#i never want to try and lower my voice again now
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𝐋𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 - 𝐋. 𝐡𝐞𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐮𝐧𝐠 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟏𝟓 (𝐞𝐧𝐝)
Pairing: heeseung ⚥ reader
Warnings: smut, unprotected sex, angst, fluff, crying, age gap, taboo relationship.
Genre: 18+, best friends dad, smut, single dad, minors do not interact!
WC: 3,099k+
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When the early morning came, you were stirred awake by the feeling of heeseung’s palm lightly stroking your side as he placed a few soft pecks on your cheek. “Morning, hee,” you whisper groggily, your eyes still closed with your back facing him.
You scoot into him so he can cover you in his warmth, and he snuggles up to you, pressing his naked chest flush against your back. “Morning, my princess,” he giggles, and you can feel the soft rumble in his chest, making you smile. “Sorry to wake you. Didn’t want you to wake up to an empty bed.”
You hum, acknowledging him. “What time is it?”
“5:06, so I need to leave soon,” he mumbles against your neck, tickling you.
You groan in disapproval, but you know there’s no way he can stay. That being said, you don’t say anything, nor do you make any moves to bid him goodbye because you don’t want him to leave.
“I’ll miss you.” he kissed the back of your neck, his toes playing with yours under the sheer white sheets. “Everything you said to me last night, is that all still true?”
“Of course, hee, you know I never stopped loving you.” You placed your hand over his, which was still resting on your waist.
“Me too, love. Just thought maybe you’d come to your senses the morning after,” he jokes, but you don’t really find it to be amusing.
“Hee…” you squeezed his hand for reassurance. “Don’t say that.”
“It’s hard not to when you fuck up the way I did. I’m surprised you even want to see me, let alone talk to me and make love to me.” his voice drops even lower than it already was, and it made your chest ache the way he was beating himself up. It’s not like he intentionally hurt you.
“You didn’t mess up. Everything you said last night was true, right?” You reversed his question on him.
“Yes, mam, so true,” he hums.
“Then I’d be a fool not to want to see you, talk to you, and make love to you.” You smile and scoot even closer to him, your lower parts pressing together, leaving no space for the other not to say either of you wanted space.
A long sigh escaped his lips as he held you tighter. “Thank you for forgiving me, y/n, and taking me back.”
“Thank you for explaining yourself and keeping our promise,” you whispered.
“Of course, baby, you know I couldn’t just let you go like that” he kisses the shell of your ear as he rolls his hips into you testing to make sure he wasn’t getting the wrong signal from you and he knew he wasn’t as soon as he heard you moan quietly and grind your ass up against his crotch. “Really, princess?” He teases you. “You need me this early in the morning?” He whispers in your ear, licking the shell of it while he bucks his hips, matching your rhythm with a soft groan.
“Hee,” you whine, already feeling yourself becoming wet just from his touch. “I need you all the time.”
“Fuck princess, so do I, every fucking second,” he says and closes his eyes, not even trying to hide the effect you had on him while he succumbed to the pleasure, his warm shaft thick and pulsing on the soft flesh of your backside. “We gotta be quick, though, okay?”
You nod as soon as the words leave his lips, and you don’t care how quick you two have to be. You just need him inside of you right now.
You could feel his precum sticking to your ass as he humped his cock against you repeatedly, his hot breath on your ear getting heavier with every motion.
He moved his hand from your waist long enough to grip the base of his length and push the head of his cock in you.
“Hmm,” your opening clenched around his shaft, and he slowly pulled out just to push in again, entering you with much more ease, the stretch fueling your each and every desire for him.
Your hot, wet walls guide him in inch by inch until he bottoms out and reaches your cervix.
He reached around you, his hand gripping your breast while he started out slow to feel every dip, curve, and ridge of your pussy; your silky walls squeezed him in all the right places to have him biting on his lip to stop himself from making too much noise. “You always feel so fucking good” he circled your nipple rolling it between his fingers. “I’m so obsessed with you.”
You arched your back at his words. With the new angle, you could feel him pushing even deeper than before, and your toes curled at the sensation of his cock pumping your dripping wet hole.
You placed your hand on the back of his neck, your fingers gripping his soft hair. “Heeseung,” you moan, not as quietly as you would have liked, and he is quick to do something about it.
He took his palm off your right breast and held his thumb in front of your lips. “Suck on it,” he whispered in your ear, and you complied immediately, sucking on his thumb the way you would his cock.
“Atta princess,” he quickens the pace of his hips as beads of sweat form on your bodies. “Fuck, I’m so lucky to have you,” he says out of breath already. “I fucking love you so much.”
You want to say it back, and he knows it, but the harsh clenching of your walls tells him all he needs to know as his hips meet flush against your ass, and he fills you to the brim with his thick cock over and over.
You can only moan around his thumb, softly swirling your tongue around his digit as you soak his shaft with your creamy wetness, losing your mind to the pleasure.
He pressed his face against your neck, licking and kissing beneath your earlobe as he started to twitch inside you uncontrollably. “I’m really close,” he whimpers softly, his kisses turning wet sloppy, and desperate the longer he strokes deep inside your warm cunt. “Keep quiet, pretty,” he says before withdrawing his thumb from your mouth, his hand traveling between your quivering legs to play with your clit.
“Oh god, yes heeseung, yes right there, don’t stop,” you say as best as you can, keeping your sounds to a minimum as the heat builds in your lower stomach, and all that’s left is to patiently wait for that inevitable pressure to release throughout your body and disperse into the most intense euphoric sensation you’ve ever felt. “Kiss me.” You turn to him as best as you can, your eyes locking on every last beautiful feature of his face.
His eyes were lidded with arousal, the strands of his hair stuck to his sweaty forehead, and his lips were parted as shallow breaths came out, making him the most attractive sight you’ve ever laid your eyes on.
You pulled his head closer by the nape of his neck, your lips messily locking in the first kiss of the morning.
He groaned into your mouth, his tongue immediately swirling with yours as you exchanged saliva and soft moans of pleasure. “C-cumming,” you mumbled into the kiss, your orgasm hitting you hard as your walls spasmed around his veiny pulsating length, and you both weren’t just connected physically but mentally as well as he let himself go, following your lead into bliss.
“Me too.” his words get lost in the messy, heated kiss as you both struggle for air, never parting for even a second until your orgasms fade and you’re filled with every last drop of his love for you.
Heavy breathing fills your bedroom as you stare into each other's eyes, and out of nowhere, you both smile and break out into a fit of giggles as he holds you close. “I love you too,” you tell him since you didn’t get to earlier.
“God, you make me so happy.” he smiles and squeezes your figure, and as much as he was enjoying himself, sadly, this moment would have to come to an end. “I don’t wanna leave you,” he whines jokingly, but you can see his eyes are a little watery.
“Don’t worry,” you whisper, looking back at him. “I’ll text you all day today, and I’ll call you tonight, and maybe if you’re up to it, you can sneak over again.” You smile shyly as he grins at you.
“Okay, princess, sounds like a plan.” he kissed your lips softly and gently pulled out of you. He checked the time again, and you both lay down a little bit longer. “Seven more minutes”
After the few minutes were up, he peeled himself off you with a lot of protest from your end. “I’m not leaving just yet, princess. I'm just gonna grab some tissue to clean you up with.” You shyly hid under the sheets, and he winked at you, going to the bathroom and grabbing some wet wipes off your counter.
He removed the sheets slowly from your body and began wiping your intimate area. The soft look in his eyes while doing it made you melt, and you couldn’t believe you got so lucky to be with someone like him, and the aftercare was a big plus.
He discards the used wipes in the bin next to your bed, and all you can do is smile at him, not even noticing him rummaging through your drawers until he is handing you a pair of underwear and a shirt. “Here, baby put those on.” You do as he says while he dresses himself as well.
Once you both finish, he covers your body with a comforter, tossing the dirty sheet to the side and kissing your forehead before he gets ready to leave. “Love you, my princess. You promise you’ll text me?” He says with a pout, getting all cute on you out of nowhere.
“Promise, hee,” he smiles, leaning down to peck your lips one last time.
“Bye, love. I’ll be waiting for your text.”
“Okay, bye,” you whisper, and the last thing you see is his bright smile before your door closes.
You sigh sadly, but you know he has to go before your parents wake up. Luckily for him, he was able to sneak out of the house quietly, but he was gonna have to get used to this cause he’d definitely be coming over quite often to see you.
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It was 3:05 when you received a notification on your phone. You were chilling in your bedroom, texting back and forth with heeseung like you promised, and when you heard the chime, your phone made you smile, reaching for the device.
You tapped the power button expecting to see a text from him, but your heart dropped to your stomach when your best friend's name flashed across the screen.
You immediately dropped the phone, and a loud gasp left your lips.
The absolute last thing you were expecting was a text from her, and your mind went to the worst places possible.
Did she find out?
How does she know?
What is she texting for?
“We need to talk”
You opened the message, reading the text over and over again, your heart racing in your chest rapidly.
You grip your phone tightly, your thumbs shaking with nerves as you type a reply.
“Sure, what time?” You try to respond as casually as possible.
She replies immediately.
“Now”
You’re so scared you leave the text on read and rummage through your closet, throwing on anything that’s suitable for going out.
You rush downstairs, your mom calling after you, and you say a quick bye before slipping into your shoes and rushing out the door.
Your mind was riddled with the worst thoughts possible, and your legs couldn’t move fast enough to arrive at your ex-best friend's house.
When you finally did, you knocked on the door, balancing on the balls of your feet until the door swung open, revealing your best friend.
Before you can even greet her, she shuts the door after you take a few steps in. “I know,” is all she says, and your world feels like it’s coming to an end.
That means she knew you were still going behind her back and lying to her, plus heeseung was doing the same. You felt terrible.
But you could only imagine it felt much worse for her to be lied to by her father and her best friend. It was the most heart-wrenching betrayal, and you played a big part in it.
You were shaking with nerves, eyes starting to water with tears. “I’m sorry”
You apologize through a sob. You weren’t sorry for being with her dad cause you loved that man with everything, but you were sorry for doing it all behind her back.
The silence is loud as she chews on her lip in thought.
You tried to step forward and hug her, but she moved back, and you felt your knees grow weak. “Please forgive me. I’m so sorry,” you cried, now, wet tears dripping down your cheeks cause you missed her so much.
It takes about another minute of silence before she finally responds. “You’re really sorry?” She asked, looking you dead in the eye.
“So sorry,” you reply hoarsely, wiping your tears with the cuff of your hoodie, only for more to take their place.
“And you love my father?” Her tone is one of questioning, but her voice is calm as if she had already thought long and hard about this before asking to talk with you.
“More than anything in the world,” you whisper quietly.
“Then okay,” she says and smiles afterward, which shocks you completely.
“O-okay? What do you mean, okay?” You reply, confused, your eyebrows furrowed, and you're not so patiently waiting for an explanation.
“Then you two have my approval.” She nodded to herself. Now that the words were coming out, her heart felt lighter, and she knew this was the right thing to do, even if she was a bit uncomfortable with it.
Just as you’re about to respond, Heeseung comes through the door from his shift. “Sweetpea, I’m ho-“ he stops dead in his tracks when he turns around and sees the both of you in his living room.
His face goes pale as he looks between you two. The same thoughts that were running through your head earlier are now running through his, and he tries to do his best to de-escalate the situation once he sees that you have tears in your eyes. “Sweetpea, it’s not what you thi-“
His daughter cuts his words, repeating the same thing she told you. “I know everything, Dad.”
His shoulders slump, and his head drops with disappointment. “I’m sorry,” he mutters with his head down. “I really am. I tried so hard to make things right, but I just couldn’t see a way to do that without going behind your back. You’re the most important girls in my life, and I just wanted you both to be happy after all this time. After the divorce, I wanted to be happy too, but all I did was complicate things, and y/n, I’m sorry for everything.”
He stared at the ground, his fingers fiddling with the seam of his suit pants.
It went silent again, but after he felt his daughter wrapping her arms around him, he forgot everything else, dropping his suitcase and immediately hugged her back in the tightest embrace he could muster.
“I know, Dad. I’m sorry, too. I know I was selfish, but I was just hurt, and I felt betrayed because you both hid things from me. But seeing you so down for years after the divorce, I realized that I just wanted you to be happy, even if it was with my best friend,” she sobs onto his shoulder.
“Oh sweetpea, I won’t ever hide anything from you ever again. I wanted to tell you, but I just didn’t know how.” A tear ran down his cheek as he rubbed her back to comfort his baby.
You watched the two of them talking through everything that had transpired over the past few months, and for once, you didn’t have to hide the love in your eyes for your best friend's father.
The scene before you was so wholesome you’re just happy that they were able to work through things despite what happened in the past.
He kissed her on her forehead as they separated from the hug. “Promise?” She stuck out her pinky, ready to swear on it.
Heeseung smiled proudly at his daughter, so grown but still just his little baby at heart. “Promise.” he looked over to you, and your smile made his heart feel at ease, and he could see a whole future with you in your eyes. “Come here.” He beckoned you closer.
His daughter stepped back, giving you space to reunite with each other. “I love you,” you whispered in his ear as you engulfed him.
“Love you, my princess,” he pecked you on the lips.
“Eww, not in front of me, not yet, at least.” Your best friend looks at you both with a disgusted look, but behind it, you could tell she was trying to stop herself from smiling.
“Hey! Group hug,” heeseung cheered as you three formed a circle and hugged each other.
“Okay, that’s enough.” his daughter pulls away first, and he ruffles her hair, getting a glare in return.
“There she is, back to herself self,” heeseung laughed as his daughter walked upstairs.
“No kissing in front of me, no flirting, and y/n, you’re my best friend, not my mom, so don’t even try it.” With that, you hear her door close and then turn to look at heeseung as you both release a relieved sigh.
“So…” he breathes out, his smile growing wider the more the reality sets in.
“Sooooooo?” You chuckle and wrap your arms around him.
“I’m so happy,” he grins and closes his eyes, pressing his lips to yours softly. “I love you.”
You held each other in the middle of the living room, the same spot where you both fell in love. It was definitely a bumpy ride, but you’d do it all again if it had this same outcome.
You hum against his lips. “I love you too.” You confess your love to him, and that definitely won’t be the last time.
here it is, I hope yall are happy. 😒
Thanks for reading please reblog and leave feedback.
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#heeseung smut#enhypen heeseung smut#enhypen heeseung#enhypen#heeseung#lee heeseung#lee heeseung smut#enhypen smut#enhypen hard hours
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a/n: for my darling @forlix’s request for a lil chan comfort :) warnings for anxiety/a little bit of dissociation. gn!reader.
it felt like crescendos of waves were hitting you from every angle, tsunamis threatening to knock you over with their sheer force of will. you’ve held this back for hours, maybe even days, in the hopes that it would pass on its own - it never did.
the waves crash with a vengeance that you didn’t understand, despair and hollowness and and sorrow pulling at your heartstrings and weighing you down. they pull you underwater, the rush of soundless noise flooding your ears as you sank lower and lower into the darkness, your entire world reducing down into a pit of darkness you didn’t have the energy to try and escape.
then, a beacon shined down from the surface, a ray of sunlight so bright it took over your entire vision with a dimpled smile and an outstretched hand. he pulls you up, patiently helping you through the gasps of air you choke down now that you’ve surfaced. his eyes flit over your face, and where you once feared you would find pity lays unfiltered concern and fondness.
“let’s get you out of your head, hmm?” chan says, his voice low as to not startle you. you want to tell him that, no, you weren’t in your head, you were drowning. but when you look down at your clothes they’re dry to the touch and the soft planes of your living room surround you. you weren’t swimming, you weren’t drowning, you are standing on unsteady feet, trembling from head to toe.
“okay,” you shudder out a breath when he cups your cheek in his palm, and you tilt to the side a bit so he takes a bit of your weight. he’s your anchor, your crutch, your shining angel keeping you a few inches above land. “sorry.”
“nothing to be sorry for,” he strokes his thumb along your cheekbone, light as the feathers from the wings on his back. “do you want to take a bath? it’ll help you relax.”
and normally it would, but the thought of being surrounded by the water again sends a shiver of fear up your spine. you blink up at him, the words getting stuck in your throat, but he knows. he always knows. his lips curve into that gentle smile again and he gathers you into his arms, strong muscles that provide nothing but comfort to you surrounding your entire being.
“it’s going to be okay,” he murmurs into your neck, his lips brushing against your skin. “this will pass, and you will be all the better for it.”
“i’m scared,” you say, tears stinging at your eyes as you relax fully into his hold. the trembling stops bit by bit with every stroke of his fingers down your spine.
“it’s okay to be scared, that’s what makes us human,” his voice rumbles against your chest. you thought it was a bit silly for the celestial being in your arms to say something so earthly, but it calms you nonetheless. “just know that i will be here until it’s over, and then after that too. i won’t leave you.”
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Another 1K fic request for you if you have the time. I am absolutely loving your spicy fics where Ed is trans and it got me thinking of him and Stede having their first time and Stede isn't sure how Ed likes to be touched, but he wants him to feel so good, so he whispers into Ed's ear with a voice like silk, "Show me how to touch you. Show me how to make you feel good, darling." And Ed's brain just short circuits for a second because no one has ever turned him on so much or treated him with such care and attention. As soon as he asks Stede to slip his fingers inside him, he's done for. 🥵
This was just the inspiration I needed to get some writing done today!! The pwps I've been working on haven't been wanting to cooperate but this was just what the doctor ordered.
very nsfw below the cut!
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Stede didn’t falter until Ed started working his jeans down his thighs.
Now, just because Stede was new in the gay dating scene, Ed might’ve once expected him to be a timid lover. But they’d been dating for long enough that he knew better, and all he could do was sit back and let the full force of Stede’s loving enthusiasm hit him head- on.
That was why it was almost a bit more surprising when Stede paused, his hand warm on Ed’s bare thigh, his eyes flicking from Ed’s boxers to his face.
Ed should’ve guessed Stede was too good to be true, probably.
“It’s alright,” he said, trying to laugh it off, trying not to look hurt. “It’s okay, we don’t have to.”
“No, sweetheart, no,” Stede hurried to say, kissing his cheek. “You’re perfect.”
Ed pursed his lips.
“I just…” There it was, again, that hint of hesitance. “How do I make you feel good?”
“It’s not complicated,” Ed said, trying to force himself to relax down against the sheets. “You’ve got a cock, I’ve got a hole. You just stick it on, it’s hardly rocket science.”
“That wasn’t what I asked, Ed.” Stede kissed Ed’s cheek, then along his jaw, then down his throat, and Ed gasped when Stede got the sensitive skin there between his teeth. “I didn’t ask how to fuck you. I can figure that out myself. I asked how I can make you feel good.”
Ed’s brain had been doing a pretty amazing job of functioning, considering Stede was standing there in front of him all hot and shirtless, but at that it went completely offline.
Stede loved him. Stede wanted to make him feel good. He was never just arm candy or a hole to fuck, not to Stede.
“I…” Ed swallowed, loud in the quiet, his fingers shaking as he clenched at the bedsheets.
“It’s alright, love.” Stede’s voice was quiet in his ear, sending an electric- hot shiver down his spine. “Show me how to touch you. Show me how to make you feel good, darling.”
“I - yeah,” Ed managed, barely, quickly shoving his boxers down his legs. He was wet already, of course, just the feeling of Stede kissing him and the promise of more making him dripping wet, and he gasped softly as he was exposed to the cool air.
“Gorgeous, gorgeous man,” Stede said, keeping a comforting hand on Ed’s thigh as he situated himself between Ed’s legs. “Aren’t you beautiful?”
“You don’t have to say that,” Ed whispered. “I know my body isn’t what a lot of guys want.”
“I said it because I mean it,” Stede assured him, soothing a thumb along the sensitive skin of Ed’s inner thigh. “You’re the most gorgeous man I’ve ever seen.”
There were goosebumps, rising up on Ed’s arms.
“Is that okay?” Stede checked, a trace of nervousness playing along his face. “If you don’t want me using those words to describe you, just let me know, okay?”
“I like them,” Ed admitted softly.
“That’s perfect, then,” Stede said with a relieved smile. “My gorgeous boy.”
Ed moaned, his head tipping back.
“You’re amazing, precious. Just perfect.” Stede got a hand on Ed’s other thigh, gently encouraging him to spread his legs open for him. “Can you show me how you like to be touched, please, love?”
Slowly, Ed lowered a hand to swirl a finger around his straining little cock, already rock-hard just from Stede’s attention and praise. He dipped a finger around his hole to bring some of his wetness up to ease the slide, his head tipping back in pleasure.
He was so turned on that the pleasure was almost sharp, and his head tipped back, helpless whimpers falling from his lips -
“Gorgeous,” Stede whispered again. “Can I…?”
Ed pulled his fingers away, returning his hand to a helpless fist in the sheets. “Please, Stede, please -”
“Shh, precious, it’s okay,” Stede said. “I’m going to take care of you, sweet man.”
Yeah. Ed had no doubts at all about that.
Stede held him open, for just a moment, admiring his dripping hole and bracketing his hard cock with his fingers, muttering a soft gorgeous as Ed’s hips moved of their own volition, rutting unevenly against his touch.
And then he touched him, and he’d been paying attention, because his first hesitant rubs around his cock turned quickly into confident pressure, stroking him just how he liked. Past the pleasure, Ed could tell Stede was honing in on his every little reaction, his whines and groans and the way his hips bucked up into his fingers, until Ed’s inner thighs were shaking and he was a trembling mess underneath him.
“Perfect,” Stede praised, and -
Fuck, but no one had ever touched Ed like this. No one had ever treated him like such a treasure before.
“Stede,” Ed practically sobbed. “Please, Stede, give me a finger, need you inside, please -”
“Of course, love,” Stede said, his voice gentle and unquestionably adoring, and he kept rubbing Ed’s cock as he teased his hole for just long enough to make Ed squirm before so, so gently pressing a finger inside.
Ed clenched around it frantically, his mind blanking at the overwhelming pleasure, and Stede fucked him shallowly with it before giving in to his needy whimpers and easing in another.
“That’s it, precious,” Stede praised, looking between Ed’s blissed- out face and watching his fingers disappear into Ed’s hole. “You open up so beautifully for me. Best thing I’ve ever seen, you stretched around my fingers -”
With a shout, Ed came, harder than he thought he had in his life, clenching around Stede’s fingers and overwhelmed tears falling down his face as Stede fucked him gently through it.
“Amazing, Ed,” Stede said, pulling his fingers from him and leaning forward to kiss him. “Just perfect.”
Ed grinned, feeling so in love he was nearly drunk with it, and he gently caught Stede’s bottom lip between his teeth. “Your turn.”
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Need
Adam Cole x Female Reader
Minors DNI NSFW
@madhatterbri @midwestmade29
"I feel like we keep having the same conversation over and over again. This is the last time." Adam’s hand brushing my hair out of his way as he leans in reaching the spot just beneath my ear. “You take what you need, and I take what I need.”kissing my neck in absolutely no rush. “Unless you’ve finally realized you need something more” his teeth grazing eliciting a moan from me. “ Is it the fact that,you sleep in my arms. Come on my cock. Reach for me in the night. That these little trysts aren’t enough anymore.” his blue eyes searching mine.
He’s not wrong and he sees right through my bullshit. This started out as friends with benefits, almost transactional. Then sex turned into sleeping over,which turned into breakfast, which turned into a day spent in bed, then into movies and dinners. He picks now to have this conversation when we are naked and I’m underneath him and at his mercy.
"You've left me hanging twice, and if you want yours this time, you're gonna answer."
"Answer now?"
He nodded slowly, kneeling over me, hands pressing my legs apart as his mouth lowered to my center, lowering his mouth to hover over my clit.
"What you going to do ? Leave me stroking my own cock, thinking of you, while you're out letting another man put his mouth on you? It’s time you tell the truth to me and yourself." his voice with a tinge of something new in it.
“There’s no one else, there hasn’t been anyone else.”I lifted my hips, trying to reach him, but Adam’s hands clamped over my thighs and held me down knowing that he has me vulnerable and honest.
“It’s going to take more than that?”
“ Okay ,I need more than this , I need you. I want more than this. You make everything better and it’s killed me pretending that I don’t . Please. “
"Please, what?"
"Please make me come."
His eyes flashed, and his lips curled into a satisfied smile before he lowered his mouth to me.
My hands found their way into his dark hair, and it took all of my self-control not to shove his face between my legs. A plea left my lips and he began to devour me. He licked and tongued and sucked at my clit until I was arching up and writhing against him. And when one finger slid inside me, I knew I couldn't wait long before he filled me. I needed. I wanted. And I might combust if I didn't get it.
An orgasm slammed into me when his teeth closed around my clit and tugged.
"Please. I need—"
Adam lifted his head and stared down at me. "Me, sweetheart . You need me. I'm the only man doing this. I'm the only man sliding inside you. I'm the only man you're ever gonna feel this way for. Understand?"
"Yes."
“Good girl”his thumb pressed to my clit and another orgasm broke free. My fingers curled into the sheets of the bed as I bucked and rode it out. How he could play my body so easily, I didn't know, and I didn't actually care. I just wanted more.
“One last thing “ as he pressed the head of his hard length to my entrance but went no further.
"Wha-"
"You're mine."
He spoke the words like a vow, and I could do nothing but give the words back to him. Because they were the truth.
"I'm yours."
He slammed home with one thrust and I arched into his lean, muscled body. It was beautiful. A perfect blend of pain and pleasure, and I wanted everything from this man. He gripped my calves and lifted my legs until they rested on his shoulders. "Gonna take everything I need from you, but you'll get what you need too."
And that was the last he spoke before he began to pound into me.
Over and over. Readjusting the angle and my position so he could get deeper and, oh Jesus, he found my G-spot.
My vision blurred as he worked his hips and never slowed his pace.
An orgasm like I'd never experienced before gathered inside me, building with every thrust until I teetered on the edge, detonation imminent.
Adam never stopped. He pushed me over the edge mercilessly, sliding his hand between my legs and pressing his thumb over my clit.
It. Was. Glorious.
I rode out the orgasm as Adam continued to take me with decadent intensity. His own roar sounded as his hips stilled and his cock pulsed inside me.
A small giggle escaped from my lips and Adam’s gaze snapped to mine.
"Now is not the time to be laughing, sweetheart ."
I covered my mouth, my smile growing larger. "I can't help it. I think my brain quit working. I'm blaming you."
His lips curved upward into a genuine smile, and the expression on his face relaxed. "Good, I’ll take responsibility for that."
He squeezed my hip before he lowered my legs and slid out from between them. The loss of his fullness wasn't welcome. I wasn't ready to let him go the realization of how much had changed tonight hitting me all at once.
Adam came back from the bathroom with water, handing it to me.
“ So this means you’re mine too right?” as he slipped into bed behind me pulling me close. “Always have been”his lips on my hair as I drifted off.
#adam cole x you#adam cole fan fiction#adam cole x reader#adam cole imagine#adam cole smut#aew x reader#aew smut
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After rereading the last two installments of the Tailor Tav™️ saga, where Raphael crosses paths with her at a ball and where he reaffirms his desire to commission another piece from her, and the unrelated (I'm assuming) piece where Raphael tries to gift Tav something, I can't help but picture how Raphael would react to Tav teaching him a bit of her craft—at least the non-magical parts of it. Maybe she can use an offer to teach him as part of a bargain with him to free her from the stipulations that ban her from creating for anyone other than Raphael himself? (also I just love the idea of this devil and his a mortal having something like a shared hobby together and/or Tav being a gracious teacher who doesn't belittle Raphael's early efforts when they inevitably aren't quite as perfect as he'd hope, but I'm getting ahead of myself here; just wanted to let you know that your writing is living rent free in my mind)
Tailor Tav™️ is back! I've been looking forward to this one for awhile and really hope you enjoy! Thanks for filling my inbox with gems like this! x
Summary: Tav makes a proposition for Raphael, offering to teach the Devil her craft of sewing in exchange for him relinquishing her creative ban. Raphael finds stitching a wee bit harder than he initially expected.
Notes: Based on A Perfect Fit, Dressed to Kill, Shadowy Deals, and Dance with the Devil. Tailor Tav™️ has also appeared in a few other one-shots, hehe.
Link to my other work in the Devil's Archive.
Trial by Fire
(Image via red-dead-sakharine)
“Would you hold still?” Tav asked, her voice on the edge of frustration.
She quickly put out the growing flames with a spell, stopping the fire before it began to overtake the rest of the table.
Raphael sat sourly beside her, completely out of place in her tent. He had humiliated himself, feeling like an outright fool for the first time in over a thousand years. He held a charred piece of clothing in his hands, the fine material ruined due to his shoddy needlework and rising temper. Somehow Raphael not only failed to join together the fabric, but had created a stitch so crooked and tangled that nothing could be done to reverse his mistakes. The Devil would need to start over. Again.
He shifted in the wooden seat, raising his hand as he prepared to snap his fingers, hoping to erase the day’s mortification permanently from his memory. Just looking at the wretched garment left a bitter taste in his mouth. Tav cleared her throat, her own scolding gaze rivalled Raphael’s disposition, causing him to lower his hand back to the table.
Raphael’s seat was still smoking, the top of the wood charred from his last outburst. He impatiently drummed his fingers on the tabletop, small scorch marks growing blacker with the increasing tempo as he waited for Tav to continue.
“No magic, Raphael.” Tav said, the exasperation had disappeared from her tone, only kindness and patience remained, which pained Raphael more. “Now please, try not to melt this needle. It’s my last one.”
Tav placed the needle in her open palm, extending it towards Raphael.
“I will do my best, but I cannot make any guarantees.” Raphael responded through tight lips, carefully retrieving the needle.
They’d been at it for hours, each minute that dragged on grew heavier on Raphael’s shoulders; weighing him down more than his increasing responsibility to secure the Crown of Karsus. Raphael had watched Tav carefully, making precise notes and calculations on how to anchor a thread and initiate the first stitch, yet his infernal hands could not grasp such a simple mortal notion.
He must’ve burned over a hundred articles of clothing since he began, slowly depleting Tav of her resources as he struggled to amend his previous errors. He vowed to himself not to leave Tav’s tent until he conquered sewing, until he successfully made himself a basic tunic devoid of any flaws. He would never dare let that little mouse beat him at anything.
Raphael was practically perfect, he wasn’t afraid to admit it. If he could, he would proclaim it from the highest mountain top for all living beings to hear. The Devil was a master connoisseur, and above all, a jack of all trades. He had to be in this line of work; after all, how else did he get so far without even an ounce of assistance from his beloved father, Mephistopheles?
He prided himself in his studies, in the relentless work and countless hours of preparation done to lay the foundations for his future. He shadowed only the greatest painters, memorised the intricacies of politics from every realm, and even went so far as to read all the noteworthy books that have been published throughout the millennia; but nothing prepared him for the horrors of being a tailor. The job required an old fashioned sensibility, a delicate handmade approach to see any design through to completion.
Tav leaned towards Raphael, lightly placing her hands over his in an attempt to guide him. He stiffened slightly at her soft touch as she began to lift his hands. Raphael discretely tilted his head, hoping to get a better look at Tav without bringing anymore attention to himself.
The Devil needed to concentrate, but he found himself momentarily distracted as his eyes fell on a small pale scar that decorated her chin. Raphael’s high standards for his own appearance allowed him to grow obsessed with others’ imperfections; finding more beauty in mortal flaws than in their perfect physiques or conventional facial features. Tav had a peculiar allure about her that made Raphael’s attraction flourish the longer he spent in her presence.
She brought a dark piece of thread to her lips, wetting the tip of it with her tongue before placing it in Raphael’s hand. He carefully watched the act, something so mundane had a hidden layer of intimacy attached that caused his heart to unexpectedly flutter.
Raphael took a long deep breath to calm himself, there was a risk Tav might feel his body temperature rise as his heart continued to slam against his chest, beating faster and faster like a cursed infernal engine. He slowly took in Tav’s scent, savouring the notes of cloves and roses, now mixed with just a hint of perspiration.
“OK…” Tav whispered, causing Raphael to unwillingly pull his gaze away from her. “Thread the needle, just like we practised.”
Tav’s grip tightened as she helped Raphael push the thread carefully through the eye of the needle. She let out a loud sigh as it went through with ease, shocking them both.
“I will pretend I didn’t hear that.” Raphael responded, dryly.
“You nearly burned down my tent, twice, in the last hour! Please allow me this moment to celebrate.”
Raphael’s nostrils flared as his seat began to smoke underneath him.
“No offence, of course.” Tav added, quickly taking the thread and needle away from Raphael, “you’ll get it, eventually. Practice makes perfect, right?”
“Bah! Petty mortal idioms are of no use to me. We will continue, I have yet to learn what lies beneath the expertise of your craft.”
Tav hesitated, cradling the needle and thread in her hands.
“Listen, how about we take a break, yeah? I’m spent. With any luck you’ll finish this first piece within a fortnight.”
“And is that how long it typically takes you to complete this type of labour?”
“Gods no! Half a day, maybe one at most. Of course, it depends what else I’ve got going on when I’m not fighting my way through Faerûn.” Tav grinned back at Raphael.
The Devil held back a gasp. He had wasted an entire day catering to Tav’s ludicrous games and didn’t have a single piece of clothing finished to prove himself. Mortals cannot be trusted, even when their very souls were at stake they’d be foolish enough to risk it all if it meant satisfying their own agendas.
“I’ve had enough of this blatant display of tomfoolery.” Raphael stood dramatically, pushing back the chair as he walked towards the tent's entrance.
The instant Raphael learned Tav went against her word, having the audacity to craft clothing for anyone but him, he nearly sent a torrent of Hellfire down on her camp. He had discovered the little mouse’s betrayal from Korrilla’s reports, his resentment spreading as he read through the detailed descriptions again and again. Tav had gifted all her companions garments ranging from nightgowns to luxurious capes, outfits that belonged to him. Tav went so far as to give out her clothing for free to random mortals she encountered on her travels. The little mouse had truly taken Raphael for a fool.
Raphael released his blistering rage on Korrilla, blaming the dwarf for her ineptitude and Tav's errors. For every piece of clothing Tav made in breach of contract, he added an extra day to Korrilla’s penance; temporarily stripping Korrilla of all Warlock powers and forcing her to train his latest apprentice, Dolofina. He even denied her use of his healing baths until she truly learned her lesson.
When Raphael summoned Tav to his House of Hope, demanding an explanation, he was instead met with another proposition. Tav would teach him her craft in exchange for her freedom from the stipulations of their agreement, relinquishing the creative ban Raphael had set in place.
“Just give it another chance. You will soon appreciate the work that goes into making garments, I promise you.”
“These idle promises are waning, little mouse. The terms have yet to be honoured.”
“Gods, don’t you understand? You will still get exclusive clothing. You think I would dare make another doublet like yours? That was my greatest work, and I only hope to do better with your next piece.” Tav paused, rising to meet Raphael at the entrance. “But I need to make a living.”
“You think life will just return to normal after the Elder Brain is destroyed? A foolish fancy.”
“I have a shop waiting for me in the Lower City, collecting dust. I’ll be damned if I let it go to waste when this is all over.”
“With me you’ll have everything, a mere shop is meaningless against what I can offer you in exchange.”
Tav nodded, almost considering the possibility, the future they’d share together.
“As nice as that sounds I’d get bored eventually.”
Raphael titled his head, a smile slowly loosening his lips. He was surprised at how little anger he felt at that moment; in contrast to the fury he experienced throughout the day, a growing warmth rose in his chest. He took a step towards Tav, towering over her as he admired her grit. The little mouse was mighty, ferocious, and would not back down so easily. The Devil was very much looking forward to this fight.
“Mortals, ever so fickle.”
He placed a hand on his hip, studying the tent that was close to shambles. But of course. It only made sense he failed learning to sew on the first attempt, such mortal professions were beneath him, unbefitting for his station and ability for comprehension. It would require more thought, more time.
And what more did Raphael need to do in order to impress that little mouse? He held all the most important cards close to his chest, allowing no one else to peek behind the curtains. Perhaps there was something else he could dangle in front of her? Something more enticing, causing her to drop everything in allegiance to him.
Every great hero has their foibles and Raphael would discover Tav’s soon enough, as he did with all the others that came before her. Not only would he acquire the proper skills of her craft, but he would crack her open, dissecting every inch of that soul in the process.
“Very well. We will continue again at first light. And this time, I expect to leave with a finished tunic.”
#writing#bg3 raphael#raphael the cambion#baldurs gate 3 raphael#raphael baldur's gate 3#raphael bg3#bg3#fanfic#bg3 fanfiction#baldur's gate 3#raphael x reader#raphael bg3 x reader#raphael x tav#raphael#tailor tav#tav bg3
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Dabi x Reader: Did you make a deal with the devil?
Hi guys, I hope you like this one. I really enjoyed writing this. Enjoy reading 🤍✨
Word count: 1866
Warnings: none
“Where’s she?”. Dabi seemed unusually paranoid. His eyes were wide open and his chest heaving up and down as he tried to hold himself straight against the door he just swung open. “I don’t know-“. Shigaraki didn’t get to finish his sentence as Dabi raised his voice, “You promised me she wouldn’t get hurt”, Dabi took a step closer, drops of blood dripping down his eyes. “She got in the way”. “I told you she would. I told you she’d try and protect those damn heroes”. “Why does it matter? She doesn’t care about you. She hates you-“. “I don’t care”, Dabi raised his voice yet again as anger clouded his judgment, “You promised me you wouldn’t hurt her”.
Dabi watched as his ‘boss’ stirred his drink, an uninterested sigh before Shigaraki finally looked up at him.
“She’s staying in the Jaku General Hospital. One of the nurses told our informant she’ll be fine”. Dabi slowly relaxed his fists, his eyes lowering a bit as he put on his unbothered mask again. “Her quirk, however, is gone”. “What do you mean?”, his heart started to race again.
Dabi knew how much your quirk meant to you, and to him. You looked so beautiful when your angelic wings appeared; when that godlike glow hovered over you as you spread your wings. You were the epitome of good. You were always protecting others with your wings that could catch bullets and hold back the hottest of fires, … You were an angel sent to him, an angel that showed him maybe even he could become someone better; something more.
“Her wings”, Shigaraki closed and opened his fists, “I touched them when she jumped in front of Deku. I thought I fucked up, thought she’d die but, apparently, only her wings disintegrated”. “You what?”, Dabi tilted his head, blue flames emerging from his hands. “It wasn’t my fault. I wanted to hit that brat”, Shigaraki sighed, “She just suddenly appeared in front of me, I didn’t see her coming. You know I promised you I wouldn’t hurt her”.
Dabi tried to process what had happened and - as he studied Shigaraki’s behaviour - concluded that he wasn’t lying. Even that brute was mesmerized by your quirk. He asked Dabi multiple times to try and recruit you, but Dabi would never do something as idiotic. You were an angel with your whole life before you, not some lowlife scum who had nothing better to do than plot your revenge against the world.
---
He told himself he wouldn’t visit you, that he wouldn’t disrupt your much-needed space, but he couldn’t stay away. Dabi gently opened your door. The moonlight manifested through the curtains on your sheets with different stripes; giving him barely enough clarity to see your broken figure. He hated himself for this. He should’ve been there to protect you, even if you hated him, even if Shigaraki would get mad at him…
“Who’s there?”, your broken voice tore through the silence. Dabi froze as he noticed you didn’t even bother to look who was there. “Just kill me, please”, you whispered, “Whoever you are, you’re doing me a service”. “
His heart shattered at your request. He couldn’t even begin to imagine how you must feel now your quirk was gone.
“You know I can’t”, he tried to sound as kind as he possibly could. “What are you doing here?”. “I wanted to check up on you”. “Check up on me?”, you chuckled as your gaze was focused on the flowers beside your bed. “I’m doing fine. Thank you”. “Why do you do this?”, Dabi walked toward the flowers, “Why do you push me away?”. “Because I hate you”, you watched as his burned fingers flicked through the flowers, as if he was browsing through some magazines. “You don’t hate me”, he chuckled, “You hate how I make you feel. Isn’t that right, doll?”.
His eyes studied your face. He knew you weren’t going to answer. You were too stubborn to give in to your feelings. He knew that. After all, you only came to him when you had nowhere else to go. When your little hero friends were too busy saving the day instead of you. Because you needed to be saved too. From yourself. There were times when you couldn’t get out of your bed; when you couldn’t even stand to see anyone else other than him.
“Leave”, your voice cracked. “Like everyone else?”, his rough digit brushed a strand of hair behind your ear. “Where are your friends now? When you need them the most? Where were they when you needed someone to protect you?”.
You, once again, stayed silent. He was right. Where was Aizawa? Where was All Might? Or even Kayama?
“Don’t touch me”, you turned onto your other side.
Dabi’s eyes widened. He could see the bandages wrapped around your entire body. There were only traces left of your wings, ones which you didn’t seem to get rid of. He hated to see you like this. It hurt him more than he would care to admit.
“The nurse said they’ll fall off eventually”, you said as you heard a soft gasp, “I don’t have any control over them anymore”. “I see”, his nails pressed into the palm of his hand. “Now get out”, you never sounded so cold before.
“I don’t want to leave”.
He started to get a bit angry. After all, he only was good enough for you when you needed him. But what about him? What about the times he needed someone? You were always making demands; telling him how much you hated him, but when push came to shove you were always crying into his arms. Always begging him to never leave you, only to push him away again.
“Leave or I’ll call the police”. “Fine”, he clenched his jaw, “Always what the princess wants. Do you even care what I want?”. “No”, you didn’t hesitate to answer. “Right”, Dabi chuckled, “Of course. I’m only a villain, right? The beauty can’t be seen with the beast… How silly I was to think I meant anything to you-“. “How silly indeed”, you coldly added.
Your words felt like bullets to him. You always knew how to pierce through his rough skin, right into his heart.
After that night, Dabi hadn’t heard from you. He kept his eye on you though. Every so often tracking you, trying to see what you were up to, but it seemed you barely left your house anymore. Likewise, anyone barely ever visited. It seemed you had isolated yourself. Even to him.
---
You were watching TV as a live broadcast interrupted your show. You could see, what seemed like a couple of members of the League of Villains fighting against some pro heroes.
“Dabi”, you widened your eyes as you placed your cup of noodles on the floor next to you. He was standing on top of a roof, blue flames surrounding him. From what you could see, blood was dripping down his entire body. He was tired. His body was giving up on him.
You didn’t know why you got up and dressed yourself in a hurry, or why there was a fire in your heart, but you felt the need to protect him. Even without your quirk.
“Shit”, you placed your hand in front of the sun. Your eyes weren’t used to that much sunlight anymore. You only went outside when it was entirely necessary. The paparazzi in front of your door made you so anxious during the first couple of months that you stopped going outside altogether.
You ran through the city, ignoring the sirens around you.
“H-huh?”, you froze as you felt a police officer holding you back. “I’m sorry”, he looked at you, “Only pro heroes can-“.
Your heart sank to your stomach. He was right. You weren’t a pro hero anymore. What were you going to do? Besides, you wanted to protect a criminal. What were you thinking?
“Dabi-“, your eyes shot upwards as you heard his laugh. He was standing before the building now, his hand on his face as blood dripped onto the concrete ground. “Dabi!”, you raised your voice as you noticed Aizawa’s bandages shooting through the sky.
You didn’t know how, but within a flash, you were standing before Dabi. Tears in your eyes at the thought he might get hurt.
“Y/N?”, his eyes went round as he noticed your sudden appearance, “Y-your wings-“. “M-my wings?”, you looked to the side, your voice shaking.
God, you used to be beautiful with your white wings but now…
Wings as dark as the night had emerged from your back, even bigger than your white ones used to be. The golden glow that made you look like an angel was replaced with flames engulfing your entire wings. Burning feathers dropped to the ground as you gently shook them.
“My wings-“, you looked at Dabi, a smile on your face. “What are you doing?!”, Aizawa shouted from behind you, “Get out of the way! Dabi’s dangerous-“. “Where were you?”, you looked over your shoulders at your former friend. “W-what?”, Aizawa narrowed his eyes in confusion. “What kind of friends, huh?”, you chuckled as you slowly turned around, lowering your wings. “I’ve been rotting inside my home, all by myself. You didn’t even bother to visit-“. “This isn’t the right moment-“, Aizawa tried to interrupt but you wouldn’t let him. “You’re going to pay”, you softly chuckled, “All your so-called pro heroes… You’re all rotten from the inside. You don’t care about anyone other than yourselves”.
Dabi stayed quiet. He didn’t recognize you, but he liked the new you. You seemed more powerful than ever; even more beautiful than he could ever imagine.
“We’ll make them pay, won’t we doll?”, his hand on your back. “Hm”, your eyes fixed on Aizawa, “We will”.
You opened your wings again before you released your new quirk. Within seconds, the street was filled with orange and blue flames, making it perfect to escape.
“My, my, my”, Dabi let out a low chuckle as he entered the headquarters of the League, “Did you make a deal with the devil?”.
You smirked, “I am the devil”.
Dabi would lie if he said he wasn’t scared of you right now. You were nothing like the girl he used to know. You were once a source of light, but now, only darkness seemed to surround you.
“That’s my doll”, he shook his head as he moved closer; his rough hands cupping your cheeks. “Without you, I would’ve been dead by now”. “I know”, you softly grabbed his wrist, “I couldn’t stand the thought”. “You wanted to protect me, even without a quirk? Am I that special?”, a devilish smirk on his face.
“You are”, you smiled before you wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him closer, “You always were”.
Dabi closed his eyes as he felt your lips against his, a gentle flutter inside his stomach. All the nights you pushed him away, every time you pretended to ignore his existence… They were all worth it. You were his doll, his little devil that he couldn’t live without.
#dabi my hero academia#dabi x reader#mha dabi#dabi todoroki#bnha dabi#dabi x female reader#dabi x me#dabi x y/n#dabi x you#mha x y/n#mha x you#mha x reader#my hero academia x reader#my hero academia x you#touya todoroki x reader#touya x reader#touya todoroki#touya x y/n#toya x y/n#toya todoroki x reader#toya x reader#toya todoroki#dabi#todoroki touya#touya todoroki x you
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bad day (simon riley x reader, best friends to lovers)
honestly, you should have seen it coming. staying in a safe house with four men who have never ending stomachs? but today, it was the last straw.
“you ate my last cookie?”
soap’s face dropped, jaw open. your voice was on the verge of breaking, tears forming in your eyes. you never showed this much vulnerability in front of the team, and he was flabbergasted. he shot a look at gaz, who was equally as confused. “‘m sorry, bonnie, i didnae ken-“ you pushed your hands on the table, shoving your chair back and out. “it’s ok. gonna take a nap.” you were wiping your eyes furiously, feeling unstable. first you got your period four days early (asking price to add pads to the shopping list was something you never wanted to experience again), then you couldn’t find your heating pad, and now your cookies were out? maybe it was the hormones, but you were done.
“oof.” you had ran into a thick wall. scratch that, the wall was moving. your vision was blurred by tears you refused to shed that you didn’t even realize it was your closest friend ghost. “dove?” you hiccuped. why did he always have to be so nice to you? gruff and mean-sounding to everyone else, but an avid listener and sweet talker when it came to you. “jus’ trying to get to my room, didn’t see you. sorry l.t..” you tried to maneuver around him, but unfortunately a 6’4 machine of a man did not move easily.
“why you cryin’, baby?” shit, simon did not mean to call you that. he did not want to have this conversation right now, especially when you looked like you were about to break down. you were always so strong, having to work ten times harder as a woman in the military, and he was always careful to not undermine you or your struggles. unfortunately, that landed him firmly in the friendzone for the past year, unable to confess his feelings without breaking your trust. he maneuvered you to the closest room, which happened to be his. he sat down on the bed, intending to sit you down next to him, but instead you still stood, walking in between his parted legs.
“‘m sorry, just on my period and everything hurts and it’s all hitting at once.” your eyes were red, avoiding his. he could see you were in pain, and as someone who had endured enemy torture and the hardest forms of training, his heart never hurt as much as it did now. he reached a gloved hand towards your face, brushing away your tears. his other hand came to your lower belly, rubbing circles over your clothes. “shhh, ‘s okay. you wanna sit down?” you shook your head in disagreement. you felt like a child, but you were never allowed to be weak outside of your own room. for some reason today, you let simon riley see you weak.
you walked around his body and laid on top of his covers, curling into a fetal position. he let you get comfy, finding a way to lay down that lessened your cramps. finally, you were done moving. “si?” you never called him that unless you absolutely needed him. he got up and locked the door, not wanting to disturb your peace. “yeah, baby?” might as well use it now, you hadn’t complained. if anything your face softened when he said it, and simon riley would die a thousand deaths just to see a moment of relief on your face. “will you lay with me?”
he eagerly stripped out of his gear, climbing on top of his bed to lay down with you. he placed a hand on your arm, letting you choose where you wanted him. you dragged his hand under your sweatshirt, using it like a heating pad for your cramps. you let out a soft moan of pleasure and he answered it with a low growl, pulling you into him by the stomach. his thumb caressed your bare skin with small circles, memorizing every dip and valley. he strived to commit the moment to memory, not knowing if you’d ever be this vulnerable again. “feel better, dove?” you nodded, finally succumbing to sleep that had evaded you the past night. he smiled under his mask, placing a small kiss to the back of your head.
finally you were at peace, and all because of him.
#simon ghost riley#simon riley x reader#simon riley x you#cod 141#fluff#ghost call of duty#tornadothoughts#best friends to lovers#period cramps#john soap mactavish#kyle gaz garrick#captain john price
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Competing With Gods
Luke Castellan x Aphrodite!Reader, Apollo x uninterested!Reader
Request: Hi could you write luke castellan x reader, where Luke gets jealous of a guy who tries with y/n? How would he react if y/n is at the game? Thank you
Summary: When Apollo is sent to camp as a punishment, he sets his sights on Luke's girlfriend.
Warning: Fighting, jealousy, making out, the slightest allusions to/implied smut, Apollo being a dick
Word Count: 3k
Masterlist
A/N So instead of another camper or whatever, I’m making the other guy Apollo.
Apollo crashed into the ground of Camp Half-Blood. Right in the middle of all the cabins. Great. He briefly cursed Zeus for this. He was being punished for flirting with a nymph the big guy was interested in. And when Apollo had told his father to maybe focus on his wife, Zeus banished him to Camp Half-Blood for a few weeks as a “warning.”
The Half-Bloods began to peek out of their cabins but one girl was already rushing over. Her hair fell over her shoulder so nicely as she kneeled over him. Okay, maybe camp wouldn’t be so bad. She gave him a concerned look. “Are you alright?”
“Now that you’re here,” he immediately started flirting. He enjoyed the way she immediately became flustered and jumped to his feet. She looked up at him in bewilderment. She saw him fall. She wasn’t a daughter of Apollo but he should have been suffering from at least a few broken bones. “I’m Apollo,” he clarified with a proud smirk. By now all the other campers within the vicinity were near enough to hear and kneeled. The girl did too, kneeling with a lowered head. He reached out a hand to her. She took it hesitantly, standing up. “Who are you, gorgeous?”
She became further embarrassed. How do I bring up Luke? She briefly wondered. “Y/N. Daughter of Aphrodite.”
“I should have known,” the god flirted. “What with those mesmerizing eyes.”
“Lord Apollo,” a voice interrupted him. He turned, finding Chiron trotting over. “My apologies, I was just notified of your arrival.”
“No worries,” the god smiled. The nice thing about not being around gods is that you get called things like Lord.
“Please,” Chiron began, gesturing over to a big house, “let me show you around. Your father has a few requests for you whilst here.”
“Of course he does,” he rolled his eyes. He turned back to the girl. “I’ll see you around, gorgeous,” he winked.
As he left all the campers were left in shock. Especially Y/N. And even more so, her boyfriend. Luke went up to her, finding her still in astonishment. “Sooo… that was weird,” he began, trying to not show his jealousy.
“Yeah,” she breathed. “Was Apollo just flirting with me?”
“Yes!” Silena gushed as she ran up to her best friend/half-sister. “Oh my gods, a god is interested in you!” She then seemed to notice Luke and remember their relationship. “Oh- uh. Sorry, Luke.”
He just gave her a tight lipped smile.
“Oh my gods, what am I gonna do?” Y/N asked, clearly stressed out.
Luke shrugged, again trying not to show his jealousy. “Not much you can do. It’s not like you can tell him to leave you alone.”
“If you really don’t want him then you can tell him you have a boyfriend. And a sister,” Silena suggested with a raised eyebrow.
Her sister laughed. “I was trying to think of a way to mention Luke. And Silena, you’re 16.”
“He looks 18!” she insisted.
“Even if he was actually 18 I’d say he’s too old for you. Come on, the bathroom still needs to be cleaned after Drew decided she wanted to dye her hair black.”
“Yeah well, she’s crying now because she wants to be blonde again,” Silena explained as the sisters walked back to their cabin.
Feeling mildly ignored, Luke yelled after them. “I’ll see you at dinner!”
Remembering her boyfriend, Y/N ran back to him, pressing a peck on her lips. “Sorry. I’ll see you later.” He watched her go, trying to not think about it too much. She never forgot to kiss him goodbye but he tried to chalk it up to the fact that she was shocked by Apollo’s appearance.
~
That evening at dinner everyone had noticed the “new camper” sitting at the Apollo table looking very unhappy. Chiron stood up and called everyone’s attention. “As you all know, we have a very honored guest staying with us for a while. Lord Zeus had requested that we treat him as we would any other camper.” As he finished he gave us all a long, hard look as if to say, “Don’t get yourself killed when his immortality is restored.”
Once dinner finished, everyone was at the bonfire. Luke sat on the ground, his back resting up against a log. His girlfriend was leaning up against his shoulder, her legs over his lap. His free arm would occasionally swipe the mosquitos away from her with his other arm supporting her weight. They were talking to a few other campers when Luke let his gaze fall onto Apollo. Some campers, mostly girls from Aphrodite, sat around the god, looking at him with cartoon hearts in their eyes. He knew for a fact Y/N had told them to stay away as a. they were all minors and b. he was a god and she didn’t want to deal with their broken hearts.
When Apollo’s gaze fell on the girl in his lap, Luke tightened his grip protectively. He knew it was ridiculous. Y/N would never cheat on him and he knew she’d slap any guy who tried anything, immortal deity or not. But he couldn’t help but be worried. Hell, he had nearly punched an Ares camper last year and that kid wasn’t a god. And Apollo was known for his womanizing ways.
He tried to shake it off and go back to his conversation but his brain was still stuck on Apollo. “Hey,” he whispered so softly that only the girl in his lap could hear. She turned and he immediately kissed her. She kissed him back briefly but pulled away, not a huge fan of PDA especially in front of the entire camp. But Luke persisted, gently holding her cheek and kissing her deeply.
When she finally pulled away for breath she looked at him quizzically. “What was that for?”
He smiled and shrugged. “What? I can’t kiss my girlfriend?” She just smiled, pushing his head away jokingly before going back to her conversation. But he was looking at Apollo again, hoping the god saw that kiss. If he did, he was playing it off.
Later that night, when the fire was extinguished and he had kissed the Aphrodite counselor goodnight several times, Luke was trying to sleep. Keyword: trying. Normally the several snores or creeks of the Hermes cabin didn’t bother him, but he was so on edge thinking about Apollo’s flirting, that every noise jolted him awake. He couldn’t stop thinking about how Apollo had immediately begun to flirt with Y/N and how she had seemed to forget him for a moment.
Frustrated, Luke crept out of bed. As he opened the cabin door, he checked for harpies keeping watch but found none. So he went to the Aphrodite cabin, knocking on the window right above Y/N’s bed. It took a few tries but eventually, she poked her head up, gesturing to shut up and that she’d be out in a minute.
So Luke waited until she came around the side. “What?” she asked, still rubbing sleep from her eyes. But her hair was already falling back to the way its usual flawless look, courtesy of being Aphrodite’s daughter.
“I just wanted to see you,” Luke smiled sheepishly. And make sure Apollo isn’t sniffing around. He realized he didn’t have a reason to be out here that didn’t stem from insane jealousy. She looked mildly annoyed at that so he did the only thing he could think of. He kissed her. If he couldn’t get rid of Apollo, he could completely occupy her mind. So he did the only thing he could think of. He was pushing her up against the side of the cabin, one hand on her jaw, the other around her waist.
She had no clue where this came from but she gave in nonetheless. She wrapped her arms around his neck, kissing him deeply.
After a few minutes of making out, she finally managed to push him away enough to get a deep breath in. “What was that for?” she asked, both of them still gasping for air.
Luke smiled, grabbing her by the hips to pull her closer. “‘Cause I love you.” He pressed the lightest kiss to her nose before stepping away abruptly. “Night, see you in the morning.” And with that, he walked away the happiest demigod in all of camp.
The daughter of Aphrodite still just stood there, completely taken off guard. The only thing that snapped her out of her daze was the faint caw of a harpy, making her quickly scramble inside. Luke ended up getting his wish as that night, the only thing on her mind was that kiss.
~
The next day was Capture the Flag day. When Chiron announced it at dinner that night, everyone lost their minds. It was Athena, Hermes, Aphrodite, Hephaestus, and Poseidon vs. Ares, Apollo, Demeter, and Dionysus.
As the couple was walking over to their cabins to get their armor, Apollo caught up with them. “See you out there, Y/N,” he said as he passed with a wink.
“S-see yah?” she called back hesitantly.
Luke was frustrated but at least she didn’t seem flattered by his flirtations. Now she was just confused.
Once they grabbed their chest plates, then went back to the creek where they’d be starting the games. As Luke put his on, she was struggling to get hers tightened. “Hold on, I’ll help you in a sec,” he said, finishing strapping his onto his body.
“I got it,” a voice interrupted. Apollo seemingly appeared out of nowhere. He was standing in front of Y/N, tightening the strap.
“Hey!” Luke yelled without thinking.
Apollo held up one hand in surrender, the other still on her shoulder. “Chill man, I’m just helping.” Luke didn’t say anything else as Apollo walked away with a slight smirk.
“Hey,” Y/N said softly, stepping closer to him. “What was that about?”
Luke gritted his teeth. “Nothing. C’mon, I need to assign everyone and talk strategy.” He took her hand gently, reminding himself to not let his anger get the better of him. He headed over, gathering the team. “Alright, Cabins 6, 3, and 11 will be offense. Cabins 9, 10, and 12 will be defense. Except for Y/N, you’re with me. Beckendorf, you’ll also be offense.” He pointed out a few Athena and Hermes campers, directing them to defense as well.
After a few minutes, the conch blew and everyone was in their places. The couple quickly jumped over the creek, slipping through the Apollo cabin’s defenses. They had done this so many times, their routine was well practiced. They ran through the woods, searching for any opposing defense.
The other teams had learned that Y/N and Luke always worked as a pair so they started also pairing defensive players. That is when Hermes and Aphrodite were on the same side. If they weren’t, Capture the Flag could go on for hours since they knew all of each others’ tricks.
They continued on, occasionally making quick work of disarming opposing campers until they reached the flag. It was only guarded by one person. Apollo. Clarisse must have figured that everyone else would be too afraid to offend a god. But Luke was honestly looking for this opportunity.
So while Y/N fell back, hesitating, Luke was jumping at the god. Apollo blocked him with a sword but he was clearly not very good with it. Archery had been banned since before Luke got to camp. Even though the arrows were enchanted not to kill, someone had been blinded so Chiron banned them forever. He didn’t even make an exception for the god of archery.
While Luke fought Apollo, Y/N was grabbing the flag. “Luke!” she yelled, waving the flag. She then took off, heading for their territory. Because of Apollo’s inexperience with the sword, Luke was easily beating him. After a few slashes on the god’s arms, legs, and even face—nothing major, they were honestly just cuts a band aid could fix—Luke was disarming him. He didn’t have to be as brutal as he was or knock him over but he did, throwing the god’s sword far away before following after Y/N.
Luke was still a few feet behind her when she hopped over the creek into safety. He watched proudly as she ripped the helmet off her head and held the flag up triumphantly. The members of their team around her cheered triumphantly as the conch blew and their team was announced the winners.
Luke was still in enemy territory, watching her have her moment when Apollo showed up. “She’s really something,” the god announced, his smile focused on her.
“Yeah, my girlfriend really is incredible,” Luke said pointedly.
The god was still smiling. “I know she’s your girlfriend. I saw you making out with her last night.”
“What were you doing out at two a.m.?”
The god looked even more smug, his arms crossed over his chest. “I don’t have to answer to you. But if you must know, I had the same idea as you but you got there first.” Luke finally looked at him, rage once again filling his body. So he wasn’t paranoid. “How long have you been together?”
Luke was confused but answered nonetheless. “Uh three years,” he answered suspiciously.
“Aw, three years down the drain. I’m sorry in advance,” the god said in exaggerated regret.
Luke tried not to let his fury show. This is why he hated gods. They thought they could do whatever they wanted without regard for mortals. “Well, she loves me. At night she swears we were made for each other,” he said, recalling sweaty nights during the school year when every other Aphrodite kid was home. And how they’d make breathless promises of eternity.
Apollo gave him an almost pitiful look. “I’m sorry about your relationship but you can’t actually believe she’ll pick you when she could have a literal god?” he gestured to himself arrogantly.
Now it was Luke’s turn to gloat. He just shrugged, “I’m the one she calls for. She doesn’t call for the gods like most others would. She only ever says my name.”
Apollo was a little taken aback by the kid’s boldness. “Well, that’s the nice thing about being a god. I can make anyone mine.” And with that Apollo headed over to the capture the flag winner of the night. It took everything in him not to race up to her but he kept his composure. She’d have to reject him on her own, he couldn’t keep running defense.
He watched in surprised satisfaction as Apollo reached her. He congratulated her before pulling her into a hug. His arms were around her waist and creeping kind of low but Luke once again kept his resolve. He didn’t realize he was holding his breath until she pulled away quickly, pointing over at him. What was she saying? Was she praising him for fighting the god? Or telling him that she had a boyfriend?
Apollo tried to hug her again but she ducked under his arm, running over to him. He immediately broke out into a smile. Her arms were opened to hug him but he just grabbed her face to kiss her instead. He turned her towards the tree he had been leaning on, pressing her up against it again. He only pulled away slightly to whisper a congratulations but then their lips were connected again. When he finally pulled away, he threw an arm around her shoulder, shooting a look to the god before heading off to their celebration.
That night as they were celebrating, Luke was glued to Y/N’s side. It wasn’t until some of the other Hermes boys needed help getting their illegal video game working again that Luke left her side. “I’ll be back,” he promised her, pressing a quick kiss to her forehead.
As soon as Luke was gone, Apollo was swooping in. “Congratulations again,” he said, handing her a drink.
“Thanks,” she smiled nervously, taking the drink. “How are the cuts?”
Apollo shrugged. “They sting more than I would’ve thought but they’re fine. Your boyfriend’s a hell of a fighter.”
“Yeah,” she chuckled, relieved that he was acknowledging she had a boyfriend.
“I mean, he’s good for a mortal. He’s certainly no god,” Apollo flirted.
“Well, none of us are. Present company excluded,” she laughed nervously, gesturing to him.
Apollo casually threw an arm around her shoulder. “There’s other things we’re better at,” he said, letting the implication hang in the air. The tension was so thick you could cut it with a knife. “Have you ever been with a god, Y/N?”
She was immediately pulling out of his grasp. “I- uh… um no. I’m flattered but…” She had no clue what to say. She couldn’t just say no to Apollo. If this were any other man she’d throw her drink in his face but this was a god.
She didn’t have to say anything because Luke had seen the whole thing. As he came back he saw Apollo throw his arm around his girlfriend’s shoulder and subsequently watched her back away quickly. “I told you she loves me,” he smirked before tugging her away. She gratefully pressed herself into his body.
“Thanks,” she mumbled, careful that Apollo couldn’t hear.
“Hey, you don’t have to thank me. This is kind of my job as your boyfriend.”
“Still, you basically told him to back off. Kind of bold to deny a god.”
“Yeah, well,” he began, brushing a hair back from her face, “if he smites me we’ll just have to make up for the lost time in Elysium.” She giggled, hugging him closer as they headed off to bed.
Masterlist
#percy jackson#percy jackson and the olympians#percy jackson and the olympians x reader#pjo#pjo x reader#the lighting thief#luke castellan#luke castellan x reader#x reader#apollo#apollo x reader
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It’s lunchtime at the military base, and you can’t decide what to eat. Ghost is getting hangry.
———————————————————————
“It’s a simple question,” he says. “What do you want?”
“I don’t know, Lieutenant.”
“Are you hungry?” He asks and lifts his hands.
“Yes, sir.”
“What exactly are you hungry for?”
“I-I don’t know.”
He drops his arms to his sides and sits at the corner of his desk. He touches the back of his neck with one hand while supporting himself with the other.
“Every fucking day, you do this to me,” he murmurs. “If you don’t decide this time, I’ll go eat alone.”
“Oh! Is that so?” You squint and hunch forward at your desk.
“Yes!” He yells as he stands up and walks towards you. “Yes, I will. In fact, I would love to.”
Your eyebrows shoot up, and your jaw drops. How dare he? You’d been teammates for years, sticking with him through thick and thin, never betraying him once. But now he...
“...Would love to?!”
“That’s right!” He snaps and slams his hands against your desk. “So, for the last time: What. Will. It. Be?”
You lean back in your chair and bite your pen while considering your options. Ghost’s gaze darts from you to the pen, then back. He groans and grabs the pen from your hand, tossing it to the side.
“Pens are off the menu today,” he declares, snapping his fingers, “I need an answer. Now.”
Dumfounded, you stare at the pen on the floor. If someone else had done this to you, you would have slapped them in the face. Worse, if he had watched anyone else treat you that way, he would have ripped their limbs off their body.
But he’s hangry. As insignificant as this conversation appears, he doesn’t handle his hunger with the same poise he handles other, more complex situations. Not only that, but your indecisiveness doesn’t help, either. You need to make a decision quickly, so you sit up straight and place your hands on the table.
“What are my options again?” you ask.
“Pizza or burger.” He replies sternly.
“I don’t want piz—”
“Burger it is, then,” he says with a nod. He knocks his knuckles twice on the desk and strides towards the office door.
“W-wait, Ghost, wait!”
He sighs and leans against the door, his hand on the handle.
“I don’t like the base’s burgers.” You mumble.
“Nobody likes the base’s burgers!” he yells. “But we still eat them!”
“I was wondering,” you say and lower your voice, “if there is another choice?”
He’s softly bashing his head against the door, and you try to persuade him that there should be a third option—a vegetarian meal, perhaps. In response, he begins making whimpering noises. He’s the one getting on your nerves now.
“You know what?” you snap, “I’ll go check by myself.”
He extends a hand in your direction and shows you his palm.
“No, no, no, no!” he cries. “You join the others in the queue, and the entire base will starve until you decide!”
You scoff at his sarcasm, and he opens the door.
“Listen,” he says, “I’ll go check and call you, okay?”
“LIEUTENANT!” you shout, but he slams the door behind him. You peek over at his desk. “You forgot your phone...” you murmur to yourself.
The lieutenant was a very cold man when you first met him. His responses were limited to yeses and nos with the occasional shrug, and he never joined you in everyday job activities, especially at lunchtime. You’d always eat alone in the mess hall, and if your breaks coincided with that of Gaz or Soap’s, you’d sit with them and eat lunch together. Ghost would normally sit in the office or hide in a corner around the base and eat since he didn’t want anyone to see him without his mask. But slowly, he came to trust you all with his face, and you’d eat together, locked in your office.
You look at the time. Given his hunger when he left, he should have returned five minutes ago. What if he gave up on you and is already eating with the rest? Sure, your indecisiveness annoys him, especially since he has to deal with it daily, but he’d never let you eat alone, right? On the other hand... he may be trying to teach you a lesson.
You take another glance at the time. This doesn’t feel right. You start cleaning up your desk to head for the kitchen, but someone knocks on the door.
“It’s open,” you announce, “come on in!”
“I’ve got my hands full.” You hear Ghost reply.
You walk up to the door and swing it open. Ghost stands there with a serving trolley full of dishes.
“Thanks,” he murmurs while he pushes the trolley inside the office.
“You forgot your phone!” you inform him.
“I didn’t forget it,” he says as he stops the trolley in front of your desk. “I’d rather put my bare hand in a fire and let it simmer than add a third option to your dilemma and let you decide while there’s a queue of starving soldiers behind me.”
He removes the plates from the trolley and arranges them on your desk. “Here’s the fucking pizza, the fucking shitburger, and the tofu version of the shitburger.”
He places another plate with five pizza slices on his desk. He removes his mask and immediately slaps a piece in his mouth.
“That’s a lot of food, Lt.,” you whisper, scanning the plates before you.
He turns his head towards you and keeps chewing. “Yeah,” he says, swallowing, “better have all the options in front of you than squeeze any reserve of patience I have left.”
You take a slice of pizza from your tray and bite into it.
He stares at you, raises his plate to the sky, and rambles about how “you didn’t want pizza before.” You clarify that, while you still don’t want pizza, it appears to be the best option among the three.
“However,” you continue, “I would murder for a good burger.”
He swallows and takes a second pizza slice from his plate.
“I know a place,” he explains. “We can go tonight.”
“Lieutenant, you smooth operator!” you tease, “like on a date?”
He nods and takes another mouthful. He doesn’t even bother looking at you. He’s too preoccupied with nourishing his massive body to worry about your mocking.
“What kind of a place is it?” You ask.
“It’s a shithole,” he says, “but it does the best burgers you’ve ever had.”
“So, what should I wear?”
He stops eating and aggressively shakes his head.
“Nuh-uh,” he says. “I won’t get involved in your woes again—I’ll give you the address, and you’ll be there at 8 p.m.”
“Are you going to email me the menu so I can decide what to eat ahead of time?”
He swallows and looks at you. “I wouldn’t worry about that,” he says, taking another bite.
“Why?”
“Because there’s no menu at my place.”
———————————————————————
#simon ghost riley x reader#simon ghost riley x you#simon ghost riley x y/n#simon riley x you#simon riley x reader#simon riley x y/n#call of duty#simon ghost riley#modern warfare 2#simon riley#cod mwii#ghost cod mwii#ghost cod#ghost call of duty#ghost mw2#call of duty modern warfare#simon ghost riley x gn!reader
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MANIA
obsessive love; very possessive and often jealous.
mdni NSFW! +18 cw: possessiveness, size k!nk, fem!reader, obsessive König, dominant König.
summary: König doesn’t wants you to leave him, even for a second. he finds excuses and makes it your problem so he could fuck you until you’re too sore to leave again.
i will post part 2 <3 (english isn’t my first language sorry for the mistakes) edit: posted! here
art cr: @kinky-thirsty-reader
He doesn’t like when you try to leave him…
After a long night, you were exhausted, your body sore from head to toe. You tried to sit up and leave the bed, but suddenly König's arm snaked around your waist and held you down. "Where do you think you're going, Prinzessin?" he whispered. "I need to shower." you mumbled as you put your hands on his forearms and tried to push him away, but it was a pathetic attempt. You were so powerless compared to him.
“So klein~” he cooed.
He chuckled at your struggles. "I don't think so, Schatz. You're staying here, in my bed, where you belong…" he purred, kissing the back of your neck and pulling you even closer, pressing your back against his chest. "König, stop the nonsense. Let go of me, i really need to shower." you protested— you wish you didn’t. His arms tightened around your midsection, reminding you that he could snap your spine effortlessly. "Are you talking back, Prinzessin? Did you forget you’re mine?" he whispered, his tone now edged with discontent. His grip was far from loving anymore. “Do i need to remind you?” he hissed, he would fuck you dumb until you understand that you’re his. His to use for his own satisfaction, his to kiss whenever he decided to do, his to touch wherever he wants. You were simply his.
When you realized you were in trouble, chills ran down your spine. You quickly apologized. "No, I was just... I don't like being sweaty. I'm sorry." Your apology made him loosen his grip a little. He placed a tender kiss on your neck. He turned you around as if you weighed nothing and pressed you against his chest.
“Hmm... let's see," his voice teased, his eyes twinkling with mischief. He sat up, leaning his back against the headboard and had you straddle him. He lowered his hands from your waist to your thighs and gently caressed them. You let out a groan of relief and wrapped your arms around his neck, savoring the sensation of your lover's massage on your sore muscles. However, your relief was short-lived because he wasn't finished with you yet. "You tried to escape my bed. So you need to be punished, Hase." He squeezed your thighs until the pain in your sore muscles became almost unbearable.
You cried and whined but he shushed you softly, soothing you. “We’re not done, Liebling.” It was clear that his tone had changed again. The anger and firmness had given way to something more gentle, almost loving.
You slurred something for forgiveness and apologize nonstop. “Don't be sorry, Hase. I didn't like seeing you try to escape from me." he said with a hint of a pout. "But I think i can make a exception for you this time. What about you let me…" his rough hands slowly caressed your inner thighs making you shiver and gasp in anticipation. “use you as i please, then maybe i could let you rest.” he murmured as his hand found its way to your already wet panties. Your breath hitched and you squirmed on his lap as he teased your cunt through your panties until you’re soaked for him.
“You’re so easy to seduce, Schatz.” he chuckled lightly but his voice stained with pure lust. He lifted your chin up with his free hand to take a look at your lovely face. Your eyes red, your skin flush from all the crying and stimulation. It was all for him… right?
“Immer so empfindlich, wenn ich so mit dir spiele.” (Always so sensitive when I play with you like this.) he mumbled in German like he always did. You never understand what he said -mind foggy with lust and too focused to chase that sweet release.
He grinned with a proud expression and mumbled to himself. “Braves Mädchen.” he whispered before lifting his balaclava up just enough to capture your lips in a long passionate kiss.
a/n: please support me by reblogging, if you liked it <3
a/n: also i post everyday -sometimes 2 posts in a day- so if you follow me i won’t disappoint ;)
#könig mw2#konig x you#konig x reader#konig smut#konig x y/n#i know it’s könig#könig x y/n#könig smut#obsessed könig#könig x reader#könig x you#könig fanfiction#könig#silay
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[It’s considered good etiquette to ask a man about his wife’s wellbeing. Except if the man in question is Dracule Mihawk.]
Enjoying my work? You can leave me a tip on Ko-Fi | Have a request?
Garp hates having to call Mihawk, mainly because of the warlord's attitude. Used to the usual "yes, sir!" of the Marines, a man with his own will and agenda is not something he entirely knows how to navigate. Especially since both of them know that the World Government needs the warlords more than they need the bureaucracy. And that doesn't exactly help in exercising power.
His attempts at diplomacy have burst into flames each time and today isn't going to be much different:
"How’s the missus?" Garp asks in the nicest tone he can force although he's aware that Mihawk knows how much the vice admiral hates asking for Dracule's assistance.
Mihawk only scoffs. "Are you calling just to spoil my mood or is there another reason for your impertinence?"
"I was just trying to-"
"Don't," he cuts him off in a stern voice. "If you have business with me, speak fast. If you're interested in my wife, I know where you live, Garp. I'd suggest losing your unwelcome nosiness before you lose something else."
Little did Garp know at the time but his little question was possibly the worst strategy he could think of. Dracule Mihawk is not like most men and the mere mention of his wife by acquaintances only enrages him. Work and private life do not ever mix. And he'll be damned if someone tries to breach that, even in the form of a courtesy. Therefore, the rest of the call was filled with openly insulting answers that were bold even for Mihawk. A veiled threat or two also found their way into their rather tense conversation.
You know he's done with Garp when he lets out a frustrated grunt. Sometimes you wonder if this grumpy, forever dissatisfied version of him is the only side of Mihawk his acquaintances know. Maybe he really is two men in the form of one.
He's sitting at his desk, thinking about something and not bothering to get up for now. Considering the fact that his hat is lying on the table and not on his head, Mihawk is probably not planning on going out anytime soon. Then again, judging by his spoiled mood, his homestay is a blessing for the first poor sods that would cross his path.
In slow steps, you stroll to his side, letting your hand brush through his hair. He doesn't say anything, only leans his head further towards you. The thing about Mihawk is that he loved to reject and decline but he never does so to you. No, in your case it's the opposite - he revels in allowing you whatever you want.
So intimidating and combative, yet soft and looking for intimacy. Truly, two men with the face of one.
"My mother used to say that each grey hair is one thing we worry about," you say quietly. "At this rate, love, your whole head will be white by noon."
"Your mother also says that milk goes sour because gnomes piss in it," he retorts. Yes, your mother and her strange folk beliefs... She's probably the only person Mihawk can force himself to be nice to despite his dislike.
His response earns a hearty laugh from you. Clear as day, you can see his posture relax as he listens to the music of your happiness. If he even thinks about the possibility of Garp or any other of his acquaintances hearing it, he might just get furious again.
"Well, nobody's perfect," you say between chuckles.
Then, Mihawk gently grabs your hand and lowers it to his face. With softness and passion that hardly befits a man of his infamy, he kisses the inside of your hand. "You seem to be doing so effortlessly."
#mihawk one piece#mihawk#one piece mihawk#mihawk fanfiction#dracule mihawk#mihawk x reader#one piece#opla#one piece x reader#one piece x you#one piece fanfiction#one piece fanfic#one piece imagine#dracule mihawk fanfic#dracule mihawk x you#dracule mihawk fanfiction#dracule mihawk x reader
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Unbreakable
Unbreakable Part 2 can be found here!
Bucky Barnes x Reader
Word Count: 4.7k
ALL OF MY WORK IS 18+
C/W: Oral sex (f receiving), fingering, unprotected sex, cream pie, language
Summary: You’ve always wanted to be a mother but your husband is too tormented by his past to believe he could ever be a good father. For so long you’ve accepted that it will never be in the cards for you- after all, it’s only a small price to pay to continue to live the life you’ve built with the man you love. But what happens when you finally admit that you want what he refuses to give you? Will you push him away with your confession or will you finally make him realize that he’s not the man he believes himself to be?
A/N: Look, I’ve been hormonal as hell for the last two weeks and it’s got me craving some angsty, soft, needy Bucky-
And some passionate, sensual baby makin’ sex.
So without further ado, please enjoy the longest fic I’ve ever written.
“Doll?” Bucky asked softly, kneeling down in front of you and lowering his head to your level in an attempt to draw your attention up from the book sprawled open in your lap.
You’d been much more reserved as of late and it was beginning to worry him. Your smile seemed a little weaker, a little more forced, and your overall demeanor had reversed; as if the bright light that you always exuded had been extinguished and you were now floating along on the furls of smoke that were left behind- here physically, but mentally you were always elsewhere.
“Hmm?”
You turn the page gently without looking up and Bucky sighs, reaching to carefully slide the book off your lap, snapping it shut and placing it on the coffee table.
“Look at me, angel.”
You let out a slow breath, lifting your head to meet your husband’s troubled gaze, his brows furrowed in concern.
“You wanna tell me what’s wrong, or are you gonna keep hiding out with your nose in a book all day?” He asks quietly, hoping that this time you’d open up, pull back the curtains you’d drawn so tightly and let him into those veiled thoughts of yours.
You shrug, trying to avert your eyes but his hand gently grasps your chin, tilting your face back towards him.
“Angel, please.”
You shake your head, afraid to share with him what’s been troubling you for weeks, afraid to dredge up long washed away agreements.
“It’s stupid.”
He raises an eyebrow, pinning you under his cerulean stare.
“Nah, it’s not stupid if it’s got you this worked up. C’mon.”
He affectionately tucks a piece of hair that had fallen loose when you’d shook your head back behind your ear before offering you a small smile that breaks your resolve and you feel the tears beginning to form on your lower lash line, the translucent beads of heartache obscuring your vision.
“I want a baby.” You whisper, immediately wishing you’d never uttered those four words once you see the corners of his lips begin to pull downwards.
When he slowly stands and takes a hesitant step backwards, that mask of stoicism you’ve worked for so long to peel away slipping back into place, your heart seizes in your chest.
“Bucky..” You plead, a tear slipping down your cheek as you rise from your seat and reach out for him, afraid you’ve pushed him too far with your admittance. “James.. Baby.”
He shakes his head, holding his palm out towards you in a feeble attempt to maintain his distance while he mulls over your confession but you press forward, placing your hand gently on his forearm.
“I need some air.” He mumbles, shrugging off your hand and moving quickly towards the door.
Before you can muster the voice to call out for him again, the door is closing behind him with a soft click and he’s gone, leaving you alone with your thoughts.
Why couldn’t you have just kept your mouth shut?
You scold yourself, your mind reeling with the possibility that you may have said too much despite only saying so little when you hear his motorcycle roar to life out in the garage.
He was running again.
You’d known the idea of children was a difficult subject for Bucky. It had only come up in discussion a handful of times before and when it had, he was always quick to dismiss it, stating he’d be a terrible father before descending into a rabbit hole of self-deprecating comments you’d have to reach down and pull him out of with a steady hand of reassurance.
As time went on you’d pretty much conceded to the idea that you’d never have the chance to be a mother if you wanted to continue to live the life you’d built with the man that you loved and you’d grown to accept that fact. At the time it felt like a small price to pay for the joy and love that Bucky brought you but as the years went on and your friends and coworkers grew their families, welcoming new, bright eyed babies, you began to feel a sense of longing for what you had always thought you’d never want.
His behavior was so much different this time, the way he’d clammed up, shut you out and needed to completely remove himself from your presence. His reaction had never been so extreme before and you couldn’t help but wonder if it was how desperate you’d seemed- the tears in your eyes, the pleading in your tone.
Those thoughts and unanswered questions weighed heavily in your mind while you escaped the afternoon inside the pages of your book until the sun began to set through the bay window and you finally dragged yourself up to bed, your restless mind carrying you into a dreamless sleep.
It was nearly 2 in the morning when Bucky crept barefoot into your bedroom, the hall light bathing your sleeping figure in a corridor of fluorescent light as he quietly opened the door. His breath caught in his chest as he lingered in the doorway, this vision of you reminding him just why he always affectionately referred to you as his angel.
He shut the door softly behind him, shedding his t-shirt and jeans before gently pulling back the sheets, his heart and his cock simultaneously swelling when his gaze settled on the image of you in your silk night gown as it rode innocently up your supple thighs.
He crawled silently up the foot of the large bed, lowering himself onto his stomach and settling between your legs, his hands gently kneading the tender flesh of your thighs as a low and shuddered breath blew from his lips.
He carefully pushed the hem of the silk garment higher, exposing your cotton briefs and the soft flesh of your belly, moving to rest his head against the bare skin. His hand hesitantly caressed your abdomen.
All afternoon his head had been plagued with the fear of losing you, the feeling of inadequacy resulting from the pain in your tone when you confessed the desire for something he felt he could never provide.
But once alone with his thoughts as he tore down the interstate on his motorcycle, physically trying to outrun the deep rooted trauma of his past, the pieces began to fall into place for him.
You’d loved him unconditionally through his trauma, offered him unwavering support and shined light to the darkest depths of his soul, always seeing something inside him that he could never see in himself.
But you were fading. Becoming physically and emotionally withdrawn under the weight of sacrificing such a fundamental need that you craved- all for him.
Maybe he’d never overcome his past. Maybe there would always be a darkness beyond the surface that kept its claws dug deep into the innermost reaches of his subconscious.
Or maybe he had already overcome it and had just been so blinded by his own self loathing that he hadn’t realized. Surely if he was as cold and broken as he believed himself to be, he never would have been capable of loving you in the all encompassing way that he did.
You, the one person in his life that could melt the ice encapsulating his heart with only a flash of your warm smile.
He’d never wanted children. He always believed he’d be a terrible father but the desperation in your eyes when you confessed that you wanted a baby with him brought him to consider that maybe it had always been his own insecurities rearing their ugly head as they always did when he tried to imagine himself as anything more than the man he used to be.
His hand stroked idly across your bare abdomen in slow, languid movements as he tried to picture the soft flesh stretched and swollen with his child.
His child.
A life created from the love and the passion that the two of you shared, to raise in the home you’d built together, to nurture with the kindness that you exhumed and to mold into a better person than he could’ve ever hoped to have been with the guidance only someone as patient as you could provide.
He’d never wanted to be a father, never thought he was capable of being a father.
But you, you made him feel as if he were capable of anything and as he had pulled his motorcycle over onto the side of the highway and wept that evening, he knew now without question that he wanted- no, needed you to bring his child into this world.
“Baby?”
Your sleepy voice penetrated his thoughts as you spoke into the dark room and reached your hands down to tenderly run your fingers through his brunette locks.
“You came home.” You mumbled, trying to rouse from your slumber enough to properly talk to him.
Bucky raised his head off of your belly, sliding his hand up your torso, through the valley of your breasts to settle at your nape. He gently cupped your jaw and tilted your head to look at him as he hovered above you.
“Of course I came home.” He says, the hurt evident in his tone. “Why wouldn’t I?”
You catch your bottom lip between your teeth to prevent it from quivering as your emotions begin to rise to the surface again.
“I don’t know. I just-“ You hesitate, worried that you’re toeing a fine line of sending him running again if you don’t choose your words carefully.
“Angel..”
He settles his thumb over your mouth, effectively silencing you as he gently strokes the pad of his calloused thumb across your bottom lip.
“I always come home.” He whispered, leaning down and tracing the tip of his nose across your jawline. “I will always come home to you.”
“I thought I’d scared you off.” You admit softlyly, reaching your hand down to caress his cheek, the light stubble rough against your skin.
He leans into your touch, his eyes slipping closed as he draws in a shaky breath.
“You could never scare me off.”
His jaw clenches and he opens his eyes, looking at you with a haunted gaze.
“If anything I’m scared of myself, doll.”
You move to sit up, wanting nothing more than to take him in your arms, chase the demons from behind his eyes with the comfort of your loving embrace but he’s quick to place a large hand between your breasts, firmly pressing you back down onto the mattress.
“No.”
He repositions himself above you, dipping his head and bracing his weight on his muscular forearms as he trails a line of open mouthed kisses down your bare abdomen.
His breath fans against the soft cotton of your panties as he hooks his fingers under the waistband and removes them at a torturously slow pace.
“I don’t wanna talk about me and my bullshit.” He says in a low voice, pressing a kiss to your inner thigh and sending a shiver up your spine.
“Actually, I don’t wanna talk at all.” He adds, lifting your legs to rest over his shoulders.
“Bucky.” You warn softly, reaching your hand down to push his hair off his forehead. “We really should talk about this. We can’t avoi-”
He steals the words from you when he gently spreads your folds with his fingers, his breathy chuckle warm against your sex.
“I’ve got a much better way to make use of my mouth.” He murmurs, bowing his head and glancing up at you with lustful eyes. The image of him between your thighs, looking at you with such intensity was enough to silence you entirely.
“Let me show my angel what heaven feels like.”
A desperate moan rises from your throat as Bucky laps at your weeping cunt in long, slow strokes with his flattened tongue. He laves upward, tracing gentle circles around your clit, catching the swollen bud between his lips and suckling, your back arching off the mattress in response.
“Fuck.” You whimper, carding your hands in his hair to hold him in place.
He hums, flitting the tip of his tongue downwards and dipping into your fluttering hole, drawing a gasp from your throat as he fucks you with it, euphoria building at the base of your spine.
“For an angel-“ He mumbles and raises his head up, his unshaven chin slick with your arousal, pinning you under his gaze as he sinks two fingers inside you and begins pumping them slowly.
“You sure do taste like sin.” He muses.
He latches back onto your clit, flicking his tongue in quick movements while simultaneously curling his fingers inside you, stroking you closer towards climax with every ministration.
“Baby, I- fuck!”
Fire erupts through your core and you clench around his fingers, tightening your grip on his hair and jerking your hips upward to grind your cunt against his face as you cry out in ecstasy.
He chuckles against your tender flesh as he withdraws his digits, the warmth of his breath causing you to writhe against the sheets as you ride through the aftershocks of your orgasm.
“You’re so goddamned beautiful when you come.” He whispers, wiping his mouth on his forearm and shifting his weight against the bed as he rises momentarily up to discard his boxers.
He positions himself above you, bracing himself on his palms, his biceps flexing as he dips down to press a kiss to your pulse point.
Dazed and breathless, you reach down to guide him to your entrance, pausing when your hand curls around the warmth of his bare cock.
“Shit, condom.” You mumble, working to maneuver yourself out from under him in order to reach towards the bedside table.
He stops you with a loose grasp around your throat, gently pushing you back into the pillows.
“Don’t need one.” He breathes out, settling himself between your slick thighs.
Your brows furrow in confusion and your mouth falls open in question but he carefully slides his hand up your neck to grip your jaw, pulling you into a deep and sensual kiss.
You slide your hands across the expanse of his toned back, returning the kiss with equal intensity before he breaks it, resting his forehead against yours.
He silently guides your hand to his hard and aching cock, closing your fist around it as he releases a shuddered breath against cheek.
“You’re gonna take my cock.” He grunts, peppering kisses across your jawline. “You’re gonna take my cum.”
He bucks his hips against your grip, urging you to bring him against your weeping hole.
“And you’re going to have my baby.”
Your eyes widen at his words, the quiver in his voice telling you this isn’t just some form of dirty talk but that he’s sincere and desperate.
“Bucky, are you sure?” You ask in a broken whisper, clarifying for good measure.
“You are going to have my baby.” He repeats, his voice carrying demand.
You let out a whimper, lining him up with your entrance and withdrawing your hand once he presses the leaking tip of his cockhead into your cunt, quickly burying himself inside you with a purposeful thrust of his hips.
You gasp at the stretch and he stills, his pelvis flush against you, sucking in a sharp breath at the way your inner walls are gripping him, free of the confines of a condom for the very first time.
“Goddamnit, angel. I don’t think I’m going to last very long.” He chokes out, the feeling of your tight, wet cunt engulfing his cock leaving him nearly breathless.
God, what he would do to stay inside you like this forever.
He draws his hips back, retreating almost completely before thrusting back into you. His lips part and his brows knit, breathy moans rising from his throat as he picks up a rhythm, his very soul craving to feel you around every inch of his length.
His hunger for you is apparent with every deep and merciless thrust and that sense of needful longing sets your every nerve ablaze.
He crashes his mouth against yours, kissing you frantically as reaches for your hands, lacing your fingers together in a fervent grip.
Pleasure pools low in your abdomen and you bring your trembling legs up to wrap around his waist, rolling your hips up in sync with his strokes as you chase your climax.
He groans in response and increases his pace, his heavy sack slapping against your ass with every frenzied rut into you.
“Oh fuck, please, baby. Please come on my cock. God, I need to feel you. Fuck, fuck!” He pleads with a shuddering breath that betrays how desperately he’s fighting to maintain his tempo as he climbs closer towards the edge with every passing second.
The sight of this beautiful man barely able to refrain from falling apart for you, begging for you to come on his cock, is enough to break you. White hot pleasure spreads through your core, flooding your body in a wave of euphoria as you cry out for him in choked sobs.
“Bucky! James, baby!”
He pounds into you at a brutal pace, incapable of holding himself back any longer, drawing strangled noises from you as he fucks you through the waves of the orgasm gripping your body.
“I love you, I love you, I-“ You whimper over and over in a cock-drunk stupor, rocking your pelvis sloppily against his movements.
He grunts, his hips stuttering as he stammers out your name in a breathless plea before giving one final deep thrust and he stills, emptying himself inside you with a throaty moan.
Bucky slumps forward burying his face into your neck, words of praise falling from his lips in a whisper against your skin as you remain in each other's embrace, hearts racing and chests heaving in the afterglow.
The steady thumping of his heartbeat begins to lul you towards a state of peaceful sleep and as your eyes slip closed, you feel the bitter emptiness of him withdrawing from inside you only to jerk back to full consciousness at the sensation of his fingertips against the tender flesh of your swollen cunt.
As you start to rise up on your elbows in order to better observe what it is he’s doing, he softly shushes you, smirking as he trails his fingers along your slit, gathering up any of his seed that had managed to escape your aching hole and gently pump it back in with his fingers.
“Not letting you waste a drop.” He murmurs, collapsing onto the bed beside you and reaching an arm around your waist to pull your back against his broad chest.
He envelops you in his warmth, his strong arms wrapped lovingly around you as he rests his nose against the crown of your head, slowly and deeply inhaling your scent.
“What made you change your mind?” You ask softly, snuggling your cheek against the bicep of his flesh arm.
His vibranium arm drapes across your abdomen and he splays his palm above your pelvic bone, gently brushing the cool metal of his thumb back and forth in affectionate strokes along your bare skin.
“You.” He replies, pressing a kiss to your temple.
“Me?” You ask incredulously. “How the hell did I manage to change your mind about something you were so adamant about? We didn’t even talk about it, Buck. I just told you what I wanted.”
He sighs, settling his chin atop your head. “You’re right, we didn’t.” He admits in a low voice. “But you know I’m a man of few words, angel.”
“But that doesn’t mean we just avoid the subject completely and then jump headfirst into this. Not that I’m complaining, it’s just that I need to understand how you managed to get here. That was- this was unexpected.” You respond, placing a gentle hand over his forearm and stroking your fingertips lazily across the spray of soft, dark curls adorning it. “You say you’re a man of few words but I know damn well you have a lot to say, you just don’t like saying it. You don’t like grappling with your emotions, Bucky. I think maybe its because you spent so long having them repressed against your will.”
He’s silent for a beat before drawing in a slow breath and in those several moments of quiet you feel a rising sense of dread that maybe you had overstepped with your assessment.
“Do you know why I call you ‘angel’?” He asks quietly, his thumb stilling against your lower belly.
You tilt your head in confusion. “What?” You question, your own fingers slowing their leisurely circles along his arm. “Baby, you’re deflecting.”
“I’m not.” He explains, raising his head, his thumb resuming its languid strokes across your skin. “Just answer my question.”
You huff, resisting the urge to roll your eyes by instead moving them back and forth to follow the movements of his thumb. “It’s a pet name, like baby or doll.”
He shakes his head and lets out a soft chuckle, his breath tickling the back of your neck.
“It’s a pet name, yeah. But do you know why I call you that?” He asks.
You shrug. “No, I guess I don’t.” You reply, tilting your head back to look up at him. “Are you gonna tell me?”
His lips curve into a smile as he looks down at you and in the dim light of the bedroom you notice how glassy his eyes appear, as if he’s just a blink away from a tear escaping his blue eyes.
“Because you saved me.” He whispers with a small crack in his voice that makes your heart ache. You want to ask him how- how he could possibly say something as bold as that you saved him, but your breath is caught in your chest at the vulnerability Bucky is showing you in this moment.
“Baby, when you met me I was so broken. I think maybe I still am.” He continues, resting his cheek against your shoulder in a clear attempt to hide his expression from you because he was stubborn and you were right. Emotion was not something Bucky expressed freely because he spent nearly his entire life with them suppressed so if he had any hope of baring his soul to you now, he couldn’t possibly let you see his face as he did it.
“No one dared to get close to me because they were too afraid of getting cut on the shattered pieces of who I was. But not you. Never you.” He explains, pausing as he draws in a slow and shaky breath while he considers how to express how much you mean to him when he wasn’t entirely sure there were even words capable of doing so.
In his brief pause you shift your weight, rolling over to face him properly before he continues.
“You didn’t care if you got cut because you saw something in me worth believing in and you weren’t afraid to bleed to get to it. You rebuilt me. You saved me.��� His voice is hoarse as he struggles to hold his composure and keep from breaking down completely. “Your faith in me gave me hope- it gives me hope that maybe I’m capable of more than I think I am.”
A single tear finally breaks free, slipping free of his lashes and sliding slowly down his cheek in the wake of his heart lay bare to you.
“You give me too much credit.” You whisper, reaching up to brush away his tear with a trembling thumb. Your touch lingers on his skin and he places his hand overtop yours, pressing your palm to his cheek as he pins you under his tender gaze.
“You don’t give yourself enough credit.” He counters.
“Neither do you.”
He opens his mouth to argue but closes it and sighs when he realizes you’re right. You’re always right.
“I love you. I love all of you- every single piece, including ones you say are broken.” You whisper, offering him a soft smile as you gently push the hair back from his sweat-slicked forehead.
“They are broken.” He breathes out.
“I don’t think that’s true. If it were, could you really love me the way that you do? Think about it, Bucky. After everything you’ve suffered? You’re not broken, you’re unbreakable.”
He hesitates, running his hand down his face to mask the way it crumples at your words and wipe away the tears now falling steadily down his cheeks.
“I don’t deserve you.” He whispers.
You sit upright, leaning forward and cupping his face in your hands, forcing him to meet your eyes.
“You deserve everything, Bucky. Life owes you love. It owes you kindness for fucks sake.”
“Not after what I’ve done.” He mutters, the ghosts of his past flickering behind his eyes as he begins to retreat down that godforsaken rabbit hole inside his head again but you won’t allow it. Not this time.
“Especially after what you’ve done. Because you weren’t given a choice.”
He shakes his head, his eyes squeezing shut as if he can’t bear to let you see him this way.
“And what happens when they find out who- what I used to be?” He asks in a pained tone, nodding towards your belly as if he somehow believes his seed has already taken root in your womb. “They’ll find out. We won’t be able to shelter them from the truth.”
“Baby, look at me.” You demand, your expression stern as you rise up and lean forward on your knees. “Will it matter when they only know you as the you that you truly are? How can I make you see yourself the way that I see you?”
Bucky sighs, his shoulders slouching. “What would I do without you?” He asks quietly, resting his hand against your thigh and kneading the flesh beneath his fingers.
“Never have clean laundry or dishes.” You tease in an attempt to lighten the sullen mood. He stares up at you in disbelief for several long moments before unexpectedly delivering a swift smack to your bare ass, drawing a yelp from you that is immediately followed by a string of lighthearted giggles.
“Damnit, doll- I’m being serious!”
“So am I!” You argue, stifling a laugh. “I found a cereal bowl under the bed!”
He groans, covering his face with his hands. “It was one time.”
You smirk, your eyebrow quirking up in skepticism.
“That’s one time too many.”
“You’re ridiculous.” He grumbles.
“But you love me.”
He hooks an arm around your waist, pulling you into his embrace with a dramatic groan and you rest your head against his chest, draping your arms around his neck.
“I do.” He whispers, tracing his fingertips along your spine. “More than I could ever begin to explain.”
“A broken man couldn’t love me. A broken man wouldn’t know how to love me.” You point out. “And God, baby- you make me feel loved every moment of every single day.”
His breath catches and you can hear his heartbeat begin to quicken in his chest against your ear before he rolls over abruptly, pinning you underneath him as he looks down at you with an expression of adoration and that familiar fire in his gaze.
You tilt your chin up, a grin stretching across your face as you place your palm against his chest and state proudly, “You are James Buchanan Barnes and you are-“
He devours the words from your mouth before you can finish speaking them as he kisses you with urgency, stealing the breath from your lungs with the way his mouth moves desperately against yours.
Your hands explore his toned back, the feeling of his muscles flexing under your touch driving you to greedily draw his body closer to yours until he settles his weight onto you.
He breaks the kiss with a smirk on his lips as your head falls back, sucking in a sharp inhale at the warmth of his cock pressing into the soft flesh of your bare thigh, already hard and weeping for you again.
He lowers his head, nuzzling his forehead against your temple as he completes your stolen sentence in a whisper against the shell of your ear:
“Unbreakable.”
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#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes fanfiction#bucky barnes smut#bucky barnes oneshot#avengers smut#marvel smut
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The old men of One Piece finding out they have a child with you.
Shanks, Buggy, Mihawk X FemReader
Healthy mix of Angst and Fluff.
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Part 2
Buggy
"You two get your asses down now!" You yelled, trying to stop the two blue haired boys from destroying the restaurant further. Your two identical twins sons where only 11 years old but they were trouble- Double Trouble as everyone called them. Benny and Danny, who had given themselves the Nicknames of Bee and Dee- cause of course they did.
It wasnt just their dramatic tendencies, destructive nature or lack of volume control that made them silkar to a know pirate but also their appearance Who was non other then- Buggy the Clown. While they did lack the trademarked rounded red nose. They did get almost everything else- Long nlue locks, watercolor eyes and that crooked smile of theirs- it really wasn't fair how your genes didn't even have a chance-
It hasn't exactly been your best of moments when you conceived your children- Having been a performer on the famous pirate ship you ended up sleeping with your Captian one night on his Silly Throne. A few weeks later you started to feel unwell and realized you had been pregnant. In a moment of panic you fled the ship the next time it docked- Running from your Crew and Captian to never be seen again.
Once realizing you were on your own. You did what you could to make a living- opening a flashy little restaurant and using it to raise your two trouble makers. Dee running past you with a giggle snapped you from your thoughts, frowning as you set down your customers order infront of them before following the boy.
"Mom Mom! Look!" Bee yelled as he stood on one of the tables pointing out the window of the restaurant at the open ocean, Dee taking his place next to his twin. You walked closer to see what your son was looking at, the fog being thick that night as you tried to focus on what he was seeing.
Squinting your eyes you finally saw it- a Ship. As your eyes focused you saw the Jolly Roger and gasped, Ice feeling like it ran through your vain. You grabbed the boys quickly and backed away from the window. As if on cue the alarms set to alert that pirates had arrived. The sounds of canons hitting the town soon peirced through the alarms and the whole town erupted in chaos. You rush from the windows to the back of your restaurant.
Rushing down the stairs you knew Buggy and the crew would level the town to ashes. The best place to hid being the cellar, while it was small it would hopefully keep you and your boys safe. "Mom what's happening!?" Dee cried as he did his best to keep up with your fast pace. You didn't bother responding as you rushed to the old underground cellar lifting the rug and opened its little door.
"Mom I don't want to go down there!" Bee cried as you lowered him in the cellar first, Dee following soon after as you tried to sooth them.
"I know I know my loves, But do as I say- Stay quiet and-"
You paused as you heard the sound of crashing from out in the dining room followed by screams. Quickly you climbed in with your boys and lowered the wooden door of the cellar above you and frantically tried to place the rug so it fell onto it before plunging you and your sons in darkness.
You sat there shaking, holding your boys close to your chest as you heard the sound of someone walking towards you. Your hands shaking as you held them closer, feeling the moisture of your sons tears soaking into your dress.
You heard the sound of footsteps starting to search the room above you. Previously looking for valuables or anything interesting-
"Captian! I found the liquor!" The voice above you called out, Clearly grabbing the cases of rum that sat in the room above. Heavier footsteps followed into the room, hearing the cackle that made your skin stand up on end.
"Grab it all and whatever people you can find! We have a show tonight afterall!" You heard Buggy voice sound. The crew mate clearly rushing out with the cases while Buggy remained. You heard him turn through the room, ready to leave before his heavy steps landed on the cellar door above you it's old wood groaning at the weight. Your eyes widened as you realized you'd been caught, Without time to react the door was ripped open and you couldn't help but release a scream.
Buggy- In his hands you see his signature blades as he grinned down in the cellar. Reaching down and grabbing you by the hair and yanking you out-
"A new audience memeber!- wait" He raised an eyebrow as he held you up higher by your hair and looked over your crying face. His eyes looking over your face. "I know you... (Y/N)?" He asked questionably before his eyes shot to see a flash of blue dart at him and kick him as another one came to try and pull you from his grasp.
"Let her go!" "LEAVE OUR MAMA ALONE!" Your boys desperately screamed as they weakly tried to attack the man holding you. Buggy dropping you quickly as he stared down at the three of you, You quickly pulling the boys away from him and behind you.
A awkward silence following this as Buggy released a shaky breath before laughing loudly. A insane laugh that had him doubled over, before looking at you again with crazed eyes. A few crew members coming into the room after hearing their Captian laugh, especially at the sight of you, their former crewmate and two boys that looked like their Captian.
"Freaks, Take these three and lock them in my personal Quarters. We got a family reunion!"
Shanks
"Mommy I have Missy Luc-ia ready!" You heard your daughter call out. Setting out the freshly frosted cupcake, onto the countertop, that she was just barely taller then. Smiling down at the bright face before you- She may be only 4 but she was the sweetest girl.
"Thank you Vivian. Can you grab the order list for Mommy?" You ask, getting an exaggerated nod and running off. Her mess of bright red hair bouncing with each step. A little clone of her dad, The famed Shanks 'Red Hair' a former fling of yours.
It had been a nice little relationship you two shared, him coming by every other week to meet with you when his ship restocked. Buying random pastries you knew he bought to get close to you, always complimenting your Baking skills and sweetness. Which ended up to many passionate nights both in your own bed and on Shanks ship. The last time you met, Shanks told you he had to go for a while and didn't know if he's return. Tears shed as you watched him set sail- having the feeling you'd never see him again.
As if the gods had sympathy for you or wanted to use you as a cruel joke you fell pregnant. Giving birth to your daughter who ended up being a Shanks part 2. A giggly and happy baby with unique red hair, while she was a perfect mix of the two of you in terms of face she inherited Shank's smile, hair and eye shape.
As you packed the poorly frosted cupcake that your daughter had made. Ignoring the fingerprints in its frosting- you hit it in the back of the fridge you'd never tell her you couldn't sell it since she had eaten part of her work and replaced it with the true finishes product to be delivered.
As you finished your packing you heard the bell of your bakery door chime.
"Welcome to the Sweet treats bakery, how can I help yo-" the words froze to your lips as you saw Shanks. Eyes wide at seeing him again, it was clear he had delt with some serious wear and tear by how the world seemed to settle on his shoulders a bit more.
"(Y/N) long time no see" He said softly as he stared at you, mentally still trying to process what you were seeing. He stepped forward, Looking ready to explain himself away before the sound of tiny footsteps drew him in- Seeing the little girl holding a notepad with all your orders and running to you. Out of muscle memory you scooped your daughter and placed her on your hip, she smiled at you and held the order book out to you again which you gingerly took.
"Here you go Mommy!" She chimed, Looking at you as she noted your shocked face. Her gaze following the now shocked man, He looked like a breeze could knock him down as he stared at her then you then her again.
"Shes mine isn't she?" Shanks asked, his eyes never leaving the little girl on your hip. Vivian looking at Shank's then you confused at what was taking place. Before you could respond however it seemed Shank's answered his own question. Laughing loudly in utter joy and jumping forward towards you, scaling the countertop like it wasn't even there and crashed his lips against yours happily.
"Ha! I'm a Dad!!" He cheered, Taking his one arm around you and starting to spin you and Vivian who at first was scared. But hearing the giggles from the man started to as well- the two even laughed the same which made the Red Haired man even happier.
"Y-Yes Shanks. She is yours...This is Vivian" You said softly, watching Shanks lean in close to view his daughter. It was like he had found the most amazing treasure in the world and it shone in his eyes.
"Vivian, Such a beautiful name for the most beautiful girl in the world" He said in awe, earning a shy smile from Vivian.
"Vi, This is... this is your Daddy" You say softly, watching Vivian look up at you then back at Shanks. Hesitant at first before holding out her arms tk him, taking the opportunity he scooped her up in his single arm and held her close. Tears welling up in his eyes as he looked at her delicate face, her chubby little fingers touching his face and looking over him.
"You're my Daddy?" She asked innocently. A smile breaking over Shanks face as he nodded and held her close, tears pouring down his face.
"That's right baby girl- I'm your Daddy"
Mihawk
It had been 16 long years since you had laid eyes on Mihawk- a simple one night stand that had long consequences that followed. Your son, your beautiful baby boy who you named Alucare.
It had been at a bar, the two of you drinking and simply talking. Before one thing lead to another in the alleyway next to the bar- You truthfully cringed at the thought of how embarrassing it was to be undone by a few nice words, a charming warlord and some drinks.
"Mother, which one did you want?" Your son asked, snapping you from your thoughts pointing to the fishmongers selection, his emotionless face like a carbon copy of his father's.
Truthfully he looked too much like his damn father- same yellow eyes, black hair, very tall form, stoic face the only thing missing was the facial hair Which you thanked The Gods for since you didn't think you could stare at your one night stands face forever. Alucare did have some differences, he had your nose as well as kept his hair longer. The thick spicy locks hitting the center of his back which you helped him care for. But truthfully that was really it-
You also knew that other people would star long at your boy, a few times Marines having come up to see your son when he was walking to school or going to the market. He knew who his father was, having Marines who had seen him in battle tell him as much. However he never seemed to care, just giving them a frosty look that made them back away before leaving. Whenever you'd brought up the topic of His father he often would sit quietly for a few moments before saying he wasn't interested in such a conversation which you respected.
"Hmm, that one is fresher-" You say sweetly as your boy grabs the fish and plops it in the basket, Handing the merchant the berries.
Always the gentleman he would take your arm in his as the two of you walked. He would hold the heavier baskets and give you only bread or a small bag of fruit. He was too kind as a child, you felt bad at times at how his eyes seemed to know the struggles you had faced when he was born and tried to help you out now that he was older besides your persistence.
"Alucare, I heard from your teachers yoh got very high marks again. Do you want to celebrate? Maybe a nice dinner is in order? Or-"
"It's just a test Mother. No need for so much trouble" He said softly, giving a hint of a smile at his words. You chuckled at him and shook your head. Stubborn too.
You felt your son stop midstep- Glancing up at him as his face turned to stone before your eyes.
"Honey?" You call to him, before following his gaze at what had caught his attention. Across the market a dark figure stood, You immediately felt your heart drop to your stomach as you knew instantly who it was- Mihawk standing there with the same stoic expression as Alucare but his eyes seemed to be a bit wider. Most likely the closest to shock that could come over his face-
You tugged slightly to turn back, not wanting to create a accidental scene but your son clearly had other plans. Instead starting to walk again, His arm still holding yours as he kept his gaze at Mihawk. You expected Alucare to stop infront of Mihawk- a blowup or something but. No.
Alucare just walked past Mihawk- Like he wasn't even there. His face staying forward as no words passed. As you continued to walk you turned to look behind you where you saw Mihawk, he seemed to stagger on his feet like someone had finally peirced him with a blade.. but it seemed to be a invisible one to his heart.
#x reader#one peice x reader#one peice live action#buggy one piece#buggy the clown x reader#buggy x reader#hawkeye mihawk#mihawk x reader#one piece mihawk#shanks#shanks one piece#shanks x reader#one piece shanks
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There are two things that Damian knows that he knows Father doesn’t.
He has an older brother
He was dead
(And a secret third thing: Damian was glad he was dead. They did not get along.)
Well. No, correction, they were two things that Damian knew that Father didn't. Past tense. Strange magic swirled through the air and created a mirage before his eyes, and immediately a scowl forms across his face.
The mirage shifts and shimmers like the light hitting a slowly turning prism, and then it settles into a memory. One that Damian does not recall. Like looking into a tv screen, it shows, faintly, a room, with most of the magic going into the image of a crib.
His mother was standing on one side, and next to her, standing on his tiptoes was a small five year old boy looking up at her. With dark hair and skin that was only few shades lighter brown than Damian's, the little boy's resemblance to Damian was undeniable.
However, his eyes were blue. Not green. Damian's scowl deepens, and he sinks back. "Danyal." He mutters, and feels eyes turn on to him.
Danyal Al Ghul. Damian's older brother. A prodigal swordsman like Damian, and five years his senior. He'd be fifteen if he was still alive. His memory of the last time he saw his brother was still clear in his mind.
(A sword to Danyal's neck. Stars were glittering through his window. Damian was five, Danyal ten. He is not sure why Danyal had snuck into his room, all he remembers is hearing a sound and on instinct reaching for his sword.)
(His brother had intercepted easily. But had not shoved the sword away. Moonlight hit his blue eyes, and Damian remembers seeing the pupils shrink to let the light in. His eyes looked almost silver.)
(His brother bares his teeth at him. Damian wants to slice his neck more than anything, and he bares his teeth back. "Good." Danyal says, his voice low in a hiss, "Your reflexes are good, little brother.")
("Of course they are," Damian remembers snarling, and presses the sword closer. But it does not budge. "I am an Al Ghul.")
(Something unrecognizable passes through his brother's eyes, and his mouth twists into something like a smile. "I know." He says, and tilts his head downwards at him. "And you will be great.")
(His brother shoves the sword back, causing Damian to stumble. And like the wind, he is gone.)
(The next morning, he goes on a mission with mother and a few others. Mother is the only one to return with Danyal's sword, and a red-eyed look in her eyes. Damian does not mourn. Now there's only one of them.)
"Momma." The little Danyal-mirage speaks, a furrow between his childlike brows as mother lowers a bundle into the crib. His blue eyes watch her, and lifts onto his toes to peer into the crib as she sets the baby down. "Who is this?"
Their mother's hand comes to rest along his back. "This is Damian, my son." She murmurs, voice low. "He is your little brother. Protect him well."
Damian scoffs internally -- not likely. He remembers every spar he ever had with Danyal, every harsh word and insult. His pushing, pushing, pushing for Damian to get up. To try again. Do it again. The only kindness he ever showed him was when his fingers bled. And even that was harsh, firm. Rolling gauze around his wrist and scolding him, telling him how to wield his weapon better.
(It was the same as everyone else, but somehow it hurt worse coming from his own brother.)
But he watches his older brother's youngest self tilt his head to the side, and then reach his chubby hand through the crib's bars. He runs small, blunt fingers over the baby's arm, and the baby jerks. Through the crib's bars, Damian sees himself grab Danyal's fingers.
And he scowls even deeper.
And Danyal's eyes... widen. He lets out a little gasp, and a small smile Damian's never seen him wear tilts at the corner of his mouth as he looks up at their mother. "Mother," he whispers, "he grabbed me!"
Damian... his scowl falters, for a moment.
He doesn't wait for a response, he looks back to the baby with sparking eyes. His expression melts like sugar as he bounces the finger being gripped tight by the small hand. "Hello, little brother." His brother says, voice its of usual firmness, but there's more fondness underlying it than Damian's ever heard. "My name is Danyal."
The mirage shifts before Damian can comprehend his older brother's voice. It shows the crib again, appearing as if a few days had passed. There is night lilting through the nearby window, and a creek of the door. The baby doesn't stir.
Danyal sneaks in, still wearing his training clothes and a sword strapped to his side. Damian's scowl returns, watching him creep over to the crib. Of course -- the last night he saw his brother wasn't the only time he'd snuck into his room.
Would he go so low as to attack an infant? Damian wonders, watching his brother cross the room to his crib. But while his fingers rest against the hilt, they never curl to unsheathe.
His brother peers into the crib again, and there it is again, that smile wider in the corner of his mouth. It's not a full one, but its as uninhibited as it gets. Dripping honey-sweet with awe. "You are so tiny." Danyal whispers, and pokes a finger back through the crib. It wriggles, then pokes Damian's cheek gently. "Was I as small as you when mother gave birth to me?"
There is no response from the baby. Not a coherent one anyways, the little thing snuffles and turns his head, mouth open to latch. Danyal stills, his eyes grow ever wider again.
Danyal says nothing else, just rests his cheek against the crib and watches the baby sleep in silence. The affection never leaves his young face.
Damian feels unsettled. Off-foot. This Danyal is foreign to him... He wonders what happened to have changed his brother's mind on him.
There's a scuffle, quiet, but there. Danyal picks up on it just as Damian does, and his head pricks up like a deer, head already turning away from the crib. The affection leaves his face, falling away like water into something serious. His blade is already slightly unsheathed.
Two assassins, belonging to grandfather, burst out of the shadows. Their swords swinging into the air and ready to strike.
Danyal kills them both, his back to the crib. It's not without struggle, and when the two assassins lay dead on the floor, the baby is wailing at the top of his lungs. Danyal has a laceration cleaving down diagonal of his cheek. It's close to his eye, just barely missed blinding him.
Damian never knew how he got that scar. He does now. (He doesn't know how to feel about it.)
His brother clutches his bleeding face, sheathing his sword as tears well up onto his face. But he turns towards the crib, and hurries over. "You're okay, you're okay, you're okay." He hushes rapidly, the League-drilled seriousness fallen away to reveal a panic-stricken five year old. He sticks one hand into the crib, the one not clutching anything, and grabs little Damian's hand.
Their mother comes bursting in that moment, and Danyal turns his head towards her. "Mother." He says, his voice cracks un-wantingly. Their mother steps over the bodies of the assassins easily. "They tried to kill Damian."
"But they did not." Talias says, kneeling down next to the crib to inspect Danyal's face and Damian's well-being. When she finds nothing of concern beyond the injury, she continues. "You killed them before they could, Danyal. Well done."
The mirage of his brother nods, his eyes teary and red.
Damian... is discomfited. he never thought Danyal would kill assassins for him. He would have thought his brother would sooner look the other way. The mirage shifts again, and it quickly shows time passing.
Danyal sits in Damian's nursery every night, after that. He lays at the foot of the crib with his sword, a pillow and a blanket with him. Some nights there is nothing but peace -- or as close to peace as a baby could achieve -- and some days assassins break in.
Danyal kills each one.
The mirage shifts again, and it shows more memories of Danyal interacting with Damian during his youth too young for him to remember. His first steps, his first words.
"Danya." The small toddler of Damian says, arms reaching for Danyal.
A frown curls across Danyal's face, and pulls Damian into his lap. "No, no, little brother." He scolds, voice firm but.. softer. "It is Danyal, Damian. Danyal."
"Danya!"
Damian's brother sighs, but there is that same-small tilt at the corner of his mouth. A glimmer in his eyes. A glimmer... that Damian is finding he recognizes.
(He always thought his brother got that look in his eyes when he was mocking him. Was he wrong?)
The mirage shifts again, and this time it shows only mother and Danyal, alone. Danyal is older, taller. Seven, if Damian had to guess. Mother has a stern look on her face, her hands tight on his shoulders. "Damian will be starting training soon, my son."
Ah, then close to eight then. Training starts, always, at three years old. He watches Danyal nod, his expression mimicking their mother's. His arms are folded, always folded, behind his back, always neat.
"You can no longer have the relationship with your brother as you did before." Mother says.
Danyal's expression... falters. It shifts, it fluctuates. He looks surprised, thrown off. Like he isn't quite sure he heard what mother just said. His brows furrow. "What... do you mean, mother?"
"I mean what I said, Danyal." Mother says, stern, "Ra's will be keeping a closer eye on Damian now that he is of age to begin his training. He will not like if he sees you both getting along."
"I am sorry, my child. But your relationship with Damian ends here. You are rivals now, not brothers." In a cruel form a gentleness, mother raises her hand and tucks a stray curl out of Danyal's face.
Of course. Damian never had a relationship with his brother because of Grandfather. Of course. No, he's not feeling a little bitter. No. There's not an inner child that still, like a candleflame, wishes that he'd had a bond with his only flesh and blood.
Danyal is dead now. So it's not like it matters. He's happy about this.
Danyal frowns, and he steps back. He looks lost in thought. "We are still brothers, mother," he says, argues, and looks up to meet mother's eyes. "Let me train him, I will make sure he gets the skill he needs. If we must be rivals, then I will teach him how to defeat me. If he can defeat me, he can defeat anybody."
Their mother, and Damian, both blink in unison. Then mother smiles something sharp, calculated. She folds her hands behind her back. "Then do it. But you will make him hate you."
"...So be it."
Damian.... Damian is silent. His world axis has been tilted on its head. He is sliding, and sliding, and sliding down. Spinning. Many things click into place at once.
More memories from the mirage show. It shows Danyal training Damian. It shows their arguing, their bickering. It shows Danyal going to their mother to praise Damian and his skills, how fast he is picking up on the sword. How one day he will surpass even him.
It shows Danyal sitting outside Damian's bedroom door every night, listening in for anyone who dares to break in. His knees drawn to his chest, his sword at his side. Sometimes he sneaks in, sword drawn, when he hears a sound.
Some nights, Damian wakes up. He remembers those nights. Danyal standing over his bed with his sword unsheathed and tight at his side. He remembers the instant terror as he immediately reached for his own weapon.
His brother always scolded him for his lack of vigilance. That had he been anyone else, Damian would have had his neck cut. He would've been dead already. It only made Damian's hatred of him grow.
But he understands now. Because there were assassins in the room that Damian, four years old, three, did not notice. Not until later. He always assumed the attacks on him after Danyal's death had been because now there was a new heir to target.
It had been the only lesson he'd been even somewhat grateful for.
Then finally the mirage shimmers, and it shows Danyal, ten years old, in one of the training rooms, mid-spar with Mother. It's fast, sharp, impressive and like a blur. Damian is unsure if at ten which one of them was the better swordsman. Some of the assassins who have never met Danyal said Damian was, but the ones who had said it was Danyal. He'll never know.
In a lull in the fight, when their swords are crossed, mother speaks. "Ra's wants you and Damian to fight." She says, teeth grit into a deep scowl. The cross breaks and Danyal jumps back, he frowns.
"We have fought, mother." He says, and dives in first, swinging for mother's feet. Mother dodges, and slices at his arm. He swerves out of the way, twisting on his feet like a dance. "We are always fighting, doesn't he see our spars?"
"Not a spar like that, my son." Mother says, a snarl in her voice. She lunges, and Danyal blocks her blade. "A fight to the death. Father has grown tired of having two heirs."
That gets Danyal's attention -- or, more accurately, it distracts it. His eyes widen, and his sword lowers for a single moment. A mistake. "What?" Is all he gets out before mother has him on his back, her blade pressed to his throat.
He freezes. As does Damian. Danyal's brows furrow, then unfurrow, only to knot up again. "Mother, what do you mean a fight to the death?" He flips to his feet when mother removes the sword. She walks over to grab her water.
"Must I repeat myself, Danyal?" Mother snaps, rubbing her forehead before swigging from her canteen. "Father wants to find out which one of you is the stronger heir, and so you will fight to the death after your training in a few days."
Danyal's tan face loses a shade of color, he looks ashy. "There must be some mistake!" He exclaims, his arms gesturing out as he peers around mother. "There is a five year disparity between us, Damian has only just started training two years ago. It would be an unfair fight!"
"Do you think me unaware?" Mother whirls on him, and there is a grief-stricken look on her face. Like she is already mourning Damian's death. Damian feels ill. "Your skill is far beyond what Damian can accomplish right now, and there is nothing that I say that can convince Father otherwise."
Danyal wears an expression like he is scrambling for answers. A white knuckle grip on his weapon. There is a long silence, and his lower lip curls up. His throat bobs, he swallows. "Is there really nothing we can do?"
Mother makes a frustrated sound, pushing her loose hairs out of her face. "Not unless Father changes his mind, or I send one of you away. But Father would surely send someone to look for you or Damian."
"What if one of us faked our death?"
Mother stills. As does Damian. No, he thinks, stiff as a rod, no way. These mirages were lying, nothing but figments of an imagination. Of some quiet what-if that Damian had not yet stomped out.
Mother's expression shifts, and then turns contemplative. Danyal notices, and keeps pushing, he looks as hopeful as he could get beyond his usual unwavering, stone-like expression. "One of us could go to father--"
"No." Mother cuts off, voice sharp. Danyal wilts, confusion flittering across his face. Damian, from the corner of his eye, sees Father tense as stone. His white-slit eyes have not left the mirage. Nobody's has.
"Father will undoubtedly check there first, it would not be a good idea. You or Damian will have to go somewhere where he would not think to look. Someone unaffiliated with the League."
Danyal's face falls, shutters, and then closes up again into stone. Mother begins to pace, and Danyal's blue eyes follow her. "So a stranger?" He asks, and there is disgust lilting into his voice.
Mother nods, and she looks just as offput as Danyal.
The mirage of Damian's brother rolls his shoulders back. "Then I will do it, mother." He says, voice unwavering. There is a stubborn note behind it all, one that Damian recognizes. "I will fake my death, and Damian will stay here."
Mother's eyes turn sharp on him, and she stops in her spot. She pivots. "Are you sure?" She asks, eyebrow raising, "There is a chance you will never meet your Father if you leave. Nor will you see I or Damian again, if you do this."
Something like fear flickers across Danyal's face, eyes widening momentarily -- as if that very thought had not crossed his mind. But then it smooths over to sharp determination. He nods. "It would be the same for Damian if it was him instead. I will do it, Mother."
Damian feels ill again. Father has a strong set in his jaw, his teeth grinding.
Mother stares at Danyal, and then her expression softens. And like before, it is grieving. "In a few days time, I and another member of the League will be going on a mission to the American States. I will tell Father that you will accompany me, once there we will dispose of the other member and then orchestrate your death."
The American States. Danyal was here, in the country. He was out there somewhere -- but no this was fake. It had to be. Danyal was dead. A fool who got himself killed on a mission with mother and left the title of Heir to Damian.
Or maybe it had been his plan all along. His and mother's both.
...Was mother ever going to tell him?
The mirage of Danyal nods, sharp. Understanding. There is a gleam in his eyes that is not pride, it is tears. And when Mother leaves the room and leaves him alone, the stone-like expression on his face crumbles and falls.
His brother, ten years old, curls up his lip in an ugly way. It wobbles as the tears in his eyes do, and he brings up his hand to slam it over his mouth. And sinks to his knees, a yell-like sob muffled behind the skin.
His brother, ten years old, looks smaller than Damian remembers him being, and cries.
Damian has never seen Danyal cry. Not once in the mirage of memories, nor in his own.
The memory holds for a minute, and then disappears. And no new one shows up. The magic is gone, and it leaves a silence in its wake. Heavy, staticky, and full of revelations.
So there are two things that Damian knows that his Father now knows too.
He has an older brother
His older brother is alive.
(And a new secret third thing: Damian wasn't sure how to feel about it.)
#dpxdc#dp x dc#dp x dc crossover#danny fenton is not the ghost king#dp x dc prompt#dpxdc prompt#i promise this is a prompt#it just got very long#danyal al ghul au#my take on a danyal al ghul au#older brother danny#dpdc#dpxdc crossover#i know the usual gist is that danyal al ghul is a better knife thrower than he is a swordsman but hey#consider: phantom has a sword when he fights ghosts. how sick is that?#his ghost form having allusions to the LoA. its not obvious but its there#did i make danny brown skinned? yeah. because him being white or not is irrelevant to me and i wanted to make him darker skinned#thinking about the angst of bruce seeing his firstborn son going “i could stay with father!” and then said child being visibly crushed#when told no. and that he may never see his father ever. actually. if he fakes his death. and still doing it anyways for damian's sake#danny loves his little brother he just shows it in an unorthodox way. some of it is not his fault#also danny being an absolute grump in amity park is very funny to me. he's an arrogant little assassin child in AP who is only here for#his little brother's sake and safety. he loves his brother but that doesnt stop him from being an arrogant little brat#gremlin assassin child danny is so funny#i know this is very ironic for me to post after posting my thoughts on danyal al ghul aus and their missed potential#but actually this prompt is what spurred that post into creation in the first place actually.#because i was thinking about this au and then went “oh hey you know whats funny--” and then i#thought about it too much to the point where i had to make a post talking about it#tried to find a balance between danny being mature for his age and also still being a kid#like yeah he’s a trained assassin and has killed but also he’s a 10yo boy about to be separated - Assumingly permanently- from his family
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solace* (famous!harry x masseuse!y/n)
summary: harry is in need of some unwinding and destressing, and he finds the perfect masseuse for that. they end up growing much closer than the relationship they began with, but it's never that easy, is it?
words: 6.4k (she's long)
warnings: smut in this one: p in v, unprotected sex, oral (f receiving), cursing, dirty talk, fingering, creampie.
"Just lay down on the table and relax. I'll take good care of you."
Y/N tried to keep her voice steady and professional as she greeted her new client, the one and only Harry Styles. The famous former athlete turned singer was lying face down on the massage table, a towel draped over his lower body.
Y/N had been a masseuse at this high-end spa for two years, but she had never worked on someone so famous before. She was intimidated but determined not to show it. Treating Harry just like any other client was the only way she could get through this.
"You're the expert," Harry's muffled voice came from the face cradle. "I'm in your hands."
Y/N gulped at the unintended innuendo. Get it together, she scolded herself. This is strictly business.
She warmed up some lotion in her hands and began working on Harry's muscular back and shoulders. Almost immediately, she could feel the tightness and knots from years of intense athletic training.
"You've got a lot of built-up tension in here," she commented, digging her fingers in to loosen a stubborn knot. "What sort of athletic background are we working with?"
"Footie, if you go by my English roots," Harry said, sucking in a sharp breath as she worked a particularly tender spot. "Played striker on an academy team as a kid before my interests shifted to music in my late teens."
Y/N raised her eyebrows, impressed. She had no idea Harry was such a talented athlete on top of his musical skills. Somehow that made her former crush on him even more intimidating.
As she moved down to his lower back, she tried to keep her touches clinical and impersonal. But she couldn't help noticing how toned Harry's body was, the muscles rippling beneath her hands.
Stop ogling him, you're being completely unprofessional! She gave herself another firm mental rebuke.
For a while, the only sounds were Harry's occasional groans as Y/N dug into his tight knots and the relaxing spa music playing softly in the background. But eventually, Harry broke the silence.
"You know, you seem a bit nervous around me. Is it because I'm....well, me?"
Y/N felt her cheeks burn. She should have known he would pick up on her awkwardness.
"I'm just trying to stay focused," she mumbled, unable to keep the embarrassment out of her voice entirely. "I don't want to slip up and disappoint an important client like yourself."
To her surprise, Harry let out a low chuckle. "Love, I may be famous but I'm just a regular bloke like any other. No need to be nervous."
His voice was warm and full of humor, putting Y/N more at ease. She realized she had been building him up as some intimidating celebrity in her mind when really he seemed down-to-earth.
Feeling emboldened, she decided to open up a bit. "To be honest, I may have...had a bit of a crush on you back in the day. Your music was a big part of my teen years."
"Is that so?" Harry sounded both flattered and amused. "Well, I'll take it as a compliment from a pretty lady like yourself."
Y/N felt her traitorous cheeks heating up again. Were they...flirting now? She couldn't tell if he was just being charming or if there was real interest there.
She tried to keep things professional as she moved on to his arms and legs, though her lingering shyness made it difficult. Harry seemed to sense it, not pushing things but keeping up his friendly banter that had her laughing in spite of herself.
By the end of the ninety minutes, Y/N was disappointed for the massage to be over. Some of the intimidation had faded, replaced by an easy rapport. Almost as if...they could really be friends, or more, not just client and masseuse.
As Harry redressed and prepared to leave, he paused and gave her a heart-stoppingly charming smile. "Same time next week? I'll need to keep these knots at bay."
Y/N couldn't resist smiling back, a warm flutter in her belly. "I'll be here. It's a date."
Wait, did she actually just say that?! She wanted to cringe at her awkward choice of words.
But Harry just chuckled easily, not seeming bothered at all. "A date it is, then. I look forward to it."
As he sauntered out, Y/N exhaled a long breath. Suddenly, her job had gotten a lot more...interesting.
Over the next few months, Y/N looked forward to Harry's weekly appointments increasingly more. They had fallen into an easy, teasing back-and-forth during their sessions peppered with plenty of flirtatious banter.
At first, Y/N firmly kept things within professional boundaries, no matter how strong her crush was growing. Harry may be a laid back, regular guy, but he was still a client at the end of the day.
However, the more she got to know the real Harry beyond his famous persona, the harder it became not to develop deeper feelings. His sharp wit, endless warmth and care for those around him, and genuine humility all endeared him to Y/N enormously.
For his part, Harry seemed to be growing quite fond of Y/N as well. He playfully requested she work extra hard on his "problem areas" and loved to tease her about her technique and bedroom eyes whenever she was really concentrating. Y/N would pretend to be flustered, but secretly loved their charged back-and-forth.
One week, Harry didn't show up for his usual appointment. Y/N tried not to feel too disappointed, figuring he must have just been busy. But when he missed his spot the following week as well with no notice, she began to worry something was wrong.
"Everything okay with Harry?" she couldn't help asking the spa receptionist. "I haven't seen him for his appointments lately."
The petite blonde receptionist gave her a sly grin. "Haven't you heard? There was an issue with his latest music release, so he's been dealing with that whole mess the past couple weeks."
Y/N frowned, concerned. Harry hadn't mentioned anything about work issues. Then again, she realized they had become so comfortable with each other that she always viewed him through a friend's lens rather than a client's now.
Making a snap decision, Y/N pulled out her phone and drafted a text to the number Harry had given her months ago, just in case she ever needed to reschedule his slot.
"Hey there, just checking in! Missed you the past couple weeks and wanted to make sure everything is alright?"
She hit send before she could overthink it, her heart fluttering nervously. This was wildly unprofessional to text a client like this, even if Harry had become more of a friend really.
To her surprise, Harry texted back almost immediately.
"Y/N! Was just thinking about you, funny enough. I'm so sorry for going MIA, it's been a madhouse with this new album mess. Let me make it up to you with dinner this weekend?"
Y/N's eyes widened as she re-read the text. Was Harry...asking her on a date? Or was he just being friendly and suggesting they grab a bite to catch up? She wasn't sure, but her heart was pounding either way.
Throwing caution to the wind, she typed: "It's a date. Looking forward to it!"
If her massages with Harry had been growing increasingly charged lately, Y/N could only imagine how electric an actual date with him would be...
The rest of the week dragged by interminably for Y/N as she counted down to her dinner with Harry. She agonized over what to wear, settling on a slinky red dress that walked the line between casual date and fancy night out perfectly.
When Saturday evening finally arrived, Y/N felt uncharacteristically nervous as she pulled up to the chic restaurant Harry had chosen. What if she had been misreading everything and this was just a friendly dinner after all? She didn't want to make things weird if that was the case.
But the second Harry opened the door to greet her, looking unfairly handsome in a slick black button-down, her worries melted away. He was giving her the same heated look he got when she was working out a tight knot in his muscles - unmistakably attracted and intrigued.
"You look positively stunning, love," he murmured, taking her hand and giving it a delicate kiss. "Though I don't know what I was expecting, you always manage to blow me away."
Y/N felt her face heating up at his unabashed flattery, her pulse racing. She couldn't resist giving his bicep a playful squeeze.
"You're not looking too bad yourself, popstar. Now are we going to eat, or did you just invite me out to shamelessly flirt?"
Harry grinned wickedly. "Why can't we do both?"
The evening passed in a blur of delicious food, sinfully good wine, and the most scintillating conversation Y/N had ever experienced. She and Harry swapped stories, teased and joked, and delved into surprisingly deep philosophical discussions, all without missing a beat.
By the time they were splitting a decadent slice of chocolate cake for dessert, Y/N felt more relaxed and giddy than she had in years. Despite all her nervous buildup, the date was turning out perfectly.
"You know," Harry began conversationally as he licked some icing off his fork in a way that made Y/N's mouth go dry. "When you started as my masseuse, I'll admit I figured you were just another pretty face hired by the spa. Starstruck and nervous around me because of my image and all that rot."
Y/N felt her cheeks warm at his words, but Harry grinned teasingly to show he meant no offense.
"But you proved me absolutely wrong in the best way possible, darling. Your skill and your spirit both blew me away. You're always so professional, but with this amazing warm heart and sharp wit just beneath the surface."
Y/N couldn't help smiling bashfully at his earnest compliments. "Well, you hardly made it easy to stay focused and impersonal, Mr. Cheeky Flirtmaster. I'm just glad we were able to become...friends."
She said the last word tentatively, wondering if Harry felt the same growing sense that they had become something more than that recently. His heated gaze and body language said as much, but she didn't want to assume.
Harry seemed to pick up on her hesitancy, his green eyes crinkling at the corners fondly.
"Y/N, I think we both know our 'friendship' has evolved into something deeper, at least for me. I've fancied you for months, maybe longer if I'm being honest with myself. You're bloody brilliant - smart, talented, caring, with a rocking body that drives me spare in the best way."
He reached across the table to take her hand, running his thumb over her knuckles. The tender intimacy of the gesture made Y/N's heart skip a beat.
"What I'm asking is...would you want to make this official? Give us a real go as more than just mates?"
Y/N felt like the breath had been knocked out of her lungs. She had imagined hearing those words from Harry's lips more times than she could count. But now that he had actually said them, she was temporarily stunned into silence.
Seeing her speechlessness, Harry chuckled warmly. "No need to answer right this second, love. I know it's a lot to process coming from your formerly famous client-turned-mate. Just think it over, yeah?"
Y/N finally managed to find her voice, emboldened by the caring warmth in Harry's eyes. She turned her palm over, lacing their fingers together decisively.
"You don't have to give me time, Harry. I've been crazy about you for ages if I'm honest. Of course I want to give us a real shot. I can't think of anything I want more."
The brilliant smile that spread across Harry's face sent tingles down Y/N's spine. He brought her knuckles to his lips, brushing a soft kiss there.
"Then it's official. We're a couple now."
Y/N felt giddy, like the words were a dream. Her and Harry Styles, the man she'd fancied for years, were entering a relationship together. What were the odds?
"Should we, uh, keep things professional at the spa still?" she asked, suddenly wondering if their new situation would make things weird.
To her surprise, Harry shook his head adamantly. "Actually, I was thinking of finding a new masseuse. I wouldn't want to put you in an awkward position having to work on your boyfriend's body every week, tempting as that sounds."
He gave her a heated look and Y/N felt a rush of arousal, imagining all the new layers their massages would take on now.
"Fair point. I don't think I could keep things totally professional anymore either," she admitted with a coy smile.
Harry signaled for the check, keeping Y/N's hand linked with his posessively. "Then it's settled. I'm all yours now, darling. Though fair warning, I'll expect my massages in private from here on out."
The tone of his voice made Y/N shiver pleasantly in anticipation. Oh, this romance was going to be incredibly fun.
***
Over the next few months, Y/N felt like she was living in a wonderful dream. She and Harry were inseparable, their bonds of friendship strengthening into an unbreakable foundation as their passion grew.
They went on romantic dates, attended glamorous celebrity events, and spent long cozy nights together at Harry's place. Y/N felt herself falling harder and harder for the kind, charismatic man who never failed to dote on her or cheer her on.
One evening, Harry surprised her by having a limo pick her up from work at the spa. Y/N raised her eyebrows in amused confusion as she slid into the sleek black car, wondering what her doting boyfriend was up to now.
To her delighted shock, Harry was waiting inside wearing a dashing tuxedo. He held out a rose to her with a warm smile.
"My love, you look as breathtaking as ever. Are you ready for our night on the town?"
Y/N laughed giddily, feeling like a princess in a fairytale as Harry showered her with kisses. "You'll have to tell me where we're going, love!"
"Well, first we have dinner reservations at the city's most exclusive new restaurant. And afterward..." Harry trailed off teasingly before pulling a pair of tickets from his inner jacket pocket. "I've arranged for us to have a private vip loge at the opera!"
Y/N's jaw dropped. She knew Harry took great pride in planning thoughtful, romantic gestures, but she was blown away by this grand occasion. The evening was straight out of a storybook.
"Harry, this is...I can't even put into words," she breathed in amazement. "You are the singularly most incredible, thoughtful man in existence. How'd I ever get so lucky?"
Harry just grinned boyishly, giving her a wink as the limo pulled away from the curb. "You deserve all of this and more, darling. Tonight is just a start."
The rest of the evening passed in a blissful whirlwind. Y/N and Harry sipped gourmet cocktails as candles flickered between them at the restaurant. Their heated looks and brushing footsies beneath the table made the anticipation crackle deliciously.
After the stunning five-star cuisine, Harry surprised Y/N again by hiring a violinist at the opera to serenade them privately in the vip loge while the show played out on stage. He held her close as they swayed to the rich, emotive music, looking into each other's eyes adoringly.
By the time they arrived back home in the limo, Y/N could barely keep her hands off her romantic prince of a boyfriend. She attacked his mouth hungrily as he lifted her into his arms, stumbling inside as they continued to devour each other.
That night was a blur of frantic lovemaking, tearing at clothes and tangling in the bed sheets as release was desperately chased between them. Y/N had never felt so thoroughly worshiped and cherished as when Harry was passionately laying claim to every inch of her body, branding her as his own with his scorching caresses.
"You're everything, Y/N," he groaned into the slick skin of her neck as she writhed beneath him. "My whole bloody universe, all the stars in the sky. Nothing means more to me than you, my perfect girl."
After, when the frenzied haze cleared, Harry held Y/N with indescribable tenderness like she was the most precious thing in existence. Which to him, she absolutely was. Her hands stroked through his sweat-dampened chestnut locks as he pressed fervent kisses to her collarbones, her sternum, everywhere his full lips could reach.
"How did I ever get so lucky?" he murmured, more to himself than her as he gazed up at Y/N reverently. "My entire world in these arms."
Y/N had no words, rendered speechless by the depth of love emanating from her man's bright green eyes. So she simply held him closer, letting her touch express everything her heart was too overwhelmed to put into phrases.
Of course, there were still hints of Harry's internal struggles with fame and the immense pressures of his career. The more Y/N got to know him intimately, the more she saw the tightly-wound tension that still crept into his muscles and posture frequently.
It killed her to see Harry in pain or overwhelmed, dealing silently with the weight of Hollywood's demands. So she made it her mission to take care of him, just like when she was his masseuse but in more intimate ways now.
After an especially grueling day of meetings and recording sessions, Y/N would draw Harry a hot bath infused with relaxing essential oils. She would gently undress him, unable to resist pressing soothing kisses along the protesting knots in his shoulders and back. Harry would let out deep rumbles of pleasure at her therapeutic touch.
One draining evening after he had done promo interviews all day followed by a high-energy concert, Harry came home to their penthouse utterly spent. His eyes were rimmed with exhaustion and his mouth was drawn into a tight line, shoulders hunched under the weight of his weariness.
Taking one look at her love in such a depleted state tore at Y/N's heartstrings. She quickly sprang into action, knowing just what he needed to recharge and find his center again.
"Go have a long, hot shower, babe," she murmured, pressing a tender kiss to Harry's furrowed brow. "I'll take care of everything else."
While Harry dragged himself to the bathroom, Y/N set about creating the perfect soothing atmosphere in their bedroom. She dimmed the lights to a warm golden glow and lit a few spicy aromatherapy candles. Then she pulled out her professional massage table and arranged it with all her favorite oils and lotions.
By the time Harry emerged from the steamy bathroom wearing nothing but a plush robe, Y/N had the space utterly transformed into a private spa oasis. Soft nature soundscapes played lightly in the background, blending with the flicker of candlelight to create an ambiance of pure tranquility.
Harry's brow unfurrowed slightly as he took in the scene, a small smile playing at his lips. "You're too good to me, darling," he rumbled in that gruff, sleepy tone Y/N adored.
"Mmm, not possible," Y/N assured with a soft smile, helping Harry shrug off his robe so he could climb onto the table completely nude.
She warmed up some of the aromatic sandalwood oil between her palms before beginning her sensual ministrations along the perfect terrain of Harry's back and shoulders. His tight muscles instantly began loosening under her skilled touch.
Harry let out a deep, relieved groan as Y/N's strong hands found each knotted snarl and gently worked them loose. He practically melted into the table, boneless and pliant beneath her.
"S'why I love you so much," he slurred, the profound tension seeping from his body. "Always know just how to take care of me, dove."
Y/N hummed in contentment, leaning down to press a line of soothing kisses along the dips of Harry's spine. Between her mouth and her fingers spreading hot oil into every bunched muscle group, he was soon utterly liquid and relaxed.
This went on for almost two blissful hours, Y/N taking her time to reverently cover every last inch of Harry's body in her healing touch. At one point she gently turned him over to tend to his chest, abdomen, and the handful of other areas he accumulated strain.
By the time she was finished, Harry was borderline unconscious - eyes hooded, face perfectly lax, breaths coming in deep and even pulls. Y/N trailed one last stroke down the miles of inked and toned skin he had exposed to her. Her beautiful boy, wholly at peace once more.
Pressing tender kisses to each of Harry's closed eyelids, Y/N carefully covered him with a plush duvet before slipping out of the bedroom. As much as she would love to stay and watch over him, she knew he needed to fully surrender to restorative sleep now.
Y/N headed to the kitchen, deciding to prepare one of Harry's favorite home cooked meals for when he woke feeling replenished and ravenous. As she moved around the space chopping vegetables and searing chicken, her mind couldn't help drifting to thoughts of the wonderful man in the other room.
She felt so unutterably lucky to be the one person in Harry's life allowed to take care of his weary body and soul in such an intimate way. All the fame, fortune, and success in the world was meaningless to Y/N, compared to earning his unwavering trust and being able to soothe away his struggles whenever they arose.
When Harry finally padded into the kitchen a couple hours later, he looked noticeably refreshed and at peace. There was a soft, dazed expression playing on his features as his bright eyes landed on Y/N in an oversized shirt cooking away.
"There she is," he rasped in that deep, gorgeously gravelly morning voice of his. "Most beautiful sight in the world."
Y/N grinned, warmth blossoming in her chest at the open adoration on Harry's face. Even after going through a draining day, he still couldn't help being an outrageous charmer with her.
"Did you get enough beauty sleep, love?" she teased lightly, moving across the room to wind her arms around his trim waist.
Harry hummed in contentment, ducking his head to nuzzle into the crook of her neck. He inhaled her familiar honeysuckle scent deeply, as if letting the aroma soothe his very soul.
"More than enough. I feel reborn, all thanks to you taking such incredible care of me as always." One of his large hands trailed up and down her back. "You spoil me rotten, darling."
"And you love every second of it," Y/N murmured with a soft laugh, tilting her chin up to search his sparkling green gaze.
The tender look Harry returned her with stole her breath away, like it still did even after all this time together. His calloused thumb traced the line of her cheekbone reverently.
"How could I not?" His low rumble sent tingles down her spine. "When you pour so much love and devotion into everything you do for me. Makes me fall deeper every damn day, dove."
As their mouths slanted together in a searing, drugging kiss, Y/N couldn't dream of a response. Because there were truly no words sufficient enough to capture the cosmic love between them in that moment.
Of course, their intimate times weren't always just about relaxation either. Y/N's massages frequently led to much more heated activities once Harry was completely de-stressed, his desire for her building as she worked her magic on his body.
Harry loved nothing more than to suddenly flip their positions, pinning Y/N to the bed and attacking her neck and collarbone with hot, hungry kisses. His hands would grip her curves possessively as she writhed beneath him.
"You've woken the beast, darling," he would growl in her ear, making her shiver with delicious anticipation. "Now you'll have to tame him."
Their lovemaking was always passionate and intense, the depth of their connection shining through in how perfectly in-sync their bodies were. Y/N never felt more beautiful, powerful, and utterly cherished than when Harry was worshiping every inch of her with his hands, lips, and tongue.
Sometimes their couplings started not from a massage, but simply from them stealing heated looks while going about their day. Like the time Y/N was baking in the kitchen, shaking her hips to the beat of the pop song playing while she rolled out pie dough, careless and free of the world around her.
She didn't notice Harry sidle up behind her until his strong arms wound around her waist, tugging her flush against his solid chest. His lips found the juncture of her neck and shoulder, sucking a blistering path up to the spot behind her ear that drove her crazy.
"Look at you," he rumbled in that gravelly morning tone of his as Y/N gasped and arched back into his sturdy frame. "Being all sexy and domestic, tempting a bloke with something fierce."
Y/N bit back a throaty moan as Harry's nimble fingers slid beneath her loose shirt, calloused palms blazing a path up her ribcage. "Harry, what-what are you doing?" she breathed, though she already knew the answer if the hardness pressing into her backside was any indication.
"Having a nibble of my favorite snack," he replied cheekily, punctuating his words with a sharp nip to her earlobe that made her inhale shakily, her heartbeat accelerating in her chest.
Before she could really process what was happening, Harry had easily turned Y/N in his arms and hoisted her up onto the wide kitchen counter. She reflexively wrapped her toned legs around his trim waist to anchor them together as he attacked her mouth in a desperate kiss.
His tongue plundered deep, tasting every crevice as Y/N clutched at the dense muscle of his biceps and back. One of his large hands cupped her jaw to angle her how he wanted while the other palmed her breast through the thin fabric, brushing a calloused thumb over the peaked nipple there.
Y/N whimpered into Harry's mouth, already spiraling from how quickly his talented hands and lips had her arousal spiking. He was single handedly unraveling her till she was putty in his hands, the only thought in her mind was what he was planning to do to her next..
Finally, Harry broke the filthy clash of their mouths, panting harshly as he pinned Y/N with a look of pure hunger. His green eyes were near black with want, wandering possessively over her flushed state.
"You make me so bloody crazy, dove," he rasped in a low rumble that had her pulse kicking up another notch. "I can't keep my hands off you."
Y/N whimpered at the pure need saturating her boyfriend's deep tone. She squirmed deliciously against him, desperate for more friction.
"Then don't," she managed to gasp out through her daze of arousal. "Take what you want from me, Harry. I'm all yours."
The low, guttural groan Harry let out at her breathless plea, very nearly had Y/N coming undone right then. His smoldering gaze somehow burned even hotter with carnal intent.
Before she could process what was happening, Harry had ridden her of her shirt and shorts in two effortless tugs. His big palms instantly settled at the curves of her waist, thumbs dipping beneath the lace waistband of her underwear teasingly.
"Look at you...so gorgeous and flushed, ready and waiting for me," he praised in a low rasp, leaning in to drag his tongue up the slender column of her throat. "You have no idea what you do to me, do you baby?"
Y/N was too far gone in the spiral of her own pleasure to respond with anything more coherent than a choked-off whine that had him thickening in his pants. She writhed against Harry's solid frame, silently pleading for him to end her torment.
Seeming to take the hint, Harry ducked his head to mouth along the swell of her breasts and sternum, layering nips and sucking kisses until her skin was covered with marks of his devotion. Y/N arched her back hair sticking to her rapidly dampening skin as breathy moans tumbled from her parted lips.
"So responsive for me, dove," Harry grunted in approval, his big hands sliding around to shamelessly cup and squeeze her backside. "So perfect at taking everything I give you."
With one swift movement, he tugged her skimpy panties aside and plunged two ring clad fingertips through her dripping folds. Y/N cried out shamelessly at the long-awaited relief, her hips bucking forward uncontrollably to maximize the delicious stretch and burn.
"Christ, so wet and tight," Harry ground out, sounding utterly wrecked as he swirled his fingers around her throbbing entrance teasingly. "Made just for me, isn't that right lovely? Made to take my fingers, my tongue..."
His voice dropped to a sinful baritone as he slowly pumped his thick digits in and out of her fluttering, slick heat. Y/N let out a shrill whine of complete surrender, eyes rolling back as she fully gave herself over to the glorious sensations sparking along every nerve-ending.
"Made to take every hard inch of my cock, pushing deep inside this perfect little cunt," Harry continued in that gravelly and raspy tone, leaning down to whisper the obscene words directly against her damp skin.
True to form, his skilled fingers had Y/N right on the edge of shattering with dizzying speed. Her thighs quivered with the coiled tension, inner walls fluttering madly around the deliciously intrusive stretch of his thick digits.
Just when she thought she couldn't take any more of the exquisite torment, when stars were bursting behind her eyelids, Harry abruptly curled his fingers upward in a devastating stroke against that magic spot inside her. Y/N's entire body convulsed as she broke into a thousand kaleidoscopic pieces, a strangled scream of pure euphoria ripping free from her throat.
By the time her vision finally began refocusing, her loose limbs were draped bonelessly over Harry's shoulders, her head spinning in dizzy bliss. She clearly registered the achingly slow push and pull of his fingers continuing to work through her fluttering, overstimulated cunt.
Harry's burning gaze was locked onto her sweat-slicked, flushed skin as he methodically wrung out every last spasm of ecstasy from her boneless frame. The soft, reverent look of awe on his handsome face stole what little breath Y/N had managed to recapture.
"Look at you, darling...absolutely wrecked for me," he husked "So stunning like this, falling apart on my fingers. All fo’ me"
Despite feeling completely satisfied, Y/N couldn't help but feel a rush of desire at Harry's words. He always had been equal parts tender and filthy in his erotic praise and endearments.
Case in point, his next words as he slid his glistening fingers into his mouth to taste her essence were absolutely scorching.
"Clean that essence up for me like a good girl, dove...because I'm going to need you soaked and begging again in about five minutes."
Y/N let out a breathy moan at the promise in his words, knowing full well her legs were going to absolutely sore tonight, her knees wobbly and unable to walk by morning.
She nodded around the slick digits, swirling her tongue around the fullness of them as he sighed at the way she sucked his fingers.
“God, I wish it was m’ cock behind those pretty lips, dove” he pulled them out, placing his hand right over her naked thigh, “but I want it inside your pretty pussy for now”
She nodded, too awestruck to actua;ly process her mind to his words.He shook her head at her, pulling down the pants he had put on earlier.
“Got me so hard. Could’ve burst from listening to you being so filthy for me”
Her cheeks flushed at his risque words, thighs pushing together as his cock sprang free, the angry, red tip throbbing as he took himself into his palm, stroking his length to relieve some of the tension.
She pushed her thighs above each other, feeling utterly flustered and dizzy. He was gong to fuck her, and memories of all the times he had, flooding her mind like ocean water.
Finally, he let go of himself, parting her thighs and slotting himself in between. She let out a broken gasp, mouth going dry as she took a look at her own desperation, red and swollen, yet, so needy and wet.
“Could never get enough of you” he said into her mouth, swallowing her gasp as his cock stretched her open deliciously. A broken moan made its way past her lips, her quivering legs wrapping around him as he slid himself inside her. Her wetness swallowed him up, her pussy gushing with arousal as he angled her hips higher.
“Good, fucking–so damn tight for me” eh cursed, her mouth parting open into another broken sob as he thrust in and out of her, her wet walls taking him in so well. He felt so heavenly, his cock buried inside his pretty, so pretty and perfect girl.
“How did I stay so long without you? Hm?” he asked rhetorically, and she opened her closed eyes. His hand reached between her parted legs, his skilled digits teasing her clit, while his practised strokes made her fall apart under him.
“Oh fuck, yeah–right there” she begged him to keep fucking her, his cock hitting the deepest of spots inside her. It had her mind going numb, her toes curling as he fucked her with delirious intent.
“Pussy’s so good–:” he praised her once again, his fingers finally landing on her clit, a sharp spank that made her cum right then and there.
She arched her back, her head falling back till it touched the counter. She grabbed her nipples, pinching them as he rubbed circles over her clit, his cock fucking her at a pace that had her screaming and begging for more.
“Oh fuck, Harr–Harry, oh my fucking god”
He grabbed her hips, laying her down flat as she choked on another sob, her wetness gushing out and wetting the cold marble counter. Harry was grinning and smirking, watching her fall apart beneath him. He was the only one who could make her mind go absolutely detached, the only thought in her mind being of him. His name. His cock. His hands. The way they made her feel.
“Her orgasm prolonged as he kept her on the edge, her pussy short circuiting is the overstimulation kicked in. She was sore, two orgasms after a day of work would do that to her.
“Harry–” she pouted, her hands reaching out for his, to which he immediately complied, intertwining their fingers.
“Just a little longer, Almost done”
He promised, and began fucking her at the vicious pace again. The room echoed with the obscene sound of skin slapping against skin, her hips bruised as he sucked a breath in, teetering on the edge of sweet, sweet release.
He came inside her that day, his cock leaking inside her warm, warm cunt till he was fully spent and empty, her cunt full of his load as he stayed inside a little longer, relishing in the way she fluttered around him, squeezing and milking his cock for all he had.
He kissed her knuckles, murmuring sweet words of love as they lay on the counter for a while, her bake affair long forgotten, since she had already gotten a taste of something much sweeter.
***
The next morning, as Y/N was featherlight kissing her way down Harry's chiseled torso with the intent of rousing him for another sensual round, her lips brushed against something unfamiliar on his skin. Frowning, she pushed back the bedsheets to get a better look.
There, etched in thick black ink just above Harry's hipbone, was a new tattoo she had never noticed before. It was a series of numbers, almost like...coordinates?
Y/N felt her breath catch as she recognized the distinctly precise numerical patterning. She had taken enough coding classes to spot geographic coordinates when she saw them.
"Harry..." she gulped, tracing the new ink with a trembling fingertip. "What is this? Why do you have map coordinates tattooed on your body?"
The sleepy, blissed-out expression on Harry's face instantly shuttered closed as soon as the words left Y/N's lips. He seemed to almost freeze for a moment, grimacing ever-so-slightly as he struggled to keep his expression neutral.
"It's...nothing to concern yourself with, darling," he finally replied in a tone that was just a bit too overly-casual. "Just a drunken mistake from a mate's stag night a few weeks back. Doesn't mean anything, I swear."
But Y/N knew her boyfriend too well to be convinced by his nonchalant dismissal. She searched his bright green eyes, unable to shake the feeling that there was much more to this strange new tattoo than he was letting on.
What secrets could Harry possibly be keeping from her? And just where exactly would those map coordinates lead if she dared to follow them?
The delicious haze of their previous intimacy was shattered, replaced by a gnawing sense that Y/N was missing out on some important truth about her boyfriend's life. And she knew their relationship could never regain that blissful closeness until she uncovered what Harry was hiding...
(next part)
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tell me if you like this! i want to do a part 2, but this one's long, so we'll see! please reblog or comment if you like, it makes my heart happy :)
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BULLY ― LEE HEESEUNG
pairing. bully!heeseung x fem!reader. warnings.smut (mdni!), unprotected sex, manhandling, multiple orgasms, fingering, penetration, slight dacryphilia, slight size kink, virgin kink, slight non-con, overstimulation, slut shaming, pet names, yandere behavior.
sypnosis. will heeseung let you slip away after witnessing you with another guy?
comments, likes and reblogs are highly appreciated.
you walked down the hall to get to your lecture hall rather rapidly in denial that you overslept and was now practically late for your lecture. a sharp gasp escaped from your lips when you felt a pair of hands yanking you into the janitors closet by your waist. the door slammed shut and you heard the lock click. you flailed your arms around trying to get away from the person's grip. "in a rush, i see" the person snarled in a low voice. you shuddered recognizing the person as the one and only, lee heeseung.
heeseung had bullied you since you've transferred to this college for the sole reason of you bumping into him on a moody day. he made you isolated from people and always picked on you. cornering you, slapping, ripping up your homeworks and slut shaming were the most common things he did. but you had never had an encounter with him in a tiny, dark space and it made fear flow in your veins.
"having fun with junseok? what a slut, clinging onto him" he growled. "i-it was for a p-project" you squeaked as you felt his grip tighten. "did you forget who you belonged to?" he taunted and groped your breast roughly drawing out a whimper from you. his hands trialed over your legs, pulling you closer against him. your breath hitched in your throat as you felt his hard-on pressed against the back of your thigh.
"see the things you do to me baby?" he groaned as he started humping your thigh. "the fact that you've never even had your first kiss turns me on even more" he moaned. he dragged his hand under your skirt and drew circles on your skin and you hated to admit that arousal pooled in your underwear. your body jerked by itself when his hand came to rest on your heat, snapping your legs shut. "such a dirty slut, so wet for me" he chuckled as he spread your legs and pulled your panties aside. a harsh gasp was released from you as two digits entered your hole roughly.
pain echoed in your pussy as he scissored you, stretching you out thoroughly at a fast pace. "heeseung" you whimpered grabbing his bicep for support as he inserted a third finger and curled them. "come on baby, i know you can take that. if you can't even take my fingers, how do you expect to take my cock huh?" he questioned playfully, still working his fingers in your hole.
you felt a knot forming in your lower abdomen that just keeps building up and was about to snap. with a few more thrusts of his fingers, you came undone on his hand as your body shook. you heard the clinking of his belt as he took it off joined by his jeans and boxers. before you could react, he slipped off your panties and aligned his cock head to your entrance and gave a hard thrust. no matter how much prep he gave you, he was too big for you. you felt so full and torn as tears brimmed your eyes from the sensation. plus you were still sensitive from the orgasm earlier.
"relax baby, you're squeezing me too much" he moaned as he thumb rubbed your clit. his rough, rapid thrusts soon rubbed out the pain and replaced it with pleasure which got you whining and moaning. the small closet was filled with sounds of heavy breathing and moans.
he felt you shake again as you gave out your orgasm but he was still fucking you, chasing his release. overstimulation took over you as you tried to get away from him. "i'm not done with you yet slut" he breathed out and after a few more ruts, he pulled out, which he totally didn't want to and finished on your thigh.
he turned you around as he grabbed your face and pressed his lips onto yours and felt your tired body collapse on top of his. "think of the consequences before you act like a whore around men next time" was the thing he said when he pulled away.
man would have the biggest smirk plastered on his face when he witness you limping the next day all because of him.
#snoopypuppwrites#enhypen#heeseung#park jongseong#sim jaeyun#park sunghoon#kim sunoo#jungwon#enhypen fanfic#enhypen smut#enhypen fluff#enhypen x reader#enhypen imagines#enhypen scenarios#heeseung x reader#heeseung smut
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