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the-californicationist · 2 months

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They Help You Practice

Task Force 141 asks you to be the bait for a secret assignment. So, they make you audition for the role. You end up getting gangbanged by the whole team and loving it!

TW: gangbang, vaginal sex, anal sex, oral sex, gay sex, degradation, explicitly consensual, spit? please check AO3 link at bottom for full tag list

You let yourself into his office, shutting the door behind you, and stood before him at a sharp parade rest, waiting to be informed about your fate.

“Sergeant, thank you for coming. There is no need for formalities. This is just a chat.”

You moved to a more relaxed rest and nodded.

Price continued,

“This is going to be quite the ask. Would you be willing to perform duties which are…outside of your current scope?”

“Yes, sir,” you responded just as you should have, as you were trained to, but Price was hoping you would understand exactly what you would be getting yourself into.

“I need you to go undercover to a Konni restaurant cover in Minsk…as bait. Am I making myself clear?”

A pause. But, to your credit, you didn’t flinch. You did raise an eyebrow and ask a clarifying query,

“What kind of bait, sir?”

“Our next target, Dimitri Sokolov, will be at the Black Pearl bar in Minsk tomorrow, and we won’t get a better chance to lure him away from his bodyguards. He almost never makes public appearances, so he must be making an exception. Sokolov has,” he paused for a moment, trying to find the words, making general, suggestive motions over his own chest, “particular tastes in his women. You just so happen to have the right profile for the job. Again, this is not an order, Sergeant. I need to know if you’re willing to accept.”

“Yes, sir,” you tried to appear fully in control. You knew your breasts were large, but you had never been asked to use them as a weapon. There was a first time for everything, you supposed. You would do anything to help the team.

The captain loved your composure. He knew you would be perfect for the job.

“Good. Let's brief the team.”

Price walked with you down to the meeting room at the end of the hall and found Soap, Ghost, and Gaz sitting in the desk chairs every way except the way they were designed, lounging over the furniture like big cats, melting into the various surfaces they encountered. They fixed themselves when the captain walked in.

“Gentlemen,” Price opened, “this is our bait. Her code name is Rabbit. Rabbit, this is Soap, Ghost, and Gaz.”

You nodded politely and resumed a semi-formal rest position.

The men had noticed you around the base but hadn’t been formally introduced. You were a desk rider, but still, you were hard to miss. The baggy military clothing had almost managed to conceal a bounty of soft curves, but your lush body persisted beneath it, and the outlines of your feminine form made heinous suggestions in the fabric. Unfortunately for them, you didn’t hang around the gym or the common area enough for them to have generated a fully accurate image of your enticing body, but they were certain it was delicious. They watched you like peckish wolves. Waiting hungrily, shifting in their seats in anticipation. For what, you weren’t sure.

“Rabbit is going undercover for us to take down Sokolov, Vladimir Makarov’s new shipping controller. He has a particular penchant for,” Price paused just long enough for anyone to understand his true meaning, “certain types of women. Rabbit fits the mold, so all she needs is the gear and the training.”

Price cut open three large cardboard boxes to reveal slinky dresses and a number of questionable garments.

“I’ll need to try them on,” you offered, “Do you want me to get changed, Captain?”

“Sounds good. Come back in when you’re all set,” he smiled, enjoying the view as you left the room.

Ghost crossed his arms, clearly with quite a mouthful to share and but refusing to. Gaz stared down at the knife he was playing with, bashful. But Soap would not be cowed, and as soon as you left, he said,

“Feeding her to the sharks like bait, Captain? I dinnae ken any of us was so expendable.”

“Soap,” Price warned, “the sergeant is more than capable of handling -”

“I wasnae askin’ about the lassie’s capabilities. Send her in to slit his throat with a knife in her hand, for all I care. But to send her in unguarded, unarmed? No. It’s not right,” Soap crossed his arms.

“He’s got a point, Captain. Why take the risk of losing an operative?” Ghost spoke coldly.

Price furrowed his brow at their short-sightedness,

“And do what, exactly? Have the Russians scurry back underground at the first hint of an assassination attempt? We’ve failed that mission three times, boys. I’ll not have this go south again.”

“I’m sure she is capable, Captain. But, is Rabbit committed to this plan?” Gaz asked.

“Sure,” Price tried to sound reassuring, “we spoke in my office. She agreed to come down here. Besides, she’ll have you three as backup. You won’t let anything happen to her.”

Gaz did not seem convinced. All three soldiers wore a scowl on their faces, and even though Ghost’s was obscured by his mask, his body language communicated his displeasure. Price carefully ashed his cigar to renew the glowing tip, taking a long drag while they waited for you to return.

You were back without too much of a delay, but when you walked in, your colleagues were visibly stunned. They didn’t recognize you at first. A short black dress had replaced your camouflage fatigues, showing off miles and miles of smooth, shining skin. Your thick thighs stretched the silky fabric, and your ass threatened to escape from the edge of the dress with every step you took. Your new heels clacked sharply against the cold concrete, making your legs flex and tense, showing off your well-formed musculature. You did not miss squat day very often, apparently.

But, the assets you were trying to use for this particular mission were the real stars of the show. Your heavy breasts battled against the low dip of the dress, providing a deep display of cleavage, hinting at pink perky nipples hidden just below the line of the black silk. Your tits jiggled as you struck the floor with each careful step, making the room full of men breathe a little heavier at the sight.

Soap’s big mouth betrayed them all,

“Christ in Heaven. There you are, bonnie.”

Ghost backhanded him hard on the shoulder. Price glowered.

You had put on a little more makeup than might be socially acceptable in an office setting, making the suggestive outfit complete. Finally, as you stood at the head of the meeting table, you took out your task force regulation braid and pulled your fingers through your hair, breaking up your long waves as they spilled down your neck and back.

You smiled,

“Well, do I look the part?”

Price coughed, inhaling too much smoke on accident. Gaz hadn’t moved since you walked in the room. He just stood there, dumbfounded, arms held at an odd angle as if frozen in time. Ghost cleared his throat to save them,

“Yes, Rabbit. You clean up very nicely, don’t you?”

“Well,” you sighed, “this is sort of the raunchiest outfit I found in the box. I was going to go with something a bit more casual, but I thought I’d better be noticeable if we’re going to nail this asshole.”

Gaz finally came out of his locked state, aghast,

“Noticeable? Sweetheart, this is more than noticeable. Goddamn.”

“You think it’s too much? I don’t really know what would get his attention,” you shrugged, looking shy as you confessed, “I don’t get asked out very often.”

“You could go out with me, lassie,” Soap edged his way closer to her, slinking around the table, “We’d have a hell of a time, so we would.”

“Don’t listen to Johnny,” Ghost stood in front of him a bit, snaking an arm around your cinched waist, “He thinks takin’ his birds to the dog races is a good date idea.”

“Well, isn’t it?” Soap protested.

Gaz grabbed your hand tenderly, examining your fingers like they were a precious work of art,

“Maybe you could come with me to Berlin next weekend, babes. There’s a killer music festival going on, and we could have a really good time. How does that sound?”

“Boys,” Price interrupted, “I’m sure she has plenty of work to finish here; can’t just be galavanting off with you muppets. In fact, why don’t you stop by my office after this mission, bunny rabbit, and we can work on your projected shipment dates together? You know, I used to be a logistics man, myself.”

Ghost rolled his eyes at the Captain,

“Please, logistics? You drove a truck back and forth on base delivering food to the canteen twenty years ago. I’ve read your file.”

The men all started talking over each other, forgetting your presence in favor of coming out on top of the dog pile. You smiled to yourself, eager to push more of their buttons.

Slipping one skinny strap down your shoulder, you spoke through the din,

“You know, this dress can be strapless. Do you think Sokolov wants it up…” you locked eyes with Captain Price, seeing his throat swallow hard as he watched you in the silence you had created, “or down?”

The other soldiers were stunned, unable to look away as you slipped both straps off of your shoulders and tucked them into your dress. One strap was still partially visible, and Ghost slowly moved one gloved finger up your arm, tracing your skin lightly, and finished tucking it in for you. He lingered, caressing the side of your breast as he removed it.

“You gonna be able to seduce this Russian bastard, Sergeant? Or, do you need some practice?” Price asked with a low, threatening tone.

The whole room held its breath waiting for your answer. The four men towered over your short frame, casting shadows over you like black spells, hoping you would relinquish your control over them. All of their eyes watched as you slowly, achingly lifted a hand and traced it up Gaz’s canvas pant leg, stopping when you discovered the heavy head of his cock, hardening down toward his knee. With the back of your hand, you pet it like a skittish animal, reveling in its smoothness and warmth. Your eyes found his as they fluttered, blood rushing through his body in a panic,

“I think I could use some practice, Captain.”

You felt Gaz’s rod leap at your answer. He bent down to kiss your mouth, slanting his lips fiercely against you.

Soap came up behind you, gripping your ass through the silk of your dress roughly,

“We’ll help you, lass. We’ll help you practice, won’t we, boys? Jesus, you smell so good,” he buried his face in your neck and sucked against your skin.

Ghost found your other hand and held it tightly, using it to steady you from Soap and Gaz’s assault. Price moved Gaz out of the way, earning himself a glare, and peeled the dress off of you in one fell swoop, revealing the expanse of uncovered skin underneath.

“Holy shite,” the captain breathed, whispering his lament, “Sergeant, where are your knickers?”

“I guess I forgot them, Captain,” you blushed, batting your eyes up at him, doing actual damage to his psyche.

He didn’t have much time to savor the moment though because Ghost was shoving him out of the way to pick you up by the thighs to lay you on the table. The giant knelt between your legs, pulling you by the knees until your ass was hanging off of the low wooden planks. He lifted his mask just enough for you to see him lick his lips over sharp, white teeth before feasting on your wet folds, letting the cloth of the balaclava hide most of his efforts.

Ghost created a soothing, yet electrically wet warmth in your core which made you keen loudly, only to be muffled by Price’s smoky kiss. You could taste the burned tobacco on his tongue and your skin was scraped by his thick mustache.

Gaz’s voice got your attention. He had freed his cock from his pants and started to stroke it, standing by your side and playing with your breasts with his free hand as Price savaged your mouth. He tugged on your nipple and told you,

“You know, Rabbit, you’re going to have to really put yourself out there tomorrow. Show him these gorgeous tits of yours. Make him think you’re hungry for his cock,” Gaz rubbed his head, hard and hungry for you, “Can you do that? Let us see how good you can be, princess. We need you to ace this mission”

You felt Ghost dip his hard cock between your pussy lips, distracting you from Price’s tongue in your mouth. You broke the kiss and looked up at Ghost, dazed, into his masked face,

“I promise, sir. I’ll be good,” you looked around at all four of the men, reaching out to grab Soap’s cock that he was stroking for you, “Will you show me how?”

You didn’t give Soap time to answer. The Scot gasped as you devoured him, sucking him down into your throat, making yourself gag as he fucked your throat in and out in long thrusts. He tangled his fingers in your hair. Ghost matched his rhythm below you, pounding his cock into your wet hole. You thought you could feel something on his dick. Was he pierced? You could see your slick gleam on his lips and chin where his mask was still askew.

“Yeah,” Ghost smiled haughtily, “you like those piercings, don’tcha baby?”

You didn’t have a chance to respond. Price pulled your head away from Soap’s dick, kissing your mouth lewdly again before giving you an order,

“Open your mouth wide for me, love.”

You obeyed. Then, he spit onto your tongue, warm and bubbling, before shoving your face down onto his own fat rod. It made your lips burn with its cruel girth, even though it felt relatively soft, and you thought fleetingly that there was no way your poor little cunt was going to be able to take him, Ghost was big enough to be filling, but the captain was carrying around a true weapon.

He pulled your head off of him roughly, watching as the strings of drool connected your tongue to his cockhead, growling in short, lustful breaths.

“Alright, boys. Make sure she’s good and ready for me. You know the drill,” Price barked, and then he was gone.

The drill? You looked for him, confused, and only found Gaz, who was now slapping his long dick on your cheek, knocking for entrance. He let you take his head into your mouth, having a much easier time than you did with your captain. You bobbed your head up and down dutifully, not realizing just how long his cock was until he tried to force it into your throat. He held you down for a moment, moaning shamelessly, before releasing you to let you breathe.

“You alright, babes?” He laughed.

You nodded, moaning. Ghost took himself out of your wetness and pulled you off of the table. Soap hopped up to lay where you were, and you moved to ride him, making sure to get right to the edge with him to let Ghost back in. You’d never taken two men at once, much less four, but there was a first time for anything, and you were a quick learner.

Spearing yourself onto Soap felt like someone had created a warm, custom, living dildo just for you. He was a perfect fit, and you both cried out in pleasure from the sensation. Ghost slapped your ass, hard, and you screamed, clenching around Soap’s cock. Soap moaned darkly.

“Keep suckin’ that big cock, baby. Need to teach you how to multitask,” Ghost threatened as he bent to eat your asshole, wiggling his tongue into the tight rim to gain entrance.

He started to fuck you with it, his long wet muscle moving in and out as Soap thrust himself up into you, hitting your g-spot every single time like magic. You took Gaz back into your mouth and tried your best to take him deeper into your throat. Every time you did, you would gag, and your muscles would involuntarily clench, and the whole room would moan. You started to come, feeling yourself flood around Soap, whose mouth had latched onto one of your nipples, suckling like he was trying to feed from you.

You could see Price out of the corner of your eye. He had lit another cigar and was smoking it, stroking himself, still not at his full capacity. You were scared of him. He looked like some sort of demon, breathing fire, as big around as your forearm. He wasn’t as long as Gaz, nor as delightfully curved as Soap, but he made your legs shake without even touching you. When he did touch you, rising from his chair when he wanted to fondle you, pinching a nipple, pulling your hair, forcing your head down on Gaz, it lit you up like you were kerosene and he was the match.

Suddenly, Ghost’s tongue was gone, only to be replaced by his heavy head. He was going to fuck your ass, and there was nothing you could say to stop him. You’d only done anal once or twice before, and you knew it might hurt. He went so slowly that you could feel each and every piercing as he popped them into you, one by one. Then, as he pulled back out, you felt them pop as each one went through you again, raking himself in and out gently, as careful with you as he could be. When you were more pliant, he began to throw his weight into each thrust, and Soap started to groan below you from the sensation.

“Don’t you fuckin’ dare, Johnny boy,” Price threatened, his voice full of stern warning.

You weren’t sure what he was warning him about until Soap pulled his cock out of you and came all over your stomach, Ghost’s thrusts making the fluid smear between you two, rubbing your bodies together. Ghost pulled out next, and you felt his hot, thick ropes spray onto your ass cheeks, melting down your thighs.

Gaz abandoned your mouth and took over for Soap, feeding himself inch by inch until he found your end, leaving some of his cock out in the cold. He fucked you faster than the others, not caring to move out of the way as Soap rolled off of the table, whining like a whore the whole time.

Captain Price came around to your face, holding your chin in his hand, looking down at you without pity,

“Garrick’s got a long cock, don’t he, love? You’re being so good for my men, such a good girl. Sweet little slut, hm? You’re going to do so well on this mission. Those areholes won’t know what hit ‘em.”

He grabbed your hair fiercely, hurting your scalp, forcing you to turn and look back at Gaz. Price took a long puff from his cigar, blowing it past your face,

“Baby, he could fuck you for a hundred years. He’s not gonna come until you scream his name.”

You heard Gaz moan louder at Price’s suggestion, so you did. You screamed for him over and over, not caring who might have heard you, begging for him to come in you.

“He’s not allowed to come in you, love,” Price kissed your open panting mouth, “But, don’t worry. It’s about to be my turn, and you’ll be feeling my fuckin’ come drip out of your cunt all night long.”

Price’s voice made your blood run cold with fear. He wasn’t making threats. Those were clearly promises. Predictions of the future. His cock was tucked back into the band of his pants, but it lay in wait there like a serpent, eager to strike.

Your heart pounded in your chest as Gaz pulled his long shaft all the way out of you, his come shooting onto your lips and ass, feeling him use his hand to rub it into your skin, making you sticky. Your captain gave him a warning look, and you realized they had done this sort of thing before. Perhaps many times before. As you watched Soap and Ghost comfort each other, breathing close together, touching themselves, you wondered if they ever fucked each other as well. Picturing the four of them rutting into each other made you hungry, deep in your belly, starving to witness such an act.

Finally, it was your captain’s turn. The look in his eyes made you tremble. You knew he wouldn’t be cruel, not on purpose anyway. He wasn’t a heartless man, but he wasn’t one to hold himself back from what he wanted either. You knew that he would fuck you the way he wanted to, as hard as he wanted to, no matter how much complaining you might do about how his cock would stretch you out - even to the point of pain.

“On your back, love. Legs up. Spread that pussy open for me,” he commanded.

You did as he told you, opening yourself up shamelessly, letting your folds spread wide.

He walked around the table to gaze upon your form, staring at your pink flesh like it was a hot meal, and he was starving. He moaned, rubbing his hand across your sticky mons,

“Mm, that’s my pretty little Rabbit. Now…” he paused for effect, sinking three fingers into your hole roughly but ever so slowly, twisting his arm as he did, corkscrewing his knuckles into you, “...I want you to understand that there’s a reason I’m last in line, love.”

You cried out from the pressure of his huge hand. It felt like you were going to tear. Then, after a few hard thrusts, he released you. The emptiness you felt was heartbreaking. You looked for him, pleading with your eyes for him to return to you. He pulled his cock free from his waistband, unable to connect his finger to his thumb as he wrapped around it. You whined involuntarily, something animal in you recognizing its fate.

“Shh, baby, I know,” he drug out his voice, “I know…”

He positioned the heavy shaft on top of your body, measuring himself from base to tip, reaching your navel. As he slapped it against you, it made a loud thudding noise, slamming into your muscles like a fist. Price was so heavy. You’d never even imagined a man could feel like he was pure, warm, thick marble. Your pussy seemed to understand the panic you were feeling, flooding itself, preparing for the upcoming invasion.

“I’m so fuckin’ eager for you, love,” he slapped you again, quick taps right to your swollen clit.

Then, he put his head inside of you, squeezing himself in. He left it inside of you and started to pump himself with his hand. Between the vibration from his fist and the fact that it felt like you were sitting on the end of a steel bat, you couldn’t hold back your keening, loud and high-pitched.

Price began the steady, slow march forward, swelling harder and harder by the moment, making your walls feel like they might break. It seemed as if all the blood in your body was rushing down your belly and up your legs, hurrying to your core.

Your eye were wild, full of your fear, tears forming at the corners of your eyes,

“I can’t, please! I can’t. It’s too big, fuck…”

Price didn’t stop. He just kept feeding himself in and pulling himself back out, wetting his cock’s skin with your soaking hole.

“You can, and you will, love,” the captain growled, “Now, shut that pretty mouth and take it.”

Your cheeks were wet and your eyes burned, he was so deep within you that it felt like he was thrusting into your throat. You couldn’t breathe.

Suddenly, Soap grabbed your hand, kissing your palm, using his tongue to lick your skin,

“It’s alright, bonnie. I’m here, lass. Breathe with me, lass.”

He bent down to kiss you, but he didn’t quite connect, letting his lips graze yours featherlight. Soap breathed in and breathed out in steady, measured beats. You felt yourself begin to relax. It had such an immediate effect that you heard Price groan, able to slip himself a bit deeper than he had done.

It was like a chain reaction, the more relaxed you became, breathing with Soap, feeling him suck and lick your nipples softly, the more Price was able to squeeze himself in.

Finally, you felt his hair at the base of his cock, thick and curled, and as he sighed, he settled inside of you, impossibly pressing against your whole body, making a clear outline of himself in your lower belly. He rubbed it, almost fondly, and you felt every inch of him throb against your walls, his head bullying your womb.

You cried out again from the strain. Ghost and Gaz joined Soap. Gaz began to suckle from your breast on your left side, fondling himself as he did so, getting hard again. Ghost was at your head on the end of the table, and he bent to kiss you, upside down, his tongue running all the way down your throat, long and slippery against your own.

He pulled away, petting your cheek as Price began to grind himself into you,

“You alright, Rabbit? You enjoying your captain’s cock, hm?”

“Mm hm,” you whispered, whimpering through your tears.

Ghost smiled, and his straight, white teeth looked menacing as he did, sharp, wolf-like,

“I know you are, babe. You’re doing so well. Look at him. You can see him inside of your cunt.”

He lifted your head by your hair, showing you the grotesque shadow of Price’s heavy rod as it shoved itself into you. You reached your hands down to it, feeling it through your skin. It was so unique. His size wasn’t like anything you’d ever experienced, and your body was sending confused signals of passion, your orgasms coming in shattered, broken waves. Feeling incomplete. Too powerful, and yet drawn out like the last note of a symphony.

As you touched him from the outside, Price moaned aloud for the first time. It shocked you. You looked up at him, managing to meet his eyes.

“Fuck,” you moaned, “You feel so good inside of me, Captain.”

“Mm, yeah?” He replied, using his hands to press yours down onto his cock, making you gasp, “You like it, baby? I’m gonna make sure you never want anybody else.”

Price reached down and grabbed you by the throat, scaring away Soap and Gaz. He lifted you up, making his dick fit inside of you that much tighter with the change of angle. Then, he began the true performance. He thrust himself in with fast, punishing strokes, slamming himself into you. You were sure you would bruise, and you felt dizzy, almost like you’d pass out.

Soap was at your side again, holding your hair away from your face,

“Look at you, lassie. Such a good girl for your captain. Takin’ that cock so damn well. Can’t wait to be back inside you, girl.”

He kissed your cheek, palm massaging his dick which was back to full mast, eager again.

“Alright, Johnny,” Price grinned, “Since you asked so nicely.”

Without any strain whatsoever, Price lifted you up by your hips and held you in the air as he fucked you, bringing you around the table so that Soap could position himself at your asshole. Ghost’s earlier efforts had made it ready for him, and you could very acutely feel how much he was throbbing to be inside of you, pulsing as he fit against Price.

“Ungh, fuck, lass,” Soap groaned as he began to thrust into you, pistoning with the captain, “He’s got you so tight for me.”

“Yeah? It feels so good. Mmm…” you whimpered, feeling more full than you’d ever been.

Johnny was holding your breasts as Price lifted you up, brutalizing your pussy. Every thrust felt like an electric pulse, making you cock-drunk and mindlessly pliant.

They worked in tandem for what felt like eons, pistoning in and out with each other. Eventually, after he had felt you come, Soap addressed his captain directly,

“Sir, I’m…please, sir, can I?”

“Can you what, soldier?” Price grunted through gritted teeth, testing his sergeant.

“Can I come, sir? Please, Cap…”

“Yeah, Johnny. C’mon, mate. Let her feel it.”

“F-fuck! Fuck…” Soap groaned, pushing himself flush against your asshole, pumping his come into you.

He caught his breath while he was still in you, kissing the nape of your neck, and then he pulled away slowly. He helped Gaz replace him, holding your ass wide apart so his comrade could position himself inside. And just when you thought your poor pussy would have room to breathe, Gaz’s incredibly long shaft was piercing your hole again.

You felt him sigh, his breath against your neck. He took over holding you up, and Price praised him,

“That’s it, Garrick. She’s all yours. Take it.”

Gaz reacted to his words in a way that made you rethink their entire dynamic. Then, you remembered how he had come when you said his name. He seemed to get harder and harder the more Price praised him, and you wanted to give him that same validation.

“Gaz,” you whispered, leaning your head back to rest on his shoulder, “It’s so big, baby. It’s like I can feel you in my throat. Oh, Gaz. Gaz!”

“Mm,” Price put his mouth to your neck, groaning, “That’s it, love. Tell him how much you like that long cock.”

“So much, Gaz. It’s so good,” you added.

Then, Price took his left hand and wrapped it around the back of Gaz’s neck in a moment of surprising intimacy. As Price kissed the front of your throat, Gaz kissed your shoulder and nape. You felt like a peeled fruit being shared between them, a ripped rind, your juicy flesh being split in two; two halves of a ripe orange.

Gaz lasted longer than Soap had when he fucked your ass, but Price’s attention seemed to spur him on. His movements were slippery, and you could feel the remnants of Soap’s come frothing around your entrance, easing his efforts.

“Captain,” Gaz whined, desperate for more of that approval.

“C’mon, Kyle. She’s ready for you. Good lad.”

The use of his first name made Gaz thrust up into you with a feverish pace. He cried out as he came, hard, into you. Feeling him fall back out of you made you imagine the tendrils of a giant kraken, seeming to travel forever just to remove himself from your body, slithering out of you with a terrible squelching noise.

Gaz let Price hold you again, and you turned, expecting Ghost. Price laughed at you, chuckling softly,

“Missing your masked man already?”

You looked at Price, feeling raw and used, waiting for an explanation,

“He’s a little…preoccupied.”

Price laid you back on the table, letting you turn your head to see Ghost, buried in Soap’s asshole up to the hilt, furiously jacking him off, slamming into him a little too roughly for your liking. It was violent, but Soap seemed to be enjoying himself beyond measure.

Your pussy, though, disagreed with your assessment, clenching around Price’s cock while you watched Simon abuse his friend’s hole.

“Mm,” the captain moaned, feeling your muscles react, “You like that, love? You wanna be fucked rough like that?”

He didn’t give you a chance to answer. Price wrapped your legs beneath his chest in a full mating press and wrecked you, pounding into your body like a giant fist. You felt your bones shudder beneath his behemoth form. Just when you thought you might puke from how overstimulated you were, you felt him pause. Then, your pussy felt like it was leaking, and it was. Price’s come just kept milking its way out of you, his cock pulsing inside, making your walls throb.

When he finished, he kissed you on the mouth, almost lovingly, reverently. He started to slide out of you, being extremely careful, and you’d never felt so empty in your entire life. It was as if you’d never be full again. You found yourself whining, whimpering for Price to return.

“That’s right, pretty girl,” Price smiled, “Never gonna want anybody else, are ya?”

You smiled, shocked and in considerable discomfort. Gaz scooped you up off of the table, cradling you, sitting down with you in his lap in a large chair. He reached down for some water and handed it to you, helping you recover.

Price was standing with his hands on his hips, panting from his exertion. Ghost and Soap were connected like two hounds, locked together, the Scot cock warming his tall lover, groaning on every exhale.

“Well, what do you think, lads? Do we have a winner?” Price asked.

“Yeah, we fucking do, Cap,” Gaz pet your head, moving your sweaty hair out of your eyes.

“Fuck yeah, mate,” Ghost growled, pawing at Johnny again, rabid for him.

“Hear that, bonnie?” Soap managed to ask, still moaning in little breaths as he was being speared by Ghost, “Got yourself a new permanent assignment.”

Price walked over to you, grabbing you by the face and kissing you once more,

“You belong to us now, love. Perfect little slut.”

AO3 Link

#call of duty fanfic #cod mw2 #cod mwii #cod #call of duty #tf 141 x reader #task force 141 x reader #task force 141 #tf 141 #141 x reader #call of duty mwii #x female reader #x fem!reader #captain john price #johnny soap mactavish #simon ghost riley #kyle gaz garrick #the gang's all here

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harstyle · 3 months

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the styles’ nanny

Summary: Y/N is a twenty-three year old uni student and Harry is a thirty-six year old single dad. Y/N is a part-time nanny and Harry is her employer. Y/N thinks Harry is hot, and Harry… well, he’s a bit confused.

Pairing: plussize-nanny!yn + older-singledad!harry

Word-count: 7.3k

Warnings: age gap (13 years), mentions of alcohol and drinking and lashing out during an argument, no happy ending yet

A/N: I don’t know why I keep writing characters that start out insecure but I swear it’ll get better later!! Let me know if you want to read more, I’m thinking maybe three parts? Also, the fact that y/n is plus-size doesn’t really become a big deal in the story, but that was how I originally had her in mind so I’m leaving it that way. Hope you enjoy!

Y/N was twenty three. She was twenty three, and she used to love being twenty three. She used to love going out to party, the feeling of alcohol burning down her throat, the rush of palpable excitement when having sex with people she’d never met before. She used to love that. But she didn’t anymore.

And the reason for that? One Harry Styles.

It was ridiculous, of course; Harry had other companions he could turn to before ever settling on her— oh and not to mention, he was her boss. Yet, it felt daring, like that time she’d fallen in love with her biology teacher or looked differently at her camp instructor in high school. Authority figures did something to her brain, and Harry was no different.

But of course there was a lot at stake and she would never actually approach the idea; it was a fantasy at most. And she thought… as long as she didn’t act on her brain’s poisoning, it would be fine.

“Y/N, did you hear me?”

“Oh,” she was snapped back to her current state following the short distraction, the butter knife in her hand now seeming more dangerous than when she’d held it seconds before. “Sorry, Harry, what was that?”

She swore she could see an amused smile tugging at his lips for a brief second. She’d always wondered what he thought of her.

“Are you free next Thursday? I have this meeting until late and I doubt I’ll be home for dinner—I was thinking you could maybe put Jamie to bed? You can stay the night if it’s too late to catch a train, or just take the other car?”

Y/N’s work day at the Styles’ house ended at five pm most days in time for Harry to get home, but she did adore Jamie, so staying longer wasn’t remotely an issue.

“That’s okay, I can just stay the night like I did last time, if that’s alright?”

Harry had insisted when she’d begun working for him that she have a room in the house where she could take naps to rest or stay the night all together when it got too tiring to catch the train home, and the notion of it had pulled at her heartstrings. He was very considerate and that was rare in bosses.

Harry shook his head, waving her off with ease, “course it’s okay.”

“Great. I should get home, I have an important test coming up tomorrow. Am I good to go?”

He glanced at the clock, noticing how late it had gotten (he’d offered to cook dinner and Y/N had never been one to reject hot men’s company) and cursed quietly to himself. “I’ll drive you.”

“Oh no Harry, really, it’s okay!”

“It’s almost eight and I feel uneasy whenever I send you away in the dark. Sides, I’m sure Jamie will love a late road trip to your flat,” he reassured with a smile, standing up as if to restrict her getting a choice and starting to load the plates into the dish washer. “Grab your coat and I’ll wait by the door. I’ll get Jamie.”

Y/N did love the way he asserted his wishes to her, kind but dominant in his decisions. He didn’t let her deter him and she, for one, didn’t mind it at all.

“Okay, thank you.”

“No problem, love.”

—

“Can I please just get one scoop? Please?”

“I’m sorry, buddy, we just don’t have any ice cream! I would let you have it if we did, but we don’t. Is there any other snack you’re interested in?”

Jamie was being fussy today and Y/N couldn’t figure out why. He’d been happy when she’d picked him up from school, raving on about his art teacher’s praise on a drawing he’d done with the widest grin resting lazily on his small lips. It had been at around three that he’d started whining at her, not wanting to eat even though he’d requested the grilled cheese and flicking through about twenty channels until he’d finally settled on not watching anything at all. Y/N had figured he was tired, but he didn’t want to sleep either, so she was left thoroughly baffled trying to find ways to tame his mood.

But he wouldn’t stop. He wouldn’t stop whining and crying, wouldn’t stop flailing his tiny arms and legs, wouldn’t stop pouting at her. Jamie had the best behaviour Y/N had ever seen on a boy, really, so this behavior worried her. “I just want ice cream!”

“Jamie, we don’t have any ice cream. How about I get you ice cream tomorrow, hm? And today we’ll have something else? Come on, remember how we learned about compromise?”

Y/N was trying, pulling Jamie into her lap to comfort him even though he didn’t care for any of it. His face was red and angry and nothing she said registered in his brain. He cried into her shoulder instead, gripping at her sides in terror. “You’re being mean to me.”

“Hey, that’s not very nice, I’m trying to help you bud.”

“Please, I just want ice cream.”

It was kind of cute how even in his state of devastation, he still managed to be polite to her.

“And I hear you, Jamie, but we don’t have any right now. Will you settle for Oreos? Or chocolate?”

He merely shook his head.

Y/N breathed a grateful sigh when she heard the front door being unlocked, still bouncing Jamie up and down in her lap in hopes that he’d settle down just a bit. She was sure Harry’d heard the crying from the front door because his steps were fast and his expression of concern clear.

“What’s wrong, bub?”

Jamie reacted with a devastating whine, calling for his dad and reaching his arms out begging to be carried. Harry shot Y/N a look of mixed confusion and apology, leveling the boy out from inside of her lap. He mouthed the question she knew he’d been thinking and felt bad when all she could offer in return was a shrug because she knew it wasn’t the ice cream anymore

Harry sung in whispers into his ear in the hopes of calming him, bouncing him around on the spot. He pressed kisses to his forehead, drawing circles on his back. It worked better than when Y/N had done it, Jamie’s sobs having soothed into few hiccups and sniffles.

Y/N couldn’t help but admire how naturally skilled Harry was at being a father. She knew a little bit of the history— his fiancée at the time leaving him for another man months after having given birth to Jamie and having to raise him by himself. He was a busy man and Y/N could often tell that he felt bad about being unable to do things like pick up his son from preschool or spend all day playing in the den, but he was still a better father than hers had ever been. He was a great father.

Not long after his crying had died down, Jamie fell asleep in Harry’s arms. Y/N finally breathed a sigh, relieved to catch a break. She loved taking care of Jamie, but jesus had today been hard. Harry carried him up to his bedroom, careful as to not bother him and advised Y/N to wait for him to come back.

Whilst Harry was putting Jamie to bed, she decided to clean up a bit. She went through the array of toys Jamie had taken out and discarded after a short minute of playing with them, and placed them back in the drawers. A smile tugged at her lips when she saw the dino plush toy she’d gifted him when she’d first started working for this family months ago— he still played with it all of the time. In fact, Harry had once sent her a photo of it sitting next to him in the car when they’d gone on vacation in the summer. She recalled tearing up because of it.

“Hi, sorry for taking so long.”

She swore she almost jumped in reaction to his thick voice, gripping the plush tightly against her chest in shock. Harry allowed himself a chuckle, raising his arms just enough to surrender. “Sorry, should’ve knocked.”

Y/N’s only response was a forced chuckle. It still felt weird to be in a room with him by herself, without the presence of a cute five year old to tend to. It was moments like these she felt guilty about fancying him. Most of the time Harry was merely a ghost around the house and whenever he settled back in, she would leave. She rarely ever had time to utter more than a quick ‘see you tomorrow’ and rush off home. It wasn’t like he was there, so her thoughts about him didn’t seem too off putting— now, with the company of awkward silence engulfing them, she couldn’t help but feel disgusted by herself.

“Think he’s getting sick,” he then added.

“Probably,” she agreed. “I don’t think I’ve seen him like that before so it was just a bit worrisome.”

“Yeah, he only really gets like that when he’s sick, so I think it’s safe to say… you’re alright, though?”

“I’m fine, just a bit worried, as I said.”

He smiled like he found that amusing, “he’ll be okay. Are you hungry? I was going to make pasta for dinner.”

“Oh, are you sure?”

Last time she’d had dinner here, Jamie had sat next to her. It hadn’t been just her and him.

“Yeah. Why don’t you put the dino down and we’ll go make it together?”

In an instant, her cheeks heated up. She hadn’t even noticed she was still clutching to it for support and figured he must’ve thought she looked so stupid welcoming the comfort of a plush toy. Another awkward chuckle escaped her as she threw it gently into its container, bucking down to lock it away as well as her memory of these last two minutes, hopefully.

Harry was a good cook, but that wasn’t really surprising at all— in fact, she couldn’t imagine there were many things he wouldn’t excel at. Y/N, on the other hand, she was terrible. She’d burned so many things in her apartments kitchen that she couldn’t keep count even if she tried. So naturally, he took the lead in every task she did, from cutting onions to seasoning the salmon.

“Wait, no, y’can’t— here,” she couldn’t help but giggle as he took the knife from her hands, cutting into the flesh himself. He huffed, but she knew it was teasing. “You’ve gotta learn how to cook.”

“I know how to cook basic things, just not some five star gourmet meal. I think you’d be surprised what I can do with some seasoning, eggs and tomatoes.”

“I have no choice but to take your word for it, do I?”

“Guess not. Can I do something else? I feel so useless.”

He clicked his tongue, not even sparing a glance her way. “Go sit on the counter and look pretty.”

And at first, Y/N didn’t know how to respond to that. Did she just… literally sit on the counter? Probably not. It was… a joke, right? How did he expect she would react to such a bizarre request? For a second the guilt she’d been feeling about potentially being unprofessional subsided in a flush.

Then he finally let his eyes settle on her and she just about fainted at what he had to say, “what? Do you need help getting up?”

She was 99% sure at this point that he just got off on pestering her, what with the dino, and now this? Prior to these last two weeks he’d never even spoken more than five words to her, and now he was inviting her to dinner. He probably found the confusion written all over her face amusing.

She could probably indulge a little then, right?

“Yeah, I do.”

He didn’t just laugh, though, like she’d expected him to— no, he ran his hands under hot water, wiped his hands on his (very) expensive trousers and walked toward her. He motioned to the counter as if asking her to get closer and—

“Wait, no, I can do it.”

He immediately stepped back, hands dropping from her waist and smirk molding his mouth.

“You can now?”

“Yes.”

He held eye contact for a few more beats before moving away with a solid nod.

What the fuck was that?

Y/N had expected him to dismiss her, uttering something along the lines of ‘I was only joking’, but that? Never would she have thought that that would be the response.

It was funny, too, because he never could’ve carried her up without at least a bit of struggle. She knew what he was used to— thin women, supermodels even, and she was neither.

So despite the confusion, she got up on the counter like he’d asked. On her own.

And when he’d started asking her about normal things like family and uni, Y/N slowly eased out of her awkward stance. She told him about her mother, her brother, and left her deceased father out of it. He smiled, nodding along to her words whenever the situation allowed it and kept his eye on the food.

A blink was all it took for him to announce dinner and the two of them sat at the table together, peacefully quiet.

It was around six thirty when the patter of tiny feet sounded through the house, from the stairs to the kitchen. Both of the adults waited patiently, eyebrows raised in surprise that the little gremlin had decided to wake up after only having slept for two hours.

“Daddy?”

Y/N almost melted at his sweet, buttery voice.

Harry hummed, “is that you, bub?”

He finally poked his head into the room, carrying a plush toy in one hand and rubbing his sleepy eyes with the other. He studied the room before settling his green irises (clone of his dad’s) on Y/N.

“Y/N, you’re still here.”

She smiled, a pity smile, and answered in a sweet tone, “I am, bud. Is that okay?”

He merely nodded, stalking closer. Harry pulled him up into his lap, kissing his forehead before letting him rest against his front.

“I wanted to apologize for being mean before.”

Her stomach did another flip.

Was this a dream, or did a five year old just apologize to her on his own incentive? She swore these Styles boys surprised her every day!

Her eyes flickered to Harry and she watched as a proud smile stretched his mouth. He met her gaze, the grin undeniably wide, and shrugged as if to say didn’t tell him to.

“That’s okay, Jamie, I understand you were frustrated. Are you feeling better?”

He nodded again, although it was weak and subtle, “my throats itchy.”

Harry’s smile faded with his confession and he pressed the back of his palm to his son’s forehead, “why’d you get out of bed, then, silly? You need to rest if you’re sick.”

“Missed you, daddy.”

She could see that same guilt she’d seen so many times before manipulate Harry’s features again, and her heart broke a little bit for him. She couldn’t keep track of the amount of times she’d wanted to just break and say you’re a wonderful father to him, but stopped herself in fear of overstepping.

Knowing he wasn’t going to say anything soon enough, too lost in his own thoughts, she went on for him. “Tomorrow is Saturday, Jamie, how about you go rest so you can have a full day with your dad tomorrow? S’not nice spending weekends sick in bed, as you know.”

In a manner that was so much more than cute, Jamie’s fingers trapped his chin to appear deep in thought, and then he nodded. “That makes sense.”

Y/N almost laughed, “doesn’t it?”

“Will you be here too, Y/N?”

Jamie knew very well that Y/N wasn’t here on Saturdays, so she guessed he was only implying that she should be. An invitation of sorts.

But she really couldn’t handle being around Harry on the weekends as well as on weekdays, so she shook her head gently, “no, but I’ll be back on Monday, is that okay with you?”

To show his dismay, he jutted his lip out in a pout. “Can’t you come over for lunch?”

Harry nudged him, “Jamie, remember how we talked about what Y/N does when she isn’t here with us?”

“School. But there’s no school on Saturdays!”

“She does school, you’re right. When you get older, there’s so much you have to do for school that it never stops, not even on weekends. And you know what else she does? She meets up with friends, she plays tennis, she goes shopping for groceries. There’s tons she has to do besides spend time with us, yeah?” He never met her gaze as he spoke to Jamie, and it was better that way— he’d probably have caught her loved up eyes if he dared to do it. He remember details about her she didn’t recall telling him about. As if it hadn’t been enough, he added onto it, “plus, I reckon she’d appreciate a break from us, huh? We’re definitely not the only boys in her life, so we should share once in a while. No matter how much we like having her around.”

It was almost magical, the connection Harry and Jamie shared with each other. Nevermind what he’d said to make Jamie understand (she definitely hadn’t missed that last sentence— or the idea of ‘other boys’ altogether), it just made her happy to listen to them converse. It was healthy, a bit serious when need be but mostly light and protective. He did everything in his power to preserve Jamie’s innocence, especially about his upbringing and the whole mother issue.

After a long train of thought, Jamie slowly nodded his small head, “okay. Fine. But I get you Monday! No other boys Monday through Friday.”

Y/N couldn’t help the laugh that tumbled from her mouth, incessant and silly. “Okay, Jamie, I promise I won’t let other boys come between us Monday through Friday, okay? Is that good for you?”

“Me and daddy, though. He’s the only other boy allowed.”

She giggled again, avoiding Harry’s gaze but nodding nonetheless, “sure. Daddy too.”

She felt Harry shift out of her periphery.

“Okay,” he finally settled, outstretching his arm across the table, “pinky promise?”

She did the same, but just before Jamie had a chance to interlink his much smaller finger with hers, she pulled back. “If I pinky promise you on this, will you pinky promise me that you’ll finally go rest?”

He hummed in agreement.

She welcomed the promise, letting her finger link with Jamie’s for a few seconds until he felt ready to let go.

“Now go lay down. I’ll see you Monday, okay?”

“Kay. Can I have a hug?”

“Of course,” she cooed at him, arms already outstretched the moment he’d climbed down from Harry’s lap. Jamie gave the best hugs, so she figured Harry would as well. She’d never gotten to test that theory, though. “Okay, good night.”

“Night.”

Jamie took slow steps (he was much like his father that way, taking his time in everything he did) and slowly disappeared into the main room, eventually stalking up the stairs as both Y/N and Harry listened for it.

“Thank you,” Harry then broke the silence. Her eyes flickered toward him, eyebrows drawing together in confusion, but a nervous smile playing on her mouth. “You’re so good with him.”

“It’s my job to be good to him.”

“It’s your job to take care of him, but you’re not… you’re doing much more than just be nice to him and I appreciate that. So thank you.”

“He’s a great kid, so… not a very difficult thing to do.”

The air had somehow become thick and unwavering, unspoken words wafting between their bodies across the table and back. Harry looked like he wanted to say more but his jaw stayed shut in place and she certainly wasn’t going to pester him about it. It was already difficult to keep in mind that despite the lighthearted dinner, he was still her employer, and that the boundaries they had been practicing since the beginning of her time here were slowly being blurred and tested.

So it didn‘t really matter what she felt whenever he spoke to her, she had to preserve herself and her position here.

She feigned a glance at the clock to justify looking away and sat up in her chair, “I should go home.”

His nod was curt, “okay. I’ll get the keys.”

“No, don’t worry, I have to stop by somewhere else before. I’ll manage.”

It was a lie, of course it was.

“Fine.”

As Y/N made her way back outside, she regretted declining his offer and the farther she walked away from the house, the more she thought about the things they could’ve talked about had she let him grab his keys and escort her home. If he would walk her to the door like last time, without Jamie in the car of course, and bid her a proper goodbye. How maybe, if they’d inched close enough, they would share a moment of hesitation before kissing. Her imagination ran wild with it and she knew that it wouldn’t really happen, but the chances would’ve been greater had she just been bad.

Shit.

—

Y/N was crying.

She was bursting into tears outside of a bar looking like a pathetic, lost idiot— and it just wouldn‘t stop. She couldn’t recall anymore what exactly she‘d expected before going into the date she‘d spontaneously agreed to as a result of her mother‘s pleas, but it certainly hadn‘t been such an embarrassing let down. Her shoulders slumped as she thought back on her date‘s words: I don’t see this going anywhere, but you’re a really nice girl. Friends?

And why was she crying? She was crying because she knew what he’d really meant was: you’re not my type at all, and this was a waste of my time. How did she know? The way he’d looked at her, with a sparkle of disgust in his eyes, the tone he’d used; pitiful and mean. How he’d looked at other, skinny girls while Y/N had been planted directly in front of him and lastly, how he’d left before the date had even ended.

Y/N hadn’t left the bar as soon as he had, no, she’d stayed until now; closing time. She’d drunk herself to exhaustion, pulling shot after shot and even worrying the barista who went to her psych class at uni. Before she’d known it, the clock had struck three am and four hours had passed since what’s-his-face had left her to rot in there.

She had no idea what to do, she could barely even form a thought. It didn’t matter that she’d been rejected— this wasn’t about that, it was about something she couldn’t quite put her finger on. Since the beginning of time relationships had been sparse and dreadful, so another notch on her belt couldn’t have mattered so much as to bring her to a multitude of tears, but she did feel unlovable and undesirable in the way she had throughout all of her life. People had told her things would get better if she waited it out, but they’d lied. Guys were still assholes.

There was really only one person she felt like contacting, and that was Harry. He’d been on her mind all weekend. She’d been wondering if she ever crossed his mind, if for a sliver of a second he allowed himself to think about her in the way she thought about him, and felt a disgustingly sour taste in her mouth when she realized the answer had to have been no.

But Y/N was drunk, and people did stupid things when they were drunk— so without much afterthought, she used the remainder of her battery on dialing his number. He answered after the first ring and her mind wandered to question the plausibility of him being awake at this hour.

“Y/N?”

She was struck watching the road in front of her, unable to answer. Her mouth opened, but nothing came out.

What had she done?

“Y/N, is everything okay?” another wave of tears overwhelmed her senses and as a result, she sobbed right into the speaker, and heard shuffling on the other side. “Sweetheart, where are you? What’s happened?”

“This guy— he just— he was so mean and he left me here—“

“Where? Where are you? Who left you?”

“The viper.”

“Y/N, that place closed twenty minutes ago. Are you inside?”

“No, she… she said I need to get out, so I did, but I didn’t know where to go cause m’drunk, and I…” there was a pause in which she realized how stupid he must’ve thought she was, “I don’t know what to do.”

“Okay, listen to me. Please stay there, don’t move, and send me your location. I’m coming to get you.”

She had no fight left in her, so she nodded to herself. Harry didn’t see, obviously, but he hung up with the hope that she’d understood him clearly.

When he arrived not fifteen minutes later, he put his car in park and hopped out to find Y/N sat on the floor, a lazy smile pulling at her lips when she laid eyes on him.

“Harry, hi! I was just thinking about you!”

He said nothing, a tick in his jaw as he helped her up on her feet, grounding her stature. She nuzzled her head into his shoulder and he kept a steady beat to bring her to warmth as quickly as possible. Y/N got the idea, aimlessly buckling up and failing miserably until he offered assistance.

“Thank you,” she murmured to him, though he refused to give a verbal response. He merely nodded, jaw still locked in place before he closed the door. Y/N watched as he walked over to the other side and opened the door.

He drove in silence and Y/N tried to be okay with that. She stared ahead, mind still gloomy, with her lips jutted out in a pout. The silent treatment made her feel like a scolded child, like Harry was her angry father who refused to speak to her because she’d come home past her bedtime. She looked over to scan over his features, make sure the crease between his forehead had subsided at least a little, but it hadn’t.

After the longest minute of her life, she finally asked, quietly, “are you mad at me?”

And when he didn’t say anything, her heart dropped.

“Oh,” she whispered.

Y/N didn’t dare to say anything for the rest of the ride. When they got back, Y/N opened her own door and hopped out, refusing to wait for Harry to help. He sighed, she could hear, but she just slowly trailed after him.

“Up on the counter,” he grumbled, grabbing a glass of water to help sober up. She took it from his hand.

“Harry, I’m sor—“

“Drink the water.”

She almost flinched at his angry tone.

Y/N was halfway done with the glass when he scoffed, unable to bite his tongue any longer, “I’m angry because you were irresponsible. First you go on a date with some dickhead—“ she opened her mouth to protest, but failed to when he put up a finger to halt her, “then you get yourself drunk and sit outside of the bar alone in a stingy area. Something could’ve happened to you, then what?”

All Y/N could say was, “it didn’t,” and it was the weakest argument she could’ve thought of.

“It very well could’ve and you’d have your stupidity to thank for it.”

Her heart banged again. She didn’t like getting reprimanded by Harry, nearly at the end of her rope anyway. She‘d never seen this side of him before, stern and miserly. Clearly Y/N had only really seen one version of him and had gotten lost in the illusion of it all.

In a last attempt to make him understand, vulnerable and naked, she let herself sniffle, “I don’t think anyone is ever going to love me.”

She‘d expected it to pull at her heartstrings more than it ended up doing— ironically enough, she felt fine confessing to him. Maybe it was the fact that she‘d bottled it up for so long that it was nice to finally admit to it, to allow somebody else to step into her shoes. Of course, every confession came with a tinge of embarrassment (it wouldn’t be a confession otherwise), but this one was still manageable. And yeah, maybe it was the alcohol coursing through her system, but who cared?

“What?”

“No one loves me. I’ve never… guys have never liked me enough to want to brag about it, or keep me around for longer than a month, and… and I do get it, cause I come with a shit ton of baggage, but it just… it takes a lot to be motivated about things that way. I’m twenty three and I’ve barely experienced what it means to love someone and actually have them love you back.”

The display of vulnerability floated heavily through the air.

He was silent for a second. He did that sometimes, she noticed, especially when he was processing things.

Once he did open his mouth, though, he knew exactly what to say, “you can’t let some immature boys get to you like this, you hear me? Tell me one good asset the guy you went on a date with had.”

Y/N shook her head, not because she couldn‘t have if she‘d thought about it hard enough but because she had no energy to continue this conversation any longer. He wouldn’t get it

“See? No guy is worth crying over, especially not on some dirty pavement outside of a bar.”

He truly did have a point there, she supposed.

But it wasn’t just about that, so she told him exactly that— well, at least tried to, “it’s more than… I don’t… I don’t feel good enough.”

“You’re being a bit silly, sweetheart.” She registered how sweet he’d gotten again, finger brushing against her knee and features softening just enough to convince her of safety. He probably felt bad for her. “You’re plenty good enough.”

“Y’don’t get it,” she murmured, “you don’t understand what it feels like to get rejected solely because of your looks.” Y/N had always felt slightly weird talking about her appearance with people who weren’t her closest friends, and even then she felt judgment coming from them. Each time they asked if she would come clubbing with them to score boys, she was never able to honestly express that she‘d never wanted to go because it was always her who was left riding home in an uber alone. And it wasn’t like she felt ugly— in fact, there were instances she felt so confident nobody could’ve told her anything, but then there were those few others… and her whole system came down crashing.

“What do you mean?”

He couldn’t be so daft, could he?

“You’re— you just don’t fucking get it, okay? It’s… whatever, I don’t care.”

That took some courage too, courage she only registered after having uttered the words, but she couldn’t say it. She couldn’t mutter the words this guy didn’t fancy me because I’m fat, because she still had more class than that— even drunk. Ever the childish, pouty person she was, she had more shame than that.

She buried her face in her hands, breathing out, “I’m sorry. Sorry, that was rude of me.”

“It’s fine,” he placed a warm hand on her thigh, thumb stroking soothingly. With a sympathetic look in his eye (confusion too, she guessed), he tried to pacify her concerns, “you need sleep, everything will be better when you wake up.”

He was probably right about that.

“Okay.”

As he escorted her up the stairs, she couldn’t help but let her eyes trail over his features, watching as they hardened and softened based on the turmoil occurring inside of his mind. She wanted to reach in there and grab onto clues, grasp an understanding of the workings of him, but he made that nearly impossible. She would look away if he caught her eye, cheeks heating up every time she was captured by his darkened green irises.

He opened the door, allowing her to take the first step. She didn’t really need the help, but she couldn’t complain when his hand posed on the small of her back so he could maneuver her onto the sheets.

“Do you want a change of clothes, Y/N?”

“Um, if you have something?”

She doubted there was anything in his huge closet that would fit her in the way she preferred, but the idea of spending the night in jeans was just as dreadful, so she took the chance and nodded.

He came back later with a stack of clothes perched on his left hand, the other holding another glass of water. “Anything else?”

Y/N paused for a moment to think and shook her head, “no. But just—“ she swallowed around the lump in her throat, “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

She couldn’t believe the words she spoke next, no thought invested into them: “will you come into bed with me?”

Time refused to pass, the ball was in his court.

When he gave a subtle nod, it was like god and the universe were sending good karma her way. Her compensation for the night. “Just until you fall asleep.”

Y/N scooted to the other edge of the bed, reaching down under the blanket to rid herself of her jeans and pull on those grey sweatpants. Surprisingly enough, they fit extremely well. Harry laid down over the blanket (to prevent getting too comfortable, probably) and perched himself onto his forearm.

Another bold wave met with Y/N’s courage as she reached out her hand to trail over his chest. Harry swallowed thickly.

“You’re really nice t’me.”

“You deserve to be treated well.” The snort that left her was completely involuntary, but it still made Harry frown. “You do.”

“Everyone does,” she later mumbled in agreement. He seemed to dislike the way she’d surrendered, though, because he did that thing with his jaw whenever he was ticked off.

What he didn’t like was the implication behind her tone that she only deserved respect because everyone did, regardless of her own character. She was disregarding her beauty and her kindness, her character, and reducing it to a commodity when it wasn’t.

He’d always had difficulty expressing his feelings, though, so he stuck with silence. Stone cold silence.

It pertained for five more minutes until he watched as sleep slowly overtook her figure, peaceful breaths cascading from her mouth. She looked so pretty asleep; relaxed, void of concerns and the crinkle in her forehead from tonight’s events dissipating into its initial form.

He wondered if she’d ever given him other implications of being an insecure girl— if she had, he’d caught none of them. He never would’ve thought somebody so effortlessly beautiful and kind as her could think to deserve less on such extreme levels. It made him wonder if anyone had ever treated her as she deserved; he noticed once that whenever she spoke about her family, she failed to mention her father. It seemed men had disappointed her in more ways than one.

There was inner turmoil bothering him. He didn’t know what he was feeling for his child’s nanny, but there was surely no other woman he felt as eager to take care of— picking her up, driving her home, clearing a room for her.

It was terrifying to allow himself these few minutes of observing her because he feared the impure thoughts which would cross his mind. Not perverse, but intimate. She deserved more than him, he was sure of it.

He left the room after another five minutes, trying to be as subtle as possible as he walked to the door. It was later than four am, so he stopped by his son’s room to check on him. When he saw nothing out of the ordinary, he finally carried himself to his own bedroom.

He would lie awake until sunrise.

—

Y/N had never woken up so panicked before, chest heaving and mind elsewhere entirely. Her head was pounding and her heart rate palpable, she was sweating all over and she could only recall last night in small, blurry tidbits.

God, and she had to face Harry. On a Monday morning.

After maybe ten minutes of lying around and procrastinating, she finally moved herself out of bed. She pulled on her clothes from last night, drank the water that was situated on her nightstand and tidied up in the bathroom before going to search for him. She looked upstairs— no trace of him, so she cascaded down the stairs and made her way to the kitchen. On the way there, his office caught her eye. The door was cracked opened and at a closer peek, she saw him sitting at the desk with his hand buried in his hair, mumbling something. She knocked, he flinched.

“God, Y/N, you scared me.”

“Sorry,” she gave a sheepish smile, “are you busy?”

“I—“ he sighed, shaking his head. It was when he spoke into the phone lying on his desk that she realized he’d been one a phone call. Before she could backtrack, he’d muttered an ‘I’ll call you later, Stace’ to them and hung up for her. She stood there, fingers interlaced in front of her body and balancing on the balls of her feet in intimidation.

He didn’t look happy either, and that was probably because ‘Stace’ was Jamie’s mother. She would call every few months, he’d told her, and cause some sort of havoc— from wanting to talk to Jamie on the phone to wanting to see him in person. When asked why he didn’t like letting her see Jamie, he’d given Y/N a very vague answer; wouldn’t do any good. She’d settled with that back then, having sensed the energy shifting.

Y/N felt bad for him now, the stress assuming control of his features almost overwhelming to look at.

He was already glancing up at her expectantly, but the words disappeared from her brain and all she wanted to do, really, was comfort him.

“I— are you okay?”

It was a visceral reaction he had to those few little words, the furrow in his eyebrow deepening, “yes, why?”

“Because… well because you were talking to Stacie on the phone—“

His scoff interrupted her pity stutter, “so you’re listening in on my conversations now?”

Oh, she was no longer sorry; she was scared. “No! No, I’m not, I swear! I was walking past looking for you and I heard you mumble something, I don’t— I would never…” and he must’ve known that. He must’ve known that she would never, ever listen in on his conversations, nor try to overstep the line by doing that (obviously she’d fucked up last night, but aside from that). He knew her, he’d trusted her for long enough for her to know that he knew that, so his accusation ticked her off.

But he looked terrifying right now; eyes dark, eyebrows furrowed, closed off stance, and nothing like the Harry she’d gotten to know well. And she had no idea if it had been last night or this that had finally pushed him over the edge.

“So why bring it up?”

“Because you— because you’ve talked about it before and I was just— I wanted to check on you!” She was stuttering like an idiot, she was aware, but with her comfort bubble gone, her speech wasn’t a reliable asset anymore. She’d always been terrible at communication and even worse at confrontation. And he must’ve known that because he was using it to his advantage— and that was mean, because he knew she would never. He knew. Didn’t he?

“It’s not professional, Y/N, but I’m sure you know that. I’m sure you know that last night wasn’t either, but you keep fucking pushing me.”

And that… well, was partly right.

“I know last night wasn’t…” she shook her head, “it wasn’t professional, I know that. I don’t know why I called you, I don’t get it either, it just happened, really, and I wanted to apologize. I understand if you—“ she peered down toward her hands, swallowing the lump in her throat, “if you don’t feel comfortable with me being here anymore. With your son, I mean, I’d totally understand.”

Y/N thought that was quite sensible of her. Of course, if she could get a chance to have a repeat of last night, she would take it in a heartbeat— but she couldn’t, so this was all she could do. She loved working here, giving it up would hurt, but she understood if that was what needed to be done.

“You just… you can’t fucking call me at three am in the morning drunk off of your arse—“

“I know that—“

“Clearly you don’t!” And she detested how his voice raised. “And clearly you don’t get that there are things you just can’t talk about; like Stacie, or your own relationships, or whatever the fuck else you’ve brought up to me.” If she felt like a scolded child yesterday, then she’d had no idea how bad it could get. “I’m your— I’m your employer, not your fucking therapist. I’m not here to clean up your fuck-ups, pat you on the head and tell you it’s alright.”

Her eyebrows furrowed because she knew that too, and she found it borderline preposterous that he would imply she didn’t.

There was a 180 here, and she was becoming less and less understanding.

“I told you I don’t know why I called you, Harry, I don’t know! What am I supposed to say? I was terrified and sad and don’t ask me why, but you’re the only person who actually gets what I’m talking about half of the time, so it just happened!”

“You act like I’m somehow responsible for you.”

Her frown deepened; she hated the notion that he had to take care of her in some way, as if she was incapable of it on her own account. “On what basis? I think you might be pressuring yourself into that, Harry, because it’s fucking ridiculous. I never made you do anything.”

He released a frustrated breath, “you have to stop worming your way into our lives— you’re our nanny, that’s it. You don’t ask me about my personal life, you don’t call me in the middle of the night to make me worry and you don’t ask me to get into bed with you.”

“You act like I don’t know that!”

“Evidently you don’t.”

“Yes I d—“

“Just—just stop. Stop talking.”

It shut her up. It did not only that, the increase of his volume had made her flinch on the spot. She wasn’t a fan of confrontation, as mentioned before, but what she despised even more was yelling. She couldn’t stand yelling, fighting, accusations being thrown in the air with no regard to anyone’s feelings. It was an extremely sensitive thing for her and she definitely hadn’t expected to experience it with him today.

Y/N saw him a little differently in this light. The sternness with which he delivered those words, strict and mean, reminded her of her childhood. He saw her weakness, saw the stress she was under, and did nothing to relieve the situation. Instead he’d yelled at her.

Her hand was shaking a little and tears were forming in her eyes. She couldn’t let him see it, though, the weakness. She couldn’t allow him to see that a simple instruction had made her want to cry.

“I can’t deal with you today, Y/N, so please just… just go.”

She left without another word— straight up turned around and closed the door behind her with shaky hands. She couldn’t stand him right now, but even more she couldn’t stand herself.

She’d fucked up so badly.

And maybe… maybe she needed to quit.

part two!

And there we have it! don’t hate me for that ending it was necessary!

#harry styles fanfiction #harry styles angst #harry styles x you #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fan fiction #harry styles fic #harry styles concept #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x reader #harry styles #harry styles x plus size reader #harry styles series

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redwing4life · 2 months

Text

Prettier Than a Van Gogh

PAIRING: Bucky Barnes x Fem!reader

WARNINGS: Bucky struggling with self image, a frankly illegal amount of fluff

SUMMARY: You suggest painting Bucky’s back to help him see the beauty he fails to see in the mirror

WORD COUNT: 1333

“Honey, I’m home!”

Your voice rings out from the entryway of the apartment, your tone light as you use the phrase you’ve come to love. Bucky said it once when you first moved in together, unaware of its old fashioned nature; you teased him for it in the following weeks, and yet you’ve come to find it endearing - now using it each time you walk through the front door.

“Bucky?” You call out, met with silence once more. While you’re used to coming home to a quiet apartment, the lack of a usual reception of hugs and kisses is worrying.

Concern tugs at your brows as you kick off your shoes. You consider for a moment that he’s been called away on a mission - something that happens every now and then - but his boots still sit on the shoe rack and there’s no sticky note on the wall from him.

“Bucky, darling? You home?”

Spinning round the corner that leads to the open plan kitchen and living room, your frown deepens upon seeing no sign of your boyfriend; the bathroom door is open and he’s not there either. Your eyes lock on the bedroom door that sits slightly ajar before your feet carry you forward.

You knock gently on the wood and peek inside, “Love?”

Oh how your heart drops at the sight before you. The reflection of the mirror Bucky is stood in front of shows you the shame etched across his features. He’s wearing the dark blue and green plaid pyjama bottoms you got him for Christmas with no shirt on.

You’ve found him like this before, him staring with disgust at the scars littered across his torso, but mainly his shoulder. It’s like a knife to the stomach every time you see him with that look in his eyes; if only he saw himself the way you do.

Feet pattering against the hardwood floor, you approach Bucky with eyes trained on his - though he’s yet to glance at you.

“I thought we agreed you didn’t have to do this to yourself anymore, sweetheart” You say, voice quiet and dripping with love. Coming to a halt behind him, you drag your fingers up and down his toned back a couple times before stretching them around his waist.

Bucky’s skin tingles at the warmth of your hands, now flat against his stomach. “I don’t know how to stop” His lips twist into a grimace.

“Then we’ll learn how to.” You reply, slowly stroking the skin beneath his belly button. “Cause you deserve to see yourself the way I do”

You almost gasp when Bucky finally meets your eyes through the mirror, wondering if you’ll ever get used to his beauty.

“Do I?” He asks with a frown.

“Oh, honey,” You press a kiss to his shoulder blade, “you deserve that and so much more.”

His lips turn up slightly and you revel in the way his body responds to you. Your right hand reaches out to grab his vibranium one, raising them up with your palms flat against each other. Still stood behind him, your fingers intertwine while your eyes never leave each others.

You continue, “You may not see that yet, but i’ll spend every minute of our lives teaching you to see it too”

He spins in your arms while still holding your hand and rests his flesh one on your hip. Naturally, you start swaying from side to side, dancing to the hustle and bustle of the street outside. You find yourself thinking of ways to help him while your head rests on his chest.

“Hey, Buck?” You mumble against his chest.

“Yes, doll?”

“I have an idea”

Bucky was skeptical of your plan at first, but your big smile and excited bouncing on the spot won him over. Not that it takes much persuasion when it comes to you.

So now he finds himself lying on his stomach on your bed while you straddle his back, slowly sketching out a drawing on his back.

“Can I at least get a vague idea as to what you’re gonna paint on my back, sweets?”

You giggle to yourself quietly, “Nope.”

Bucky rolls his eyes but can’t hold back a grin. You’re being very secretive as to what you’re planning; you said you want him to just enjoy relaxing for now.

“Okay, you ready?” You ask, dipping a brush into the paint on your palette.

“Yes, ma’am”

When the brush makes contact with the small of Bucky’s back, his back tenses at the unusual sensation. “Fuck, doll, it’s cold” His voice is muffled with the pillow beneath his chin.

You mutter an apology, gently running your hand up and down his side comfortingly, trying to counter the cool brush with your warm hands. “Do you want me to stop?”

“No,” He replies quickly, “keep going”

So you do. You spend nearly an hour swirling paint over your boyfriend’s back, incorporating his scars into your design. Blues and yellows blend together to form a version of Van Gogh’s starry night, curving round his vibranium shoulder and down to the middle of his back.

Bucky stopped fighting the fatigue that was tugging at him, unable to keep his eyes open any longer. He’s slept peacefully for the last twenty minutes to the bizarrely satisfying feeling of being painted; a content smile has graced your lips ever since he fell asleep, happy to see him so comfortable in your presence.

You never take for granted how Bucky lets his guard down around you. You may not be able to control his feelings toward himself, but you can certainly give him every reason to trust you.

The painting is nearly finished as the super soldier stirs beneath you, a sigh falling from his lips.

“How’s it going, doll?” He asks, trying to turn and look at your work only to have his eyes covered.

“No looking! I’m nearly done” You squeak, desperate to keep it as a surprise. “Just a couple minutes and you can see it”

Bucky hums in response, returning his attention to the movie playing on the tv.

Finally finishing up with some detailed strokes, you drop the brush in the water jar and tidy up. When everything is cleared, you help Bucky to stand up without smudging your work, leading him back to the mirror you found him in front of only a few hours ago. Your hands rest on his hips, drawing circles on his skin without even realising you’re doing it.

“Okay, if you don’t like it we can wash-“

“I already love it, y/n. You could’ve painted a rotten apple and i’d wear it for a week if I could” He interrupts you. You can’t help but admire him right now, a soft expression on his face.

“Okay, you can look”

Silence falls upon the room as Bucky turns to face you and plants a quick kiss on your forehead before looking over his shoulder.

“My god, sweets”

“Is that a good ‘My god’ or a bad ‘My god’?”

He can’t tear his eyes away from his body for the first time since the 40s. “It’s beautiful, y/n. I-“ Words fail him and you swear you see a tear in his eye.

“That’s how I see you, Buck.” You say. “You take my breath away every time I see you. Your scars are part of you, so I love them too”

He turns back to you and holds your face in his hands, “I love you so much, doll. You’re so damn talented, and to have you use it for me- it makes me wonder what I did to deserve you”

You raise your hands to cover his. “You deserve the world, my love. More than I could ever give you”

“Well,” Bucky grins and rests his forehead on yours, “lucky for you, you’re all I want”

AUTHOR’S NOTE: eeee my first fic, please like and reblog if you enjoyed - maybe give me a follow toooo ;)

#bucky barnes #bucky fluff #james bucky buchanan barnes #bucky fanfic #bucky x you #bucky x reader #buckybarnesbirthday #buckysbirthday #james bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barns fanfiction #bucky x y/n #bucky x female reader #bucky fic #bucky barns x y/n #sebastian stan

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beiasluv · 7 months

Text

forbidden fruit | Charles Leclerc

a/n: new to the f1 communityy 😬 apologies for any term or idea i got wrong. female!reader. no proofread! enjoyy 🤍

summary: the princess of mercedes and the prince of ferrari, what could possibly go wrong?

“y/n! y/n! she’s in her last turn! leclerc’s trailing behind! can he do an over take?”

splashing champagnes and listening to the dutch national anthem were never your favorite of winning a podium, but who cares?

you were on P3 and charles leclerc was not.

perhaps retelling the story of your rivalry with the monégasque driver would take a whole frustrating, aggravating, and lengthy year for us to get through; and perhaps it was for the best to leave it where it is, never to be touched, but to reminisce with a needle of cringeness poking through your heart.

although an honorable mention to verstappen, for taking the lead role of leclerc’s personal favorite rival.

it was all an inchident, of course.

smirking back to the driver in a flashing, scuderia ferrari, red fire suit, you could only feel your ego bubbling to the top of your throat. charles leclerc was staring. and staring hard. what a shame you couldn’t even take out your phone and take a snippet of his raging glance. what a fun sight for the whole news headlines to see.

‘charles leclerc, envy and jealousy…’

of course, he couldn’t lash it out. how could he? would the handsome, young, and talented ferrari driver want to ruin his reputation in the media? obviously, not.

of course, you knew it all too well. every day you wake up with the tip of a knife, aiming at your throat, ready to nick you anytime you take a wrong step on the luxurious path of an f1 driver. being the only female driver on the grid makes your life a thousand times more challenging.

but who were you to be a nitpick?

the media loves drama. we all do. perhaps it was a little bit more entertaining to see what you are wearing when the races had gone wrong. what hairstyle were you wearing for the big race? or, maybe, just which driver you were dating on the grid this season?

never once you could escape the dating questions or all the bullshit misogynistic attitudes from the journalists, press, media, and, well, …you name it.

perhaps you have to give it to leclerc for never going easy on you just because you are of a different gender.

“congratulations on P3, y/n,” max turned towards you and gave you a pat on the shoulder; simultaneously, bringing you back to reality.

“t- thanks.”

—

“you win this one, l/n.”

he took off his helmet, and clutched it loosely to his side. the cheeky smirk plastered on his face. the eyes searched for the depth of yours.

only you knew how much pain it was for him to force his lips to create such a soft and fake smile for the thousand camera lenses, waiting to catch the two rivals lacking. bumping into leclerc after the race, fresh and full of adrenaline, alone in the hallway of the track was never an enjoyable experience to endure.

“good race, leclerc,” you muttered out as many PR and drivers walked past you two.

“same to you.”

what a shame your PR manager ushered you out for the media room before you two could give a shot of throwing hands - elegantly, of course.

—

“good work on the qualifying round, l/n. return to the garage. over.”

“copy that,” you tapped your headset, notifying the engineer of the prestigious mercedes team.

driving for mercedes in f1 could count as your biggest dream since the karting days. and the race won against ferrari was a - personal - success.

slowing your baby down, and pressing the brake mechanism of the car, you came to a halt as the friction overpowered the tires. one or two seconds later, you could hear the mercedes team rushing and scurrying over to your parked position to collect you back to the mothership.

“take her back, guys!”

the screaming of your fans nearby erupted as you ascended out from the cramped space of your f1 seat. taking your helmet off, and waving to them; you gracefully jumped down from the car and headed towards the mercedes headquarters.

a long walk, but who are you to make a fuss?

an f1 driver should have no problem walking a couple of miles. oh but how annoyingly a group of fans quickly crowded over you and blocked your ways…red flags, horses, and charles leclerc faces. clearly, you knew whose fans they were.

fussing, grabbing, and pulling, you were harassed, unfortunately. autographs, hats, pictures, postcards, and questionable stuff were pushed into your face.

“y/n! please! sign my shirt!” “get the hell away from charles!”

“charles deserved p3 today!” “l/n!! l/n! say hi to my dad! he loves you!”

trying to fulfill all of their requirements, you realized you had found yourself in the sea of scuderia ferrari fans. it is an unspoken fact that you were the rival of charles leclerc; you could say some fans were more enthralled by that fact than others.

“y/n! what do you think about charles? are you guys dating?”

sometimes you hate technology. the cameras pointing at you reminded me of the knife you carry mentally with you every day. it could gain you thousands of thousands of likes in a few tiktoks or perhaps get ready to say goodbye to your f1 position.

“…we’re not talking. in any complicate way,” smiling through the pain you signed the cap that was shoved into your face. gosh, mercedes. where was your security?

your patience could only last so much until one fan decided it was worth it to grab your hand and pull you down for an instagram-worthy photo. and he possibly thought the best way to execute it was to, firstly, seize your waist. how thoughtful of him.

“fuc- please don’t-”

“y/n! i love you!”

man-child was not having it. sweaty and clammy hands could send chills down your spine if you didn’t know.

“please-”

smile through the pain. smile through the pain. it was all part of the job, at the end of the day. the fans still won and you were just a doll for f1. breathe in, breathe out.

he pulled his iphone 7 out of his pocket, painfully slow; slower than the ferrari’s pitstops. his side was squished to yours. the cologne, the smell, the sensory, everything-

“hey, hands off.”

you could say it was the first time you were glad to see charles leclerc from your entire life; wearing his race suit sluttily around his waist. leclerc - being leclerc - stunned his fans, leaving a big hole in the crowd around you.

he was reaching out for your waist; surprisingly, in a way you were pleased, and pulled you out of the red crowd. and just like magic, the security came rushing in and ushered the mob of fans away from the scene.

wearing that stunned face of yours, you regained consciousness and your rival emotions. clearing your already cleared throat, charles took it as a signal to let go of your waist. how suddenly you realized it was all happening over the armor of your fire suit.

thank god.

“..thanks”

“no need to thank me,” the competitive tone made its way through his annoying lips again. scoffing, he looked at you with his hand clutching his helmet by his side, “i don’t understand why they need to adore you this much.”

how rude.

“for the record, they are your fans, leclerc,” you scoffed offendedly, and your hand found its natural place on your chest; clutching for dramatic effect.

“what did i do to deserve such loyal fans, l/n…” not even looking at you he smirked under his nose. “they shouldn’t be acting this way, no?”

he looked over at you, seeing you in your distressed state and a chuckle left his lips. the cameras settled on the stands far away in the distance and stared at you two, they were definitely on.

shit.

this is going to end up in the headlines.

—

“check out your new title…” your manager cleared his throat as you nervously waited.

“you can’t just leave me hanging here!”

placing your phone in your lap your hands returned to the comfort of the steering wheel. twisting and turning, you maneuvered your mercedes inside the driver's garage.

“calm the fuck down! i’m pulling out the source for accuracy,” you swore you could see your manager rolling his eyes. “wait for it…‘charles to the rescue. mercedes and ferrari, love or rivalry?’”

“shut up.”

“i can send you the links.”

“please don’t,” you sighed as you looked over your shoulder to slide into the parking lot like a distinguished f1 driver. “…the devil works hard, but the media works harder, or what?”

“we could use a little PR for mercedes, y’know?” the crackled chuckle left your phone.

please.

“the signal is shit in the parking lot, i’ll see you at the paddock. bye.”

“alright, be quick.”

gathering your bag and phone, you checked your face one last time in the rearview mirror and opened the car door. unfortunately, the infamous ferrari entered the parking lot with its signature roars, as you stepped out of your car.

the devil had worked hard once again. walking to your trunk, you kicked it open and snatched some of your essential stuff for the race. and who would’ve thought charles leclerc could park his car in under 20 seconds?

not to mention, it wasn’t straight. (oops)

getting out of his car, he checked his hair and fixed his shirt. obviously, aware of the paparazzi lurking around the track’s garage for the big day, and hoping to sell a couple of pics for something a little more than a couple of bucks. perhaps an even better price for them if they caught you and your rival having a ‘friendly’ chat.

don’t get close to him. don’t get close to him.

“what a coincidence,” leclerc approached your mercedes as he locked his ferrari with its infamous beeping.

“how so?”

smirking back at him, you slammed your trunk closed and shut off; locking your car in the same manner. catching the glimpse of his eyes you made it your personal goal to escape him as fast as you could possibly can.

flicking your head away and taking off, the path inside the track was as empty as you hoped it could be.

“slow down, i just wanna talk.”

“leclerc.”

“you walk too fast,” you swore if you looked back and he is grinning. “you trying to escape from me?”

fuck.

“got a problem with that, leclerc?”

his dark green eyes met yours after you decided the risk was below the ‘manageable’ level to turn around.

“no,” he grinned at you. how you wish you could smack it off of his face. “i jus’ want some company while walking to the track, no?”

company, my ass.

clearing his throat, he looked at you, “you’re a pretty good rival though.”

gaining a nod and a smirk from you leclerc was cut short of his run time as his PR manager came to collect him to the ferrari garage. how sad. his messy hair, the confidential wave, and two eyes met yours one last time before you decided to head to the mothership of your mercedes headquarters.

big trouble, y/n. big trouble.

—

“y/n, we neeed to talk.”

the paddock was usually quiet upstairs, all the mechanics and engineers spent their time in garage down below. only toto, george, lewis, your manager, and their managers, and - obviously - you would spend time up here. also. is every private manager in the world annoyingly scary and friendly at the same time or what?

sitting down next to you on the black sofa of the mercedes headquarters by the pitch, you were face-to-face with your lovely manager.

clearing your nonexistent anxiety, “…yes?”

“look…the media is starting to notice your relationship with charles…”

“and..?”

“and,” he crossed his arms, “we need to work on keeping this situation private…it could affect your reputation. maybe after the soft launch phase is over, you can publicize it…if you want to, obviously.”

the fuck?

“…what are your thoughts?”

he looked into your face, not a single thought behind it. somehow the racetrack outside the notoriously big, shiny window of the mercedes paddock suddenly gained your attention, and he restored to snapping his fingers in front of your face.

“what-? oh right- for fuck’s sake! we’re not in a relationship!”

“and what about those paparazzis’ pictures? I thought we agreed on sharing every ‘public’ detail about your life with me?”

“first of all, privacy. second of all. you believe that?! anthony! you’re my manager, i would’ve told you if i was dating a ferrari driver!” grabbing a quick breath,

“do you think i want to date the reddest of all flags on the grid?!”

“yeah? but that’s not the impression the media got,” he said. “even max! max verstappen thought-”

“who cares what max thinks!” you thrown your head back on the sofa.

“PR could be good, but we don’t know if it’s going to blacklash-”

george russell. he walked up to you two arguing on the black sofa and smirked at you; clearly, he heard your talks about ‘the reddest of all flags on the grid.’

“shut your mouth, russell,” sighing sarcastically as you could and you turned to your manager, who was having the time of his life.

“I’m not saying anything,” he raised his hands defensively, grinning the shit out of the corners of his mouth.

“I’m a driver, not a play doll you could match-make for the team’s reputation. hell. doesn’t charles have a girlfriend?”

anthony pulled out his phone and scrolled through ‘something,’ “yes…charles…has a girlfriend, PR relationship?”

“what do you mean?”

putting his phone away, “doesn’t matter. but what the media care about is to get a story out of nothing.”

“…and?”

“you have a reputation of being a private figure, and you're an expert in keeping it that way. we just need to do that until the end of the season.”

george chuckled sarcastically, "she seems angry at us, guys.”

“i am. and i’m not dating anyone for mercedes. done,” you stood up from the sofa and beelined towards the door. “also. i’m telling toto.”

and someone finally heard you this time. the whole room’s atmosphere seemed to tense up as someone entered the door.

toto wolff.

“is there a problem, y/n?” toto asked as george smirked at the unfolding situation.

you swung your head towards the origin of the sound and cleared your throat, “your employee, mr. wolff, is trying to matchmake me with a ferrari driver.”

toto chuckled.

toto chuckled?

“so there is something between you and charles?” he raised his eyebrow at you. expectedly, george was holding his laughter in for his dear life.

“why does everyone thinks that we’re dating?! even toto?!”

“so you’re not dating leclerc?”

“no!”

congratulations. you have successfully crashed onto the sofa once again, groaning your pain out.

“she’s lying,” george chimed in.

“I. am. not.”

how surprising that george’s back kissed the sofa as you tackled him jokingly down. a moment of silence for toto to watch many of his best drivers tackle each other like it’s a normal day in kindergarten.

“are you sure you are not dating, leclerc?”

last straw. you clutched your bag and left george dysfunctional on the couch. walking past the room, you glanced back one last time and said with the best sarcasm, “i’m not. and I’m not dating him for mercedes. done! I’m a driver, not a doll!”

slamming the door shut, you headed for your private driver’s room.

"she's angry at us…” george chuckles nervously; obviously, with a hint of joy.

“no shit sherlock”

—

edit: part 2

part 2?? reblog, like, whatever the heck you want would be appreciated 😘

today’s a great day to take care of yourself, lots of luv 🤍

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r3ynah · 3 months

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What's wrong with clones? what's wrong with me?

Dani was greatful for her mom, she was greatful that he was supportive and living when she first met him, and even after the fight she was happy that Danny didn't throw her away with hatred in his eyes, she would've understand it nonetheless, just imagine someone assaulting your DNA to make a copy of you? it was traumatizing or the both parties, based on experience.

But if it wasn't for Danny, she wouldn't be here at this place were she stands. It has been about 20 years since she was born, and her mom step backed from heroism and passed it down to her which she accepted with pride. Her mom deserves a break.

And without her she wouldn't be part of the Justice League, and wouldn't be meeting all this amazing people, they have loved dani and took care of her ever since she joined. and she was happy. what more could she ask for? well she was a bit lonely afterall.. and that was selfish of her, she already have her mom, her friends, what else could she even ask for?

Dani, Hero name Wraith, walked down the halls of the watchtower when she heard a ruckus in one of the meeting rooms, letting her curiosity get the best of her she took a peek in the room, where she found a bunch of Heroes surrounding a boy that looks a little too much like Superman. and Superman in the corner holding his head in stress? Agony? Dani doesn't know.

She stepped into the room, only for Wonder woman to notice her, She gave Dani a wave which she returned with a smile, she moved near Wonder woman in curiosity and asked: "What's going on? why's the Adults surrounding a kid?"

Wonder woman looked at her with a stare she didn't understand, before she answered. "He's a clone of Superman, we found him trying to kill the man, just last week, and this is the first time he's let out." She explained while pointing at the kid.

Dani let out a gasp of delight, "Really? Holy shit. I got to talk to the kid!" Before Diana could stop the girl she was already at the new clone's side, pushing the other heroes away.

The Clone angrly stared at the new person, infront of him. "What you'll interrogate me too?."

"What? Why would you think that?" Dani giggled as she circled the boy, her eyes darting back and forward to superman and the boy to see the similarities. "Ancients, you really look like Superman, what's wrong with you?"

"What do you mean by that?" The kid asked very confused.

"I mean you're healthy and fine, i don't get why the league is going haywire towards you." Wraith chuckled, as she floated upside down infront of the kid.

Silence embraced the room, as the sound of a steel chair echoed throughout the room.

"Didn't you hear what Wonder Woman said Wraith?" Superman walked big steps towards the two making other heroes take a step back, from the man of steel. "It's a clone."

"okay, Okay, Wait i feel i said something wrong?" Dani returned to her normal position, making sure she's not levitating upside anymore as she looked at older man infront of her in confusion. "What's the problem here?"

The room was quiet huh that was unusual with, there was a thick atmosphere that you can cut it with a knife.

"The problem? This is the problem." Superman angrily stated as he pointed at the kid, who looked ready to fight the man infront of him any second now.

"What? superman i don't get its just a clone and a child-" Wraith was cut off rudely. by the man infront of him.

"Ofcourse you don't get it, you don't get how it feels to be cloned, you don't get how traumatizing it is for your DNA to be stolen, That is not a child." Superman snapped, making Dani take a step back. "So stop acting like its a normal kid, that thing will never be like us, because its a mistake created by some lousy villain, who tried to stop and kill me, clones don't deserve love nor respect, and they certainly don't deserve families. Now Stop acting like you get it."

Silence, surrounded the room as Superman finished letting his anger out at Wraith who stared at him wide eyed confusion seen her face, she looked at her peers who only looked apologetic and those who looked down the floor and then there was batman

she shifted her gaze towards the, boy who she can see was trembling, The boy was crying. oh no. no. please don't cry.

"I get it." Wraith stated, keeping her ground, only babies cry she wasn't a baby now, she grew out of that phase.

She returned her gaze back at Superman who still was looking at her. it really looked like he didn't mean to snap at her. But that shit Hurt who knew he had it him, is this what Danny felt when he found out about her, was he in reality sick of her? no. No. Danny loved her, he said so himself.

"Wraith please no-" Wonder woman, called out trying not to get the girl in more trouble.

"No. I get it. I'm really sorry for you Superman, and how you got traumatized by some of your DNA getting stollen, I am really. But with all due respect you can't treat him like a thing, because he's a clone." Wraith spoke back, now more confident than ever. the kid perked up from this and raised his head, he was really crying.

"And what do you know about that? Wraith." Oh no Hero names, She knew she struck a nerve, Superman was back at being angry.

"What I know, is that you're right, clones don't deserve love and respect, clones don't deserve anyone because all they do is hurt and destroy." For a second everyone thought Wraith changed sides. Wraith glared at superman, he wanted her to agree with him, oh she'll agree with him alright. "Clones like me, don't deserve anything."

"What?"

Everyone in the room was shocked but to scared to speak, afraid to start something.

"Thank you, Superman. For showing me that I didn't deserve my mom, Because to be honest you're fucking right, all I did for my mom was pain and agony." Dani was now raising her voice, at the man infront of her.

"You're a clone?" Superman managed to ask, his eyebrows almost touching his hairline.

"Hell yeah, And you know what age he got me. Fourteen, He became my mom at the age of fourteen, he took care of me at the age of fourteen, he loved me like his own daughter at the age of fourteen" Wraith laughed out loud, tears threatening to stream down her face. "You know what's funny superman? I tried to also murder him, I tried to also kill my template. And yet he took me in, and said that it wasn't my fault. it wasn't my fault that i was born, It was never my fault, he comforted me as i cried to him about my other brothers who i watched slowly die and melt apart infront of my eyes, he didn't hate, he didn't isolate, he only loved and cared."

Wraith was now crying. as she gritted her teeth.

"Wrait-"

"you we're right. I didn't deserve my mom. if he had just killed me from the start, he would've been more happy and not worry about me, My mom is the kindest being in the world in my own eyes, and he'd done everything for me ever since he was fourteen." Dani looked down at the ground, with clenched hands. "I was born as a six years old, but in reality i was only two months old. it's funny how im the same age right now when my mom first had me. My body maybe 20, but my brain is 14, keep that in mind Superman."

She looked around her peers, but couldn't see anyone but her reflection in those glass walls, she's crying, she didn't want to cry. "You've been hating on that kid, but Superman let me remind you that kid." She looked at the child who was still sitting on the chair but now with a look of confusion, eyes red from crying. "Is only a few months old despite its physical appearance, you've been hating on a newborn baby, like a deadbeat dad, and that's just sad."

Dani can hear a snort in the background. She swore that sounded like her mom.

Superman looked defeated and guilty, Dani was tired she wanted to cry, in the arms of her mom, but she can't leave the other kid here, so she made a rash decision. "If you don't want him, I'll take him."

Protest engulfed the meeting room, but Dani didn't care, she passed Superman and headed towards the black haired kids, direction. "Wanna come with me?" she asked, while having her hand out for him to take.

The kid looked at her hand, before grabbing it. Dani smiled and summoned a portal, she took the kid with her, her mother's not gonna like this and she might take a break from JL a couple of months, Oh well its all worth it.

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cu7ie · 7 months

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BIMBOFICATION. ft. geto suguru

(>◡•́)— ★ authors note. IM BACK BITCHES. WITH THE HORNY SHIT AKAKKAKAKA . kinktober day one! masterpost here. ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝ content warnings. dumbification, reader is a bimbo - ditzy, hypersexual, huge airhead vibes be warned. they are obedient and listen to what geto tells them. reader wears feminine clothes, has a 'clit', and is referred to as a 'girl', no use of she/her (ahahaha i love gender things). cock sucking throat fucking all that nasty gluk gluk shit y'eard?

You’re not stupid.

Forgetful, yeah! Occasionally uneducated, of course. But dumb? You’d surmise that conclusion to be a bit of a stretch; despite how often you find yourself trying to convince people of the contrary.

It is typical of humans to forego their ‘common sense’ on occasion, though it never seems to be a problem when anyone else does it! When Gojo eats all his candy and doesn’t share with anyone at the party, it’s cool; but when you do that, you get all kinds of pushback: “What’s wrong with you?” Nothing! The chocolate was gonna melt if you didn’t do something about it! “What are we supposed to give to the trick or treaters now?” All the twizzlers you left behind, duh.

Shoko gave you a look and sipped her sake, Gojo’s pointed barks of laughter chasing you back to the comfort of the kitchen. There you see Geto; your boyfriend, whose presence settles amicably in the gaps of your expression when he looks up at you with that beckoning fondness. He crooks his fingers and you bound over quite thoughtlessly, much to his evident amusement.

Despite how much you insisted on matching costumes, Geto struck out of his own accord, the fake knife accompanying his Ghostface costume down on the counter. The real knife he was using to cut up the peppers is set aside as he busies himself with the sink.

You’re wearing one of those sexy school uniforms. Mini bordering on microskirt, paired with a cute number that shows your midriff- the dip in your chest. Your gogo boots click noisily on the floor a little as you sidle up next to him.

Geto pats your head when you get close enough, hands damp after a fresh rinse, and you preen from the contact. “Hey babyyy!” You gush a little, setting down the rest of the candy on the counter. “Can you get me a bowl?” He tilts head at you a little, looks down at the bag a second.

“Babe, didn’t I tell you to get the big bag?” Geto asks and shuffles over to the cabinet as you wash your hands to pick up where he left off. “Yeah! I did, doesn’t it look big to you?”

“Yeah… of course it does. But remember that conversation we had about eating things that aren’t yours?” He brings back the bowl, but also a sternness to his grin, which all of a sudden doesn’t meet his eye. “Well yeah Suguru!” You’re looking down now, cutting vegetables with sudden interest and precision, sweeping it up into little piles. “It's not like I'm stupid …” His figure lingers in your periphery as the words leave your lips, the air about him suddenly feeling … tense.

Then his hand is on yours.

“Look at me honey.” He gives you a squeeze, and you go to look up on instinct. Hesitate. “What?” Your grip on the knife softens, and it soon clatters atop the cutting board. “What, I said.”

“I never said you were stupid.” Your eyes met his before you realized, and the indignant scowl you want to make shrivels up inside you like a dried cocoon. “You just have a hard time saying what you mean right?” He blinks owlishly at you. “I know you don’t wanna lie to me.” “But I’m not-” Geto interrupts with a shake of his head. “Maybe one time I could forgive you, but twice? To my face?” You feel the sun in your face, fire hot heat setting you ablaze with embarrassment, feigned ignorance. A nagging feeling to obey. “I… I..”

“You?” He chimes cloyingly. You stiffen your upper lip. Hone your resolve.

“M’not lying! Now lemme go!” Your arm budges when he wants it to, so you’re not quite moving until a few agonizing seconds pass, when Suguru lets out a low whistle and sigh, shaking his head at you dismissively, before you’re allowed to resume cutting vegetables. He dumps the candy into the rest of the bowl and takes his leave, chattering with his friends in the living room before coming back, empty handed.

The silence is maddening. He comes back, shuffles around the kitchen, then stops somewhere just beyond your sight, and craning your neck to look back at him would beckon his scrutiny. So you refrain. Stir fry the vegetables, and refrain. Feel a bead of sweat crest on your forehead and slide down your cheek from the heat. Refrain.

The breath against your neck is sudden and swift as Suguru fixes himself behind you, knocking his head gently against yours as a grasping hand slides over your stomach. He goes for the gas on the stove before you can get a protest out, his other hand teasing the rim of your skirt, smoothing down a short pleat till his palm can grope your thigh.

“After a little deliberation … I’ve decided I forgive you. For the lying.” His fingers dimple the skin he touches, sliding ever so slowly under the fabric. “Because I know you’re not a silly girl. You can be quite attentive when you want to be, can’t you?”

“Yeah… yeah I can.” Your breath quickens a little as you press your ass back into the thin fabric of his hood, the feeling of his cock growing to hardness making you quiver with anticipation. His right hand on your thigh stills, tracing around your side and to your hip - growing stiff and heavy. The left dips boldly under your costume, a finger or two stalling in the spot right above your clit.

“Gojo and Shoko offered to get more candy - I can finish cooking after we’re finished here.” His lips press teasingly against the shell of your ear, and your resistance dwindles a bit. “Right now, all I want from you is a favor.” “Favor? I can do that - I can..” Geto chuckles. “I know you can sweetheart. Shh, sh. It’s my turn to do the talking now, okay? Listen.” You nod sharply.

“Turn around.” You do. In an instant, stretching out your spine cat-like to press your chest up against him, your nipples hardening like pebbles beneath your blouse. You close your eyes and lean in for the kiss that should be inevitable - but no warmth meets your lips. Instead, an apathetic gloved finger. “Mmph?” Your confusion is apparent. You blink your eyes open and are greeted by a wry smile.

“Sometimes I wonder why it’s so hard for you to just listen. Then it came to me - an epiphany. Little girls like you just have a certain kind of skill set. Forgive me, okay? I just wasn’t giving you the right direction. But it’s okay! It’ll never happen again.” With those words, his expression grows less compromising - resolute, grim, determined. Almost makes you want to leap out of your skin - the fright of him not being happy with you bearing down greatly on your mind.

His hands come up to your shoulders and apply downward pressure. “On your knees.”

You follow without hesitation.

His mirth wrinkles the corners of his eyes as you squirm down there. The floor is cold and your knees are getting dirty, and he knows that stupid look you make when you’re thinking to complain; though he’s never seen this level of restraint from you before. You’re quiet as you dig your fingers into your skin, and he knows he’s proud.

“Good girl.” Something blossoms in your chest when he says that, profound yet airy, a lightheadedness emblazoned into your forehead while the blood settles in your cheeks. Then that damn hand comes down again; which you thought was gonna muss your hair a bit more, but settles rather firmly against the back of your head.

His loose costume he’s wearing isn’t big enough to hide how hard his cock is, but it’s like he’s making you wait for it - want and yearn for it. Because he doesn’t move for a moment, just gets used to the look of you down on your knees as your fidgeting starts to feel more and more uncontrollable.

“Hey! Are you just gonna leave me high n’ dr-” A white finger presses to his lips as his other hand keeps holding your head. “Quiet now, girl. Be quiet.”

You’re good! A little impatient, but you’re good, goddamn it! Trying to be, for him - the love of your life, who’s got you down on your knees, fixing to ruin your pretty makeup for the afternoon.

Quiet.

Too damn quiet. Too much fucking silence. He’s looking at you, you think - because your eyes are shut tight and the embarrassment is beginning to dawn on you, and everything’s hot, and scary, and Suguru - is he mad at you?-

The sudden feeling of his hot hard cock flopping against your cheek makes you leap like a fish to water. Your eyes bulge open a bit, and your mouth gapes open in that instant, tongue lolling out for purchase on his heated flesh, heady scent weaseling into your nostrils and making your thighs clamp down around your own hand - which you hadn’t noticed snuck between your thighs. Your twitching fingers reach up to grab it …

“Stop.” You whine loose and loud, eyes flickering up to his face to communicate your desperation, and confusion. “Just use your mouth.” His hand reaches towards the base of his cock and flops it onto your lip proper; and you suckle on the head like it’s the sole thing providing you oxygen. “See? There are things you’re damn good at … Oh fuck -” All you can hear besides his voice is your heart thumping in your chest and the saliva building in your mouth, the sloppy ‘schlorp’ as you take him to the base - deep into your throat - and back out again, the salty taste of his cock and precum something you’ve missed terribly.

A little voice crawls along the back of your mind. At home, it says. This is where you belong. Or maybe that’s Suguru’s wheedling. Words are falling from his lips, but you’re drowning in an effortless dream. “Good girl. … easy … taking me so well.”

The grip on the back of your head has grown tighter, as he shifts and adjusts his hips to help your further along. Your wet slurping is undercut by the sound of his balls slapping against your chin, fuzzy, familiar and pleasant.

Then it’s as stern as a pinch. You can feel his cock bulge out your throat, cheeks hollowed as you take him to the base. Tears sting your eyes a bit, but it’s a liberating pain. His grunts grow in their intensity, and you feel soaked to the bone, sitting on your hands so they can’t jump up and fondle his balls - you won’t disobey! You refuse, refuse, refuse -

“Close, haah, close your eyes, precious.” Your tummy flutters as you weld them shut. Suguru’s hips stutter, pause, then pull back.

A schlicking sound, then your prize. You open your mouth as you realize he’s cumming all over your face - streams of it making it into your happily awaiting maw, while the occasional strand undershoots - getting some on your chest and cheeks. Suguru sighs happier than you’ve heard in a while, and a part of you feels effortlessly at ease. Reset and pleasant and whole; besides the aching nag between your thighs. “You can speak now.” You try, throat fucked raw and a little raggedy. “A-are you going to fuck me now? Please? I can’t - I can’t wait anymore!” Suguru smiles gently, but insincerely. “No, of course not. This was a lesson, not a reward.” He tucks himself casually back into his costume. “Besides, we have guests, honey.”

You pout, feel like you wanna cry a little. “Don’t give me those crocodile tears. You’re a big girl, remember?”

“...I guess.” You sniffle. Suguru nods and helps you back to your shaky feet. “Not ‘I guess’. You are.” He grants you a chaste kiss on your lips, licking a bit of himself off of you, then pulling back. “Now, go clean yourself up.” He starts towards the sink, eager to resume dinner. “Those two should be back any second now.”

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk smut #jjk x reader #geto suguru x reader #geto suguru smut #geto smut #geto x reader #suguru geto x reader #🌩️ l1ghtn1ng_strike5.pdf #geto suguru

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xzaddyzanakinx · 1 month

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Not That Kind of Guy

Part Six: Stalker!Anakin Skywalker × femme reader series

Warnings: stalking, weirdo behavior, psychotic/delusional behavior, possessive/protective, sexism/misogyny, sexual content/fantasizing, pervy behavior, NONCON (somno), mask kink (Ghostface), sex toys, knife, spitting, cumplay, nude vids/pics, masturbation, forced oral, forced orgasm, drugging [Be sure to pay attention to future warnings in the series]

Info: Anakin is such a good 👻 even without all the stabbing. He’s getting cocky with us. Some bitch tries to flirt.[diary entries from Ani] extremely not proofread. MDNI 18+

Diary Entry: July 12th

I feel alittle bit bad… but not really, for lying to you. I don’t actually have work tonight. It just seemed like the most logical thing to say you know? So… apologies baby, that wasn’t very nice of me.

To make up for the lie I was about to tell you, I slipped a pair of your panties from your laundry basket, you were awfully dazed after I used that little line I stole from one of your books. It was really, really cute how you fawned like that. Those big beautiful doe eyes looking up at me like I’d just told you that you won the lottery.

I guess you kind of did, or at least my version of it. I had a lot planned for you tonight and tomorrow night. You’re getting your reward and then some.

So with your pretty little lacy panties in my pocket I went upstairs and immediately got to work. Now, I know this probably sounds just a smidgen gross but I promise I’ve tried it out on some of my own clothes until I got it right. You won’t even notice.

It’ll be just like your pillow okay? That small, harmless piece of me helps you sleep at night and, well, I want you to feel that secure all the time. No matter where you are. I want you to have a piece of me.

So, you know that strange little extra bit of fabric in the crotch of all your panties? That no one really knows the purpose of? Well I’ve discovered the perfect purpose.

With a small flat paint brush I’m going to dot my cum along the seam on the inside of that pocket.

Like I said, I’ve tried it out. You won’t even notice, it won’t get all crusty and gross like you might think okay? It’ll only be alittle teeny, tiny, bit of it.

So, I’ve tested it on my things, but not yours. I didn’t want to test it on the dirty pairs I’d borrowed from you because well… those are mine and they won’t be going back into your drawer. Ever.

That’s why I snatched up this pair. To test it on the real thing. And when I tell you this is the best idea I’ve had in a while I mean it. It’s perfect. I’ve already got everything set up.

Those dirty panties are really gonna help me out while I pump my cum out into your favorite new coffee mug.

The second you leave for work I’m headed over there to carefully apply my love to every pair of undies you’ve got. I just know how much you enjoy it, I mean you only ever use the pillow I keep fucking, so I’m doing something right… right?

You little freak. Needing my cum in your panties so you can feel safe and comfy even without me there to hold your hand. We’re not quite there yet and that’s okay, because we have these subtle ways of loving each other don’t we?

Date: July 12th

If the little bell above the door chimes *one more time* and it’s not Anakin, you might scream. It’s 7:20, doesn’t he have to clock-in at 8:00ish? What if he didn’t actually mean it? Was he just being nice? Have you read this situation completely wrong? Have you-

**ting-ting-ting**

You could’ve gotten whiplash from the speed at which you swiveled your head toward the entryway. A flood of relief rushed over you when you saw the familiar bright face that belonged to your dreamy eyed neighbor.

“Hey sweetheart.” He said, his voice low and smooth. He didn’t hide the way he drank in your appearance, or at least what was visible behind the counter.

“Anakin!” You squeaked, blush dusting across the bridge of your nose.

“What’s a guy gotta do for a slice of butterscotch pie?” He crooned, hopping up on the red and chrome barstool nearest to you.

“Say please.” You smirked.

“Please princess, may I have a slice of pie?” He grinned.

You produced a pre-cut slice in a small to-go container from the icebox behind the counter. Sliding it across the counter to him with a fork laid across the top, you missed the small frown on his lips when you were startled by the bell again.

“Sorry. I’ll be right back.” You said hurriedly.

You rushed to the booth where an older man, one of your regulars, slid into place. He always ordered the same thing. Coffee and the daily special, so you were back in front of Anakin in no time at all.

“Hi.” You smiled, letting out a rushed breath.

“Hey sweetheart.” He said, his eyes soft and warm. “Tryin’ to get rid of me already?” He teased, tapping the to-go box with the fork.

“What? N-no of you course not.” You shook your head vehemently. “No, I just wasn’t sure if you were coming and I thought-“

“Wait,” he stopped you, plucking the pen that was still tightly gripped in your palm and replacing it with his fingers. “You thought I wasn’t coming?” He asked.

He looked hurt, deeply hurt, at the notion that you would think he would miss a single second of being in your presence. His hand cradled yours in the way that gentleman in movies held the hands of women they fancied, right before they bring their knuckles to their lips for a kiss.

“Well, it’s just- it was later than I thought.” You said anxiously, feeling silly that you’d doubted him, beginning to quickly over explain yourself. “I just know you’ve gotta be at work at 8:00 or something and I was worried you were running late and wouldn’t make it and I was gonna take it home to give you tomorrow or…”

You stopped, seeing a big grin gracing his pretty face.

“Shh, s’alright darlin’.” He chuckled, “take a breath.”

You blushed, how does he always make you so flustered? He must think you need coddling. Maybe that’s why he’s so sweet to you. He’s seen how utterly hopeless you are and he just feels the need to coddle you.

“Sorry.” You said quietly.

“Baby, look up here.” He commanded in a gentle but firm voice, snapping his fingers twice and you immediately met his gaze. “Atta girl.”

“Now listen to me.” He said softly. “Don’t you ever doubt that I will show up for you. Okay? I’m a man of my word, always.”

“Okay.” You nodded, your head practically empty as a dizzy feeling wracked your brain.

“Good.” He smiled. “Now. Tell me how you know what time I go to work.” He smirked.

“What?” You squeaked, not even realizing you’d said that aloud. “Oh my god I’m sorry, I just… just a lucky guess- I mean I see you leave pretty often around that time so I just assumed…”

“Pretty girl, you’ve been creepin’ on me haven’t you?” He teased, his smile only growing as he watched your face pale and reheat within seconds.

“No! No, god no Anakin!” You squealed grabbing both his hands. “Jesus, you must think I’m crazy. It’s- I sit next to my window to read around that time and I’ve just noticed you walk past.”

“Well I’ll make sure I start waving in your direction okay, princess?” He chirped, his face seemed to boast that he was absolutely giddy at this new information.

“I promise I haven’t been- god that sounded so weird I’m sorry.” You whispered, utterly embarrassed by your own admission. He’d never speak to you again.

“Hey, hey, hey.” He chuckled, squeezing both your hands. “I’m just teasing sweetheart. You know that don’t you?”

“Y-yeah.” You nodded, internally trying not to scream at yourself.

“Sorry.” You whispered, pulling your hands away because your palms started to feel clammy.

“Shh. Don’t worry about it.” He said softly. “I didn’t mean to make you upset. I just thought it was cute that’s all.” He smiled.

“Cute?” You repeated, your face reddened to the point that you began to feel hives sneaking up your neck.

He shrugged in response, lifting both hands up as well. A little smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth as he leaned over the counter and snatched your order pad from your apron pocket.

“There’s a table in the corner that’s been glaring at you for the past minute and a half.” He tilted his head in their direction. “Go take a minute for yourself. I’ll get it.”

“Wait but you-“

“I’ll get it.” He interrupted.

“Anakin-“

“What did I just say?” He said sternly.

“You’ll get it.” You responded quietly, eyes wide at his response… and the swirling storm of heat that pooled in your lower stomach.

“Good girl. Go.” He gestured dismissing you with a wave of his hand before turning on his heel.

Diary Entry: July 12th

Oh my sweet, sweet little girl.

I just love you so much I want to scoop you up and tuck you in my pocket.

You’ve been watching me. You little sneak. I purposefully don’t look up at your window when I leave and come home from work. I know you’re sitting there, I just didn’t know you were aware of me walking past. I don’t like to look up there because, well, I’m me. I’d get distracted. Horribly distracted and terribly late to work.

That’s why my head is always down, eyes scorching holes into my phone screen as I watch you, watching me.

You are so much like me. So much.

You’re just perfect for me princess. I’ve never found someone or even dreamed of finding someone who could appreciate me like I would appreciate them. That must be why it took me so long to find you, good things come to those who wait.

Waiting for you has become one of my favorite things.

I waited and waited and waited. I researched, gathered and collected, stored, filed and tucked away every minuscule detail of your life I could get my hands on. All before I let myself step foot in your apartment.

Then I waited some more. Waited until I could move in next door. Waited until I could finally let you see me.

Now I needed to wait for tomorrow.

For you to get your little drink and watch me like I watched you at the diner. Then when you get home, you’ll crawl in bed. All snuggled up in your comfy new sheets.

And it’ll be your turn to wait.

Ps. Did you know that Amazon sells pill moulds? I forgot to mention it earlier. Your SleepyTime tea won’t be enough, for this visit. I’m really lucky they have one that looks almost identical to Tylenol. I’m also really lucky that you’re oblivious enough not to question how ‘your’ bottle of Tylenol got placed conveniently next to your birth control to encourage you to take it.

I’ll make the quick switch and I’ll change them back asap.

Don’t worry, I’m not mixing drugs that shouldn’t be mixed. It’s perfectly safe to take your SleepyTime Trazodone Tea and Estazolam. I would never put you in danger. I even accounted for the fact that you always take two.

It’s real handy that I’ll have a whole bottle of ‘Tylenol’ just in case I need to pull out this trick again.

Date: July 12th

The moment you got home you practically sprinted to the shower. Not because you felt icky from work. Not because it was hair wash day. Not because you just needed to get clean.

You needed a good cold shock to your system.

The icy water pelted you like hail. If it weren’t for the chattering of your teeth and the blood rushing to your ears you swear you’d be able to hear the water sizzle and evaporate against your scorching hot skin.

Anakin had ruined you. Absolutely ruined you.

You hardly know him. How can he make you feel like this and you’ve only spoken to him for maybe an hour in total. That’s insane. You’ve interacted with him for maybe an hour or two if you take into account the times you’ve passed each other in the hall and said hello.

It’s like he knows you down to your very soul.

He acts like he was put on earth to serve you; like it’s his only reason for existing. If you were told that every thing he does, he does for you… you’d believe it wholeheartedly.

He speaks to you like he needs you to hear every syllable and know deep in your heart that he is very fucking serious about everything he says. His voice is tailored to fit your needs perfectly. He can be soft spoken and comforting. Kind and understanding. He can be firm and unwavering, serious, stern.

His voice can also be deep, rough, gravely. It can grip your attention and hold you under his thumb in a way that no man has ever done before. It’s sinful really.

He touches you like you are a precious, fragile relic meant to be coveted and kept safe. Handles you like the finest silk, like he knows each and every thread you’re woven with. Those hands, they feel so familiar.

‘He’s loved me in a past life.’ You thought to yourself. ‘That’s the only explanation.’

How else could your body light up in recognition at the firm but gentle caress of his guitar-calloused fingertips along your arms?

He looks at you and sees you.

He sees what you’ve kept locked away from everyone, maybe even the things you yourself can’t see.

You let yourself ponder over the very real possibility that you’ve gone insane. This is crazy. You’re acting like you’ve lost your last marble and you can’t catch it before it rolls under the fridge to be lost forever.

What if it’s all in your head?

What if none of these feelings are reciprocated and you’ve imagined it all? Could you really be that daft?

You shook your head and turned the shower off, stepping out and wrapping yourself in a big fluffy robe. Letting yourself drip-dry in front of the mirror while you desperately try to warm yourself back up. All the while still being painfully aware of the ache between your legs that never fully goes away. Not since the first time you felt it in his presence.

It wanes when you’re away from him. It barely dwindles to a quiet lull when you try to fix it yourself. It’s become an itch that you simply cannot scratch. It’s an incessant nagging reminder that Anakin is slowly consuming you and that he’s completely unaware of it.

It’s gotten to the point that sometimes when you wake up in the morning, it feels like you’ve been toyed with. You’ll wake up with panties soaked with arousal, so much so that the fabric sticks to you. Your nipples feel sensitive and raw. You swear you can feel the ghost of warm hands much larger than your own exploring your flesh.

You’ve come to the conclusion that your body is begging for you to give it what it needs.

You’ve all but given up on masturbation. You’re certain that nothing, not even the most luxe toy on the market could give you what Anakin could.

His cock is the only thing that can sate that horrible tug of desperate hunger you feel in your core.

Until you can have him it seems that you’ll be going to bed hungry and waking up starving.

Diary Entry: July 13th

I should win an award. I have worked so fucking hard on self control and god damn you tested me last night.

I was gnawing off my own fingers trying to quiet myself enough to hear your soft desperate pleas for release. You poor thing, if it hurts me so badly to wait that long to cum… I can only imagine what it feels like for you.

Almost an hour of it.

I could hear it baby. How wet you were for me, the sound your delicate little fingers made when you slid them down beneath your panties and as deeply into your needy little hole as you could.

It just wasn’t deep enough was it, princess?

Twice tonight you’ve tried and failed to give yourself an ounce of relief. If anything you’ve made it worse.

I walked home from ‘work’ (aka the 7/11 because I needed a snack and for you to see me now that I knew you were watching) and listened to your first try, I promise I wasn’t trying to invade your privacy like that. That’s the whole reason there’s no visual to the camera installed in your room. Audio only.

Audio that I always make a point to survey, along with footage from the other cameras, on my way home from work. Gotta keep updated you know? See what I’ve missed.

Anyway, that time you gave up relatively quickly. Must’ve decided to wait for me to get back huh? I saw you. Sitting in the window, watching me watch you through the screen.

Funny that a few minutes after I’d locked my front door I got the notification that your bedroom door had been shut. And I suppose it could’ve been a coincidence that when I pulled up the live audio I just so happened to catch the rustling of your sheets and the soft sigh escaping your lips as you starting in on your second attempt to pleasure yourself.

Of course I couldn’t let you do it alone. What kind of boyfriend would I be if I didn’t join my little princess in the bedroom any chance I got?

The pitiful noises you made broke my heart.

You tried so hard didn’t you sweetheart? All that work and you didn’t even cum. It made me hurt for you. I felt ashamed that I finished and you didn’t.

I provided solid, albeit silent and unseen, support while you worked. I wanted nothing more than to burst through your door and help you. To let you take what you needed from me.

I could be your toy. I’d be still, I’d be good. I’d let you use me until you’ve gotten your fill.

You deserve it after all the selfish teasing.

I’m sorry that you’ve been left so needy.

I’m not sorry that I did it though. How could I be sorry for the way I can make you squirm even in your sleep?

Remember what I said about killing two birds with one stone? Well, let’s make that a quad-kill okay doll?

Date: July 13th

You were giddy with excitement, you woke up in the best mood. You flitted to the kitchen and made yourself a cup of coffee in your brand new favorite Hello Kitty mug, then plopped onto the couch to call Luke.

“What are you doing tonight?” You asked the second you heard the call connect.

“What I don’t even get a hello? A goodmorning?” He scoffed.

“Hello, Goodmorning. What are you doing tonight?” You asked, meaning to sound sarcastic but you were too blissfully happy to sell it.

“Probably me.” You heard a gruff, sleepy voice crackle from a distance on Luke’s end of the line. Han.

“Jesus what’s wrong with you?” Luke snapped in a hushed whisper.

“What?” Han asked as though he truly didn’t understand what Luke was referring to.

“Sorry. Anyway.” Luke cleared his throat and you swear you heard Han chuckled and the rustling of sheets along with a dull thud and groan coming from Han.

“Lukey don’t kick your boyfriend.” You sighed, “now both of you shut up.”

“I need you to come to the bar with me tonight. You know for moral support.” You said, a giggle slipping through. “Anakin came to the restaurant for pie yesterday and he wants me to come get a drink at The Cerulean tonight.”

“So, he asked you out?” Luke questioned skeptically.

“Well no,” you said slowly. “Not exactly. He’s gonna be working… he just wanted me to come say hello cause he came to the restaurant…” you trailed off.

“We saw each other at the laundromat yesterday.” You started to explain. “And we realized we never told each other where we worked, and then we both realized we’d actually been to each other’s work… he even served me a drink at the bar. I finally remembered where I knew his face from! I thought he looked familiar.” You said proudly.

“So, you saw him at the laundromat. Invited him to the Bluebird for pie, he’s returning the favor by asking you to come see him at the bar?” Luke repeated.

“Yep. So you’ll come with me?” You asked, a grin spreading across your lips.

“Fuckin’…” He groaned. “Of course I’m coming with you are you stupid? You think I’m letting you go to a bar alone?”

“Oh I just love you.” You cooed, so so relieved he’d agreed.

“You better.”

🖤🖤🖤

With your hair pulled back in a loosely curled bun, you slipped into a cute little lilac slip dress that fit you just right. Some heels to match hastily strapped on you timidly walked into your living room and did a little spin for your best friend and his pet leech Han.

“How’s this?” You asked, gesturing to your outfit Vanna White style.

“Perfect.” Luke said with a grin. “Hot.”

“Really?” You asked as a small shy smile crossed your mouth.

“Have I ever lied to you?” He asked seriously.

“No.” You giggled.

“You look gorgeous. Now take me to meet this little boy-toy of yours.” He said, standing up from the couch as Han dutifully follow behind.

“He’s not little. He’s actually pretty tall.” You said nonchalantly.

“Do you have to have an answer to everything?” He scoffed.

“For you? Yes.”

🖤🖤🖤

You walked up to the bar, Han and Luke trailing closely behind you. You didn’t see Anakin. When you turned around to pout to your friends you were surprised to see Anakin standing behind you with his hands in his barkeep’s apron.

Luke watched the exchange with narrowed eyes and his lips pulled up in a “hmm” position. Like he was scrutinizing every last movement and word said. Maybe he was wrong about this guy. Maybe you were right and he really was all you’d painted him to be.

“Boo.” He grinned.

“Ani!” You said excitedly clapping, not even realizing you’d dropped a nickname for him.

But he noticed. He noticed and it almost brought him to his knees. Though instead of passing out and throwing up like he felt that he was going to, his hand came up to your bicep to glide down the back of your arm and bring your hand to his lips. Brushing those plump pink lips across your knuckles, all while deeply, intensely, staring into your eyes.

“Hey princess.” He smiled, then broke eye contact to address your friends and leave you to buffer.

Your turn to faint.

“You guys with her?” He asked politely, giving them a once over know that he was in front of them, up close.

“Mhm.” Luke answered. A polite smile on his lips as he stuck out his hand. “Yeah I’m Luke, this is Han.” He nodded toward him and Anakin introduced himself in return, shaking their hands.

“Look, I told Trev I’d be taking a little break to hang out with you all for a bit.” Anakin said, pointing at his work friend. “He’s happy to oblige until he gets sick of handling it by himself.” He grinned.

Conversation flowed between the three of them easily and you thoroughly enjoyed watching it play out. No one you’d ever crushed on had ever won Luke over, but Anakin was definitely cracking the concrete wall Luke built in his head to protect you.

You didn’t even feel the need to speak, you were comfortable and content just to listen. Anakin made you feel included even if he wasn’t speaking directly to you. Every so often he would tap his sneaker against the side of your heel, he’d be talking in depth about something with Luke or Han but staring at you like you were the only person in the room.

You wished he would grab you and pull you closer. But he was too respectful, too… traditional? Was that the right word? What else would you call someone who you’ve come to believe is practically courting you.

That’s what this is. You know it. You’ve seen it, read it, consumed it in enough forms of media to know that he is testing the waters and waiting for you to accept his offer.

This is the modern version of a promenade about the park.

The sweet words. Gentle touches. Occasional obvious flirts. Cutesy nicknames. Only meeting you in public, allowing you to oblige it on your terms. Offering his help in anyway he could. Not asking you out on a date, a proper one. He hadn’t even given you his phone number.

It all translates.

Sweet nothings whispered in the parlor. Comments that would’ve had you hiding your blush with a silk fan. Princess, Baby, Sweetheart; Precious, My Love, My Sweet. He even called you darlin’.

Courting means publicly inviting you to take his hand. Respectfully requesting you to allow him to steal away a piece of your heart. The gentlemanly way.

Offering his help with the groceries, gifting you the book. You’d accepted both and you only had one more until you’d be giving him silent permission to ask you to be his.

Yet you hadn’t even realized it until right now. Wait… did carrying your laundry count? No. Surely not. No. The others were extremely memorable. The third would be even more so, you were sure of it.

“Sweet girl.” Anakin cooed, snapping you out of your thoughts. “I’ve gotta go back behind the counter. What do you want to drink? On me, alright baby?”

“Oh,” you stuck out your bottom lip slightly and quirked up the corner of your mouth in thought, “Um just surprise me.” You smiled.

“Sure thing.” He grinned, a gentle thumb graced your cheekbone before he turned on his heel and headed back where he was needed.

“I’m so sorry for doubting you.” Luke said in a low and serious tone. “Like truly I’m baffled.”

“I know.” You agreed, wide eyed at Luke’s approval.

“The woman was too stunned to speak.” Han said, trying not to smirk.

“Do not quote memes to me right now.” You giggled.

You heard the double snap of Anakin’s fingers and spun around like the obedient little thing you were. Happily taking the two small steps to lean on the bar and accept your drink from Anakin.

“Margarita?” He asked, sliding it toward you.

“Yummy.” You nodded, “thank you.” You blushed.

“Oh, ‘course.” He grinned. “Anytime doll.”

“Beer for the boys.” He said, nodding at them behind you and producing two tall foamy mugs.

“Oh thanks, you didn’t have to do that.” Han said, taking a swig.

“No big deal.” Anakin shrugged, turning back to you. “Go have fun. Find me before you leave alright?”

“Uh huh.” You giggled, “I will.”

“I know.” He patted the counter near your hand and winked before turning to take someone else’s order.

“Oh you’ve got it bad.” Han let out a rumbling laugh.

“Uh huh.” You agreed enthusiastically, knowing it was true and not caring enough to pretend it wasn’t obvious.

The rest of the night was more of the same, your friends teasing you. Stealing a glance toward the bar to see that Anakin was already staring at you with the intensity of a burning star.

“You ready to go home?” Luke asked Han.

“Mmm.” He grunted in agreement and looked at Luke expectantly.

“Go on.” Luke shooed you toward the bar to tell Anakin you were leaving. They walked toward the door to wait for you, giving you just a hair of privacy.

As you walked up to the bar, Anakin was speaking to a girl who was very obliviously trying to flirt with him.

“What’ll you have?” He asked flatly.

“What’s your favorite?” She smiled, leaning on the counter and pushing her tits together.

“If you want a recommendation go to Jess.” He pointed to another coworker who was currently mixing a drink. “She’ll help.”

“What? You think I can’t handle whatever whiskey it is that you like best?” She giggled, clearly unfazed by his lack of interest.

It made your heart swell, he was acting this way and he didn’t even realize you were within earshot. He was so busy wiping down the counter to avoid eye contact with this girl, he hadn’t looked up once.

“I don’t drink.” He said.

“A bartender who doesn’t drink?” She laughed and it sounded like a fucking cackle, you saw Anakin suck in his cheeks and turn his head to tuck his chin into the shoulder farther from her to ensure he wouldn’t burst into laughter at her.

He cleared his throat and finally looked up. The eyes you know as warm and comforting looked cast from frozen steel.

“That’s what I said isn’t it?” Anakin’s voice was cold in a way that you’d never heard before and it scared you… but also kind of excited you? Like the cold wave you’d felt from his gaze once before it was gone in an instant.

Once again he’d surprised you. Just like every other time you’d been in his company. The girl scoffed and muttered something under her breath but Anakin had already left the one sided conversation and his face softened, the blue of his eyes being swallowed by the pools of black that spilled over every time he looked at you.

“There’s my princess.” He cooed. Proving without you even asking, that he had eyes only for you.

“I came to say I’m headed home.” You smiled bashfully, your hands clasped together in front of you as you rocked from your toes to your heels.

“Your body guards are walking with you right?” He asked, concern creeping in to his gentle voice.

“Of course.” You nodded, it was so sweet that he worried about you like this.

“Good.” He smiled, holding out his hand and using two fingers to beckon you closer.

You stepped forward and gave him what he wanted, your hand to squeeze gently.

“Be safe okay? I’ll see you soon?”

“Yeah.” You nodded enthusiastically. “Yes you’ll see me soon.”

“Thats my girl.” He flashed a bright smile, taking your one hand in both of his and kissing your knuckles. Rubbing his across your skin his thumbs creating a heart on the back of your hand when he pulled away.

“Bye Ani.” You said, making a quick escape with one last look over your shoulder before running to Luke and Han.

🖤🖤🖤

After they returned you safely to your home you went about your nightly routine. Boil water, make tea, take birth control, and oh look at that you even had the forethought to set Tylenol out as well. Pop two of those and then shower quickly, settle in for bed and before you know it, you’re so asleep that you can’t hear your front door unlock.

Anakin intently listened to the audio of your bedroom intently on his way home. From the way you were snoring Anakin knew you were deep, deep, deep in sleep. Even so, he needed to be careful, so after he showered at his apartment he crept silently into yours with a small bag in tow.

He tested your level of unconsciousness via sound before even attempting to enter your room. Just like every other time he’d snuck in. No response.

So he opened your bedroom door and gently shooed the cat out of the room. She was very unhappy about this considering Anakin usually let her snuggle in his lap when he came to watch you sleep. But he wasn’t here to watch or to get a quick fix, not even for a little bit of teasing.

He was here to play.

Armed with the necessary tools he laid them neatly on the foot of the bed after slipping on his Ghostface mask. Cliché sure, but he knew your little secret. If you happened to wake up, which was highly unlikely, he’d be anonymous and you’d think it was another wet dream.

He pushed up the sleeves of his solid black hoodie, carefully took off his sneakers, followed by his leather gloves. He hated having to take the extra measure to hide his identity just in case but it’s his own fault for having so many tattoos.

Once finished he picked up your wrist and dropped it, watching it fall clumsily at your side. Perfect. Now he could get to the fun stuff.

He peeled back the covers and took a moment to soak in your image, you were spoon feeding him pure beauty and didn’t even know it.

He’d done this before. He couldn’t help but sneak the occasional picture, but he’d never taken a picture of you completely bare before.

Tenderly he pushed your thin nightie up and over your soft breasts, taking his sweet time to caress and care for you like always, but this time he let himself touch your chest sans fabric barrier. It was something so unforgettable, seeing the peaks of your breasts rise and pebble up under his thumb. Even more so the soft sleepy sigh you let out when he lifted his mask to suck and twirl his tongue around them. Tugging lightly before letting it fall back into place so he could watch them jiggle.

His hands traveled to your hips and slid your panties down partially. He posed you, one hand on your breast, the other he placed between your legs under your panties. He stood over you and took several pictures from different angles.

Deciding his jeans were much to restricting and horribly tight across his swelling cock, he got rid of them.

Once he was more comfortable he slid your panties farther down and placed them aside. He kneeled, getting eye level with your cunt.

The most sacred part of you. Where he so badly wanted to bury his cock, but he refrained. That could wait until you were conscious and willing.

“Look at you.” He groaned, biting his lip before getting back to the task at hand.

For now, he would slide your own fingers past your slick folds, into your greedy pussy. Holding your wrist in place so that your limp hand wouldn’t fall away. He even let you have a little taste of yourself, of course capturing that on film as well.

Now that he had some gorgeous new material for the visual to go along with the pretty little noises you make when you think no one is listening… he had some new ideas to try out.

Ideas like tilting your head to the side and slipping just the head of his precum coated dick past your plump lips. His hand trembled as he clicked record, the bright white light of the flash illuminating your face. You didn’t even flinch. Your eyelids didn’t twitch, your mouth didn’t move.

The longer he rubbed his cockhead over your tongue and traced your lips till they were shiny with precum and saliva, the more confident he grew.

“Tastes good doesn’t sweetheart? Shame you can’t lick those pretty lips isn’t it?” He snickered, tapping your cheek with his cockhead to leave a sticky trail behind.

He wasn’t worried in the slightest that you’d wake up now, so he allowed himself to go just a bit further.

Pinching the tip of your tongue and opening your jaw alittle wider, he removed his cock completely. Making sure to get a good shot of untouched throat, he’d need a before picture to refer to later.

He slowly pushed back in, stopping when he hit the back of your throat. The only bad thing about you being unconscious was that you couldn’t tell him if his fat cock was choking you. So he’d have to settle for his hand covering what wouldn’t fit in your mouth.

He sat his phone aside, he needed both hands for this. If he wanted to feel you moan around his cock, he’d have to give you something to moan about.

Hiking up one leg of yours and letting it fall to your side, he couldn’t help but chuckle at the way you were letting him treat you like a noodle. You were practically boneless… it crossed his mind to put you in the Piledriver, see how far he could fold you, but once again: you’re unconscious and you can’t tell him if you’re uncomfortable.

He had morals, lines he wouldn’t cross, rules he wouldn’t erase… maybe bend them, but not wholly change them either.

So he settled for rubbing circles around your puffy clit, already wet and needy little pussy. His hand on the back of your head to keep you still, he couldn’t have your poor brain rattling around your skull while he fucked your mouth. He loved you too much to give you whiplash via mouthful of dick.

“Oh you like that don’t you baby? Yeah you do, I can feel it.” He moaned, letting himself get lost in listening to the combined sounds of his cock in your mouth and his fingers toying with your wetness.

He slid his fingers down your slit and back up again; that’s when you made a bit of noise for him and holy shit.

His hand left your cunt immediately to keep your jaw pried open and held still while his other pumped his shaft wildly. He’d been at this more maybe two minutes tops and the vibration from that one gorgeous moan was enough to draw up his balls and scrunch his face.

He whimpered, removing his hand from your jaw, he let go of his cock and almost cried from how painfully close to cumming he was. But he couldn’t not get the first time he came in your mouth on camera. So he grabbed you by your hair and propped up your head to keep your mouth open. Straddling your chest he kneeled over you and watched through his phone screen as rope after rope of white, hot, love coated your tongue and throat.

He could’ve shed a tear at how outrageously beautiful you looked, how messy your mouth was, the drip of his semen down the back of your throat.

Anakin quickly switched over to taking photos again, he desperately needed a clear picture of your cum coated throat and god did he get the perfect image. He’d make it his screensaver if he could.

Once again tossing his phone aside he leaned over you, spitting a glob of saliva to help wash his essence down when he squeezed beneath your jaw to make you swallow.

“Perfect. Good job baby.” He whispered. “Took it like a champ.”

He squeezed both cheeks in one hand to squish your lips together. Smiling at the way you looked. Eyelids half raised from all the movement, face flushed, swollen lips.

“S’fucking cute.” He laughed, smacking your cheek twice, gently of course. Just a little love tap.

He extricated himself from you and shuffled back down to the end of the bed, between your legs where he belonged. Spreading your legs nice and wide, he took a second to just enjoy the view.

“Pretty little thing aren’t you?” He splayed his two large hands across your stomach and slowly snaked it down your abdomen, across your mound, trailing to your inner thighs to finally hook beneath your knees and lift your legs.

He needed you in the butterfly position if he were to properly pleasure you this time around. He wouldn’t tease you tonight and make you writhe and moan and hump his hand but never cum.

He’d turned you into a needy whore just like he wanted to, but you deserved a reward, he reminded himself. Because it was oh so tempting to continue that little game he loved.

“What do you think doll? Dildo or vibrator?” He asked, laying the toys one after the other between your legs to snap at photo of.

“Ah who am I kidding, you want the vibrator don’t you?” He asked rhetorically. “Here princess, get it wet for me.”

He brought the toy to your lips and rubbed it across your tongue, grinning when he pulled it away and saw the shiny string of saliva connecting to your tongue.

“Sorry you can’t have my cock sweetheart.” He said, sounding a bit mournful as he dragged the tip of the vibrator down your throat and through the midline of your body, stopping just above your clit.

“I’d love to fuck you but… I can’t do that to you.” He sighed. “You’ll just have to wait. It’ll make it more special huh?” He smiled, turning the toy onto the lowest setting.

He teased your entrance with the very tip, barely ghosting it around and around. When he finally saw your hole clench around nothing he sucked in a sharp breath and chuckled, he couldn’t help it, it was comical how badly you needed him.

Slowly, frustratingly slowly he inserted the tip and twisted. Gently thrusting it deeper and deeper until it was fully seated in your cunt. He left it there to watch for a moment, untouched and unmoved, you dripped arousal down onto the sheets below you. A beautiful little pool of sex he’d get to take home as a trophy.

“More?” He asked softly. “I think you need more don’t you sweetheart?”

He switched the setting higher, about halfway to full power and sat back on his heels watching your hips buck and your stomach tighten. A beautiful strangled moan left your swollen lips and Anakin couldn’t help himself.

“Gotta kiss that sweet mouth baby, lemme see that tongue.” He groaned, sliding the mask up just enough to suction his lips to yours to suck and pull and lick to his heart’s content.

“Fuck your mouth… tastes so good.” He whined, sucking your bottom lip between his teeth and pulling, watching it snap back into place with a wet pop.

Just as he was about to go in for another kiss he heard you take a deep inhale. He pulled the mask back into place and backed away, watching you closely for any sign that you were being roused awake.

“Don’t fucking scare me like that.” He mumbled, turning up the vibrator again.

“If you wanna cum so bad then ask for it.” He grinned.

He thrust the toy back and forth in time with his hand on his cock, loving the way your body tried to so hard to wake up your mind so you could enjoy it fully.

“Poor thing. Squirming for me.” He panted, scooting closer and seating the vibrator back into your cunt fully. “I’ll let you cum this time okay? You need it don’t you sweet girl?”

Anakin brushed his thumb across your clit quickly and beamed at the way your idle hands tried to grip the sheets beneath you.

“So close baby girl, so fucking close.” He whispered, flicking your clit just to see you jump.

He snickered and settled his thumb solidly against your puffy red button and rubbed firmly. Jacking his cock in time with his ministrations on you.

“Gonna cum…” he whined, noting the way your legs were lifting slightly from the bed.

“Yeah. Yeah, c’mon baby, fuck.” He grunted, fucking up into his fist as he tilted his head back. Spilling his cum onto the quivering canvas of your spent folds.

He slowly milked the rest of his seed out onto you and pulled the vibrator from your depths, scooping up his cum and shoving it into your greedy hole to massage into your gummy walls where it belongs.

He stroked your front wall carefully, pressing up against the sweet spongy spot that made your toes curl. The second he pressed the vibrator down on your clit your cunt spasmed around his fingers and he got to see you come undone for the first time.

“Oh shit.” He breathed out, his voice shaky as he watched that puddle beneath you become a lake as your squirt dripped over his hand and onto the fabric.

“Fucking hell.” He moaned, shoving his hand beneath his mask to slurp your juices from every centimeter of his skin.

He was too busy loosing himself in the taste of you to notice you finally fluttering your eyes open just slightly, moaning in overstimulation from the toy he’d left buzzing between your pussy lips.

“Goddamnit.” He swore, shoving his still hard cock back into his boxers and switching off the toy.

He waited, waited a painfully long time to make sure you were still stuck in dreamland before moving again. It was time to high-tail it out of there.

He clumsily shoved his things into his bag and tugged on his pants and belt. Cursing himself for getting carried away like that, for not paying attention, for almost waking you up.

Slipping into his sneakers and tugging his sleeves back down he fumbled in his pockets to find his gloves and hastily shoved his hands in them.

He stood at the foot of the bed and stared at the mess he’d helped you make on your sheets. Great. Now he really couldn’t just leave his own set of sheets beneath your mattress to change later when you were gone.

He had to do it now.

He pulled your comforter fully off the bed, your extra pillows and stuffed animals as well. The top sheet was used to quickly and carefully wipe the mess off your skin before he folded it and shoved it down into the bag.

Thinking ahead he laid the clean top sheet over the comforter so he could put both on at the same time, save a few seconds. Now came the hard part.

He popped up one corner of the fitted sheet and replaced it with the new one, doing the same to two of the other sides. He kneeled on the bed with his feet hanging off the side, careful not to get his sneakers on the clean sheets.

He gingerly laid your arms at your sides and oh so slowly rolled you over until you were flat on your back again.

Anakin held his breath and tried his very best not to laugh because of the fact that he had quite literally rolled you like a log and you didn’t even budge. He walked around to the other side and finished taking off the sheet and fitting the new one over the last edge.

After the sheet was folded and carefully tucked into his bag he tossed it over his shoulder and went to your bedroom door to allow your cat back into the room with you, she’d always snuggle under the covers beside you and you’d be awfully confused if you woke up and realized she had somehow gotten out of your room without the help of opposable thumbs.

Anakin surveyed the room and smacked himself internally. He almost left you panty-less.

“Idiot. All tore up from one little thing.” He scoffed. “Can’t believe I almost-“

He shook his head and told himself to shut his mouth, he could shit talk himself later. Right now he needed to carefully slide your panties back into place and cover you back up, maybe give you alittle goodnight kiss too.

Finally everything was in place as it should be, he marked everything off in his internal to-do list and checked his watch. He’d kept it under two hours just like planned, everything was fine, so fine in fact that he didn’t bother to be careful with his foot-falls.

The high-pitched shriek of pain Boogie let out when he put his full weight onto the tip of her tail was more than enough to wake the dead. Anakin froze, smacking the button on the side of his neck, attached to the box that would alter his voice in case he needed to speak.

“Boogs?” You sat up slowly, your body not in tune with your mind in any capacity. Funny how he could fuck you with a vibrator but an ear piercing cat wail could wake you up. Weird.

You didn’t even have your eyes open, poor thing. Anakin laughed before he realized he was making any noise at all.

If your eyes were sewn shut with sleep before they were stretched wide with terror now. You scanned the room and were horrified to see a tall, imposing figure in a… Ghostface mask?

Hot. Wait- no. You shook your head and flipped on your bedside lamp.

“Don’t fucking move.” He growled, producing a butterfly knife from his pocket and spinning it to flip it open.

You squealed but complied and shrunk back. There wasn’t much you could do anyway, you could barely hold your eyes open and your head up.

“Good.” He nodded, walking up to you basking in the knowledge that you’d be obedient in this type of situation.

“What’d you want?” You asked quietly.

“Just came to say hello to a pretty little thing that’s all.” He cooed and sat down on the side of the bed.

You whimpered and moved sluggishly away, finding it difficult to support your weight with your arms.

“Hold real still.” He soothed and for some reason you did.

You didn’t flinch or fight him when he used the tip of the knife to push your hair away from your eyes.

“I’m not gonna hurt you.” He stated calmly. “Cross my heart, hope to die.”

You could practically hear the smirk in his filtered voice as he slashed the flat side of the knife in an X across the center of chest. In one fluid motion that was much more attractive than you’d ever willingly admit, he flipped out one of the dual knife handles and somehow swung it closed in the open palm of his hand by twitching his wrist quickly.

He showed you that he was putting it into the locked position, pushing the small rod at the bottom of one of the handles with his thumb until it clicked.

“You’re safe I promise.” He said. “I’ll let you hold it if you want.” He offered it in his open, flat palm but you denied it, shaking your head and quickly realizing that made you very dizzy.

“Brave one, huh?” He chuckled, pocketing the knife again.

He saw your eyes flit toward your phone and tsk’d audibly.

“Hey, I said I’m not gonna hurt you.” He reassured you. “Don’t try it okay?”

“Okay.” You agreed, bottom lip trembling.

“Like I said. I just wanted to say hello.” He shrugged. “And maybe remind you that you should remember to lock your windows.” He hated to lie, but he couldn’t say he just unlocked your front door could he?

At that moment your cat jumped up and settled in his lap. He carefully inspected her tail and gave her gentle chin scratches.

“Sorry bud. Didn’t mean to step on you.” He whispered.

“What the fuck.” You whispered, unbelievable. What the hell was happening?

“Hmm? Oh yeah, we’re good friends aren’t we?” He said, patting her head. “Now, go to your mommy m’kay?” He scooped her up and put her in your arms.

“She’s had a bit of a fright.” He told your cat. “Best to keep her company.”

“Now. I’m gonna leave okay?” He said, standing up slowy, his hands raised in a gesture of peace. “Count to 100.”

“What?”

“Count to 100 before you get up or try to call anyone. Got it?” He said, his tone even through the filter suggested that you should’ve just known what he meant.

“Yeah.” You nodded, your eyes feeling heavy and droopy again.

“Good.” He had to try extremely hard not to use pet names with you. He was certain you’d be suspicious immediately if he did.

“I’m going to leave through your front door, after I lock your window for you. Understand?” He said while slowly backing out of your room.

You blinked, mouth agape, still so very confused. What is this? Is this some strange and vivid dream? Maybe you should ask?

“Am I- this a dream?” You questioned, feeling stupid as soon as it left your lips.

He tilted his head and clasped his hands in front him, leaning his back against your bedroom door frame.

“Do you want it to be?” He asked in a teasing way that sounded too familiar for your comfort.

“What?” Your voice shook, you were suddenly aware of how pathetically helpless you were.

A stranger with a knife is in your bedroom and you’re just speaking to him like this is the fucking checkout line at Kroger.

He chuckled, scratching the side of his mask as if it were his cheek. “Pink book. Right bottom corner under the mattress.” Anakin nodded toward your bed.

“You- wait.” You felt sick, your diary? He was talking about your diary? How long was he in here?

“Mhm.” He nodded.

He waited for you to speak again, relaxing again the the doorframe. He let his head tilt back and knock against the wood while he crossed his legs at the ankle and unclasped his hands. Cracking his knuckles with his fingers laced together.

“Well?” He asked, crossing his arms across his broad chest.

“Well what?”

“Do you want it to be a dream?” He repeated firmly, leaning forward just a bit.

Why did you want to say yes?

“I’m not hearing a no.” He raised a hand in the form of a question from where it was tucked underneath his arm.

“No.” You shook your head, watching the room spin. “D-did you drug me?” You whispered rubbing your eyes as dancing lights flashed across your eyelids.

“Yep.” He answered nonchalantly. “Don’t worry you’ll be fine.”

“Huh.” You breathed out. If this was real life and a stranger broke into your house and somehow drugged you… why wasn’t he trying to hurt you?

It must be a dream. Sure. Yes. A dream.

“What’ll it be?” He asked “should I stay? Or should I go?”

“What do you want to do?” You wondered aloud and immediately regretted not thinking before you spoke.

“Oh you don’t wanna know.” He snickered.

“Then why’re you here?”

“You’re peaceful when you sleep.” He said casually. “I like to watch you.”

“You what?” You squeaked. “You’ve been here before?”

“How about this.” He proposed, walking back to your bed and fishing your diary out from under the mattress. “You have questions for me, I’ll answer them. Write ‘em down.”

He tossed it on the edge of the bed and reached out to you. “C’mere.”

“Why?”

“Just do it okay?” He sighed and watched you scoot closer.

He gingerly reached out as if you might bite him, you probably should. But for whatever reason you didn’t want to. He kind of felt… familiar. He didn’t scream ‘psycho killer’ instead he radiated comfort.

His leathered fingers scratched the top of your head in soothing circles. Why were you allowing this? Why were you not terrified?

“Go back to sleep.” He said softly. “I’m leaving now.”

“Why?”

“Do you want me to stay?” He laughed.

“What? N-no?” You shook your head, denying it vehemently. “Of course not.”

“Sure.” He teased. “G’night.” He straightened up and patted your head.

You watched him leave, heard him walk through your living room and kitchen and leave your apartment.

You didn’t move. You didn’t jump up and run. You didn’t grab your phone and call the cops or Luke or anyone else.

You didn’t feel scared, you thought maybe your strange acceptance of the situation was a survival instinct that would go away when the threat did. But you weren’t scared. If anything… you felt alittle lonely now that he was gone.

Part Seven

This is a butterfly knife for those of you who are unaware lol

Tag-List:

@wickedtactics @tsugumiholic @kingdomhate @burnthecheshirewitch @exquisitcorpse @arzua10 @bby-imasociopath @depressed-kay @aliciaasky @naty-1001 @mrsmikaelsxn @bunnylovesani @ausskywalker @angelsadmired @slut4starwarssmut @chocolatepalacecloudhoagie @starkiller419 @hearts4mitski4 @lethargic @allhailbuckybarnes-blog @shadowhuntyi @mortalheartache @fallinlovewithevil @sythethecarrot @chaoticantihero @vadersslut @luvvfromme @anakinsbaee @doblasftcisco @sweetcheesecakesblog @luvskywxlker @angelsadmired @kaminokatie @anakin-pilled @graveyard-stray @chiaraanatra @jediavengers @zapernz @lunalitva @salted-snailz @queenofchaos99 @ellie-luvsfics @dazednstars141 @rorysbrainrot @hopesworlld @lonaah @t8lzw @guiltycherries @syralix @doblasftcisco

THE TAGS LIST IS FULL! But if you want to be tagged I will comment ur username for you. Love you all so many.

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bigification · 20 days

Text

Jealousy Jealousy

Strong, loyal, dedicated. All words used by the boss to describe me, and every word seemed like a knife in the back of my roommate. I can hear it in the way he talks to me, ever since I joined the military all he ever seems to be is jealous. I've always been stronger and more dedicated than him, he's smarter but that doesn't even matter that much.

The walk back to our room is awkward. It is completely silent and I can almost see the steam coming out of his ears. I wanted so badly to be friends with him, but he makes it impossible. I've always worked out and kept my body in good shape, and apparently that's unforgivable to him.

We get back to our room and he immediately goes rummaging through his stuff. I pace back and forth, debating whether I should talk to him. It's hard living with him and I just want things to be civil between us.

"Hey man, I wanted to ta-" I'm interrupted when he quickly swings around and jabs something into my stomach. I look down and see a needle sticking into the side of my stomach. I feel frozen with fear, I can't talk, almost as if there is something stuck in my throat. I let out a groan as he pushes the end of the needle, injecting a green liquid into my body.

"I'm tired of being in your shadow, let's see how long you'll last after this." He monologues like some cartoon villain. What does he even mean by that, was that some kind of poison? Is he killing me just because the boss likes me more.

I stumble back against the wall, I feel weak but it hurts less than I thought it would. Although my stomach feels like it's boiling.

Am I dreaming... It feels more like a nightmare. But it must be a nightmare. I see a lump form under my shirt, and it seems to grow every time I blink. It can't be real, but it feels so real. The lump grows until it looks like I have a little belly. Do I have a belly? It's growing faster and faster until my shirt becomes untucked. It finally stops after growing into a sizable beer belly, making it impossible for me to see my feet. Maybe he gave me drugs, maybe this is just a bad trip. But it feels so real.

It doesn't end with the beer belly. Next my pecs start to swell. Something I worked so hard on is gone in seconds. I see them soften into a pair of man tits, growing until they press against my shirt. I always swore I would never let myself go like my father did, but I guess that's a lie. At least it took him until his thirties to get fat, I can't even make it to my late twenties without pigging out.

I still have no idea what's happening to me. It's getting harder and harder to think. I was thinking about... Something about pigging out. It must be because I love pigging out, that's how I got this belly.

As I'm trying to think, my body continues to grow. I hear the button on my pants pop off and feel the pressure release. I think my ass is growing, not that I mind. I feel my body being pushed further and further away from the wall as fat spilled into my ass.

Why does my crotch feel so tight? I could have sworn it didn't feel this tight a moment ago. I don't really care anyway, I can't even remember why I should care.

My pants strain against the fat filling my legs, I think I can even hear some rips tearing through them. My arms follow suit, softening up my defined muscles and fattening up my hands. Better off that way if you ask me, fatter hands means better belly rubs, and I like belly rubs.

I feel an itchiness engulf my body as a thick pelt of hair covers my skin. My arms, my legs, my chest, and most importantly my belly become a forest of sweaty hair.

My body finally relaxed and I let out a loud burp. Oh... I'm so hungry. I rub my belly trying to get any relief. It's all I can think of. Wasn't I stressed about something? What would I have been stressed about, maybe I was just hungry.

"How ya feeling big guy?" My roommate asks me.

"I'm so hungry." I cry out.

"Aren't you supposed to be on a diet?" He teases me.

"Why the fuck would I be on a diet. This is the mark of a true man!" I say as I slap my gut.

"Well I'm sure this box of donuts won't hurt your fitness assessment next week, and they won't eat themselves." He pulls out a dozen donuts. It feels like I lose control of my body as I instinctively ravage the donuts.

I lean back after finishing off the last donut and let out a loud burp. God I'm stuffed, but I want so much more. I rub my belly, trying to process the snack I just had, so I can make room for more.

"There's plenty more where that came from, big guy."

Credits to bulkgainer92 for the video and for inspiring this story.

#male tf #male transformation #male wg #fat tf #masculine #hairy #reality change #military tf

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wandasfifthwife · 2 months

Text

silence leads to destruction

paring: CEO!Wanda x reader

tw: estblashed relationship (married), r sells art pieces to make money, r is scared of rejection and spirals over nothing, strong heavy fluff, hurt/comfort, happy ending, minor injury (r), reader cuts finger with a knife on cutting board, sappy love confessions bc i said so, suggestive comment at the end but nothing happens

a/n: hi! I wanted to dabble in writing something for Wanda that ISNT smut for once. I read this over once to notice any big mistakes, but it’s not thoroughly proofread. As always, enjoy my shitty writing! 🥳

* золотце = sweetheart and жизнь моя = my world

‿︵‿୨୧‿︵‿

With love comes understanding, usually.

That’s how conversation was direct between the two of you, it eased your nerves knowing that she would validate any issue you brought to her and wish to talk it through. Mainly they were initiated by Wanda, but you both took the time to mention if something were upsetting you.

This is the first time it’s crumbled since you’ve been married. It might be because it felt it was directed at you and not just an accident like leaving the water on.

She had just arrived home, finding you making dinner.

“Hey,” she kisses your cheek, smiling into it when you lean into her body.

“Hey you,” you turn your face to kiss her properly, “how was work?”

She grumbles as usual, leaning against the kitchen counter.

“A new hire ruined our campaign by sending in the draft files to the company.”

“I’m sorry baby.”

She re-positions the knife in your hands to not aim over your fingers before continuing, “skill sets are crucial to know during the hiring process, and yet people still lie on applications and say they’re detailed and reliable when in reality they’re aloof and spontaneous.”

It felt stupid to be hurt by her words only because you had something in common with the new hire, your personalities.

“I wouldn’t say they’re lacking basic thinking skills,” you spoke, beginning to defend yourself through the employee, “just a mistake.”

“It could’ve been avoided if they had looked it over twice, but they didn’t and now we may have just lost over 20 grand.”

“It’s a mistake, we make them all the time. I know you’re thinking of firing them, but why not give them a chance?”

“I did and they messed it up again.”

“Why is this hire any different than the others who make mistakes?”

“It’s not just a simple mistake, золотце, it’s a personality difficulty. The others in the department have made a similar mistake once during their ten year term while they’ve made three within their first month.”She moves around you to help stir around the food on the stove, “it would’ve been excused if they were a personality hire.”

An ugly apprehension settled within yourself, “so if someone’s personality gets in the way of work you fire them?”

She agrees from behind you, taking care to turn the nob down so the food doesn’t burn, unaware of how you were blinking away tears.

It shouldn’t have bothered you, but your mind was nothing short of cruel. Often it would have its way and twist words Wanda has said into something entirely different.

All stemming from the motion that she would find out how terrible you were and leave, and you didn’t want her to leave.

You settled on keeping it to yourself, already feeling like you’ve used up all your sympathy cards for this week. Not wanting to seem needy for her affection, you shut it off.

“How was your day, жизнь моя?”

“Good, I can’t complain. I made a couple sales.”

She turned back to face you, “I’m so proud of you.”

She was leaving with a phone pressed to her ear. Undoing the knot the new hire had caused was going to take up her time outside of her office hours.

She paced around the room, tone tense and trying not to yell. Your blurry attention stayed on the dinner in front of you as you tried to look as if everything wasn’t falling apart internally.

Was she going to leave you alone if she found out you made faulty mistakes too?

You gasped with the knife cut through your index finger and everything was just too much. You were quick to turn your back to Wanda, finding the sink and running cold water over the cut.

Tears fell down your face until it had turned into a quiet sob. It was entirely unfair to compare her like the others, she loved you, but the past was cruel in reminding you how things had tended to end. You were entirely too aware of when she ended the call and how the room went silent when she realized you were crying.

“What’s wrong,” she coos, placing a hand on your back as she comes beside you.

“I just cut my finger open again,” you deflect, trying and hoping your smile would be enough but after 5 years together you should have known she’d be able to tell.

The hand on your back moved to your waist, pulling your back to rest against her chest. She reached from behind you, grabbing a towel and holding it over your small cut.

“I’m not mad at you,” she murmured into your neck, kissing it gently, “and I’m certainly not leaving you.”

“But I don’t think the way you do, I’m not detailed about anything. You married the wrong person.”

She called your name, spinning you to face her. “I never want to hear you say that again. I have never once thought I married the wrong person, do not ever think or say that again.”

You apologize, body timid in her hold. She moves her head so you look her back in the eyes, “I love you. I love your expressions when you’re painting, I love waking beside you in the morning, I love how careful you are with others.”

She continues her ramble, tears building in her own eyes, another cry forming in your throat at the sight of her getting worked up.

“I love you too,” you whisper and she smiles, moving forward to kiss you. Your arms wrap around her, tilting your head to kiss deeper. Her hands grab your waist and push you into her as it turns into something more.

“I want to show you how much I love you,” she whispers against your lips. It made you smile, whispering against hers of how you needed her to.

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda x reader #wanda maximoff x female reader #wanda x fem!reader #wanda maximoff x fem!reader #wanda maximoff x you #wanda x you

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writers-hes · 9 months

Text

Sydney Saw it First (c. berzatto x reader)

You’re Carmy’s friend from Noma and he asks tou to mentor Marcus before he heads to Copenhagen to stage. Sydney thinks you’re both fools in love and she’s determined to fix it. (fluff, sydney being the best wingman, inspired by the scene in new girl when nick points his shoes to jess, two fools in love)

navigation | main master lists

It was hard for anyone to read if the Carmen Berzatto cared.

Some days, he was loving but most days he was tenacious. It’s not like he meant it. It was just how he was wired; how he reacts to things. The crew learned that the hard way, when he exploded on Marcus, when he screamed at Sydney…when the stress gets to him, it really gets to him.

He’s imposed penance on himself for his actions, secluding himself from the world…being unreachable. If there was one thing in the world that he craved and that he was afraid of, it was love. So he secludes himself until he feels alone. Relationships were unnatural to him.

But it came naturally with you.

You were training to become a pastry chef at Noma when Carmy was there. You met each other at the halls, shared friends that it was inevitable for you two to become friends. He was your first taste tester when you first made croissants. He helped you make your own sourdough starter for the sourdough cookies that you were experimenting on. You were the first person whom he cooked his mom’s picatta. You were his sous chef, helping him prep the vegetables on important dates. When news arrived detailing Mikey’s death, you were the first person he called.

You two were great. You were great.

If anyone deserved praise, Carmy thought that it was you.

He didn’t know why but when he saw that Marcus was really interested in pastry, he called you; asked you to come and teach a really, really eager student that was going to stage in Copenhagen soon. Sydney also suggested that sweets are needed in a restaurant. You didn’t hesitate to board the plane upon his request. If anything, you were glad that he was finally asking you for a favor. It only meant that he was still—if not more—comfortable with you.

You arrived in Chicago all smiles, and greetings. It was Richie and Carmy who picked you up from the airport and Richi was floored. How did his cousin even manage to tolerate you? He didn’t hate you immediately, of course. In any case, Carmy told you about his little girl; you decided to bring her a little gift.

“I didn’t know what to get you but Carmy said that you have a daughter so I got this instead,” you said, extending a toy. “My niece has the same one…so, I figured…”

“Yeah, yeah,” Richie nodded. He muttered a small ‘thanks’ before helping you with you luggage.

The night before, Carmy instructed everyone during family to behave.

“Look, there will be no funny business, alright? My friend is flying in tomorrow to oversee Marcus and act as his mentor while we fix the Bear. No taking her knife away, no screaming, no fighting, no fucking anything, alright, chefs?” he asked. When he was met with silence, “Alright, Chefs?”

A couple of ‘heards’ were thrown.

“Who is this friend, anyway, Jeff?” Tina asked. “You didn’t tell us to behave when Sydney over here first came,”

“Someone from Copenhagen. She, uh—“

“She?” Sweeps asked, his eyebrows raised in anticipation. “You got a girl, chef?”

“No,” he replied. “She studied in Copenhagen as a pastry chef, okay? No big deal—“ he proceeds to mention your name and how you’re just really super cool. “No big deal—“

“Wait, Chef, that’s a big deal!” Marcus said. “Oh, you know her recipes are all over my station, right?” he asked. “Sydney—“

“I went to the place she worked at in New York after I graduated. Everything’s just so…good. Amazing,” she recalled. “So, yes, it’s a big deal,”

“Yeah, whatever. Just promise me to behave, alright?” Carmy asked. “She’ll have to make do with what we currently have but I’ll try to stock up and set up the station before she arrives tomorrow.”

You arrived at the Beef—er, the Bear a day after your arrival in Chicago. You were able to find a place that was near the city center for a good deal. You were here indefinitely, still trying to figure out if you wanted to run your own bakery or just work with others for the rest of your life. Seeing Carmy take the leap was insipiring.

“Hello, chefs, I’m Y/N,” you said, a friendly smile gracing your features. Carmy was right beside you, watching everyone. “I’m a pastry chef and I graduated with Carmy in Copenhagen. I’m here to mentor Marcus but of course, if you have any questions regarding anything, you can ask me. I know how to cook too…and uh, I’ll be taking care of family tonight,”

Carmy jerks from his relaxed position.

“You sure?” he asks softly. “I can take care of family, if you’re too tired.”

“Yeah. It’s like initiation,” you nod, looking at him and then looking back at the new faces in front of you again. “Do you have any questions…”

Sydney raises her hand.

“Um, I’m sorry if this comes across rude but why are you here?” she asked.

“Oh, well, I’m not really tied down to anything right now. When Carmy called me, asking if I could come here, I decided to go. I’m here in Chicago indefinitely and I’ve been receiving invitations to cook, teach a class, whatever. I might accept some of those,” you said. Sydned nodded. Damn, Noma’s chefs were being chased from left and right. She was in the presence of two.

“Do you have a little notebook?” Tina asked, making Sydney scofd. “With recipes?”

“Um, no,” you shook your head. “I keep all my notes in my head and then write it afterwards,” Tina liked you already.

“What do you think about Carmen Berzatto—“

“Anyway, that’s all, Chefs! Marcus, come to the office with me, chef,” Carmy said, breaking up the huddle, and making you laugh. He discreetly pulls down your shirt, a sign that you should follow him too to the office. When you were both out of earshot, Sydney asked no one in particular.

“That girl and Chef? There’s something,”

That afternoon, during family, Sydney watched the two of you like a hawk. Confirming her suspicions when Carmy stayed for family and sat beside you.

Sydney notices it for the second time. You were going over the Noma “picture book” with Marcus, telling him how some of the desserts came about.

“What’s this?” Marcus asked, pointing at a photo of the dessert that put you on the map.

“That’s a dish of candied hallabong peel, with a prosecco peach sorbet, on a bed of meringue, topped with candied cherries. I got it because some of my friends went to Jeju sometime and brought back this orange hybrid. I think….I think we can recreate it but it wouldn’t be the same without the orange.”

“What about the flesh and the juice?”

“I turned it into like an orange-chocolate cake with chocolate mousse,”

Carmy was just passing by but he decided to watch you interact with his employees instead.

“Anyways, where’s your chocolate cake? Let’s taste it and compare it from the last one. Also, I can send you my recipe for sourdough doughnuts. Just give me your email,” you said, looking up briefly to find Carmy already looking at you. It made him feel good to see you incorporate yourself so well in the kitchen. Well, it’s not like the Bear is open but his staff went to you for some tips and advice. They were all undergoing some sort of training to make everything more elevated. “Hey, Carm. Do you need anything?”

“Hey-hey,” he coughed, ashamed for being caught. “Nothing. Uh—“

“Chef, did you ever try Y/N’s stuff?” Marcus asked. He’d really, really, really want to taste something that you made someday. They were all delicate and so detailed. It’s probably why you got multiple awards at such a young age.

“I did. She used to bring big Tupperware containers of things they made in the kitchen,”

“He finished them all,” you told Marcus. “Wouldn’t spare me a bite,”

“I don’t know, bug,” he teased. “I vividly remember you begging me to do it because you were so sick of fucking croissants.”

“You’re so annoying,” you huffed, a playful smile on your face. “Go on now. Marcus and I have stuff to do and you’re distracting us.”

“In my own restaurant,” Carmy mutters, shaking his head. Sydney’s eyes immediately directed to Tina. Did you see? Did you hear the word ‘Bug’?. Tina only shrugged.

Sugar dropped in to check on the improvements being done at the Bear when she saw you and Carmen at the back, talking. She had to double take what she saw because it was quite…odd to see him talk to you with the same twinkle he used to have. She has never seen him like this. He was genuinely laughing at some of the things that you were saying, a shared plate of leftover chocolate cake between the two of you.

“Who’s the girl outside?” Sugar asked, looking at Richie and Sydney for answers.

“Some fancy pastry chef Carmy met in Copenhagen,” Richie replied. “It’s a whole bet now, you know? They’re always out in their own world ever since she got here,”

“Everyone puts in 10 to predict what’s going to happen,” Tina said. “You’re betting?”

“Yeah, sure,” Sugar says, giving a bill to Tina. “I bet…I bet they’ll fall in love right before she leaves Chicago. Like, on the way to the airport. Carmy’s going to tell her that he loves her and she stays,”

Laughter echoes in the room.

“This is not some fucking movie, cousin,” Richie said. “Obviously, Carmy’s not gonna do shit about it.”

“I think…she’ll call him over and they’ll share a moment,” Marcus said. “He’s always at her place, did you know that?”

Meanwhile, unaware of the ongoing bet, Carmy looks at you.

“What do you think about Chicago?” he asked, a cigarette hanging idly on his fingers.

“It’s nice…chilly,” you said. “But it’s nice. I’ve been offered jobs here, you know?”

“Hm?” he asked. “Are you planning to take them?”

“I’m…thinking about them. They’re all the same but like, I want my own bakery, you know? My own place.” you said. “It’s going to be a lot of work if I do that and I don’t necessarily have the staff to do all that.” you said.

“If you want…you can come stay with us if you’re not sure,” he offers. “Like a pastry chef. Actually, I’ll have to ask Sugar and Sydney if it’s alright with them but you can stay here,”

“Bear, I don’t want to impose—“

Sydney was walking outside to throw the trash but she stopped her trackes when she heard you talk.

“I want you here,” Carmy said with conviction. “But if you don’t-don’t like it here in Chicago, I wouldn’t mind either, you know? It’s just that…I want you here and-and fuck, I don’t know. I guess working with you made it so much more fun again, you know? Like us in Copenhagen. I mean, we’re always a team and-and it’s nice to have you here with me. Sugar and spice? Sweet and spicy or whatever the fuck they called us back then,” he chuckled, inhaling his cigarette to calm himself down. “We can make it work,”

“Yeah, yeah. You go talk about it to Nat and Syd,” you said, taking a swig of your water. “And then we’ll talk. Cool?”

“Cool,” he shrugged. Sydney leaves and goes back to where the commotion was.

“I change my scenario,” she said.

“You can’t do that, Sydney,” Richie said. “It’s a bet! You have to pay again,”

Sydney breathed, what was ten more, right? Fuck.

“Fuck, sure, okay. Whatever,” she said, giving Richie the bill. “She’ll stay here. She’ll realize the there’s nothing waiting for her back home and she’ll stay here,”

“Where did you get this?” Fak asked. “Quite—oh my God. Sydney, did you fucking cheat?”

“No, I didn’t fucking cheat!” she defended, it was a lie. “Can’t you see the two of them? Always in their own world? How would Carmy let her go?”

“Jeffrey has a point,” Tina shrugged. “But if she loses, just know that you lost twice, Jeff,”

“I know,”

You, Sydney, and Carm all went to his apartment. It was where the two of them made a menu while you acted as a consultant and a taste tester. Their palates were fucked and they didn’t know what to do or what to cook anymore. So they asked you. But you weren’t there today. You and Marcus were in your apartment, making up stuff for dessert. The Beef has officially closed down and is a rubbled mess. There was no space and Carmy just wanted to be there with you.

“Can I ask you something and you can tell me to fuck off?” Sydney asked while she watched Carmy plate the hamachi crudo.

“Hm?”

“Do you…have feelings for Y/N?” she asked, looking at Carmy. He blushed, his ears turning red for being caught.

“Is it obvious?”

“To everyone but her,” she shrugged.

“Fuck, really? I thought I was being discreet,”

“Oh, you can stay here! You’re so good and so smart and so pretty,” Sydney gushed, mocking Carmen.

“Fuck off,” he laughs. “I…I do,”

“Yeah?”

“I just…just…she’s uh, so amazing, and like, I’ve been feeling these feelings since…since Copenhagen,” he mumbles, finishing the garnish with an oil.

“Damn. You never made a move?” she asked, getting forks. She gives one to Carmen and they both taste the crudo. It was amazing. “That’s good,”

“It is. Good job, Syd,” Carmy replied.

“It was her who told me to try adding jalapeno slices,” Syd said.

“You can’t do that,” Carmy warned her. Why did she want to get you two together so bad? “But I haven’t done anything. I mean, like, she was dating these guys and they’re so cool that-that it was never really my turn,” he remembered.

“But you’re the best chef in the world! That trumps that,” she encouraged. “None of them worked out?”

“No,” Carmy shook his head. “She’d always end things and I don’t want that for myself. She told me none of them worked out…wasn’t what she was, uh, looking for?”

“Oh,” Sydney nodded. “Well, if you’re feeling brave enough…”

“I haven’t been having…fun,” Carmy acknowledges. “With the Beef and the Bear until she got here, you know? Made me feel like I was young in Copenhagen again,”

“Another question. You can say fuck off if you want,” Sydney says and watches as Carmy bites a smile. “The last one. Is that why you asked her to stay? It’s just that I heard you the other day and…”

“Fuck off,” he laughs but Sydney noticed how everything about him conveyed everything that she needed to know.

“This is a quenelle,” you told Marcus. You, Marcus, Carm, and Sydney were at your apartment. It was bigger than Carmy’s and your oven didn’t have jeans in them. “This took me at least a hundred tries,” you chuckled. “You just…away, back, and then hands…” You demonstrated, making a quenelle of a yuzu mousse.

“Damn, Chef. How’d you do that?” Marcus asked, trying it for himself. He failed, his quenelle being a little bit smaller than yours.

“I had a friend named Luca. He didn’t let me out of the kitchen until I made a perfect one,” you recalled. “Carmy was there and he was laughing at me. He could do it in like three tries and I remember hating him,”

“You hate me?” he asked, leaning on the countertop. He didn’t like to hear about Luca. He only wanted you to talk about the two of you.

“Hey, Bear. Try this?” you asked, spooning him the raspberry curd. Carmy opens his mouth and you walk over, feeding him the pinkish liquid and then watching his face. “It goes with a black sesame shell. Do you like it?”

He notices your close proximity and flushes.

“Y-yeah,” he coughed, looking away. “Really good. Uh, very good,”

“No notes?” you asked and he swore he could kiss you right there because you were so beautiful.

“No notes,”

“Thanks, Chef,” you said. Sydney whistles as you help Marcus master his quenelle. Carmy looks at her and she teases him with a mockery of what he just said.

Carmy and Marcus left after cleaning up. You and Sydney decided to have a girl’s night. You were both sitting on the couch, mud masks on your faces when she turned to you fully.

“You know, he likes you right?”

“Who?” you asked, trying to fit a handful of chips.

“Carmy,” you heard and you choked on the bits of chips in your mouth.

“Fuck!” you choked. “Sydney!” You were coughing while Sydney handed you a glass of vodka cranberry. You gulp it down. “You—can’t say shit like that!”

“What?” she laughed. “Look, I’m not kidding! Whenever he talks to you, his feet are pointed at you. I’ve read enough fucking books and body language shit to know that he’s interested,”

“I don’t think so,” you said. “That’s bullshit,”

“It’s not though,” she shrugged. “He asked you to stay for a reason,”

“He needs a pastry chef,” you shrugged. “Besides, he and I are friends, Sydney. I’ve been trying to get him jealous all my time in Copenhagen but he never…he never got the signal,”

“Oh,” Sydney nods. Two idiots in love. “Have you ever tried telling him?”

“Of course not! He’s always on about how he doesn’t have the energy to love or date. I tried the jealousy thing before but it never worked. Trust me, there’s nothing.”

Carmy arrives at your doorstep the next morning, bright and early. Sydney had already left, telling you something about stopping by at her dad’s apartment to get stuff. You were going to the Bear with him to help Sydney choose plates for the restaurant.

“Good morning,” he greets. Two cups of take-out coffee in his hands. “I got us some coffee while we walk on the way,”

“Thank you,” You took the cup from his hands and clutched your jacket tighter. It was so, so, so cold. “Didn’t know it was going to be this chilly today,”

“You wanna wear my jacket?”

“You’ll be cold,”

“It doesn’t bother me,” he said, already taking off the jacket to the best of his one-handed ability. He was only wearing a gray sweater underneath. “I have something. See?” He doesn’t take no for an answer, taking your coffee and your bag from you so you could wear the colorful jacket.

“Thanks, Bear,” you said, smiling at him. The sight of you in his clothes does something to him and he couldn’t help except give you a slight nod before forging on in the chilly Chicago weather.

You both entered the Beef giggling amongst yourselves when the usual buzzing stopped.

“Remember when Luca—“

You halted, finding the silence odd. You looked around to see everyone looking at you.

“What’s wrong? Is something wrong?” Carmy asked, removing his hand from the small of your back. “Syd—“

“Love the sweater,” Richie teases. You look down and feel the warmth on your cheeks.

“It was cold and he asked me to wear it,” you shrugged, leaving Carmen to deal with the staff out front. You were signalling Sydney for help but she only looked away. Traitor. “Um—“

“Y/N, if you could please help me out here,” Carmy called you.

“Your boyfriend’s calling,”

“He’s not!” you huffed before walking over. “What is it?”

“I need you to time me, is that okay?” he asked. He nodded towards the stopwatch and you complied. “Thank you. I just need to check or like, map out the kitchen you know?”

“Of course,” you replied.

“Do you need help getting on—“

“It’s okay it’s just an old thing,” you replied.

“Yo, cousin! If you’re done eye fucking, Sugar needs you.” Richie calls.

“We’re not eye-eye fucking!” you complained. “What the fuck?” You stood up from your corner before you could even work and accidentally looked down. If a man is interested his feet will—

You move to the side and Carmy follows. And then to the side again.

“Y/N–“

“Stay there,” you asked, walking around him and him turning around. “Carm!”

“What?” he asked, grasping your shoulders. He looks down to his shoes. “Are my shoes dirty?”

“No, it’s just—“ you tried again but Carm still followed. “Sydney told me about like, how when a guy is, uh,”

“Cousin!”

“Fuck, okay. Let’s talk about it later okay? Once everyone’s out?” he asked, looking at you. “Can we do that?” His jacket felt softer on you than it ever did on him.

“Yea-yeah,” you nodded. “I’ll go help Sydney,”

The afternoon passed by and you were alone at The Bear. You waited for Carmen to finish up at the dining area like you promised. Your heart was beating so fast, maybe a thousand miles an hour. What Sydney said has been on your mind and what if it wasn’t true and you get embarrassed? Fuck, could you even handle that?

You sighed, burying your head between your hands when Carmy walks over to you.

“What’s up?” he asked. “Everything alright?”

“Y-yeah,” you nod. “Can you stay there and just, I don’t know, be Carmy?” you asked, standing up to test the theory again. He just stands there, dumbfounded. You circle around him and he follows. You were looking on the ground.

“Fuck, what the fuck?” he asked. “Is there something wrong with my shoes? I know they’re old and not—“

“Carmen, shh,”

“What?” he asked, grasping your shoulders for the second time that day to steady you. “What’s wrong?”

“Fuck, I don’t—“

“What’s wrong?”

“Sydney told me that there’s like, this body language thing and like, uh, says that when a guy is interested his shoes are always pointing at you and well, she told me to look at yours,” you rambled, looking away in embarrassment. “Look, if this will be weird between the two of us, I mean—“

“Why would it matter?” he asked, hands inching closer to your neck. He was nervous but maybe this is the opening that he’s been waiting for for years. When you didn’t reply, he asked again. “Why would it matter?”

“Because…because I’ve been trying to make you jealous for years in Copenhagen and it never worked,” you whispered. You were embarrassed. It felt like you were in high school telling your crush that you liked him. “I know you don’t see me that way,” you replied, trying to look for the right words. Carmy lets you finish. He wanted to hear you. “And it’s fine. If this is stupid, let’s forget that this ever happened. Okay? God, I’m so fucking embarrassed right now,”

“Hey, hey,” he cooes, his thumb tucked the hair back and then caressed your cheek. “Whoever said that I wasn’t jealous? I had to leave all the time because I was so fucking jealous. Those guys were cool. Don’t-don’t be embarrassed, okay? I like hearing that-you, uh, like me,”

“Carmy…don’t lie to me, okay? You don’t have to pretend—hm,”

Carmy had just kissed you. Carmen Berzatto just kissed you. You were clutching on his shirt so tightly, afraid that if he lets go, he’ll be gone. But he doesn’t. He just trails his hands down to your back, touching skin to skin until you’re one.

“I’ve been waiting years to do that,” Carmy rasps, breathing heavily.

“Yeah? Then, do it again,” you whispered, smirking slightly at how he seemed to blush hard. Before you could tease him though, he tucks your hair back again, bringing your lips closer to his.

He did.

A/N: Thank you for giving my recent fics so much love and for being so motivating. Your kind words really make my day and I hope that you love this too. Don’t forget to reblog and comment! Thanks again!

TAGLIST: @kpopgirlbtssvt

#carmen berzatto x reader #carmy berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto fanfiction #carmen berzatto #fanfiction #fluff #the bear #carmy berzatto #carmen berzatto x you #the bear fic #carmen berzatto fluff #the bear fx

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wandamaximoffsbadgirl · 2 months

Text

Little Girl Gone Chapter 3

Been a While Since My Head Was This Polluted

Mob Boss!Natasha x Mob Boss!Fem!Reader, Mommy!Wanda Maximoff x Mob Boss!Fem!Reader

Warnings: 18+ MDNI!, Starts with smut, some angst, and a lot of fluff. There are depictions of abuse (physical and s*xual) please read at your own caution, knife play, Dark!Daddy!Natasha, Nat has a dick, use of a whip, breeding, Nat doesn't give aftercare, Wanda does help with aftercare.

Word count: 3.3K

A/N: I normally don't write Nat like this, and it was actual hard given my own past, but in this story, Nat is the bad guy, unfortunately for her.

Your knees ached as a harsh slap came across your face, a wet pop as her cock fell out of your mouth leaving you gaping and drooling. You stared up at her, eyes hazy and glossy. You’d allowed yourself to fall into subspace just so you didn’t have to think about it anymore.

“I know you can do better than that slut.” Natasha growls, gripping your cheeks and pulling you back onto her cock. She holds the back of your head still while she pounds against your face, gagging and choking on her member as she hits the back of your throat. Drool falling onto your tits and lap. A different wetness pooling between your legs.

You hated Natasha and how she treated you, you truly did, but still your body reacted like this because she had trained it to do so. As much as you tried to stop it she still held this power over you. You could tell she was getting close and as your braced yourself to take her load down your throat she pulled out. Looking up at her once again she looked down at you with anger as she gripped your hair, not giving you a chance as she started to pull you by your hair to the bed.

The sensation burned against your scalp as you stumbled and struggled to keep up with Natasha as she threw you against the bed. You heard the familiar sound of her knife making your eyes widen.

“N-Nat-“ Her knife against your throat in an instant. Eyes wide and cold looking insane as she stared at you.

“That’s not my name.” She pushed the knife further against your throat; terrifying you.

“Daddy! Daddy! I’m sorry!” The knife was pulled back slightly as she smiled down at you.

“Good slut.” She let the knife scrap against your skin, not enough to cut just enough to leave raised red lines across your skin. It’s not like she had never actually cut into you, because she had and you still look at the scars everyday.

“D-Daddy...c-can we not use the k-knife?” your voice wavers and she stops a moment before letting the knife dig in ever so slightly making you yelp in pain.

“You aren’t supposed to be thinking big thoughts right now.” She pulls away, letting the knife fall while she goes off to grab something. When you looked you noticed exactly what she had pulled out; a whip. Fumbling back slightly at the memories of her using that on you. “Stomach. Now.” When you hesitate she flip's you herself sending down a harsh impact which would definitely leave its mark as will all subsequent hits as she grabs your hips, pulling you towards the edge of the bed so she can plow into you.

As her hips move at a painful force, stretching you out painfully as she continued the assault on your back you cried out, tears streaming down your face.

“S-sorry Daddy...m’sorry....please Dadddy!” You mumble out the only coherent thing you can manage as she continues until she’s grunting and moaning over you. The whipping has stopped only to be replaced with her much cooler body against your hot back feeling a bit of relief until her mouth starts biting into your skin, leaving their own marks as you scream out.

“Mmmm love hearing your screams baby girl and those tears of yours are more beautiful than ever. Fuck you’re gonna make Daddy cum. You’re gonna take all of it like a good girl right? Daddy’s gonna fill you up and breed that pretty pussy till it’s all full.” She growled in your ear, biting along your neck.

“Yes Daddy! Daddy!”Was all you could manage in hopes that once this was over it would be over as you felt her fill you up and groaning. It had been so long since you had felt that as Natasha pulled your face to kiss you roughly as she continued to cum inside of you, biting her bottom lip roughly, tugging as you tasted her blood in your mouth. Smirking as you pulled away from her. Her blood in your mouth and dribbling down your chin. She was pissed off until she saw that look on your face and it turned into one of her seeming almost impressed.

“Ready for round 2?” She smirked and your face paled. You should have known Natasha was never satisfied with one round.

============================

You managed to stumble into your room, not even really noticing Wanda until she was at your side. Her words didn’t register at first since aftercare wasn’t something Natasha didn’t care for you were still trying to pull yourself together. Wanda gently pulled your face to meet hers as she took in all the marks she could see and you took her in.

“Y/N did Natasha do this to you? Did she hurt you?” Wanda’s words finally becoming clear to you. Words were hard right now as you took Wanda gently by just her pointer finger, tugging gently back to the bed. Moving the book she had been reading out of the way as you got onto the bed and so did she.

You looked at Wanda for a moment looking into her eyes and she cupped your swollen cheek. “Did she hurt you because of me?” You shook your head. Pushing lightly on her shoulder until she laid back and you gently and carefully cuddled up against her side. You let out a shaky sigh of relief as you breathed in Wanda’s scent of vanilla. As careful as Wanda tried to be with holding you recognizing that you needed it in this moment though every touch hurt it did still bring you comfort as you closed your eyes.

Wanda starts singing softly, a lullaby, you assume at least since she’s singing in Russian which you’d recognize anywhere now. You’d only ever been yelled at in Russian, but Wanda made the harsh words that had normally been thrown at you so soft, you could almost fall asleep like this.

Eventually as you slowly come out of subspace thanks to Wanda you tighten your grip on her, looking up at her and she gives you a soft smile,

“Hi...welcome back dorogoya.” You give a small smile back.

“I’m sorry about that...”Wanda shakes her head.

“No don’t none of that. Whatever it is that you did you did an amazing job Dorogoya. You needed to rest a bit and that is perfectly okay. I’m here for you. You saved me and my boys so the least I can do is be your pillow while you come back to reality.” Wanda cups your cheek so gently, in a way that you aren’t used to and you’re half expecting a slap to come, but it doesn’t all Wanda does is gently rub circles with her thumb.

“Thank you then. I appreciate it.”

“We still need to clean your wounds. I didn’t want to bother you before you were ready, but your shirt is sticking to you by blood. We need to wash your face too. Come on lets go to the bathroom. I saw the big first aid kit you have in there.” Wanda helps you up. “Come on Dorogoya. I’ve got you.” You almost forgot what it’s like to be doted on by a mom.

She gets you to sit on the lip of the tub which is 1. Huge, and 2. Surrounded by its own ceramic tiling so sitting there wasn’t so dangerous.

She helped get you out of your shirt and tank top which hurt immensely as the half dried blood stuck to the shirt, making the wounds all reopen.

“Fuck.” You hissed as Wanda coos and soothes you back down. Getting a warm, damp towel for your back. You grip your hands into fists and cruse Natasha for this and then yourself for allowing it to happen.

“What did she do?” Wanda asks trying to distract you.

“She agreed to leave you alone if I slept with her one last time.” You admit to the red head.

“And you said no that’s why you’re so beat up, right?” You don’t answer and you don’t dare look at her. You know you’ll break if you do. “Right, Y/N?” You shake your head. “What do you mean no?” She gently pulls your chin to look at her. “She did this to you while...” Wanda’s voice trails off when she sees the the tears welling up in your eyes.

“I did this so it doesn’t happen to you. I won’t let her touch you. Ever.” Your hand finds her thigh and grips. “I promise. Even when you and the boys leave. I won’t let her. If she ever did....I’d kill her.” A heat rises in your chest, anger. You’d never been angry at anything Natasha did to you, but the thought of her doing those same things to Wanda? To the boys? Your blood boiled at the thought.

“Y/N....dorogoya...” She cupped both your cheeks letting your foreheads rest against each others. “I don’t ever want to see you like this again because of her or anyone else for that matter. Seeing you walk in like that scared me. I was so worried especially seeing all that blood on you. I was so worried. I know you don’t want to see me like this, but I also don’t want to see you like this now that I have and I know how it makes me feel.” Wanda’s voice was breathy and full of emotion. Tears pricking at the corners of her eyes as her thumbs rubbed against your cheeks.

“I’m sorry. I’ll be more careful. I promise.” You lean into one of her hands, closing your eyes as you move against it.

“Thank you. Now let’s finish getting you all cleaned up.” Wanda smiles blinking away the tears as she starts working again.

You couldn’t properly put into words how appreciative you were of Wanda taking care of you, giving you the after care you needed desperately in that moment.

As she bandaged you all up she helped you put on some loose and comfy pajamas already saying, ‘work is done for today. Carol can handle it.’ Which made you laugh as the two of you headed to the kitchen.

=============================

“Oh I am so going to kick your ass!” You call out as you clicked a button letting the blue shell go hitting Tommy in game as you passed him and took first place. Jumping up and doing a little victory dance.

“Y/N could you go easy on them? They’re children.” Wanda calls over her shoulder from the other side of the room where she was reading a comic.

“Sorry Wands Mario Kart is a cruel game and you must learn at a young age patawan.” You smirked at Tommy grabbing him in a hold and giving him a noogie as he tried to squirm away.

“I’m gonna win next time!” Tommy called out.

“You’re on little man.” You look over at Billy. “You want in on this round mister man?” Billy shook his head. He tended to not like competitive games and that was fine with you.

You play a few more rounds with Tommy until he wins one and that’s enough for him before he’s whining over the couch, “Mom what’s for dinner?” He asks and Wanda looks up and at you.

“Why are you looking at me?”

“Don’t you have cooks and maids? Shouldn’t you know what they’re making?” She asks and you shrug.

“They cook what I ask them to. I don’t eat much so they always wait until I go and ask. They give me a few options and I either pick from them or I tell them what I want.” You look at the boys who have mischievous looks on their faces. “No you are not allowed to ask for desserts for dinner. Proper dinner boys!” You call after them as they rush out the door and you hear them both go “Awww man...” You and Wanda share a laugh as she sets the comic down on the table and gets up.

“Let’s go make sure they don’t bribe the cooks.” Wanda says as she walks past you.

It’s been a week now since she’s been here. Natasha has left you both alone for the time being. Wanda hadn’t mentioned anything about wanting to leave, but after that night with Natasha she always hugged you before you left saying, ‘Be safe. We’re here waiting for you to come home safe.’ It warmed your heart to know Wanda was thinking of your house as home.

As the two of you walk down the long hallway to the kitchen your hands brush against each other. You notice Wanda pull back slightly with a blush on her face and you bite your lip before reaching out to hold her hand. Letting your fingers lace together. You look over at her and smile, she gives you a smile back.

“Is this okay?” You ask.

“Yeah...this is okay...more than okay...” She reassures you, not letting go until you two are just at the kitchen’s threshold, the twins trying to convince the cooks to cook them some sweet treat filled dish that Wanda sighs and goes to put an end to it as you lean against the big kitchen island, watching the domestic moment, wanting to join in on it, but holding yourself back.

“How about tendies and fries!?” You finally call out when the boys continue to try various ideas.

“Heck yeah!” Tommy calls out fist bumping the air.

“Yes! Can we do nuggets too?” Billy asks and you smile, walking over and ruffling his hair lovingly.

“Of course mister man.” You smile at the boys and look at the cooks. “Tendies, nuggets, and fries tonight.”

“Ma’am which kind of fries?” The head cook asks and you look at the boys.

“Curly.” Tommy says.

“Steak!” Billy overlaps with his brother.

“Shoestring.” You add after the boys and smile at the cooks before looking at Wanda. “Would you like anything sweetie or are you okay with the choices made?” Wanda smiles at you before requesting if she could cook her own dinner. “Of course you can sweetie. If that’s what you want to do. I’d love to try some of your cooking.” Wanda gives you a sweet smile before heading off with the cooks to see what was laying around as you watch her work while the boys run off to some fun corner of the house knowing they’d be called by one of the workers around the house once dinner was ready.

Wanda pulled her hair back into a half up do with a bun and pulled her sleeves up while she pulled out different ingredients while she did so you felt the presence of someone behind you.

When you looked you found Maya. The almost permeant scowl on her face was gone momentarily as you signed, “What’s got you smiling?”

“Made a good deal. We can talk after dinner. Just wanted to let you know I was back safe.” She signed back putting a hand on your shoulder, but Maya knew you better as you stood and hugged her. With your back turned to Wanda you didn’t notice the look she gave the, to you, seemingly small act of affection you tended to hand out amongst your found family.

=============================

The two of you are on opposite sides of the bed, the overhead lights have long since been shut off, but your bedside lamps created a soft glow across the room and the only noises to be heard were your clicking of keys against your laptop, going over some documents that had been sent your way for review. Every so often the turning of a page from Wanda’s side.

You pushed your blue light glasses up, rubbing your eyes and let out a yawn. You’d been at this for hours and felt like you barely made a dent since you had neglected them all weekend.

“Y/N?” You hear Wanda’s voice carry through the quiet room, turning your head to look at the woman you some how found yourself sharing a bed with. She took you looking at her as enough to continue. “That woman who came home just before dinner, is she like your girlfriend or something?” She asks with such a confidence and even a hint of jealousy that it makes you reel back a bit before you can even respond to the older woman.

“No. That’s Maya, she runs things with me. We were both in similar situations where we were used by someone else and in wanting to prove ourselves now find ourselves in charge of our own families now.” You take the laptop, setting it aside as you move closer to Wanda. “Maya and I found each other at probably our lowest points and if it wasn’t for her I wouldn’t be where I am now. I owe her a great deal and vice versa, but there’s nothing between us. I’m just...I tend to remind everyone that it’s okay to still have emotions because Natasha tried to take that from me. She tried to take everything from me Wanda and I won’t let that happen to anyone I know. Everyone who follows me is allowed to feel whatever feelings they have. Anger, sadness, happiness, love...”

You find your eyes flicking between Wanda’s eyes and her lips. How could you even begin to think of anyone besides her? Sure the two of you weren’t together, but you found yourself sharing a bed. She’d see you off in the mornings, she’d give you hugs and chaste kisses on the cheek upon your arrival home, she’d help clean your wounds.

Wanda had wormed her way into your life in such a short time and she had you thinking about her constantly, you loved coming home where as you slipped off your shoes and suit jacket she’d round the corner to embrace you. Her warmth enveloping your whole being as her now familiar scent of vanilla bringing comfort to every fiber of your being.

“Y/N?” Wanda’s voice brought you back, making you take notice of how close you had brought yourself. A red flush covering Wanda’s cheeks. Instinctively you reach out to cup her cheek.

“How could I even think of wanting someone else when the most beautiful woman sleeps beside me every night?” You raise an eyebrow at her, your voice filled with confidence. You don’t think about it much before you let your lips connect. She’s so soft against your own as you feel her arms wrap around you, pulling you on top of her as she leans back. Your lips move against each other and you hear a soft moan from her.

You pull back, making her chase your lips momentarily before she gives up with a whine. You smirked down at her, leaning back in to kiss her forehead.

“If you want more you can have all the kisses you want.” You whisper against her forehead, she nuzzles against your cheek a smile playing on her lips. “If you want me that is...”

“Of course I want you Y/N...why would you doubt that?” Her voice waivers a bit as you pull back to look her in the eyes.

“Wanda, I’m the head of a mafia family. My whole life screams nothing, but danger. You have two ten year old boys to take care of-“ You’re cut off by Wanda kissing you once more, your train of thought completely derailed.

“You said it yourself Y/N there is no safer place than with you.” Wanda reminded you of your words. You look into her green eyes finding nothing, but love in them, feeling her fingertips run over the scars on your back.

She knows what’s she’s getting into. You know she does, and yet you are all she wants. There is no hesitation in her actions or words. So you have no choice but to let yourself fall into her.

#ley writes #ley speaks #natasha x reader #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #natasha romanoff smut #natasha romanov #wanda maximoff fluff #wanda x reader #wanda x you #natasha x you

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desperate-gay · 2 months

Note

mearps, "i can't believe after 3 years together this is the first time i'm ever learning this", kitchen at home

Family Recipe

Mary Earps x fem!reader

“What’s cookin’ good lookin’” Mary’s booming voice startles you, making you jump and almost drop the sharp knife you’re using to slice the food. “I scared ya didn’t I?” The taller girl chuckles, placing her hands on your hips and a kiss on your cheek.

“Yes, yes you did.” You huff in fake annoyance while playfully giving her a scolding look.

“Awe you’re so adorable all pouty.” Mary moves in a baby voice as one of her big hands reaches up and squeezes your cheeks. You quickly smack her hand away and mumble something under your breath as you turn your body back to the food.

“How was training?” The goalkeeper sighs, leaning against the counter while watching you do your thing.

“Exhausting, annoying, smelly, and any other adjectives I have missed. Besides that what are you stirring up over there, love?” Your girlfriend quirks an eyebrow and attempts to look over your shoulder only for her sight to still be blocked.

“I am starting to make my uncle’s signature pasta sauce so we can have some tonight.” You say, smiling at her giddy state when she starts clapping her hands in excitement.

At every family function your uncle brings his homemade pasta along with his sauce. Mary is always the first to get a plate and the first to get seconds. Nobody in the family knows the recipe besides your uncle, you, and your mom which makes Mary very jealous when you won’t share it with her.

The taller girl reappears behind you, wrapping her arms around your waist and hugging you along with placing random kisses either on your shoulders, head, or cheek. You smile at her clingy behavior, enjoying being close to her after not seeing each other for most of the week.

“Y’know what?” You ask, turning around to face her.

“What?”

“Do you want to help me cook?” Mary looks even more confused considering she doesn’t know anything about how the dish is made.

“I can’t help because I don’t know how.” Your girlfriend huffs while crossing her arms, annoyed that you’re basically rubbing it in her face.

“I think it’s time I can teach you.” You let out a big squeal when the goalkeeper’s arms lift you up into the air and spin you around in glee. “Okay okay, calm down there, cowboy. I gotta be conscious to do so.” You tease which the other girl doesn’t notice from being too caught up putting on an apron she jokingly got for you one day.

“Chef Mary reporting for duty.” She stands tall while fake saluting, making you giggle at her determination and silly nature.

“Alright you goof, you can start by cutting those tomatoes over there.” You point over to the free area with the knife.

“I can’t believe after 3 years together, this is the first time I’m ever learning this.” The taller girl speaks with a certain eagerness and reaches for the veggie and fruit bowl.

“Mary, those are apples.”

A little while later all the ingredients are already in the pot and formed into the signature sauce. You scoop up a little with the wooden spoon and hold her hand under it in case anything spills while blowing to cool it off.

“Time for the final test. Try and see if it’s good.” You hold up the spoon, gesturing for her to open her mouth. Once she does, you angle it up into her mouth in an attempt to make it all in but some drips down the corner of your lips.

“God, that’s so delicious I’ll never get over it.” She groans at the taste immediately wanting more.

“You got a little something right there.” You smile while wiping the remains of the dressing off her chin. While trying to gather it off her face, you don’t notice the loving expression she has while staring down at you. “There you go, my love.” You say, sucking it off your thumb before you swiftly get pulled in for a time-stopping kiss.

The kiss is so unbelievably tender and sweet that you almost faint. You can tell how much love is being poured into it just by the feeling of her lips and her hand cradling your face. Once air becomes a problem, you pull away reluctantly while staring at each other in awe.

“Wow.” You whisper, placing your hands over hers that still rest on your face.

“I love ya. I love ya so so so much.” She finalizes her statement with another big kiss on your lips. In your head, you know that this is forever. No one besides family can know the secret recipes and now she’s your family.

#mary earps x reader #mary earps #woso x reader #woso fic #woso imagine #woso

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sketchguk · 7 months

Text

part time lover; jjk (teaser)

➳ pairing: investigative journalist!jeongguk x daycare teacher!reader. alternatively, spy!jeongguk x assassin!reader

➳ genre: smut, fluff, angst, fake marriage au, dad au, spy x family au

➵ word count: 484 (teaser) / 30.8k

➳ summary: there is no crime more perfect than marrying jeon jeongguk. your relationship is nothing more than a ruse - while your friends pester you for being perpetually single, jeongguk desperately needs a wife to complete the pristine image of a family, fooling his way through the parent interview at the nation’s most prestigious private school.

only time will tell how deep your lies will run as you find home in one another’s minds. because untangled in the moonlight, he is but a spy, exposing a secret world of corruption, and you, an assassin, ridding the streets of danger one hit at a time.

➳ warnings: themes of parenthood, raising a child, reader and jk are both orphans, reader has a past where she struggled with financially supporting her family, eldest daughter trauma, reader is insecure, fears of abandonment, mentions of violence and m*rder (but not explicit), mention of weapons (guns, knives, grenades, poison), jk has a bruise from boxing, descriptions of an explosion, blood is drawn twice (via kitchen knife and shrapnel from aforementioned explosion), (1) mention of weight loss, jk changes his appearance in an attempt to fit in, mention of a minor car crash, social drinking, scars (surgical/knife, bullet wounds), characters are liars for the sake of the plot, side characters are misogynists (satire), food descriptions, pet names (hers: angel, good girl, princess his: love).

➳ publish date: saturday, october 14th 8pm EST

➳ a/n: this fic is part of the "industry baby" collab hosted by the lovely @jeonjcngkook and @mercurygguk! i'm so happy to finally release this fic in honor of spy x family season 2!

smut warnings below the cut!

➳ smut warnings: virgin reader, sexual tension, body worship, nipple play, marking, oral (f receiving), fingering, hair pulling, unprotected sex, jk has a big dick, praising, stomach bulge, spitting, use of the word slut, marriage kink(?) he loves his wife so much, reader wants to be bred, cumshot

It’s well into the evening when Jeongguk walks you home. The path is quiet. It’s illuminated by the dim light of the street lamps. It feels like a scene from a movie you’ve once watched ー the origin of all your teenage fantasies. But this is real. You’re just a girl, standing in front of a boy, and that’s where it all begins.

“y/n?” The way he says your name brings you to a halt. His voice, although usually confident, is timid and uncertain. “I’ll see you tomorrow, right? We still have a lot to talk about.” He looks at you with stars in his eyes, although none of them belong to you, and they could never be yours.

Your lips press together in a tight line, nodding your head in affirmation. As you bid your goodbyes, you wonder if it would be inappropriate to give him a hug. After all, you’ve only just met the day prior, and this is nothing but pretend. Yet how will you ever grow accustomed to the touch of your husband?

Your arms remain crossed over your chest. You look down at your shoes, kicking a loose pebble at the front of your door, contemplating.

But he reaches for your hand, lightly grasping around your fingers. You jolt back as if he set your nerves aflame. Your gaze lifts toward his eyes, but it quickly lowers as Jeongguk descends down to one knee.

Your heart pounds against your chest, and you pray that he cannot hear it.

“I’m sorry I don’t have a proper ring…” He begins. “I hope you can accept this for now, and I swear I’ll get a diamond on your hand one day ー As big as you want.”

Jeongguk carefully pulls a small metal band from his pocket. It can easily be confused for the end piece of a keychain ー perhaps it’s something that his daughter had left behind in his coat, never to be remembered. But for Jeongguk, he knows perfectly well that it’s the pin from a grenade he had tossed the week prior on an escape mission. He slides the ring onto your finger, and although it is slightly too large, you wouldn’t have it any other way.

“I may not have been your first choice of a partner, and for all I know, I could have been dead last, but thank you for sticking by me. I swear I’ll take care of you. I’ll hold your heart with gentle hands, and I won’t ever let it break.”

After all, this is just pretend.

But for some reason, his voice sounds so earnest, and you almost believe him. To be frank, you never really cared about lavish weddings and seven carat diamonds. If you were to ever look for a companion, all you could ask for is an honest partner.

Too bad Jeon Jeongguk is anything but that.

check it out here!

#jungkook smut #jungkook angst #jungkook fluff #bts smut #bts angst #bts fluff #jungkook x reader #jungkook scenario #jungkook #jeon jungkook #bts imagine #bts scenario #bts fanfic #bts fan fic #bts fanfiction #bts fan fiction #spy x family au

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the-californicationist · 4 months

Text

they help you practice

Team 141/Reader - Gangbang TW: explicit consent given, polyamory, vaginal sex, anal sex, face-fucking, double penetration, spitting, come as lube, bulging, Ghoap sex, bukkake, degradation, orgasm control. Let me know if I missed one, I'm sorry. Proceed with caution, please.