctor who fic#nat the writer#okay so umm i got way more prompts than i anticipated and it's gonna take time getting to all of them#i hope ya'll don't get mad if i don't answer right away#i'll probably answer the yowzah ones first tho#so just a psa. it might take a week for me to answer your prompt lol#omg i can't add the keep reading line i'm on my phone pls don't hate me#nat’s tumblr fics
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Crime Diary-Chapter 3
By Camille Scott
After work, I took the bus to the address that Kenji had given me. It turned out to be a gold shop. I was bewildered. Plum said that I wouldn’t have to sell the locket. I hadn’t even brought it with me. It was too late to try to catch a bus all the way home, just to get the necklace. I decided to keep the appointment. If nothing else, I’d just have to go back the next day.
The inside of the gold shop didn’t look much better than the outside. It was an antiquated storefront space with scratched glass cases running from one wall to the other, along three walls. The hardwood floors were stained and worn uneven by years of foot traffic. I was beginning to have doubts about Kenji. It didn’t look as though he had the finances to buy any of the hulking buildings on my books.
I told myself not to get my hopes up or get too bent out of shape, if things didn’t pan out. Push come to shove, I could still pawn the locket. An elderly Japanese woman in a flowered dress was standing behind the left counter, holding up a gold bracelet for a customer to admire.
I approached them and waited for a pause in the conversation. The customer was a tall, emaciated looking guy with big, showy rings on four fingers of his right hand. I could probably pay my rent with just one of those rings and have plenty left over for groceries.
When he laughed, gold teeth flashed in the front of his mouth. My eyes drifted down to the thick, fourteen carat gold rope bracelet hanging from his bony wrist, then over to the smart phone strapped to his belt. He was leaning on an alligator skin briefcase. Definitely a drug dealer.
The woman eventually glanced in my direction and I told her that I had an appointment with Kenji She gave me the once over, turned towards the sheet covering the doorway to the rear of the store, and yelled something in her native tongue. I shifted uneasily, as her eyes raked across my face once more.
My nervous smile had no effect on her. She dismissively turned back to her customer. A moment later, Kenji emerged from behind the dusty sheet. I was surprised at how young he looked. He was skinny, but otherwise resembled the woman so closely that she had to be his mother.
When Kenji smiled, he looked even younger. He offered his hand and I shook it. Tattoos peeked out from underneath his long-sleeved shirt, when he extended his hand. I remember thinking how they contradicted his overall appearance. Kenji looked like a college student. Wire-rimmed glasses perched on the bridge of his flat nose enhanced the impression.
“I-I have some pictures of the properties that I felt would best suit your needs,” I stammered, handing over the printouts. A few tense moments passed, while he inspected the photographs. The man with the gold teeth began looking at an assortment of gold rings.
“Can show me these properties tomorrow,” Kenji asked.
“Huh? Oh, sure I can. What time works best for you?”
The appointment was set for the following afternoon. I left feeling elated. Not only would the commission on any one of the properties pay my rent for several months, it would help me regain some of my boss David Canfield’s confidence in me. Unloading one of my rundown properties might even raise me a few notches in his estimation.
Maybe I could get enough of an advance to cover my current rent and utilities. I hastily reminded myself not to get too excited. Kenji hadn’t seen the actual building yet. There was a big difference between a grainy snapshot and the real thing.
I went home and took the fire escape up to my apartment, not wishing to bump into my landlord until I had cash in hand. He knew that payday had come and gone. Needless to say, I didn’t get any sleep that night. By morning, I was a bundle of nerves.
Kenji arrived at the appointed time and drove us to the buildings in his gold sport utility vehicle. I held my breath, when he leaned forward and looked through the windshield at the first old house. Kenji explained that he was looking to purchase a few homes to rehab and turn into section eight rental properties. He didn’t say much during the tours. His face was expressionless, but I could see his eyes taking note of everything.
I trailed behind him, as he moved from room to room. We went to my office and Kenji retrieved a briefcase from the trunk of his car. He wanted to buy all three of the houses we toured! It took every ounce of willpower not to leap from my seat and dance around my cubicle.
He wanted to start the transaction immediately and I was only too happy to oblige him. It would be nice to look my landlord in the eye, when I paid him. I decided to spend my entire commission on rent and utilities. A couple of months to breathe, without worrying about those bills would seem like a vacation. I drew up the paperwork and began filling in the necessary information.
“How would you like to pay for the property,” I asked.
“I’m paying with cash,” came the cool reply.
My hand froze over the keyboard. Perhaps I hadn’t heard him correctly. Altogether, the houses cost over two hundred thousand dollars. My confused mind scrabbled for an explanation. I decided that he must have meant that he wanted to make the down payment in cash.
“You mean you’re making a cash down payment?”
“No, I want to pay for the properties today in cash. Is that going to be a problem?”
“Well, I...it’s just that I’ve never had anyone offer to pay such a large amount in cash before. Let me clear it with my boss.”
I rose, trying to ignore the sinking sensation dampening my mood. Mr. Canfield’s door was closed, so I knocked softly. He bellowed permission for me to enter. I opened the door on an office that hadn’t seen a new piece of furniture since the seventies. Everything was orange and avocado green.
He was in his shirt-sleeves pouring over ledgers. I hated talking to the man, while he was working on the books. It always made him surly. Not that he was ever really in a good mood, when I talked to him. I got right to the point and to my astonishment, not only did he grant permission for the transaction, he praised me.
His bulldog features actually softened into something that closely resembled a smile. He followed me back to cubicle and introduced himself to Kenji. Mr. Canfield accepted the payment and I finished the paperwork. Kenji walked out with the bill of sale and I got my commission in cash.
Being able to pay my bills felt nice. So, why did I still feel so empty? I climbed into bed Friday evening and slept until Saturday afternoon. That’s when my cell phone rang. It was Plum with an invitation to lunch. She knew it was short notice, but could I join her? Plum’s relief sounded genuine, when I accepted the invitation.
My apartment looked like a tornado hit it, by the time I settled on an outfit. Rather than let Plum see how I lived, I waited for her downstairs. My nosy neighbor Mrs. Phelps just happened to be leaning out of her first floor window. She was always riveted to that spot. The woman must have slept standing up, with her nose pressed against the glass.
I had the pleasure of informing her that I was waiting for a friend. Naturally, the suspicious old bat didn’t believe me. Plum did not arrive at the appointed time and I felt myself beginning to panic. What if she had just been toying with me?
The thought of her ending the call and laughing made me cringe. In that instant, I became a miserable, friendless child once more. Maybe telling my neighbor that Plum was coming had been a mistake. She would never let me live it down. I looked over at her creased face and those greedy little eyes crawled all over my face.
“When did you say your uh...friend was coming dear?”
“She should be here any minute now.”
Just then, Plum’s purple Mercedes pulled up to the curb. I threw Ms. Phelps a triumphant smile and took my leave of her. I took my time walking to the car, my back getting straighter with every step. By that same time the next day, Mrs. Phelps would have notified the entire neighborhood about Plum.
I realized that I would do anything to hold onto my new friend. It was a reckless thought that quickly got pushed to the back of my mind. I don’t know what was more disturbing, the thought that I would sacrifice everything to stay friends with her or the knowledge that I couldn’t stop myself from doing it, if I tried. After all, Plum probably had hundreds of rich, influential friends.
What did I have to offer her with no money and no power? I had only the same deep, abiding devotion that my mother offered up to my father. Of course, that’s no less than what a woman like Plum demands. Looking back on our relationship, I realize that is what made it work; I worshipped Plum and she graciously accepted my adoration.
The rest of the month was blissful. Plum called me every day and we hung out together, when her busy schedule permitted. To someone who never had a friend before, the feeling was indescribable. She eclipsed my life. I was willing to go to absurd lengths just to make her laugh. If I said something that displeased her in any way, I couldn’t sleep until I made things right.
I know what you’re thinking, but you’re wrong. It was not physical attraction that made longing well up in me, until it caught in my throat. I’m not sure I can make you understand. To a certain extent, everyone longs to possess a thing of beauty whether it’s a person, a work of art, a precious jewel or something else. It is gratifying to feast your eyes upon it. For those moments, your troubles seem far away.
That’s what it’s like to be around Plum. She was beautiful and intelligent with a killer sense of humor. Plum had a way of looking directly at you and seeing you for who you are, underneath your public persona. She also had a way of tilting her elegant head to the side while you talked to her and nodding with the sweetest smile slowly spreading across her face. You feel important, because she’s drinking in every word.
I won’t even attempt to describe her laugh, except to say that it assures you that you are the wittiest person on earth. The combination of so many pleasing elements is quite bewitching. I was torn between never wanting to let to let Plum out of my sight and wanting to trade places with her. Adoration and jealousy were constantly at war inside of me.
My life now had purpose. Instead of dreading lonely evenings, I looked forward to nightly contact with her. She was my passport to a world that had previously been off-limits. I’m almost ashamed to admit literally sitting by the phone. Waiting for it to ring was agonizing. Imagine offering a cool drink to someone dying of thirst. What can I say? I was extremely thirsty.
Things weren’t all sweetness and light though. My relief at feeling vital after walking around numb was tempered by frustration. The more I saw of her life, the more jealousy chipped away at me. Why did Plum get to be beautiful, popular, and successful?
I was a good person. At least, I tried to be. Didn’t I deserve some modicum of success? The unfairness of it all caught in my throat. I felt guilty all of the time, because my feelings for Plum were deepening. It was undeniable though, I wanted power with the naked desire that only the downtrodden can feel.
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First Post
So... Something needs to be my first post right? Might as well be a piece of writing I did almost three years ago when I was 16. At the time I thought this was amazing, I considered it the best piece of writing I’d ever done in fact.
Now? Yeah... Now I’m not so sure. I don’t think it’s terrible, but I definitely think my writing has improved a lot over this past three years.
What you’re about to read is completely unedited, exactly as it was written three years ago. Please don’t judge me too harshly! Although hopefully by the time anyone reads this there’ll be more recent pieces of original writing on this blog that you can compare this too
Someone’s throwing stones at Jacob’s bedroom window. He resolutely ignores it, eats another spoonful of ice cream, and turns the TV up. Another stone hits the window and this time there’s a loud crack as it hits the glass, and Jacob jerks his head up to check Daniel hasn’t actually broken the glass.
"Go back to prom, Sam," he yells, loud enough for even the neighbours to hear. "I’m not sitting there alone like some loser while everyone else gets their freak on with someone."
Stupid damn prom. Jacob had been psyched, originally. He thought it’d finally be his chance to try and be more than friends with Daniel. To purvey his feelings. To shower Daniel with all the flowers in the universe and slow dance with him to Whitney Houston. Except, when he’d 'casually' thrown himself in front of Daniel’s locker earlier today, and declared they should go - For fun! As friends! Without Daniel being aware of all the glorious, romantic surprises Jacob had planned, obviously - Daniel’s face had scrunched up in apology.
"I can’t," he’d said shortly. "Someone’s already asked."
"And, you - you said yes?"
Daniel had shrugged, slamming his locker shut, “No one else asked.”
"But, I’m asking! Right now!"
"I can’t tell him no," Daniel had given him a strange look, "Besides, it’s not a big deal, right? We can hang out there; still do all the stuff you wanted."
Jacob had been going to suggest awkward, first time, deeply romantic make outs behind the bleachers. But he’s not sure that’d go down too well considering Daniel is actually going with a date. A date.
Daniel has a date for prom, and Jacob is sitting in his underwear watching The Notebook for the second time tonight. It’s still better than going and watching Daniel get hit on by some guy who was certainly going to be a lot hotter than he was. He couldn’t even bring himself to ask who it was, he just gave him a weak smile and trudged off to class. Daniel always sat next to him, normally, elbowed him, flicked back the notes and drawings Jacob passed to him with his own scrawls. Jacob has one of Daniel’s doodles stuck to his mirror, next to a picture of his family, a birthday card from his best friend Sam, and a postcard from his dad who was currently stationed in Syria; the important stuff. In that class, though, Daniel had chosen to sit by the window, staring out of it for most of the lesson. Jacob had been so distracted that he’d gotten himself detention, and not even cared. He’d spent the whole lesson writing Daniel a very indignant, ridiculously revealing letter, only to end up shoving it deep into his bag to burn at home.
No time like the present he decides, rolling off the bed and beginning to search through his bag.
It’s been two years of crushing on Daniel. Two years of crashing out together on the beach, arguing about pineapple on pizza (because yes it does it’s fucking delicious!), his other friends sighing exasperatedly as Jacob strikes up a conversation about Daniel, again. Sam rolling her eyes as... as she throws what sounds like a damn brick at his window.
"Go away!" Jacob yells, "I’m fine!"
Why couldn’t he have just grown a pair and said something?! ‘Daniel, I’m pretty sure I’d like to hold your hand, in a boyfriend, very into you, please god, blow me and I’ll blow you, kind of way, and not in a good luck squeeze before a game, or a particularly difficult test kind of way?’
God, those touches made his whole hand tingle.
He’s such a loser. He needs to move on. He finally finds the letter at the bottom of his bag and tugs it out with a triumphant cry.
There’s a thud, and Jacob yells in shock, twisting to see his curtains moving.
"Sammy! I’m not decent, you can’t—"
"You’re always indecent," a voice huffs, and oh god, it isn’t Sam’s.
Jacob walks over to the window, yanks the curtains back, and is greeted by the face of Daniel, the boy who’d stood him up only hours ago.
"Jesus Christ!" He takes in Daniel’s rumpled suit, the loosened tie, the messy hair, feeling his insides twist in jealousy over whoever it was that ruffled Daniel up.
"The name’s Daniel, actually. I don’t think Jesus would need to shimmy up your drainpipe for a visit."
"Ha ha," Jacob pauses, glances down at his own bright green boxer briefs, the only thing he’s currently wearing, and flushes all over. "Uh."
"I don’t think they’ll let you into prom with just those on," Daniel states drily, clambering in through the window like he’d been given permission to enter, to be as hot as he looks, right this second. He saunters into the room, pulling at his jacket sleeves and readjusting his tie. "Get dressed."
"No," Jacob says immediately, "Prom’s almost over, dude, I’m not going just for the last three slow dances. I’m not going at all."
"You shouldn’t miss out on something so significant to your secondary school experience just because you haven’t got a date, Jake."
"I tried! You were - everyone else was going with someone, already."
Daniel winces for some unknown reason, it’s possible he’s noticed just how many cartons of ice cream are on the bed, and then glares at Stiles like he’s personally offended Stiles is choosing to screw with his cholesterol before he’s hit twenty.
"I’m going back to prom, and you’re coming with me. I realise I was only your last resort, anyway, but, if you can handle walking in with me then-"
"Wait, last resort? What?"
"You didn’t get a date," Daniel says slowly, "So, you asked me."
"You weren’t my last resort!" Jacob brandishes his letter at Daniel, "You were my only resort! I wrote you a letter with forty reasons why we should have gone together! Number one; you’re my favourite person to mock other people with, number two; whenever someone seems like they’re pissed at me, you always have my back and I know you’d be able to take them; number three-"
"Jakob," Daniel pinches the bridge of his nose, "You said you wanted us to go as friends.”
"Number three," Jacob continues, "I - what, you didn’t?"
Daniel glances at the ceiling, shoves his hands in his pockets, “You really think I’d come all the way over here, climb up your drain pipe and try to talk you into going to prom if I just wanted to go and get drunk with you on the PE field?”
"See, that was number thirty-two," Jacob gives him a wry smile, "You’re a real smiley drunk and it makes me happy seeing it." Daniel takes a step closer to him, and Jacob clears his throat, "Uh, what happened to your date?"
Daniel shrugs, “I left him when I realised I couldn’t pretend that the only person I wanted stepping on my feet when we danced was you.”
Jacob swallows, fists his hands tightly, “Wow, that’s pretty, uh - was he okay?”
"Yeah," Daniel snorts, "I saw him trying to flirt with someone else when I was leaving anyway."
"Shit, that’s not cool."
Daniel arches a pointed eyebrow, and Jacob tries not to laugh at how ridiculous they are.
"Wait, so... You left prom for me?"
"You should have asked me weeks ago," Daniel huffs crossly. "I kept waiting."
"Why didn’t you ask?"
"Because I didn’t know you were interested!"
"I’ve literally been finding ways to hold your hand for two years!"
"I -" Daniel hunches his shoulders, "I didn’t want to lose you. If you had said no. It might have gotten weird. But, then you weren’t there tonight, and it felt like I had lost you, I just,” he looks up at Jacob, eyes bright and earnest, “I wanted to check, I guess. Just in case.”
"Just in case -" Jacob glances at his laptop, at Rachel McAdams’ angsty face and then glowers at Daniel, "You absolute ass, I am totally calling dibs on you for every prom for the next hundred years. And, every party - and movie and - you have to be my date forever, basically, I -”
Daniel strides up to him, catches his face, and kisses him fiercely. Jacob clutches his arms, melting into him. Daniel’s mouth is hot and needy on his, he’s making these tiny wounded noises against Jacob’s lips, and it’s making his knees weak.
"Jesus."
"I told you already, it’s Daniel."
"Shut up and just take your suit off, no, wait! Leave it on! No-“
Daniel gives him an impatient look as he strips off his jacket and begins yanking at his tie.
"I’m taking it off."
"God, yes,” Jacob breathes, gets a hand around the tie and pulls until they’re falling onto the bed, kissing desperately. “Ohhh, hey, wait!”
Daniel groans, lifts himself up to glare at Stiles, and Stiles grins, slips up his collar and removes the tie altogether.
"I was just gonna say, we should have slow dance music on for this. Cos, you know, this is as close as I’m getting to a prom after all."
Daniel rolls his eyes, “Do you even have any slow dance music, Jake?”
"Yeah, I got a whole playlist titled Daniel’s Favourite Songs."
"Uhm, okay," Daniel ducks to kiss his neck, slides his hands down Jacob’s sides until they’re playing with the elastic of his boxers, "You still want to find it?"
"No," Jacob gasps, arching into Daniel’s hands, skin on fire everywhere they’re touching.
Daniel smirks, and tangles their legs together as he presses Jacob down into the mattress, “What else did you have in the letter?”
"Something about your face being acceptable, and enjoying your humour when it’s not totally lame, oh, and something about getting drunk on the PE field and making out."
"I’ll put it up on my notice board," Daniel murmurs, touching his face with such tenderness Jacob thinks he might break with it.
"Dude, it was just a dumb letter."
"Dude," Daniel imitates crossly, "You’re dumb and I wanted a romantic prom night with you that I can’t have now. The least you can give me is the letter of reasons why you love me."
"I didn’t say-" Jacob quietens at the same Daniel does, and the both blink at one another shyly. "It was fourty reasons why we should go to prom together, but I, uh," Jacob swallows hard, running his hands up Daniel’s back, "Me being in love with you was reason number fourty."
Daniel’s face breaks into a wide smile, and Jacob is pretty sure his heart stops for a second, “That’s a good reason,” he says softly. “I would have gone with you if you’d led with that.”
"Yeah, well," Jacob scowls, "You were already going with somebody else."
"Yes, but I didn’t come all the way across town to be with them, or climb their drainpipe -"
"Alright, I get it, you maybe kind of like me, too-"
"And, I don’t love them," Daniel lifts an eyebrow expectantly, and Jacob’s mouth falls open.
"Oh."
"Yeah... You. I love you."
Jacob falls back against his pillows, grins up at him, “I’m so glad you went to prom with someone else, first.”
"Me too," Daniel agrees, sliding his hands into Jacob’s boxers.
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Secretary Peter, Boss Tony. With a twist ;)
Tony’s the best goddamn salesman in the office. Hell, in Wallstreet. He can move stocks, he can sell stocks, he can throw a life raft to the drowning man or sink the ship himself.
He’s charismatic, handsome, and about as in style as his tailored three piece suits, which is to say- very and always in style. He’d graduated from desk jockey to cubicle drone to glass corner office in three short years and he has a floor full of people desperately in awe of him, vying for scraps of attention or pieces of wisdom.
And Tony loves his job. He loves talking to people, he loves working his charm, he loves winning and he loves money and he loves not having to answer to anyone.
And he doesn’t answer to anyone, except from- aside from that one pesky exception- in Nick Fury.
He owns the whole company, so technically Tony reports to him, but Nick’s practically never here so Tony’s the one in charge.
Apart from this week, apparently, because when he walks in on Monday morning it’s to see Nick in his office, that trademark furious glare that’s really poorly concealed behind what Tony supposes is meant to be a welcoming smile. He doesn’t break stride though, just saunters into his desk and grins. “I see you helped yourself into my office.” He says cheerily.
“It’s not your office, Tony.” Nick growls, closing the door and standing in front of it like he thinks Tony might run out. “They’re all my offices. Every thing in this building is mine, do you understand that? Even those ugly ass lion statues in the lobby, they’re mine.”
Tony sighs and eases into his leather desk chair. “That’s unfortunate. Maybe give ‘em to charity or something.”
“Stark.” Nick’s tone is flat, unamused, and Tony looks up at him with his best ‘I’m listening’ face. “I was able to just waltz into your office because I notice- you don’t have a PA.”
Tony’s eyes flicker to the desk just outside his office. Sure enough, it’s empty. “I wondered why I wasn’t getting any messages.”
Nick is, again, unimpressed.
“Pepper’s off on maternity leave,” Tony shrugs, tossing his stress ball into the air and catching it again. “I can go without a PA for a year, Nicky.”
“Don’t you ever call me that again, and no, you can’t. Do you know why I’m here-”
“-I’m sure you’re about to enlighten me-”
“I’m here because none of your sales have been recorded and stored, none of your hours, none of your billables. I haven’t had a hard copy receipt of any of your transactions and that makes you liable, Tony. And you may be one of my best workers, but I do not give a shit about you. But you being liable, makes me liable, which makes my company liable. And we wanna work as a team, don’t we?”
“That seems like a rhetorical question.”
“You are so backed up and you don’t even have a clue.” Nick growls, massaging his temples like he’d very much like to annihilate Tony right on the spot.
Tony feels a little bit bad. He may have forgotten about those pesky little paper trails. “It’s not like I’m breaking the law, Fury, c’mon-”
“Oh, I’ll just tell the bank that you’re not breaking the law and send them on their merry fucking way, shall i? Or, should you get a secretary?”
“Hire me one, then,” Tony rolls his eyes, bored with the conversation and reaching forward to grab a random sheet of paper off his desk. He peruses it idly. It’s a shopping list, and scanning the items, he’s not entirely sure what for. A baby shower? There’s too much alcohol for that- someone’s birthday? Whose list even is this? Is it in here by mistake?
“Do you know how many secretaries you went through before Pepper, Tony? Over a hundred. You have to hire one yourself. I do not want to be sued for abusive language again-”
Tony looks up sharply. “She was being an imbecile, Fury, and I stand by what I said-”
Nick lifts a hand to cut him off. “Hire a secretary before the week is out, Stark, or it won’t be such a friendly visit next time.”
He leaves in a whirlwind of leather and disapproval and Tony stares bemusedly.
He doesn’t even have to touch his phone before it buzzes and he sees the text from Pepper. Heard someone got a nasty visit. I’ll have someone for you before Friday.
Tony smiles softly. He misses her, he should buy her something-
suddenly, he remembers what the shopping list is for.
When Tony gets into the office on Friday morning, he’s riding on a bit of a high. Everything’s been going so well recently. He’s signed more clients than ever in a three day span, one of his biggest competitors missed a big meeting and Fury hasn’t left any menacing phone calls. Pepper had liked her presents, people still stare after him, and- life all around is good.
He’s in his office, just taking a moment to savour how triumphant and successful he is, when he reaches out for a sip of his coffee.
It’s a fucking delicious blend. Expensive and Italian and the stuff that you can only get from a very pretentious cafe on the other side of New York and-
He pauses in his drinking.
He never got himself coffee.
He looks at the cup in his hand and lowers it marginally. It’s hot and just the way he likes it. He looks around his office then too, and suddenly all the differences appear and slap him in the face. His desk is clear- not just clear, clean, and his laptop keys are shiny and polished like new. His papers are organised and there are highlights and annotations and his certificates are hanging on the wall and not crammed into a box in the bottom drawer of his filing cabinet where he left them. In fact, his whole fucking office looks professional and goddamn nice.
His dry cleaning is hanging neatly in the corner too. He gets up, and looks at the desk outside his office.
Sure enough, there’s someone sitting there.
A male from what Tony can see, with short brown hair and a headset on. He's typing into the computer and diligently scribbling onto a notepad. He looks like he knows what he’s doing.
Who the hell is he?
Tony’s laptop pings and he looks down to see a new email from Fury.
Well done, Stark. Everything looks to be in order. I knew you could be reasonable.
He clicks on the attachments, already knowing what he’s going to see. All his backlogs, all his logged hours, all his receipts, ordered and neatly filed and chronologically placed and there are even little notes underneath each one with extra details and- how the fuck does his new secretary know that yes, actually, the Milton case had required an extra emergency meeting when they’d discovered a conflict- Tony hadn’t made a note of it anywhere.
Curiosity truly peaked now, he takes his perfect coffee and saunters out, walking around the front of the desk.
His new secretary looks up and Tony’s penis twitches a little. Okay, yes, Tony Jr approves. He’s young, maybe twenty, with brown hair and big brown eyes, cream skin and a delicate nose. He’s slender, but in shape, in a white shirt with the top few buttons undone, giving a lovely view of those sharp collarbones. He’s wearing black trousers and the the microphone wire against his cheek and in his hair contrasts nicely with his pale skin.
He looks up at Tony and smiles pleasantly. “Mr Stark, is there something I can help you with?”
Tony spots a calendar on the corner of the desk. He picks it up and flips through it. His meetings and deadlines for the next six months are all neatly pencilled in. The most important ones are starred with a red pen. He sets it down carelessly and watches as the young man straightens it without a word. “So, how long have you been here, Mr...”
“Peter Potts, Sir.” Peter says, and ah, this makes sense. The only way Peter could be so clever was if he had the Potts gene. “I started on Tuesday.”
Tuesday, fuck. No wonder things have been going so well. “Pepper’s little brother?”
“Half brother,” Peter corrects, “and soon to be uncle.”
Tony can see the resemblance. The soft skin, the sweet eyes. “Well, Peter and Pepper. That’s cute.”
Peter doesn’t say anything to that, but his pretty pink lips twitch in amusement.
But Tony doesn’t have any qualms. Peter is quite clearly capable, he’s related to Pepper, he’s eye-candy, and he’s gotten Tony his favourite coffee. So, the older man simply tips his head and goes back into his office. But as soon as he’s sitting down, his curiosity flares up again. He presses the button on his intercom and clears his throat. “You go to college, Peter?”
He watches through the glass as Peter’s chair swivels around, and the boy talks into the microphone with an intrigued smile. “Yes, Mr Stark. Top of my class at Harvard.”
“What did you study?”
“I majored in Engineering with a minor in Journalism. Graduated last year.”
An early bird then, Tony can relate. That Potts gene really is something else. “And what have you been doing for the past year?”
“Odd jobs,” Peter says evasively. “But when Pepper said she needed my help, I was all too happy to oblige. I’m a very big fan of yours, Mr Stark. There’s no bigger name in Wallstreet.” The phone rings and Peter shoots Tony an apologetic, but polite smile, as he picks up the phone. “Tony Stark’s office.” He nods, turning to the computer as the person talks. “Yes, I can see that here. No problem. Thank you. Yes, yes, Mr Butler, I will let him know.” Peter chuckles and Tony stares: amazed. “Alright. Thank you, goodbye.”
“Mr Butler?” Tony shakes his head, “That was Jerry on the phone?”
“Yes, Mr Stark. Would you like me to get him back on the line for you?”
Jerry Butler is the coldest man in the world. He doesn’t laugh with secretaries. He’s no reason for any smile ever. But Peter had chuckled like he was talking to an old friend. Not even Pepper had achieved that. “No, no.” Tony frowns, “you carry on.” He clicks off the intercom and strums his fingers against his desk thoughtfully. Something doesn’t feel quite right- if something seems too good to be true...his mind warns.
Maybe the catch is that he can’t sleep with Peter and the more he talks to the boy, the more he wants to.
He does his best to ignore it for now.
Things continue to go brilliantly. Life is even more effortlessly amazing than it was before. Nick even drops the hints of a promotion in the future if things keep going like this. When Tony gets to work, his favourite coffee is waiting, sometimes even a bagel or a croissant like Peter magically knows when Tony hasn’t had breakfast. He eats or drinks in his office as he checks emails, before Peter comes in with a notebook and a rundown of the days events, and then Tony gets to work. Peter comes in throughout the day, silent and unobtrusive and sets down water or coffee or occasionally- an apple- and sets it by Tony’s elbow and leaves again.
When Tony steps out to meet a client for lunch, he sees Peter taking his lunch break at his desk- his headset is still on, and he’s still scribbling away, but it’s into an old worn science textbook. In his other hand is a sandwich he’s nibbling on.
Tony prods at the book as he pulls on his coat. Peter had it dry cleaned specially and waiting in his office before Tony even knew he'd be out for lunch. There’s probably already a cab waiting downstairs. “What’s this?” Tony asks, trying to peek at the cover.
Peter lets him easily. “It’s a bio-chemistry textbook. I’m thinking about taking some night classes. Work towards a masters, or if I don’t qualify- a second degree.”
Tony may not have much pull in the science world, but his father sure did. He knows that name and money can go a long way, and Peter’s been exceptional. “I can get you in for a Masters anywhere you wanna go.” He assures, and Peter looks up at him with wide eyes.
“Mr Stark-”
“It’s not a problem. Now, who am I meeting?”
“Mrs Aberelle. She loves shrimp and it was her granddaughter’s birthday last week.”
Tony’s not sure whether he wants to ruffle Peter’s hair or give him a filthy kiss on the mouth. He settles for neither.
Mrs Aberelle practically gushes and swoons in her seat when Tony orders her the shrimp platter and asks how her granddaughter’s birthday was. She makes a higher bid than Tony even asked for. Peter’s a godsend.
The next day, the CEO of of another major competitor comes down with the flu, and Tony’s pitch goes down brilliantly.
He’s on cloud nine.
Careful, a voice warns, when you’re this high, there’s only one way to go.
It sounds suspiciously like his father, but he listens to it. “Hey, Peter,” he greets one morning as he strolls in. Peter’s in his office, just setting down his coffee and a- fuck, a danish pastry. He might be in love. “I got you a little something.”
Peter blinks in surprise, but smiles sweetly, and crosses his hands in front of him as he waits. Tony sets his briefcase down and clips open the gold clasps and lifts out a brand new, just released bio-chemistry textbook. Peter takes it with wide, disbelieving eyes. “Mr Stark...” he whispers, shaking his head, “this was- I know for a fact that this was over a $100. I can’t accept this-”
“Kid,” Tony chuckles, shaking his head. “It’s pocket change. Besides, I’m not giving it to you for nothing.”
Peter’s eyes flash to his and Tony’s a little surprised by what he sees. Peter looks almost-fuck, almost dangerous- but it’s gone in a flash, replaced with that sweetness and hardworking, subtle smugness that’s usually there.
“I want you to attend the meeting with Lawson tomorrow. As a sit in, alright?”
Peter nods immediately, but frowns. “Is there any particular reason why, Mr Stark?” He’s clutching the book to his chest almost reverently.
“Not really,” Tony admits, rubbing his chin, “just wary. You up for it?”
“Always.” Peter murmurs, and Tony thinks he must be imagining the demure little almost-wink he gets.
It doesn’t stop him from thinking about it again that night.
He shakes Lawson’s hand in the morning as the man and his associates sit opposite him at the large oakwood table. Tony and Peter on one side, Lawson and his men on the other. Peter has his notebook out and is writing away- he always seems to be writing, Tony has no idea what- and then they start talking.
Tony’s not sure what he was worried about. The contract is brilliant, more lenient than expected and has nothing but benefits for both sides. He’s giving Lawson a hard time, but that’s just part of the game, and he’s about to seal the deal when-
Peter slides a piece of paper over to him without looking up. Tony frowns at him, but Peter doesn’t make eye-contact, continuing to write, and Tony looks down.
He’s lying. Don’t sign.
Well fuck, that’s a fucking thing to write. What is Tony supposed to do with that? He sets it down and tries to look unaffected as they keep talking but when Lawson’s side slide over the contract, Tony pauses with the pen in his hand. Peter isn’t making a sound.
“Let me just talk to my secretary real quick,” Tony grins, wearing his best winning smile, “why don’t you fine gentlemen wait outside, take five, catch a breather, and then we can come back and sort this out.”
They look a little confused, but they leave and then Peter and Tony are alone.
“What the hell is this, Peter?”
Peter looks up bravely, his jaw locked. “I don’t trust him, Mr Stark. There’s something not right-”
“I’m gonna need a little more than your hunch, kid. No offence, but I’ve been in this game a lot longer than you. You don’t know the contract, it’s a good deal-”
“It’s too good a deal,” Peter insists, lifting the thick contract up. “I’ve read through it, Mr Stark. I read through all the contracts you’re about to sign and there’s something about this that doesn’t add up. Why would they offer such a beneficial claim with us? Why not one of your competitors?”
Tony shrugs a little smugly. “My competitors haven’t been stepping up to bat, lately.”
Peter shakes his head. “I’m serious, Mr Stark. When things or people are too good to be true, they usually are.”
There’s something in his tone. Something...something Tony’s unsure of.
“Did you see anything in the small print that can back up- what is at the moment- just a feeling?”
Peter’s shoulders slump in defeat, and he shakes his head. “No, Sir.” He whispers.
The older man sighs, rubbing at his eyes. Only Pepper or Peter could ever make him feel like this- torn between the rational, sensible option, and listening to their fucking hunches-
“He knows!” A voice outside the door hisses, and both Peter and Tony look up sharply.
“He doesn’t know, Lawson-”
“He must know! Why would he tell us to leave like that? He knows about our deal with Oscorp! I knew Norman couldn’t make this go away, the dirty son-of-a-bitch-”
“There’s no way Stark knows, just calm down-”
The voices disappear again, down the hall, and Tony stares in amazement. Peter just looks earnest. “Do you believe me now, Mr Stark?”
“How the hell did you know?” He whispers, collapsing into one of the chairs.
Peter bites his bottom lip. “Sometimes i just get these feelings,” he says, as he scribbles on the paper in front of him.
Unfortunately, knowing that Lawson has a back door deal with Oscorp is not something that can be easily proven, and when Fury finds out that Tony blew would could be one of the biggest contracts of the year, he reacts with, what is understandably, a lot of anger.
Tony does his best to get Peter to screen all his calls as the two of them work all night to try and find a way to prove what they heard. Tony wants to think that maybe his word will be enough, but Nick’s always been a stickler for the rules and Tony...has not.
Even as absorbed in papers and numbers as he is, Tony can still appreciate Peter here beside him. The kid’s saved him a huge one here. And he’s still here, when he should probably be at home sleeping or watching Netflix, helping Tony try to prove the unprovable. He’s smart and quick and for someone who’s never worked with stocks like this before, he sure knows his way around it.
“Hey,” Peter whispers when it hits three am. “I bet they keep a hard copy of all their emails in a data storage room.”
Tony looks up and rubs the bleariness from his eyes. “Really?”
“Yeah,” Peter breaths, getting to his feet, more energetic now, “a lot of stock companies do it. It’s an automatically backlog, it can stop you getting into a lot of trouble. All we have to go is get in.”
Tony shakes his head, but gets to his feet, knees groaning. “How? I’m the most recognisable face in Wallstreet.”
“But I’m not.” Peter insists, already heading for the door. Tony’s hot on his heels. “I can talk my way in.”
“Not that I doubt your ability, because you’re a Potts, but do you really think you can just waltz in and-”
Yes, as it turns out. Tony just stares in awe as Peter plays the apologetic, desperate intern who just has to get this work done for his brutal boss Norman Osborn. Tony’s hiding behind a potted plant as he watches Peter’s performance. “I’m so sorry,” Peter weeps, eyes shining with tears as the large, female security guard clutches at her heart through her shirt. “I’m such an idiot, and it’s only my first week and I forgot my keycard and- I’m gonna get fired and I deserve it and-”
“Oh, no, honey,” the security guard croons, already unlocking the barrier for him. “No, baby, it is not your fault, okay?”
Peter sniffles, eyes red and smile grateful. “Thank you so much, I-you have no idea what this means to me and-”
She blows him a kiss. “Go, honey. Go.” Peter waves at her, and jogs around the corner.
They have to wait about fifteen minutes till she goes to the bathroom, before Tony runs out and Peter lets him through. “How did you- wait- how did you even unlock the door-”
“I pickpocketed her,” Peter whispers, as they get into the elevator. Tony stares at Peter in shock.
“Shit, kid. Where’d you learn to do that?”
Peter gives him a look. “We’re breaking into one of the most famous companies in the world, Mr Stark. I don’t think now’s the time.”
“Sure- I guess-” Peter grabs his hand and tugs him out of the metal doors as soon as they get to the right floor and shit- how did Peter even know what floor- before Tony knows it, Peter is picking the lock of a storage room and- seriously, what the hell-
and then he’s hacking into a computer and downloading a memory stick onto it.
Tony is staring in slack-jawed awe. “Seriously, Peter.” He whispers, as Peter scans through emails. “What the fuck?”
“Tony,” Peter murmurs, a little irritated, as his eyes flicker across the screen as he scrolls rapidly. “Not the time.”
“Not the time? You- you cried on cue. You knew all this stuff about me, you pick-pocketed her- you got into that locked room, you just hacked into a computer and a memory stick, are you- were you a criminal or something? Like a tech-whiz kid? You can tell me, I won’t judge-”
“I know you won’t,” Peter says softly, and suddenly there’s that doe-eyed, cocky secretary who smirks whenever Tony ends up liking whatever weird type of sushi Peter brings him when he’d insisted he wouldn’t. “But not right now. Later, I promise- ah! Look!”
There’s the email. It’s not explicit, but it’s interaction between Norman and Lawson which can’t easily be dismissed. Peter sends it to the printer and the two of them are waiting for the damn thing to connect, when footsteps sound along the carpeted floor around the corner.
Peter shoves Tony into a stationary closet and Tony watches through the crack as a middle-aged man comes around with a stack of papers to photocopy. The man blinks at the sight of Peter, surprised, and Peter half smiles. “Hey,” he greets casually, and Tony is seriously in awe of this kid’s acting. “All nighter for you too, huh? Osborn’s a real dick.”
The man chuckles, nodding, and comes to join Peter by the printer. “Yeah, I know. I’m Barney,”
Peter takes his hand. “Lucas,” he says easily, “It’s nice to meet you. You couldn’t help, could you? The damn thing’s not working.”
Lucas peers at the printer, and smiles good-naturedly. “You have to enter your user access code.”
Tony pales and if Peter panics at all, he doesn’t show it. “Fuck,” he sighs, smacking his forehead, “I forgot mine. I keep it written down on this post it- shit, I’ll have to run downstairs, unless-” he looks up at Barney hopefully, “I could use yours? Save me the run.”
Barney looks torn. “We’re not supposed to...”
For a second, Tony thinks Peter might pull the same crying act he used with the security guard, but he doesn’t.
Instead, Peter steps forward, lifts his chin and catches his plush bottom lip between his teeth.
Shit. Shit. Tony and Barney are both hypnotised. “Maybe we could forget the printer altogether,” Peter murmurs, his hands drifting to Barney’s belt as he fiddles with the loop. “Working for Norman gets me so stressed, you know? Sometimes you just want some-” he sighs a little, and the sound goes straight to Tony’s dick. “-some stress relief. You ever feel like that, Barney?”
Barney looks utterly besotted, and he doesn’t seem to know what to do with his hands.
Peter pushes impossibly closer, tilting his head up more. “You can touch me, if you want,” he says, barely above a whisper, “I want you to. Right here.” He grabs one of Barney’s hands and places it on his perfect ass.
Tony’s leaking in his pants.
Barney grunts with desire, grabbing at Peter’s ass gracelessly, his other hand coming to do the same as Peter presses their groins together. “What’s your access code?” He whispers into Barney’s ear, palming at his crotch.
Barney looks like he might cum any second. He’s probably a virgin, Tony thinks. Or maybe Peter is just that hot. Either one is plausible. “A-ah, it-it’s 4598-”
Tony lets out a cry of surprise when Barney falls heavily to the floor.
Peter turns and taps in the code to the printer as Tony bursts out of the closet. “Holy shit,” he whispers, staring at the man. There’s no blood which is...a relief? “Is he dead?”
Peter rolls his eyes as the printer starts chugging out paper. He grins victoriously. “No, Tony, he’s not dead. I don’t kill people. He’s just unconscious.” He gives Tony a look like the older man is acting a bit slow.
There’s a wet spot on Barney’s pants, Tony feels for the guy, but there’s more pressing matters. “Peter, what the fuck, seriously-”
“Oh, come on, Tony.” Peter snaps, whirling on him with righteous indignation. His pupils are blown wide and Tony wants him so bad it hurts, but he’s also- he’s also confused out of his mind. “You’ve known this whole time. What- you think it’s coincidence that all your competitors have been missing meetings? Falling sick? You think these new clients are just falling into your lap? I’ve been doing all of this for you. You know that.”
Jesus Christ. Tony stares. “I-I don’t- how-”
“I like seeing you succeed. It gets me even hotter for you than I already am.”
Tony can’t form words.
“I know you like me too. I’d have to be blind not to- aha!” He lifts the papers happily, all printed and sorted. “As much as I’d love to have you fuck me right here on this printer, we need to leave.”
Tony’s pretty sure he’s forgotten how to form words, but fucking Peter is something he’d very much like to do.
“We’re gonna go back to your office, and you can do me right up against the glass, okay?”
Tony has to pinch his arm to not cum right then and there. Peter notices, and smirks, tiptoeing to kiss him lightly.
“Come on, Mr Stark,” he grins, his eyes twinkling with a satisfying mixture of innocence and mischief, as he guides them towards the door. “You have work to do.”
#starker#secretary peter#pa peter#boss tony#top tony#bottom peter#bamf peter#peter potts#stock broker tony#peter parker#tony stark#long fic#twist#based off the temp#seduction
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