#jr: empty beds
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Would you write a dark and toxic romance fic?
For instance, Carlos Sainz has a girlfriend. F1 has an influencer program and invites a lingerie model to a race. Carlos is highly attracted to her, basically on his knees for her. She doesn't want to get involved and pushes him away. Carlos can't stop thinking about her and wants her more every time he sees her. He starts to try and seduce the model. She secretly enjoys his touch and pet names, dirty talks and etc., but stops him every time. Under some circumstance they finally fuck, Carlos is obsessed with making her feel pleasure. After that she's avoiding him but all Carlos wants is more of her. She even prohibits the driver from braking up with his gf. Carlos obey but in exchange wants the model to be his friend with benefits
**Not dark sorry**
Lady in Red (1) || CS55
Pairing: Carlos Sainz Jr x fem!reader
Warnings: 18+ only, NSFW, smut, oral, cheating
WC: 2.7k
One || Two || Three || Four
You tried to resist him, you really did. You could honestly put a hand on your heart and swear you turned down the advances he made but he was persistent.
“You’re riding with me, hermosa.” You jumped at the Spanish driver's voice in your ear, not realising he had managed to get so close to you without noticing.
“I’m meant to be in Charles' car,” you replied as your heart rate crept up, like his cleverly hidden hand on your ribs.
“Plans changed, now I get you all to myself.”
Each day you found it harder to fight the urge to give into him. The nights left you tossing in an empty bed as you imagined all the filthy things he had whispered in your ear each time he passed. This promotion with F1 and Ferrari in particular needed to end soon or, so help you, the temptation would be too much.
A clap of hands drew your attention away from Carlos and the professional photographer waved you forward to the red sports car waiting for you. You were accustomed to being the envy of the men around you, you were literally paid to lure them in with your body and the lingerie you paraded. This promotion was no different, only it seemed to be working a little too well on one man in particular - a man who was in a very public relationship.
“Gorgeous, honey!” Cristiano blew a kiss as he snapped away on his camera, capturing your poses on the hood of the car effortlessly.
It would have been a lie to say you hadn’t noticed Carlos shuffle his way through the lighting staff and makeup artists to get a better view. You noticed, and you played with fire.
Carlos tugged at the collar of his race suit as his body temperature spiked. He had never been so enthralled by a woman before and he couldn’t let you leave without taking a bite of the forbidden fruit. The way you sat on the hood of his car made his blood race and when you leaned back and spread your legs as you looked to the sky, he swore that he had found the altar to worship on his knees for.
Carlos bit his lip and vowed to take you like that before the campaign was over. He was going to have you, he didn’t care what he had to do to make it happen - there was no price he wouldn’t pay, and everyone had a price.
Cristiano spotted Carlos edging forward, his shadow interfering with the light and snapped his fingers at the man. “You, red man, go to her.”
Carlos didn’t need any encouragement as he strode confidently to his car and looked down at your reclined position with a dark smile. “How do you want me?”
Your lips parted with an answer before you realised he was speaking to Cristiano and snapped your mouth closed but Carlos’ smirk grew. “Do you have something to say, hermosa?”
“I thought this was a lingerie shoot.”
“I can strip down for you, I have no problem with that,” he said as he reached for his collar but you caught his hand to stop him.
“I think your girlfriend would have a problem with that.”
“Then don’t think about my girlfriend.”
“Red man, baby, you’re too stiff. Relax and take a seat,” Cristiano called out, curling a finger for you to stand up. Carlos took your place on the hood and an assistant darted across the track with his helmet. “Okay, honey, turn around and do your thing.”
You inwardly cursed as you faced Carlos and saw your reflection in the tint of his visor, the bright red lace you wore matching his suit perfectly.
“Do your thing, hermosa,” he dared from the helmet as he lifted his feet to the front bumper and spread his knees for you to step between.
You told yourself this was just a job, that the chemistry was purely for camera, as you placed your hands on his knees and arched your back before looking over your shoulder. The sound Cristiano made was pure excitement and he snapped a few shots with encouragement to do more.
“Fuck, you are beautiful,” Carlos groaned as your position thrust your breasts into his line of vision and he all but whimpered when you turned around.
You didn’t have to fake the pleasure on your face when you leaned back against Carlos and tipped your head back onto his shoulder, looking up under your lashes as you bit your lip. Without needing direction, his hands found your hips and pulled you flush against his body and your hand reached up, slipping beneath the back of his helmet to tug the strands of hair you caught.
“How wet are you, hermosa?” he whispered in your ear. “I bet you are absolutely dripping for me.”
You crossed your legs as naturally as you could in the stiletto heels and felt his chest bounce with a laugh. “Don’t be shy now. We are just getting started.”
His hands burned your skin as they slowly rose up your body and you didn’t dare breathe until they reached the cup of your bra and you pushed away from the car. You were at risk of doing something very stupid if you stayed there a moment longer. “What’s next?” you asked the director, silently begging it to be something solo so you could recover from being so close to Carlos.
But your wish was ignored.
“Some hot laps, you’re with Carlos.”
You looked longingly at Stacy who was making her way to Charles’ car but your view was interrupted by Carlos and the arm he threw over your shoulders, turning you to the passenger door. “Ready, cariña?”
“Carlos…” your words died out as he opened the door and gave you a look that dared you to moan his name again so you silently took your seat.
“Open your legs.”
“No!” you gasped before looking at your lap and seeing the seatbelt was nothing like ones you had worn in the past. This one had a buckle between your thighs. “Oh.”
“Don’t act like you didn’t think about it,” he chuckled as he reached for the metal clasp, a hiss of air escaping your clenched teeth when his knuckles brushed over your panties. “It is humid here, isn’t it? Very moist.”
“Oh my god,” you groaned.
“What? I am talking about the weather. Unless you know of something else that is moist?”
“Please stop saying that word.”
“How about wet? Do you like that? You can tell me what you like, I am a very good listener.”
“I would like you to please focus on driving.”
“Relax, I am good at multitasking.”
“Like having a girlfriend and still trying to get my attention?”
Carlos scoffed before closing the door and walking around to his side. “Cariña, I’m not ‘trying’ anything, I had you the moment you walked in my garage.”
“It’s not going to happen.”
The engine started with a purr and your heart skipped a beat as Carlos smirked to himself. “We’ll see about that.”
Your entire body was trembling by the time the car came to a screeching halt at the start of the track. Adrenaline flooded your body and after the thrilling speeds that Carlos had driven at the world seemed to spin too slow. You wanted that heady feeling again, it was addictive.
Carlos had barely paid attention to the track as the sounds that you made drained his brain of his blood and sent it straight to his dick. He took the turns faster so your shoulders brushed with his and he hit the chicanes harder to see your perfect tits bounce in the barely-there bra.
“Dinner, tonight,” Carlos stated as he turned the car off and reached over to the buckle and pushed it in. The plastic pressed to the juncture of your thighs and a moan escaped before you could suppress it and he grinned. “I’ll take that as a yes.”
Carlos knocked at your hotel door right on time and you checked yourself over once more before opening it. After seeing how he had reacted to the red Ferrari & I.D Sarrieri lingerie crossover set at the photoshoot, you found an equally racy dress in the same shade of rouge.
“I thought we were going out?” you asked as you saw a tray balanced in his hand.
The look he gave you was truly devilish as he dragged his eyes down your body and back up to your face. “I prefer to eat in.”
He slipped past you and hooked his shoe on the door, kicking it closed. You stared at his back as he walked deeper into your hotel room before he turned and curled a finger, beckoning you to join him in the dining room.
“Shit,” you murmured to yourself as you took a step towards him without meaning to and thought, I’m in trouble.
Carlos placed the covered tray on the table and pulled out a chair before holding his hand out for you. Against your better judgement, you placed your hand in his and let him pull you closer. His arms curled around your back as your hands settled on his shoulders as he smiled triumphantly.
“I finally have you all to myself, hermosa.”
One hand slipped down your back but you couldn’t find the energy to fight his advances as his palm caressed the swell of your ass. You were just trying to figure out how to make your lungs breathe again when his lips stole what little air you had left.
You curled your body against him as his tongue lashed across you lips and they parted on instinct as you wanted more.
“This dress is killing me,” he groaned as his hand travelled further down until he reached the hem and dragged it up over your hips. Cool air kissed your skin that was completely bare beneath the dress. “Looks like you had plans of your own.”
Your head fell back with a moan as his lips sealed over the racing pulse in your neck. “I didn’t want lines showing on the dress,” you lied, because the fantasy of this moment had crossed your mind. You just hadn’t thought about the possibility of letting it go this far in real life.
You felt his teeth graze your skin as he smiled at the lie and his hands gripped your hips before he lifted you onto the table. “What are you…”
Your words faded out as he dropped into the chair and licked his lips at the sight before him. “Eating in.”
You screwed your eyes shut knowing you were going straight to hell with a Ferrari red A pinned to your dress. You screwed your eyes shut as he kissed your left calf and placed your heel on the arm of his chair before doing the same to the right.
“Cariño,” he murmured between the kisses and bites he trailed up your thighs before he lashed his tongue through your folds. “Hmm, you are so wet for me.”
You reached for his thick, dark hair and combed your fingers through it as you gave into the temptation. You tightened your fingers in the strands and pulled him back to where you needed him most. “Hasn’t anyone told you not to talk with a mouthful?”
“Where are my manners,” he chuckled, his breath scorching on your skin. “Let me make it up to you.”
Your head thumped back on the tabletop as he completely devoured you, moaning at the taste of you on his tongue. The chandelier above you was almost as bright as the stars that danced around your vision as the man made a buffet of you. You had never had someone put so much passion into eating your pussy and it showed as your first orgasm quickly built and wracked your body with undulating waves of pleasure that he eagerly lapped at.
“You taste so fucking good, hermosa,” he praised as he lazily traced his fingers along your dripping slit and he rose to his feet. Your mind was in a haze and you smiled dumbly as you looked up at Carlos to see his lips glossy with your come.
“You are a filthy man,” you purred as he swiped his thumb over his bottom lip before licking it clean.
“We’re just getting started,” he teased as he reached over to the tray and lifted the lid. “Strawberry?”
You parted your lips as he dipped the sweet fruit in the tub of chocolate sauce but instead of giving you a taste, he drizzled the chocolate over the swell of your breasts. You didn’t care if it ruined the dress because his lips were on your skin, his fingers pulling the material down to bare your breasts before his tongue swirled around them.
“Fuck, Carlos,” you cried as he sucked your nipple to hard peaks. Your body burned for more, your back arching as your hips rolled in search of friction to ease the ache to be filled. “Fuck me, please.”
He didn’t need to be told twice as he reached into his pocket for a condom before unzipping his trousers. You were impatient, squirming on the table as he tore into the foil and rolled the sheath down his hard length. You sat up at the edge of the table and surprised him as you wrapped your hand around his cock, guiding him to your entrance as he watched on hungrily.
“Take it, cariña, take it,” he grunted deeply as he inched himself into your tight cunt until your bodies were pressed to each other. Your legs wrapped around his hips, your nails dug into his back, your teeth buried in his neck and he cried out your name as he snapped his hips forward.
Guilt ate at you as you dressed the next morning. The evidence of what you did was buried under layers of makeup and you swore it couldn’t happen again. Carlos was in a relationship, that should have been enough to stop you.
But he was persistent.
“Stop, someone might see,” you growled as you put your hand on his chest to stop him getting any closer. He had cornered you in a private room of Ferrari’s hospitality while you reapplied concealer to your neck.
“No ones going to come in here,” he chuckled as he easily brushed your hand aside and pulled you against him. “Don’t you want me to make you feel good again?”
“No,” you lied, your body betraying you as your nipples hardened in the thin bralette you had been scheduled to model. “Go.”
“Your lips say one thing but your hips say another,” he teased. “One touch, cariña, one touch and if you’re not wet for me then I’ll go. One. Touch. Deal?”
“No…”
“Why not?” he asked knowingly.
“Because…”
“Yes?”
You looked away from his darkening eyes and clenched your thighs together. “Because I want you to but you have a girlfriend, Carlos. This is wrong.”
“Then I’ll break up with her,” he offered, like it was the most obvious solution in the world, and pulled his phone from his pocket.
“What! No,” you gasped, grabbing the device. “You can’t do that.”
“Why not?”
“Because I don’t want to be the reason, and this was a mistake.”
His hands went back to drawing small circles over your hips and you felt yourself relaxing before you caught yourself and pushed him away. “I’m serious, Carlos, once this promo is finished we aren’t going to see each other again.”
“Then let’s enjoy it while it lasts.” His pout had you sighing in defeat. You had already crossed the line once, did the number of times really matter after that? “I’ll make you another deal, I won’t break up with Rebecca if you have dinner with me again.”
You knew exactly what he meant and exactly what was on the menu but you lied to yourself. “Just dinner,” you clarified as his smirk grew.
“Just dinner.”
Click here for part two.
#carlos sainz imagine#carlos sainz fanfic#carlos sainz smut#carlos sainz x reader#formula 1 fanfic#formula one smut#formula one imagine#f1 fanfic#f1 imagine#f1 smut
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Snacks and midnight
Imagine Bucky finding his adorably, heavily pregnant girl perched onto kitchen counter rummaging for snacks like a little gremlin in the middle of the night. He’d woken up, reaching over the bed to cuddle you only to find it empty. He snorted when he swiped his hand over the sheets feeling bits of crumbs left over from your secret stash of snacks. He rubbed his eyes, noting there was a trail of evidence that led out of the bedroom, the faint sound of crunching carrying down the hall.
Bucky swung his legs over the bed, trudging towards the source of the sounds, his eye growing wide at the sight before him in the kitchen.
“Oh my god”
You had crawled onto the counter, knees perched on the marble top, digging through the cupboards with your hands deep in a box of Oreos. You were too busy with your scavenging for snacks to hear the soldier walk in, huffing when you noticed there was only one box of Dunkaroos left.
“What you up to babygirl" Bucky cooed, quietly wrapping his arms around you from behind, holding you securely when you squeaked in surprise. You gave him a sheepish smile, leaning back into his hold while still scanning the contents of your spread; chips, chocolate and various sour candies all covering the kitchen.
"I was hungry" You shrugged innocently while Bucky shook his head, making sure you couldn't squirm around after getting caught in such a ridiculous position. "And so was Bucky jr"
"Bucky jr. told his mama to sneak into the kitchen like a mouse and crawl onto the counters?"
"I didn't wanna wake you and I couldn't reach" You rubbed your swollen belly for emphasis, giving him a pout when he cocked an eyebrow.
"Come down from there you little gremlin, I'll talk to my son about this later" Bucky gave your butt a light pat before scooping you up an carrying you back to bed, kissing the crumbs that clung into your bottom lip. "I'll buy you all the snacks you want first thing in the morning, how does that sound?"
"Including Dunkaroo's? I think Sam ate them all and he just likes the frosting"
"I'll buy Dunkaroo's"
"And chips? I need something salty"
"I'll get you chips babydoll"
"And donuts?" You batted your lashes at him knowing you hardly needed to, he was already a puddle of mush for you and your growing belly.
"Alright bunny" He chuckled, carrying you in his arms, loving the way you tucked your face into his neck with a content sigh. He gently laid you down, making sure you were comfy and fast asleep before shuffling down the bed and lifting you t-shirt up, eyes narrowed at your belly, his voice a low whisper.
"Now. Let's talk about your dietary choices and why your have your mama climbing the house like spider boy at 3:03am"
#bucky barnes x you#bucky x reader#bucky barnes fluff#bucky barnes x y/n#bucky barnes x female reader#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes#bucky x y/n#bucky barnes x f!reader#bucky barnes pregnancy kink#bucky x pregnant!reader#bucky barnes x pregnant reader#pregnancy kink#bucky x pregnant reader#bucky x pregnant reder#bucky fluff#bucky barnes x f reader#bucky x f reader#marvel fluff#avengers fluff#james bucky buchanan barnes#james bucky barnes#james buchanan barnes#bucky barnes imagine#bucky barnes fan fic#bucky barnes fanmix#bucky imagine#bucky drabble#soft bucky#bucky x pregnant!reader
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Idk if you're taking requests right now, but I saw you wanted to write the sex pollen or one bed trope. I am a SUCKER for both of those!!!!! I would totally be down with either or both of these with Law!
oh anon you know i just had to combine them >:^) !!!!
i went absolutely feral writing this so i hope you enjoy!
spin circles for me (law x reader nsfw)
18+, mdni, nsfw, wc: 3.0k masterlist
cw: afab!fem!reader, slapping, rough sex, sex pollen and all that entails, law is kind of an asshole, law is also a bit feral, choking, biting, semi-public fooling around, creampie, mentions of blood, evil sex, one bed trope
tagging: @bowsa-jr @eelnoise @freelemmingsdownload @kaizokuniichan @wolfegoddess
“And…that’s all folks! Everyone should have their room keys.” Shachi exclaims, hands visibly empty. A pit opens up in your stomach as you feel your heart drop like a roller coaster—everyone had their room assignments for the night, save for you, whose name wasn’t called. Face red as your anxiety brews, you step forward towards your crewmate and tap him on the shoulder.
“Shachi, I didn’t hear my name; who am I rooming with?” you ask, puzzled and hoping you had simply tuned out your name when he called it; Law was taking care of sorting the bill out with the innkeeper, and the last thing you wanted to do was pile more undue stress onto your captain.
Curly chestnut hair hangs in his face as he scans the list he made one more time, mumbling each crew member’s name under his lips as he counts. Eyes widening as he reaches the end of the list without muttering yours, he checks again, face slowly turning white.
“Captain, we’ve got a problem.” Shachi says as he strides towards Law, carrying a slight sense of worry in his voice; realistically it wasn’t the end of the world, but when Law is in a snit, the slightest mistakes can lead to a snarky dressing down in front of the rest of the crew. Tired and exhausted, Law doesn’t answer Shachi verbally, and simply gives him a look that tells him to continue. “I messed up the room arrangements. I forgot to assign her to a room.” he explains, motioning towards you with his thumb.
“Put her with Ikkaku then. Do I really have to hold your hand like this, Shachi?” Law says, rolling his eyes with a huff as he starts to walk away; your crewmate’s hand on his shoulder pulls him back and prevents him from getting too far away.
"That’s the thing Captain, all the rooms have twin beds except for yours…” he says voice laced with trepidation as his words trail off. Chewing the inside of your cheek, you watch Law carefully as he makes eye contact with you for the briefest of moments, an unreadable expression on his face.
“Fine.” he sighs, too exhausted to even bother reaming Shachi out for his mistake. Instead, Law glares at him, causing your crewmate to simply smirk at him before running off towards Penguin.
“Don’t expect me to sleep on the floor. We’re more than capable of being adults.” he warns in a hushed tone that edges on the side of being unnecessarily harsh.
“Of course, Captain.” you reply, stare fixed at the floorboard beneath you as you followed him to your room. His exasperation had seemingly no end, causing you to preemptively walk on eggshells to avoid being the target of his scorn.
A slightly irritated huff escapes your lips as you let your bag hit the floor of the run-down hotel room. An opportunity to spend more time with Law like this would be heaven sent under normal circumstances, but his mood lately was nothing short of foul, and he had been short not only with you, but with everyone around him for the past week or so. Truthfully, being alone with him left you brimming with anxiety; you had been slowly and steadily building a deep bond with him prior to this nasty mood swing, and something intangible swirling in your gut spurred the notion that his mood was somehow your fault.
As you head to the restroom and change into some plainclothes, you run through a list of possible transgressions; perhaps the time you patted his shoulder reassuringly had been crossing the line, or maybe he had noticed the way your eyes soften, gazing at him when you were convinced his eyes were focused elsewhere. Law is rarely one to miss details or subtleties; in retrospect, one would be a fool to think he wouldn’t catch you staring. Whether your behavior was the cause of his irritability or not, one thing was certain—he had been avoiding contact with you as much as possible since this snit started, leaving you lonely. Rituals you had built with him—taking your morning coffee and tea together, sitting next to each other at lunch, and reading together in the evenings—had all come to a crashing halt with no explanation, leaving you with an empty chasm in your chest, left to wonder what you did to spur this sudden abandonment; however, even if it were possible to track down Law to for a private conversation, you were too nonconfrontational to inquire what your grave misstep had been.
“Need a walk to clear my head. Coming with?” he asks gruffly, momentarily removing his bucket hat to comb his fingers through his sweat-dampened hair. His words break you from your daze, and you nod affirmatively and give him a vocal mhm, lacing up your worn-out sneakers in the process. Though he was touchy at the moment, there was no resisting his bid for attention, especially when a hint of softness in his tone makes his words feel like a request for your presence. Law was complicated, and at times unbearable, but as far as you were concerned, he was beyond reproach, for the simple fact that you cared far too much for him.
The rocky atmosphere softens as you walk towards the nearby trail together, afternoon breeze filling your lungs with tranquility and turning the tension between you into a comfortable silence. The two of you venture roughly a mile into the woods before being met with a roadblock—a wall of flowering vines preventing further progression down the trail. Slightly annoyed, Law unsheathes his sword, hacking at the plants, only to be met with a haze of dust and pollen in the air; instinctively, you pull your shirt over your nose to prevent inhaling it, but your captain is not so lucky, and ends up breathing in a fair amount before sneezing.
Frustrated at the endlessly dense cluster of vines and flowers still remaining in front of you, your captain makes the executive decision to turn back, and you follow accordingly, sighing softly in frustration that your walk together was cut shorter than planned—that is, until Law starts acting weird.
It started with the staring.
The penetrating gaze fixed on your form only feeds into your paranoia, assuring you that there was something wrong between the two of you that had been leading him to behave strangely as of late. Then his right arm begins to swing more freely, almost aimlessly; the contrast of the motion compared to Law’s normally composed nature made the way his hand carelessly swung seem downright silly—and then it starts to brush against you. He’s simply tired, you tell yourself. A simple mistake.
And then blood pools in your cheeks as he pokes your side, almost playfully, emulating the cocky, laidback Law you've come to know and adore. It’s intentional, and impossible to ignore; you return the favor in kind and flash him a grin. You expect a similar expression to be mirrored on his face—a smirk with a glint of mischief in his eyes—but are frozen in place when the look he gives you is downright predatory, lust pooling in his eyes.
Suddenly aware of your surroundings, you find your back flush against a tree, and far closer to Law than you remember being before; completely absorbed in the delight of his subtle flirting, you had lost track of where you were, and subsequently had fallen into his grasp like a fly in a spider’s web.
“Tell me now if you don’t want this.” he whispers in your ear, leaning in close and ghosting his lips along the shell of your ear. The trance he put you in was nearly dreamlike, all of his transgressions nearly forgotten as he feeds you the tantalizing promise of exchanging them for the touches you have been yearning for.
“Keep going.” you murmur, letting out a sharp gasp as his mouth immediately connects with your neck. His teeth graze the column of your throat, eliciting sinful mewls from your pretty mouth; the song of lewd sounds echoes into the humid, sticky air, encouraging him to slip his hand underneath your shirt.
“I thought it wasn’t like that, hm?” he murmurs, voice husky as his hands roam your body, making you whimper as his thumb rolls across your nipple. “Thought you didn’t like your Captain like that?” he taunts, making your cheeks flush with both arousal and embarrassment as pieces click into place in your mind—a little more than a week ago, Shachi and Penguin had confronted you about your little crush during a game of cards; unwilling to give in to pressure from them to spill your guts out, you had denied it with a pink blush covering your face. A dreadful liar through and through, your crewmates refused to buy your fib for a second; however, judging by the way Law had echoed your own words back to you as his hands claim your body, he had taken your words at face value. It was borderline hypocritical—he was a man who constantly veiled his true emotions, yet he was somehow unable to see through the wide cracks of a similar mask.
Fever broken, a storm of anger brews in your chest, and you want to smack him, to gain some type of retribution for the needless cold shoulder he had given you; however, the way his mouth heatedly slots against yours leaves you too dizzy to fully realize your intentions. Instead, you end up lightly swatting his cheek, sighing against his lips. In return, your eyes are blown wide in shock as his inked hand smacks you back, not terribly hard, but enough to make your heart nearly jump out of your chest as you gasp.
“Don’t act like you don’t want it now.” he growls, soothing the dull sting with the pad of his thumb as he harshly grips your face, squishing your cheeks together. There’s something feral and desperate in his eyes as he scans every bit of your face for a sign of genuine resistance; even in his growing haze of delirium, he’s surprised to find a mixture of emotions on your face. Pupils blown out in lust, you want him, but you’re frustrated, jaw clenched as you let out a deep exhale.
“You were being so mean to me, Law. And for no reason—” you say, voice wavering as you become overwhelmed and desperately try to keep your head above water. The flood of emotions from latent, seemingly unrequited feelings being returned was intense enough; the addition of a slew of heated and fevered sensations as the two of you get so physical so fast scrambles your brain and leaves you feeling bare and vulnerable.
Deep down, Law wants to explain himself, but as he succumbs more and more to his altered state of mind, he can only pull back and offer you a bargain. “Let me make it up to you.” he pleas, making the remaining sane portions of his mind cringe at the way his voice drips with want. It’s a pitiful replacement for a litany of apologies that he is too ill-equipped to deliver—doubly so when under the influence. Nevertheless, he waits for your move, nearly drawing blood as he digs his nails into his palm, hand clenched into a fist as he fights the urges coursing through his veins.
When you move to kiss him, knocking his hat onto the ground and tangling your fingers into his hair, you mean to take a gamble and tease him with a sly, snarky remark, but he’s uncharacteristically needy and captures your mouth with his at the slightest hint of permission to continue. He’s sloppy, desperate, and messier than you ever could have envisioned in your darkest, murkiest fantasies. Back hitting rough bark, you feel swallowed whole as he presses his body flush against you, knee prodding between your thighs. Law is impatient, more so than you have ever seen him as he plays with the waistband of your sweatpants before dipping his hand beneath your panties.
“This wet for me…God, you want it just as bad as I do, don’t you?” he murmurs against your lips as he slides two fingers past your folds. Dragging his fingers along your spongy spot, he coaxes the only reply he cares about from you—sweet, strangled moans as he tries to make you understand, tries to make you feel a fraction of the desperate yearning and arousal he has for you, latent emotions only amplified by his current state.
As the sky darkens, losing the afterglow of a sunset neither of you caught, you became acutely aware that the two of you weren’t even that far from the inn, and most assuredly visible to any prying eyes gazing out their windows; however, Law’s focus is honed on your chest, leaving deep purple bites all over your sensitive skin.
“Law, people can see us.” you mumble, noticing the yellow haze from the windows casting over your bare chest. Intoxicating as it was to be pressed against a tree, feeling the tips of his fingers tease your sweet spot as his tongue circles your nipple, you yank on his hair in a silent plea for him to move to your bedroom; the last thing you wanted your crewmates to see was your captain turning you into an incoherent mess.
As his fingers pull out of you, the light dances across his digits, illuminating the slick coating them with a tantalizing glint. Grumbling something intelligible under his breath, he shoves his inked fingers past your lips, letting out a sigh as you obediently suck them, tongue dancing along his digits. As your eyes flutter shut, pleased by tasting the gentle tang of your nectar, he teleports you into the bedroom; the privacy shields you from the curious eyes of others, but strips you bare for Law, leaving you subject to the dark whims brewing behind his intense stare.
He wastes no time making short work of your sweatpants, yanking them down before plunging his tattooed fingers back inside you, a deep sense of need imbedded in each motion of his hands. Following his lead, you fling your shirt over your head, swallowing hard at the cool breeze from the cracked window grazing over your nipples, still wet from Law’s tongue running across them. He gives you a feral grin as he stares down at you, satisfied at the sight and grasping one of your breasts with his free hand and pushes your back onto the bed—your shared bed.
“Such a good girl for me… such a good little slut for your captain.” he mumbles under his breath as he hovers over you, inked hand moving upward to grip your throat before his lips descend onto yours. He’s needy, for both sensation and control as he frees his cock from his jeans and lines himself up with your soaking entrance; sinking his teeth into your lower lip as he sucks on the soft, plump, rosy skin, he finally indulges in the sweet bliss he’s been craving for ages.
It’s a consummation of an attachment too fragile to be subjected to the gridlock of matrimony, or anything remotely similar. As he pushes into you, the ragged breaths against desperate lips are the only vows spoken, the only promise is for more. Thrusting into you harder, he becomes too clouded by his high and too drunk on the ecstasy of having you underneath him that he loses himself completely.
Law means to take you whole.
Soft whines are all you can let out against his mouth as he bites and sucks hard on your lip, nearly drawing blood as he fucks you into the mattress relentlessly. The way he takes you is rough, full of passion and choked back moans; as you grow slicker, arousal coating both of your thighs, he pushes into you deeper, making you see stars with each thrust of his cock.
Death. Five of his fingers dig into your hip, while the other five wrap tightly around your throat. Death. You feel somewhere between the earth and the sky as he drowns you in his essence, and bleeds you of your life force. Death. He reaches his little death with a shudder of his hips, cold beads of sweat rolling from his forehead and dripping onto yours as he paints your walls white.
Rolling back into bed after cleaning yourself, uncertainty hangs in the air; swirling in trepidation, you feel like death.
“What does this mean, Law.” you whisper hesitantly, voice nearly fading away into the chorus of crickets chirping outside the slightly ajar window.
Still as a board and gaze fixed to the ceiling, he doesn’t tell you that the plant had influenced his behavior—besides, something in the distant tone of your voice told him that you were clever enough to have come to that conclusion on your own. He doesn’t give you an apology for his recent rough and uncaring behavior; it was irrelevant to the question at hand—your real inquiry pertained to how he felt about you, while sober and lucid after working out a burst of frenzied passion.
“It means I want you to come closer.” he says, voice raspy as he sprawls his arm out, an invitation for you to settle into his side. The way you sigh as you nuzzle into his chest expresses a littering of sentiments that you were too exhausted to express; starved for affection, you drape your arm across his inked chest and give him a light squeeze, and you hum in delight when he tightens his grasp on your shoulder in return.
“Thank you for having me.” you mumble—forgiving, bright, and as fragile and damaged inside as he is, you’re far too good for him, and Law wonders if you’re even slightly aware of it.
Oh, what he wouldn’t give to be able to find the words to tell you what you’re truly worth; selfishly, he doesn’t even try to cobble them together.
He can’t take the chance of losing you now, after all—not when he finally has you.
#one piece x reader#law x reader#trafalgar law x reader#trafalgar law smut#trafalgar law x you#law x you#trafalgar law x y/n#law x y/n#trafalgar law#one piece smut#x reader#one piece fanfiction#one piece scenario#a fever consumed me when writing this.........
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barty crouch jr. is eleven the first time evan rosier takes his breath away.
he's a second year in barty's house, with warm brown skin and blonde hair and amber eyes that flash gold in the sunlight. he knows regulus. one of barty's dormmates, somehow, and he smiles at barty like he wants to know him, too.
barty is thirteen when he finally figures out what the butterflies in his stomach mean.
they're sitting down at the lake, barty on the grass, soaking up the sun. pandora sits on a blanket next to him, her half of it in the sun, the other half underneath regulus in the shade of a tree. dora's busied herself with making flower crowns, and evan and dorcas are swinging at each other and laughing, both ankle deep in the water of the black lake. evan reaches up to kick water at her, and the silver of his anklet - a thin chain with a silver daisy charm hanging off of it - catches the light.
dorcas ducks away and shoves evan square in the chest, sending him stumbling back a few steps before he finally lands hard on the grass next to barty. it must've hurt, even in the soft green, but instead of wincing, he just turns to barty and grins.
oh, barty thinks. it's so obvious, he thinks.
barty is a fourth year the first time he kisses evan rosier.
it's the first christmas he doesn't go home for. he spends long hours knocking about the castle, staying out past both the regular curfew and the one made later for the break.
"can't sleep, crouch?" evan had asked him, making him jump, polished prefect badge - no doubt pandora's handiwork - sparkling from his collar. and suddenly there was mistletoe and the chance to finally make his fantasies a reality. there was the taste of evan's lips (vanilla) and the smell of his shampoo (cucumber) and the feeling of his arms around barty's waist (intoxicating).
even on that dreary, cold evening, there was hope.
barty is a sixth year when regulus begins going out with james potter.
they're on the train, barty halfway out the window, evan's arms tight around his middle in the fear of him falling, and barty hoots with laughter when regulus jumps into potter's arms. potter's a seventh year like evan. head boy, a gryffindor, and one of pandora's best friends, for some reason.
"leave them be, barty," evan snorts, pulling him back through the window. barty watches him, opening his mouth to speak, only to be swiftly cut off by his boyfriend adding, "we can be as dramatic as we like, but i'm not risking missing this train just so we can kiss in front of it."
barty groans in protest, but by that point regulus has arrived at the door to their compartment with a sheepish-looking james potter in tow, so he decides to annoy them instead.
barty is seventeen the first time he comes to hogwarts without evan, and it makes him feel empty.
he's still got regulus and dorcas, of course, but there's a gaping hole in the group now that the twins have graduated. regulus is quiet without james to bring him out of his shell. dorcas doesn't cheer as hard during quidditch games - ones without regulus in them, of course - without marlene mckinnon there to cheer on. and barty? barty isn't himself without ev there to easy his anxieties.
night after night, barty and regulus curl up in the same bed for nights of bad rest. it gets easier, over time. letters pile up. floo calls happen weekly. and while regulus and dorcas struggle, barty thinks about the future. the one decided by him, and not anyone else.
two days after his eighteenth birthday, barty steps off the hogwarts express for the last time.
regulus and dorcas don't hesitate to sprint past him towards james and marlene, who wait with evan futher down the platform. barty, though, hesitates. gives himself a moment to take a deep breath, smile at evan, and start running.
evan envelopes him in a hug, his arms a reassuring weight around barty.
"you must be tired," he whispers, the hint of a smile in his voice. "eight newts, barty. you're insane."
barty grins into evan's chest. "i missed you too, rosie," he mumbles. he lets out a content sigh he didn't realize he was holding in, and evan hums.
"welcome home, love," he says. "our home."
#you're welcome ig#thought i'd write some rosekiller#feral barty moments! and also some of him being sane actually#barty was canonically really smart and we dont talk about that enough so yeah im saying he got eight newts#anyways#hp fandom#harry potter fandom#hp#marauders era#barty crouch jr#evan rosier#rosekiller#evan x barty#barty x evan#barty crouch jr x evan rosier#also#jegulus#dorlene#and pandora!!#pandora rosier
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Lewis just wants to sleep. He's tired. He just arrived yesterday from Las Vegas and he needs to grant himself a lazy day or else, he'll go insane. He already planned out a perfect morning. You, on the bed with him in the most innocent sense—Lewis wouldn't mind sex because sex is nice and all but he also loved just resting with you and basking in your existence and your being—freely drifting in and out of the realm of sleep, no annoying alarm waiting to ruin his morning with that god-awful buzzing nose, basking in the silence and peace of a morning in the quiet part of Monaco, and letting the hours pass by without care. Then, when you both get sick of the sheets, you go down and grab breakfast in that café just across the building that sells amazing crepes.
But he wakes up and your side of the bed is cold and empty and panic sinks in his system quickly. He glances around the room. Sunlight peeks through the tiny gap of the black out curtains in the window. Besides the night lamp, it's the only source of light in the room. Your phone is not on the bedside table, Lewis notes. That means you slipped away from the bed and left the room some time ago without Lewis noticing. Usually, he'd feel it if you even just twitched and he'd wake up in a heartbeat, but the jet lag and the exhaustion that engulfed his entire body must have stopped him from doing so.
He sits up and rubs his face with his palms. He decides to follow after you downstairs.
The door abruptly opens with a loud bang, making Lewis flinch and turn his head towards. Lewis's face transitions from sleepy to shocked to confused.
You're wearing a gown that greatly resembles the type of gowns that the female cast of Netflix's Bridgerton wore in the show. It's a mixture of lilac and pink, both are pretty colors. Your hair is fixed into an elegant half-do with a plastic tiara to complete everything. On one hand, you carry a portable Bluetooth speaker. In the other, a microphone. You sport the most serious facial expression in the universe but nothing about you screams seriousness at all. Especially not with the funky-shaped eyeglasses that sit on the bridge of your nose.
You slam your hand against the light switch next to the door and the entire room brightens. Lewis chuckles at the sight of you, eyes twinkling with mirth. The room never feels more alive than it does now.
"Ta-da."
"Good morning, baby."
The intro of the song starts blaring through the speaker. A strong beat of drums. Then, you began to sing.
“After the war I went back to New York
A-after the war I went back to New York
I finished up my studies and I practiced law
I practiced law, Lewis worked next door—"
"Baby, you practice medicine—"
"Even though we started at the very same time
Lewis Hamilton began to climb
How to account for his rise to the top?"
You point the mic towards him. Lewis smiles and shrugs his shoulders.
"Man, the man is non-stop."
Lewis chuckles, amused. You are getting into it. You put your mic on your mouth again.
"Gentlemen of the jury, I'm curious, bear with me
Are you aware that we're making hist'ry?
This is the first murder trial of our brand-new nation
The liberty behind deliberation (Non-stop!)
I intend to prove beyond a shadow of a doubt
With my assistant counsel
Co-counsel—"
Lewis tries to leave the sheets so he can get his phone and capture you in video. You stop him by putting a hand on his shoulder.
"Hamilton, sit down."
"I'm sat."
You begin pacing around the room, hands waving around in theatrical fluorish.
"Our client Levi Weeks is innocent
Call your first witness
That's all you had to say
Okay
One more thing–"
You walk up to him and Lewis waits for your next move.
"Why do you assume you're the fastest in the room?"
"Because I am?"
"Why do you assume you're the fastest in the room?
Why do you assume you're the fastest in the room?
Soon that attitude may be your doom!"
Lewis shakes his head at you.
"Why do you drive like you're running out of time?
Drive day and night like you're running out of time?
Every day you fight, like you're running out of time
Keep on fighting, in the meantime."
Your number ends with you doing a dramatic pose and Lewis bursts out laughing, the sound mixing with the fading music.
"I love you so much. You have no idea."
This is far from the ideal morning he's planned out. This is not quiet. This is not peaceful. This is boisterous and obnoxious and too much energy so early in the day and every bone in Lewis's body still screams exhaustion.
But Lewis wouldn't trade this morning over the peaceful morning in his mind. Not when you looked so happy singing and rapping that Hamilton song. You theater nerd. God, Lewis didn't know he was physically capable of loving a person this much.
"Hey baby, if we get a son, can we name him Alexander?"
"Whatever you want."
Lewis wishes this morning will never end.
#lewis hamilton#lh44#lewis hamilton x reader#lh44 x reader#established relationship#f1 x reader#formula one#formula 1#f1 imagines#fanfic#hamilton musical#fluff#Spotify
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cherry
i noticed that there’s a piece of you in how i dress
pairing: james potter x reader
warnings: cursing
wc: 1.2k
a/n: i’m back!! also please note that i am not crazy and that i do know my characters! the theodore nott mentioned here is theodore nott sr.!! not theodore nott jr. (the “slytherin boys” theo)
absolutely DO NOT steal my work and post it on other platforms. DO NOT feed my work to AI fuck that.
It was a gorgeous, late, fall morning - one where you surprisingly did not have class. You were lounging in the common room by the fireplace with a novel when someone stormed through the portrait hole.
In came an enraged James Potter dressed in his practice uniform cursing under his breath.
You were quite close with James, just not as close as you’d like to be.
“James, what happened?”
He glares at you, “What happened? Oh, I’ll tell you what happened.”
He storms off to the dorms without telling you anything. You close your book and quickly follow him.
Once in his dorm you sit on his bed and watch as he starts throwing his quidditch gear everywhere.
“Alright, would you like to calm down and tell me what happened?” You ask him as if he’s a small child who had just gotten himself into trouble.
“No.”
He starts to undress and change when he finally talks to you, “We have the most important match against Slytherin tonight and my fucking teams not ready,”
He pulls off his shirt and interlocks his hands behind his head, you can’t help but to stare and drool a little.
“I need to win this match you don’t understand!”
“James, why?”
“Because I hate their fucking captain.”
Ahh. Theodore Nott. James has had it out for Theo ever since 1st year when Theo knocked James off his broom during a match, causing Gryffindor to lose.
“Okay,”
“I have to win and my fucking team won’t fucking listen to me,” you’ve never heard James curse this much. He’s pissed, “I just don’t have time to reteach 6 fucking players the basics of quidditch.”
Sirius timidly opens the door and sees you on the bed and James yelling at you, well more yelling in your general direction, but Sirius didn’t know that.
“Looks like you lot are busy, um, I’m gonna.. go,” Sirius was on the team, contributing to the problem. James rushes over to the door and slams it in his face.
“Don’t come back until you learn to fucking fly.”
“Don’t you think you were a little harsh?”
“No.”
He stalks over to his wardrobe and pulls out 6 quidditch uniforms, tossing them on the bed next to you.
He always wears the match jersey the day of and has a spare of the three uniforms that the team rotates out.
He pulls his favorite red jersey over his head, “Merlin, if the team could even get the uniforms right I’d be fucking shocked,”
“James you need to take a walk, clearly,”
He looks at you and his eyes soften, “Alright, only if you come with me, I can’t trust myself to see anyone from my team alone right now.”
You smile and nod, following him out of the dorms, noting that he left the door ajar.
It takes 3 laps around campus and about a thousand rants to get him to calm down, but you finally manage to do it. Once you make it back to Gryffindor tower the two of you part and he goes to the quidditch pitch (once again) and you stay in the common room.
You look around for the book you began to read this morning but don’t see it anywhere, you try to retrace your steps when it hits you. You’ve left it in James’s dorm room.
He wouldn’t mind you going in there, right? To be fair, it is your book.
You climb the boy dormitory stairs and enter the empty room. Walking over to James’s bed, you look near his night stand and on the bed when you finally see the hard cover of your book peeking out from under a piece of red fabric.
You lift the spare jersey and pick up your book. You set the jersey back down and turn to leave, then an idea hits you.
If you wore his spare jersey tonight, would that be over stepping? No? You two are friends and he does need a little more encouragement tonight, so why not?
You fold the rest of the jerseys up and put them away, taking the spare of the one he has on, back to your dorm.
The rest of the day is spent lounging and snacking. Until an hour before the game, you were sprawled out on your bed with your second book.
Mary walks into your shared dorm and smiles, “Get up! It’s time for the match!”
You turn to look at her and stretch, “I’m coming!” You say through a yawn.
“Good! Lily, Remus, and Peter are already down there, and pray for Marlene and Sirius, I’ve heard James had been an arse today,”
You smile, “Tell me about it,”
“We’ll save you a seat but you better hurry,”Mary giggles and leaves you alone once again.
You layer your clothes for the chilly weather, slipping James’s jersey over your outfit. You all but sprint down to the quidditch pitch to meet your friends.
You find your seat and sit, right in the front row with James’s jersey on full display for everyone to see. You collected quite an amount of wide-eyed stares from the other students.
Why wouldn’t you? Wearing the most sought out guy at Hogwarts’ jersey.
Just moments after you sat, the players started to emerge from their respective preparation rooms.
The game began and James flew right past you, almost flying into the stands.
Were you trying to make him lose? How could you wear his jersey and expect him to focus on the game?
An extravagantly quick-moving bludger snapped him out of his trance of admiration. He had to win this game, especially now since you have his jersey on.
He scored point after point on Slytherin, hardly giving them a minute to catch their breaths. The game ended when his seeker caught the snitch, and James could not get off the pitch faster than he did.
You came down from the stands and waited for him at the entrance of his team’s tent. Though he had just beaten Slytherin, something he’s been talking about for weeks, the thing he was most excited about was you.
He met you outside the tent and smiled as he walked up, “Did you join the team?”
You looked away from him bashfully, there was now barely any room between you two.
He lifted your chin with his finger to look at him. You smiled up and he smiled back, “Merlin, you look gorgeous in my uniform. I could get used to this,”
You grabbed the collar of his jersey and pulled him down to your lips. He pulled away and his smile grew larger, “Merlin, I could get used to that as well!”
He rested his hand on your cheek and pulled you in for another kiss - the kiss turning into a near make-out in front of the player’s tent.
Once you managed to break away, he rested his forehead against yours before giving you a feathered kiss on the top of your head.
He slung an arm over your shoulder as the two of you walked back towards the castle, “Come on, I want to show everyone how good you look in my clothes.”
#james potter#james potter x reader#x reader#marauders era#marauders#marauders x reader#sirius black#quidditch#james potter is perfect#i love james potter#remus lupin
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ok but like- imagine sub Carlos tho.
Imagine.sub.carlos.
Him looking up at you through with those beautiful eyes of his through his pretty ass eyelashes LIKE- AWOOGA
♪ — 𝗚𝗢𝗗𝗗𝗔𝗠𝗡 𝗣𝗨𝗣𝗣𝗬 𝗘𝗬𝗘𝗦
sub! carlos sainz jr. x girlfriend! reader (fluff)
“. . . each achievement should be rewarded.”
( main master list | more of carlos sainz ) ( requests | taglist )
"Whatcha reading?" You looked up from your book, greeting your lover with a quick peck as he settled into the bed beside you. "Nothing much," You shrugged it off, snuggling closer to him to share needed warmth for the night. Carlos leaned his chin on your head watching you flip through the pages and read the words.
Soon enough you started to feel the hand wrapped around your hip squeeze, fingers drawing little circles. A moment after you could feel the soft kisses he pressed along your cheek down to your shoulder. It was clear as crystal, what he was asking from you. "I wanna sleep." You whined softly against his lips as he tilted your head to face him.
"But I won Singapore." Was the soft whine that came from him. His big ass cow eyes staring into your soul, like a puppy in love with its owner begging for a treat. His eyes were always your weakness, how could you say no to such Leonardo DaVinci craft? The two of you stared at each other, trying to convince your own opinion.
"I'll be quick." "Fuck it." You give in, tossing the hard cover aside and pulling your shirt off.
Carlos welcomed you on his lap, letting you undress him. His fingers danced along your back and waist, kissing you messily as you pulled his sweat pants and boxer shorts down. You loved the way moans vibrated in his throat as he dipped to leave soft kisses on your neck. A soft giggle left your own lips as you watched him look up at you with those big eyes, holding your hips and kissing under your chin.
You couldn’t help the smile that played on your lips as you played with the fluff on hair on his head. "You're so cute." You mumbled leaning down. His boxer shorts were pulled down with you getting comfortable between his thighs. Carlos looked down at you with a gulp. "Don't you dare close those big eyes of yours." He nodded quickly, bushing his fingers in his hair as he watched you.
He sucked in a breath, feeling warmth wrap around him. A strangled moan left his mouth as he watched himself disappear inside your lips. "Amore." [love] He whined, leaning his head back and closing his eyes. The sensation always sent jolts of ecstasy though his body.
An even louder moan left his body as he felt the vibration from your hum on his length, starting the countdown till the coil to his orgasm snaps. A tap to his hip reminded him that he was supposed to keep his eyes open But they felt to heavy, watching you do him like that. "Nunca había visto algo tan hermoso." [i've never seen anything so beautiful]
"You flatter me." You found yourself giggling. Carlos felt empty without you, cold. The warmth was quickly returned when you sand down on his length, straddling his lap. His hands were quicky to find your hips, guiding you as you rode him. "Look at you." You found yourself teasing, tracing his furrowed eyebrows. Carlos was too far off in wonderland, crashing his lips onto yours with a little too much force.
You found yourself giggling, tipping backwards on the bed and pulling Carlos down with you, him on top. He didn't hesitate to initiate the thrusts, pressing his forehead to yours. "Don't look at me, look at us." You pushed his face away gently. He knew what that meant, gulping as he watched himself disappear inside of you then reappear then disappear once more.
"I'm so close my love." He begged practically, accent think and muscles wrapped around you. Who ever thought such a big man would be this small. "Wait for me." You ordered, fingers finding the fluff on his head. Carlos shook his head quickly, telling you he couldn't wait.
"You don't want to make me mad now right?" He nodded quickly, letting you turn them over so he was on top. "Be a good boy then, amor."
#‧˚⊹🪴 ଓ :: 𝗺𝘆 𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗸𝘀 ‧₊˚⤾#carlos sainz#carlos#cs55#carlos sainz x reader#carlos sainx x you#carlos x reader#cs55 x reader#formula 1#formula racing#f1#f1 fanfic#f1 x you#f1 x reader#f1 fic#f1 imagine#f1 fluff#f1 fics#carlos sainz junior#carlos sainz jr#carlos sainz x female reader#carlos sainz one shot#carlos sainz fanfic#carlos sainz fic#formula one x you#formula one x reader#formula one x y/n#cs55 fic#carlos x you#carlos sainz x you
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Something Goes Wrong and Bowser Jr.'s clown car ends up flying off halfway across the globe with Luigi in tow. They crash-land in a hostile environment which means they can't just wait by the wreckage for rescue, and to distract Junior from how much danger they're in Luigi pulls the two-way radio out of the car and asks if Junior can fix it.
Meanwhile back home everybody thinks that Junior kidnapped Luigi for some reason, which leads to Bowser and Mario fighting, which means nobody notices for most of a day that Junior really should have been back by now...
Surprisingly, Junior does fix the radio, and manages to contact his dad just as Bowser is starting to worry. Junior assures him they're fine, they just don't know where they are, and they're traveling in the direction Luigi thinks people most likely are. Bowser yells at Luigi that he'd better keep Junior safe, Luigi says he will, and that's that.
Until a few hours later when Junior has dropped off to sleep and Luigi uses the radio again to let Bowser know that they are not okay, there's hazards and predators everywhere, Luigi has no idea where people might be, he's just been lying and distracting Junior all day to keep him calm.
Bowser is like, "Good. Continue that." and asks Luigi for more details about where they are so he can mount a rescue team.
But out of spite Bowser doesn't tell Mario that he's heard from his brother.
The next day is more travel and more danger and once again Luigi waits until they've found shelter and Junior is asleep before radioing Bowser to update their actual progress and not just whatever Junior reported at random. This time Bowser listens a little better, and gives advice on the monsters he recognizes. Eventually Luigi actually feels a little bit reassured.
It keeps going like that for days. Luigi is running on adrenaline and fumes, they're foraging for supplies when they're not running for their lives, and since Junior is oblivious to most of the danger he keeps insulting Luigi for being a coward and a wimp. Bowser is sending out search parties to everywhere that matches their descriptions, but they're spending so much time fighting and fleeing that even if a ship flew right overhead they might not notice it.
But every night Bowser and Luigi talk, and though Bowser is still prickly about it he can't help but appreciate everything Luigi is doing for his son. Likewise, Luigi looks forward to those talks as the only time of day he can let out what he's really feeling.
Finally they stumble upon a town. Luigi goes to the first person he sees, asks where they are, reports that back to Bowser, and passes out.
Next time he opens his eyes he's laying in a doctor's office with Bowser, of all people, yelling about how hard can it possibly be to treat a guy for heat stroke?! while Junior, sound asleep, clings to Luigi's hand.
The next next time he opens his eyes he's in Bowser's castle and Bowser is fighting with Mario in the hallway about whether or not Luigi should be moved again. Luigi drags himself out of bed to tell both of them to please keep it down and he's fine and what day is it?
Over the time Luigi is recovering (it's mostly exhaustion and stress but he's not complaining about the meals in bed) he talks with Bowser more and more. About what happened, but also in general, casual conversations. Chit-chat. And Junior likes to come visit him too, even if he's just drawing or playing with toys in the corner. He still doesn't seem to understand how close they both came to dying out there, but it's clear he feels comfortable with Luigi nearby.
And so does Bowser, Bowser realizes, when it's time for Luigi to go. Those evening conversations weren't exactly enjoyable, under the circumstances, but he got used to Luigi's voice. Even with Junior back, without Luigi the castle is going to feel... empty.
Just as Bowser is trying to think of how to ask if he can see Luigi again, Luigi asks for Bowser's number.
"I'm not sure I can fall asleep anymore without hearing your voice."
Choked up, all Bowser can say is, "Sure."
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One of your girls part two | Carlos Sainz Jr
Summary: after a fateful outcome, Carlos wants to fix what he unintentionally broke.
Warnings: english not being my mother tongue, angst, alcohol consumption, dirty dancing, small description of throwing up, cheating, mentions of sex, messed up dynamics, slight swearing.
Notes: second part of this fic. i also wanted to say i’m currently taking request, to anyone who might be interested xx.
Credits: the gif used belongs to @neymarhamilton ‘s tumblr account, so all credits belong to them. this part, just like the one before, is inspired by the song “one of your girls” by Troye Sivan.
1.8k
SIX MONTHS AGO:
A chilly night welcomes my friend group as we make our way through a prestigious and crowded restaurant situated in the heart of Madrid.
Being born and raised in Spain´s capital city, the girls now walking into the facilities have been by my side my whole life; faith brought us together our first day of school, just three frightened little kids trying to survive elementary.
I like to believe that we complement each other, even if we hadn´t met all those years ago, life would have found a way to connect us.
A girl’s night out is a rare occurrence between us; always being on the shy side, we very much prefer staying in, drowning ourselves in sweet treats while marathoning our comfort romcoms.
The reason why we´re summoned tonight is quite simple… my very first broken heart.
You see, in an attempt to lighten the mood, my friends brought us to an extremely exclusive eatery, one where we clearly didn´t fit in. The difference was quite notorious, surrounded by leggy models and their handsome companions, I quite frankly begin to wonder why I ever agreed.
With a deep breath, I straighten my back and let the hostess remove my coat. “In for a penny, in for a pound” I think with a resigned shrug of the shoulders.
As we´re carried to our spot, I try and take the essence of the place in. I start noticing its eccentric décor, dim lights brightening the burgundy walls, leather booths scattered all over the classy tile floor.
What makes an ordinary dinner such a big success? Its bizarre modality.
Our table is filled with strangers, completely engulfed in their different conversations. The main reason for my friends to take us to this unconventional location was exactly this; the inexorable need to engage in conversations with foreign people.
The first round of dirty martinis arrives as the last costumers take their places next to me, with a lousy cheer I pour the drink down my throat, feeling its pleasant burning down my body, warming me up, making me forget.
“Easy there tiger”- the man sited by my side chuckles, gesturing towards my empty glass.
I take a moment to wander across his features. Thick eyebrows, big brown eyes, plump lips. Definitely attractive, exactly what I need.
A smile creeps up my face, the wires in my brain getting to work.
I notice an elegantly worn designer shirt hugging his chest, his forearms resting against the wooden surface, his attentive stare trying to read my thoughts.
“And you are?”- I condescendingly tease him.
“Carlos”- his hand travels to mine, embracing me with his warm- “Carlos Sainz.”
The subtle body hair covering his fist tickling my naked skin, igniting a fire deep inside me.
And in that moment, I simply knew there was no getting out, not anybody else as long as he kept staring at me like this, eating me raw with his gaze.
That was the first night I ever came back home with him.
————
FOUR MONTHS AGO:
Carlos is away for the weekend, oceans separating us, palpable distance every time he races through my mind.
I try convincing myself It’s the sex I miss, the obvious physical attraction, the invisible force that pulls us towards the other, the feeling of his warm skin being impossibly closer to mine.
Truth being told, I’m sitting immovable on my bed, nervously waiting for a call.
I can’t help but recall his soft locks intertwined with my fingers, his tongue inching towards my neck, how he never fails to make my blood boil with a simple grin.
My phone brings me out of my daydreams, screaming for attention as a call enters it. His name glistening on the screen, filling me with pure bliss and forcing me to hold my giggles.
Acting like a schoolgirl with a crush while being a full-grown adult… how pathetic!
Two rings go by before i pick up, bitting my bottom lip to keep my voice calm as if I wasn’t desperately clinging to it seconds ago.
“Gorgeous, you got a minute to spare?”- he asks, clear amusement in his tone, abusing the charm he knows he has.
“That depends, Carlos, who’s asking?”
I’m gobsmacked at how composed I sound, nowhere near how I actually feel.
My knuckles turn white from grasping my sheets.
“Don’t be like that, princess, I know you miss me”- his smile visible through his speech.
My heart skips a beat, can his words be revealing my true feelings?
“Oh honey, keep lying to yourself if it helps you sleep at night…”
I’m met with his scandalous laugh filling the line, raising my pulse until it’s beating on my ears.
Everything stops, everything keeps going.
I close my eyes in acknowledgement, being forced to admit what i’ve been denying ever since I met him.
Oh, how screwed I am!
———
TWO MONTHS AGO:
The music rumbles at the disco, throbbing on my skin with its intensity.
Being dragged to a hip party, my friends and I are bundled up in the comfort of our own group, dancing between ourselves.
As I rock my body to meet the pulsating rhythm, I embrace Carlos’s presence behind me, tightly grabbing my waggling hips.
He presses himself into me and I rub against his growing erection, purposely torturing him. His kisses start straying while sucking visible red marks into my neck.
His penetrating cologne invades my nostrils, clinging into my bare skin like a golden tattoo.
The mix of the alcohol I insisted on chugging and his hands shaping my whole body becoming intoxicating.
A foreign touch on my shoulder makes me open my eyes, leaving me to face my friend staring at me like i’ve grown a second head.
“You’re coming with me”- she pronounces as she drags me away from Carlos, who snorts in disbelief.
“What? Why?”- I ask as i’m forced to take a seat at the bar.
“Have you gone mad? You two were literally dry humping each other in the middle of the crowd!”- She hisses worriedly, forcing me to drink the water bottle she bought for me.
As she sits next to me, I prepare myself for the lecture she’s about to impart me, letting my eyes wonder across the dance floor.
I catch a glimpse of Carlos standing against a wall, hemmed by complete darkness, sometimes interrupted by one of the dj's lights.
When the spotlight lands on him, I start noticing the delicate hands hugging his broad shoulders, the almost nonexistent distance between him and the blonde caressing his cheeks.
Bile climbs up my throat, threatening to be ejected thanks to the scene before me.
Her lips all over his neck, staining the collar of his white shirt with lipstick.
Realizing i’m not paying an iota of attention to her, my friends follows my gaze stumbling across the sequence.
Effortlessly, she yanks me away from the enclosed space and into the garden.
Without being able to stop myself, I empty the contents of my stomach into the ground, constantly replaying the flashbacks of their sensual dance.
“Everything’s okay now, love”- My friend states while caressing my tangled up hair. Her fingertips come into contact with my cheeks, brushing my tears away.
Sobs are quick to scape my lungs, becoming more and more erratic as I imagine the second by second unfolding inside the disco.
———
PRESENT:
After running away from Carlos’s house, in the middle of a Madrilenian night, I’m fast to hide into the loneliness of my apartment.
I can’t even find comfort in blaming him as I was the one to agree with our “no exclusivity policy”, believing I could make it work.
How stupid of me to think I would be capable of not being trapped into his nets.
Clearly the only solution I can possibly come up with is crying it out, and that’s how I found myself in this situation; puffy eyes, completely ruined mascara, quivering eyes from shedding way too many tears.
Could I have been more stupid? I can’t even resonate one good reason why I would ever accept what he’s willing to offer me while wanting him in his entirety.
My determination is easily devastated as desperate fists bang against my door.
“Please, open up”- A too familiar voice implores from outside the apartment.
“I don’t ever wanna see you again”- I manage to scream through whimpers.
“I beg of you, please let me in! I swear I can explain.”
Standing right on the other side of the door, I feel my hand toying with the doorknob, trying to determinate whether or not to listen to his pleas.
“There’s nothing to explain, Carlos!”- I say, above a whisper, my voice to fragile for anything else.
“There’s been a while since i’ve been with anyone else, alright? Not since all I could think about was you!”
An unbreakable silence fills the hallways of the building, only the sound of his pantings and heavy breathing interrupting the stillness.
Without much hesitation, I open the hinges separating us.
Clearly, I was nowhere near prepared for the view before me; his full brown eyes now shimmering with unshed orbs, accumulated in his tear ducts.
“How about the girl from the voicemail?”- I ask, almost scared to find out this is all a product of my imagination.
“I know what that seemed like, but I promise you it’s not what you think!”- he says, piercing me with his gaze- “That was my ex girlfriend. She has a hard time letting go of me, even though there’s been more than a year since we’ve last been together. I never answer her calls and that’s why she’s getting more and more desesperate.”
Everything around me stops just to listen to his next words, my heart betting so out of control he might even hear it.
“Back at my apartment you told me you were enamored by me, well, there’s no use in trying to deny i’m in love with you”- he whispers, just loud enough for me to hear- “so much it’s physically painful, it’s all I can think about.”
My brain turned into mush as his confession sinks in. I almost want to laugh at how ridiculous the idea seems to me; the man I love, probably the only one i’ll ever love, stating that my feelings are reciprocate.
A sigh leaves my parted lips as a quiet tear runs down my face.
“I know i’ve made my mistakes and believe me when I say i’ll regret them every minute i’m on this earth, but I promise you, that if you give me the chance, i’ll make it up to you until my dying breath”- his voice sounds shaky, as if he couldn’t believe the words coming out of him.
I don’t think I ever reacted as fast as now, jumping into his embrace, wrapping my arms around his neck and my legs around his torso. Little giggles leave both of our mouths at the ridiculous situation.
“I love you”- He murmurs, muffled by the kisses he’s pressing against my checks.
“I love you too”- I answer back, with our bodies still entwined.
#carlos sainz#carlos sainz blurb#carlos sainz x reader#carlos sainz smut#carlos sainz imagine#carlos sainz f1#argentina#ferrari#red bull f1#red bull racing#mercedes benz#f1 smut#f1 x reader#f1 imagine#f1 fic#f1 fanfic#f1#max verstappen#lando norris#charles leclerc x reader#españa#madrid#romance#fanfic#angst with a happy ending#light angst#formula 1#formula one
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hi ! can you make an angst fic with neymar where it turns into smut ?
pairing: neymar jr x insert
summary: you and neymar get into an argument and he's determined to show you he cares.
cw: obvious angst and smut, dom/sub viewpoint, fluff at the end if you squint.
authors note: lawddd i been waiting for this moment. my two fav genres AND neymar😭😭 this might be a little short.
-
he called out your name as he entered your shared house, oh-so tired. he searched around the house for you- desperately wanting to hold you until you both fell asleep. he entered the bedroom to be greeted with an empty bed- wondering where you could've been because it was only 7pm. he heard shuffling in your shared bathroom and we greeted with a singular glance from you before you went back to applying various makeup products to your face.
he could sense you were bother by something as you rummaged through your makeup bag. he placed both of his hands on your hips- nimble fingers running up and down the silk fabric that hugged your body. a short black dress started at your chest and ended mid thigh, your back was almost fully exposed to him except for two strings that crossed- holding the silk onto your body. "você está linda bebê." he pressed a kiss to your shoulder, making you shiver, "tell me what wrong pretty girl."
you wanted to keep it short and simple with him seeing as your plan was to ignore how angry you were tonight and then not care about it by the time you wakeup tomorrow. you honestly just wanted to enjoy this dinner with your best friends and not let neymars blindness to your feelings affect you. "nothing." you said- shrugging him off as you walked to your closet to find a pair of heels to wear, neymar trailing close behind.
"where are you going?"
the audacity. "out with my friends." you stared straight at your jimmy choos because you knew if you focused on his hot breath on your ears you would give in to him and let him have his way with you tonight- but your self respect wouldn't let you.
neymar furrowed his brows behind you and readjusted so he was facing you, searching your face for something. "y/n i havent been able to see you for two days, why cant you stay home tonight?"
you wanted to laugh, genuinely in disbelief. "you were able to come home. you didn't, that was your choice."
he thought back on his drunk call at eleven pm, loud music in the background and him yelling into the speakerphone something about how he went to a party immediately after his game and wouldn't be home until later the next night cause he had practice and then meetings all day- not even waiting for your response before he hung up- you remembered it to but you also recalled how you were worrying for six hours until you got that call.
"im here now. you're upset that i was here last night but im here now and you don't even care to stay." his eyes were staring deep into yours. he didn't even apologize.
"i don't know why you act like you're the only one in the relationship who has a life!" your voice was raises now, "like my job is to sit here all day and wait for you. you were supposed to be home well before five and i was calling and texting you- you called me at eleven drunk."
"im sorry." he mocked, "i was with my friends and we got carried away- we were having fun." he spoke honestly but it all came out so condescendingly.
all you could imagine was neymar dancing with some perfect girl who probably wouldn't yell at him for being home late and would sit around all day and wait for him to come home. "yea im sure your 'friend' was having lots of fun with you."
once he picked up on your insinuations, a less upset expression was on his face- instead his face turned completely serious. "stop." he grabbed your wrist, placing your shoes back into their place in the closet. a part of yourself hated that you abided by this, your arms turning to jelly as you let him grab a hold of you and did exactly what he said. "sit down."
of course you did just that, sitting down at the end of your bed, he let his fingers fiddle with your necklace- standing between your legs before he sank to his knees.
he pressed his first kiss to your knees, "im sorry for making you wait like that." he kissed above your knee, "im sorry that drove you crazy." his fingers slipped under the hem of you dress, pulling it over your hips.
you locked eyes as he kissed your thighs, "meu deus." you let a whimper slip past your lips as he gradually kissed closer to your heat, "so fucking perfect."
he locked his fingers around your underwear before pulling them down to your knees, where they'd drop to the floor. neymar didnt skip a beat before throwing one of your legs over his shoulder and pressing one last kiss to the inside of your thigh before licking a stripe through your folds in an attempt to spread your slickness. he flattened his tongue against you as he lapped repeatedly before sucking right where you needed him to- maintaining eye contact.
"please." you whined, and he was already removing his clothes and simultaneously untying the back of your dress- exposing your chest to the cold air.
he kept his boxers on as he laid you down as pressed. your bodys on top of one another- giving you a sloppy kiss- grunting as you bucked your hips up and sent him into a frenzy.
you should probably call your friends and cancel your plans.
-
#neymar imagine#neymar x reader#neymar x you#neymar imagines#neymar smut#neymar fluff#neymar headcanon#neymar angst#neymar jr#neymar
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The wait way universe. The one where they get married.
Ohh god it is perfect.
Please say you will write more of this?
I am begging you.
Need more of the baby.
And all the group together having fun family nights.
Another baby maybe? ;)
Aunts and uncles fighting to hold the baby.
Bucky and the reader being told the baby moved the hammer and thor really presenting him with a mini hammer?
Also I love love love love love uncle Tony’s nickname for the baby. Mini terminator love it.
Happy squealing baby is so cute.
I just love it. So much.
I will beg for more. I will. I love it. I love your writing. I love how you write the characters.
Oh god I would kill to see protective avengers. Maybe someone takes the reader and the baby, oh and even more so the reader is pregnant. :0 dun dun dun…. Protective angry Bucky, Steve, Tony,Sam ,Nat, Wanda, Bruce etc
OKAY YES. I'm here for PROTECTIVE AVENGERS OVER ALL THE BABY BUCKIES AND HIS ANGEL. You can read this piece as a stand alone. I added the links for other parts if you want to read it but you don't have to. We're all here for what happens when you mess with Bucky's family.
Wait, what?
Wait, what? 2
I do (again) Wait, what? 3
Wait, what? More Babies?
Competitive God Fathers
-
You smiled to yourself, carefully adding the last piece of tape to Bucky's gift, tying a perfect bow around the wrapped box before hiding it in the closet. Bucky was due to come back soon and while you missed him like crazy, his absence made it easier for you to get his surprise together. Over the last few weeks, you'd felt more tired than usual along with feeling tender and crampy. One trip to the pharmacy, a pregnancy test and a positive result later, you'd bought a custom onesie with Baby Barnes Jr #4 printed on the front.
You hoped Bucky would enjoy the surprise you were growing in your belly, especially considering how often he kept insisting he wanted just one more, adding to your growing family with Steve Jr who had just turned 5 and your 3 year old twins Samantha and Nathaniel. You hid the present under the bed before going to the playroom to tuck your littles ones into bed, the three of them unusually quiet compared to their usual mischief.
"C'mon munchkins" You smiled at the sight before you with Stevie sprawled on a large bean bag, his brother and sister on tucked on either side, their big brother reading to them while they intently looked at the pictures. "Bed time for you babies"
"Will daddy be home soon?" Samantha asked with a pout, a complete daddy's girl just like you, tucking her face into your neck as you scooped her up along with Nathaniel while Steve followed promptly behind.
"Of course bub, he'll be here first thing in the morning" You assured her, kissing her forehead before tucking her into bed followed by the other little one. "Good night loves" You turned off the lights before going back to your room where you knew Stevie was waiting with his favorite book, ready for a bedtime story. It was a special bonding time you always made sure to have with him, not wanting you first baby boy to feel like he was no longer one of your favorites after the twins were born.
"What did you pick tonight baby" You got under the covers, fluffing the pillows and propping them up while Stevie snuggled up beside you, plopping a book about science onto your lap. You chuckled at the nerdy side he'd gotten from his dad, reading through scientific discoveries that were made in the last century and theories that were still being tested. He listened with wide eyes until they grew heavy, eventually falling asleep on your lap, not having the slightest clue you'd carried him to bed and tucked him in with a kiss to his cheek. "Sleep tight my sweet boy"
You slipped back under the covers, grabbing a book for yourself while occasionally running your hands over your belly, soaking in the quiet night before the team arrived after their latest mission.
It wasn't often that the compound was empty; few missions required all hands on deck but this was one of them. You'd received a message from FRIDAY informing you the jet would be landing in a few hours and that no medical assistance would be required because no one had sustained major injures. It was the sole reason you were able to relax so easily, happy waiting for your husbands arrival so you could tell him the good news.
You settled comfortably under the covers until a faint sound from the common room pulled you from your book again. FRIDAY would have alerted you if the jet was approaching and you would've definitely heard the sound of the engine approaching anyway.
But was still eerily quiet.
Then you heard something again.
You were sure it was nothing but you pressed the button under the bedside table that locked and secured the rooms of the little ones just to be safe. Tony had added additional security for their rooms in case of emergencies, with 4 different operating systems working at once. Absolutely nothing would happen to his godchildren under his roof.
It was probably nothing.
Still.
You grabbed the knife you kept hidden behind the headboard, tucking in under the waistband of you sleep shorts before making your way down, reprimanding yourself for being paranoid over what was probably just sounds of the plumbing and vents creaking in the middle of the night.
The halls were clear, easing some of your nerves as you continued to the common room where you heard the sound. The hairs on your neck stood up when you saw the glow of the kitchen light turned on, grabbing your knife, only to find one of the new agents sitting at the kitchen island, sipping on a coffee.
"Annabeth?" Your brows were knitted together, discreetly slipping the knife away, wondering how she'd gotten into the main floor of the compound when it was restricted to others after a certain time.
"Hey y/n" She gave you a sleepy smile while you watched her warily, "Couldn't sleep. Hope you don't mind, just wanted to grab a mug before heading back to trainee wing"
"Yeah, its fine" You spoke slowly, something still not sitting right with you though you didn't show it.
"How come you're still up, waiting for Sergeant Barnes?" There was something sinister in the sweetness of her voice, cocking her head while you hummed in response, stomach churning. "You're both so cute together you know. It's nice to see how his life has come together after all he's been through as the asset"
"Excuse me?" Your eyes grew wide, heart hammering against your chest, it was rare for anyone to refer to Bucky as the asset. Most referred to him as the winter soldier, even soldat, only those deep in Hdyra had called him-
"We want our asset back" She whispered, cracking a smirk and nodding to someone behind you. Before you could turn around, a large form grasped your body, slamming a hand over your mouth muffling your screams. You didn't have any time to react, feeling a pinch to your neck and slipping into darkness immediately after.
-
Bucky stretched with a sleepy yawn as the jet began its descent, already waiting at the doors and ready to hop out and see his wife and babies. He smiled at the thought of them all safely tucked into bed, sleeping soundly while you probably tried to stay up with a book. He always found you dozed off, book loosely falling from your hand, still propped up against the bed every time you waited for him. Didn't matter not how many times he told you to just go to bed. You always stayed up till you saw he was safe and sound.
Sam helped Bucky put away his equipment so he could get to you faster, everyone smiling watching the soldier dash off, running to his family.
"It's nice to see him like this" Nat nodded, trudging with the rest as they entered the compound, nothing amiss while they went to the conference room.
"He deserves it" Steve smiled, happy his best friend finally had what he'd always dreamt of. A wife. Kids. A safe home for them.
Bucky made his way over to see his little ones first, stopping in front of the heavily decorated door, covered with Captain America and Iron Man posters, courtesy of the two Godfathers competing for #1. Bucky smiled, turning the knob, only to find it locked shut, which was odd considering the only way to lock the door was if the security system had been activated.
He shook his head, frowning as he made his way to your shared bedroom instead, figuring it was a glitch or mistake. He got a sinking feeling in his stomach seeing the door open ajar, with the lamp turned on, your book set aside but you were nowhere to be seen.
"Baby?" Bucky called out, struggling to keep his panic at bay when the bathroom was empty, as was the closet. "Sweetheart?"
He called down the hall way a little louder before jogging to the kitchen but there had been no sign of you there when he'd entered. He started to move quicker, running back to disable to security system, breathing a sigh of relief to find all three little ones still sleeping soundly. He softly shut the door before immediately going to the conference room.
"Y/n, has anyone seen her?" He hoped to see you sitting with the others but he was filled with dread when the others shook their head in confusion. "She's-she's not in her room. I've checked everywhere, the security system was activated for the kids' room, she wouldn't leave the compound around this hour, somethings wrong"
No one asked questions, immediately jumping into action; Tony starts to comb through security from the time they left while Nat double checks every floor and room, just to be safe. Steve and Sam help Bucky look over your bedroom for any signs of a struggle. He ran his hand along the areas they'd hidden weapons, his stomach dropping when he felt the empty space behind the headboard.
"She took the knife" Bucky swallowed thickly while Sam and Steve shared concerned glances.
"Look, she's strong Buck, whatever it is, we'll find her" Steve insisted while Bucky continued to look, checking under the bed where he'd kept a pistol, nothing out of the ordinary except-
He frowned, seeing a little gift bag hidden underneath, newly packed with a gold bow placed on top. He picked it up, brows knitted together as he pulled away the tissue paper, feeling soft material tucked at the bottom of the bag. He took it out, heart splitting into two at the words written on the little onesie,
"Fuck!" A broken sob pulled Sam and Steve from their search, finding Bucky slumped by the edge of the bed.
"Buck?" they shared concerned glances seeing him holding something small in his hands, clutching it tightly to his chest.
"She's-she's pregnant" Bucky whispered, tears welling in his eyes holding the tiny jumpsuit in his hands, his heart couldn't take it-
"Barnes, we have something!" Tony's voice echoed through the coms, the three men running back to the conference room where Tony had pulled the footage from you in the kitchen. Bucky watched in silence, jaw clenched seeing the new agent use a stolen keycard to sneak into the compound with a Hydra agent, the two of them quietly waiting for you to come down.
He had to keep from smashing the TV, watching the man grab you from behind, injecting you with something before carelessly carrying you off like ragdoll, his heart aching, wishing he'd gotten home sooner. All voices around him drowned out to a faint buzz, the sounds of Tony and Steve giving out commands all muffled as if they were underwater.
"We have the coordinates locked, everyone down down to the jet, remember your positions.
It was like a switch was flipped.
"Cap and I clear the entry ways, Nat, Clint, follow behind, Sam, surveillance from the top. Barnes, you just have to get y/n"
The former young husband and father who sat with tears streaming down his cheeks was replaced with a man who knew no remorse. No guilt. No sense of right or wrong.
"Barnes"
Steve knew of this man well.
"Barnes?"
The one they called the Winter Soldier.
-
"Baby" Bucky whispered, scooping his sleepy eldest son in his arms before striding over to the twins bed, tucking them in together. "Daddy's gotta go another mission but we'll be back soon, alright?"
Steve could sense something was wrong, the strain in his fathers voice making him worry.
"Again?" He asked while Samantha and Nathaniel stirred slightly, trying to tuck themselves into their daddy's warmth. "Where's mama?" He asked with a tiny whisper having heard the commotion outside of the room, his hearing enhancing more and more each day. Bucky swallowed thickly while Steve stepped into the room to check on his best friend, his heart breaking over the three little ones clinging onto him.
"We're going to get her, promise bub" Buck kissed their heads, grabbing their favorite stuffies to cuddle with.
"Let me see my favorite little soldiers" Steve strode over, giving them a brave smile. "We'll be back before you know it"
"Will mama be okay?" Nathanial whispered, grabbing onto Steve's wrist before he could leave, tears streaming down his little chubby cheek.
"Of course" Steve reassured him, kissing his forehead and tucking him back into bed, "We'll never let anything happen to your mama"
That was a promise.
-
"Oh fuck" Clint snorted to himself watching the black mask that had been locked away for good slip over Bucky's face, his usual leather jacket replaced with a thick black tactical vest, straps running across his chest.
"They're fucked, aren't they" Sam whispered to Tony as he put his suit on, the glancing over to the stone cold brunette who sat in silence, finger resting on the trigger. Like he doesn't actually need us"
"We're really just going for moral support, also no one hurts our y/n" Tony whispered back. The teams full focus was getting you back along with keeping your babies safe; Pepper had come to look after the littles ones till you were found safe and sound. While the team was fully ready to take apart anyone that tried to hurt you. It was more that evident Bucky wouldn't have a problem taking hydra apart by himself but they wouldn't let him go alone.
Bucky didn't speak a word as soon as the jet hit the ground hitting his targets from 100's of feet away, each bullet landing right between their eyes.
"...Did you know he could do that?" Sam called from the coms, watching agents drop while he flew across the top of the base. Tony blasted the front of the doors while Steve cleared the hall way, throwing his shield, knocking down three men that guarded the wing.
"Looks like she's down in the cells" Sam called, looking at where the heat signals were coming from. Bucky made his way down the sterile hallway, red lights suddenly flashing above when a woman charged towards him.
"Welcome back soldat" Annabeth sauntered, blocking the doors to where you were being held with a satisfied smirk on her face. "We knew you'd come back. We missed you-
"Oh, I'm gonna have fun with this" Nat smirked, stepping in front of Bucky and grabbing Annabeth by her hair, dragging her off to a corner before throwing a punch to her jaw.
Bucky continued, slamming the lab doors open, his eyes landing onto your tied up form, strapped onto the very same chair he'd been tied to every time he'd been wiped. He didn't give anyone a second to think, killing those closest to him while the others tried to escape.
"You wanted me back, didn't you" Bucky's voice was a low growl as he stepped over the bodies he shot down before running to save you. "Well, I'm back"
The ones that ran off didn't get too far, making it out of the lab, only to be met with a very angry Steve and Tony.
"You don't hurt my fucking bestfriend" Steve gritted, slamming the agent to the floor before grabbing another and throwing him to Tony.
"You are not taking away my turn at being a God father" Sam grabbed another that tried to hide behind the rubble, swooped up to the ceiling, dangling to agent in the air for a while before letting him drop. Bucky was by your side in an instant, cutting off the straps that bound your arms together.
"Baby?" Bucky scooped you up in his arms, cradling your body to his chest, his hand gently brushing your cheek. "You okay sweetheart?"
"Bucky!" You cried out, clinging onto him, trembling while he kissed you before protectively covering your face from the bloody trail he left behind him. "You're here"
"M'taking you home baby, c'mon" Bucky whispered against your hair, carrying you tucked against him with your legs wrapped tightly around his waist, breathing in his scent. "I got you babygirl, it's okay"
"I was so scared" Bucky held onto you tightly on the ride back, he had never felt relief like this, his heart finally calming down. "M'so sorry sweet girl"
"S'not your fault baby" you whispered back, smiling when you felt a kiss to the back of your head.
"Glad you're okay sweetheart" Steve gave you a squeeze before leaving you and Bucky to have your privacy again, staying near the front with the rest of the team, watching over Annabeth, who had been captured for questioning. Once you'd reached the compound, you were greeted with proper hugs and kisses from the others, hearing the pitter patter of little feel seconds later.
"MAMAA" Your babies ran to you, climbing up your leg until they were all properly snuggled against you, refusing to let go until they were sure you were perfectly safe.
"Daddy and your aunts and uncles rescued me, see? I'm all okay" You reassured them while they looked at you intently, checking over you the same way you did whenever they had a fall. Once they were satisfied that you were okay, they let their daddy take you away to get cleaned up while it was Tony's turn to read them a bedtime story even if it was nearing morning.
-
"Right where you belong" Bucky smiled, wrapping his arm around your waist after you'd both showered, foregoing clothes as you climbed into bed, snuggled over the covers. He spooned you from behind, the feel of his warm bare skin comforting you.
"I love you so much angel" He pressed a soft kiss against your shoulder, eyes brightening when he remembered the little present he'd found earlier. His hand slipped down to softly brush over your tummy. "Both of you" He playfully whispered, smiling at your soft gasp as you wiggled to turn around and face him, growing bashfully shy when he pulled the tiny jumpsuit he'd kept on his pillow.
"Was there something you wanted to tell me mama?"
"Think you're ready for a 4th?" You giggled, burying your face into his chest while he grinned, peppering your face with kisses till you squealed.
"M'ready for a 5th and 6th if you'd let me angel" Bucky smirked, playfully nipping your jaw before shuffling down to rest his head on your tummy, kissing your soft skin while you carded your fingers through his hair. "but I can't wait to meet this little one first"
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#bucky barnes angst#bucky barnes au#james bucky buchanan barnes#bucky barnes x you#bucky barnes gif#bucky banres#james bucky barnes#bucky barnes#bucky x y/n#bucky barnes x female reader#bucky barnes fluff#bucky x reader#bucky barnes x f!reader#bucky barnes x y/n#bucky barnes x reader#bucky#james buchanan barnes#bucky barnes x f reader#bucky barnes x wife#protective bucky barnes#bucky barns imagine#bucky fanfic#bucky x you#bucky barnes fanfiction#bucky barnes imagine#bucky barnes fan fic#bucky barnes fan fiction#bucky barnes fanfic#bucky fan fics#bucky fan fic
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Can you do a one where Miles 1610 comforts his pregnant wife as she struggles with morning sickness 🥹🫶🏽
Water Please?
Miles Morales x Black!Afab!Reader.
WARNINGS: Aged Up , Pregnancy, Morning Sickness.
Your eyes snap open, as an sudden wave of nausea courses through you, forcing you to sit up in you and Miles' shared room. The room seemed to spin around you, and you start to take short breaths through your mouth, as sweat begins to bead on your forehead and nose. Panic starts to set in as you struggle to steady yourself.
Reaching for the small trash can that was at the side of the bed you place it in your lap, resting your forehead against the rim. The cold metal brings a slight relief as you try to steady your racing heart and calm your mind. It's become a normal now, a routine of morning discomfort.
And then it happens- the dry heaving. It's been happening every morning for the past three months, and although you're happy nothing came up this time, the feeling is still unpleasant. Your body convulses involuntarily.
Miles stirs beside you at the sounds of your coughs and gags. His eyes snap open, immediately sitting up as he grabs your braids with one hand to hold behind your head. The other hand is soothingly rubbing your back, trailing along your spine in an attempt to comfort you.
"I've got you, that's it mama, let it out," he sings, his hand gently rubbing your back. It's not long before your heaves turn into sobs, tears streaming down your face as you cry into the empty bin on your lap. Miles wraps both his arms around your waist, gently resting his head against your shoulder, exhausted and drained you begin to shiver.
"Do you need something?" concern is plastered all across Miles' face as he sits up, trying not to wake your 2-year-old.
"Some water please," you managed to get out of your sore throat, tears still streaming down your cheeks. Miles immediately stood to his feet, grabbing the bottle of water that was on the nightstand. You sit back, putting the trash can down as you suck in a deep breath. Walking back to you, he sits beside you, handing you the water bottle.
"That's it, babe," he says calmly, his hand still gently rubbing small circles on your back.
You sip the water slowly, some of it falling down your chin as you take a deep breath.
"Need more, mamita?" he asks, still concerned. It's how he always was, now. Always worrying about you. But he had a reason to be, your first pregnancy wasn't this rough. You thought it might be an easy pregnancy , especially having given birth before. But it never did.
You shake your head no, sleep settling in again. Resting your forehead against his chest, you find yourself drifting back to sleep under his warm body. Until your breath shortened, followed by a gasp, and a low whimper. Your hand immediately covers your protruding stomach, palm caressing the spot causing you the most pain.
"Que te pasa, Mi amor?" Miles asked. You grab his hand, placing it over your belly as you feel yet another hard kick from your unborn baby. His face drops slightly, placing his other hand against your stomach now as he feels the kicks too. He leans in close to your body, thumbs gently rubbing your stomach as he speaks.
"Don't hurt your mama, Jr. I know you're excited to meet us, and we're excited to meet you too." He kisses your stomach ever so gently, hands cradling your belly as he feels for any more kicks.
"Our baby is not a Jr." You managed to laugh out followed by a whimper.
your eyes closed as you lean back against your pillows, Miles brings his lips to yours kissing you softly. he lays back too, cuddling you as he places a kiss to the side of your neck, arms wrapped around your growing bump as he gently rubs it.
#neteyamsmunch#miles morales x reader#miles morales x black!reader#miles morales x you#miles morales fic#miles morales x fem!reader#miles morales blurbs#miles morales drabble#miles morales earth 1610#miles morales fanfiction#miles morales fluff#miles morales imagine#miles morales one shot
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for what it's worth | Rhett Abbott x Reader
Word Count: 6,600
Cross Posted on AO3
Warnings & Notes: 18+, AFAB!Reader, panic attacks, riding, unprotected sex, depictions of injuries, comfort, overstimulation, unfamiliar places. Inspired by the Stephen Wilson Jr. Song
Brief Summary: Maybe he isn't ready to leave Wabang. Not right now.
Boots stumble. Thumping across the floor. Spurs chime with every backward step. Heaving through an open mouth. Air whistling in his throat. The wall jumps forward, knocking into his back. Eyelashes flutter. His left knee buckles, balance teetering like a seesaw. His hand is trying to fly out to catch himself, but it's secured to his chest, and he can't stop his shoulder from knocking into the corner instead.
And his face is warm.
Why is his face warm?
"Rhett."
He doesn't realize that his ears are ringing until it stops. Crystal clear. Like he's just pulled his head above water for the first time in hours.
Soft hands squish against his cheeks, a thumb swiping across the delicate flesh beneath his eye. And he knows that he never shut them, not for longer than a second or two, so why did it take this long for him to see you standing in front of him?
"Rhett," repeating yourself, the corners of your mouth turn downward with a frown. "Are you alright?"
Air catches in his throat, breaking around fragments of words that never form, his face whiter than the peeling paint behind his head. Delicate, you tilt his head to meet your gaze. That bitten, bleeding bottom lip begins to wobble.
But he's not falling apart.
There's still a singular thread holding him together at the seams, and you're not even sure when he began unraveling to begin with. Was it when the crowd roared with horror after he fell? The empty stadium seats? Or is it something he's yet to tell you about?
One of your hands drifts to the back of his neck, all five fingers gently pressing to the soft skin there. And that's all it takes to have him collapsing into you.
Scruffy face burying into the crook of your neck. Silent as a mouse, as if he's afraid of what may come out of him if he allows himself to make the slightest noise. His arm knocks into your chest, held there by a flimsy sling, and it's all you can do to avoid bumping it as you pull him in by the waist.
He melts like sugar in the pouring rain, muscles unwinding into putty, that weary arm of his curling around you the best that it can. You can't feel the tears fall but you're well aware of how they wet the hem of your shirt, chased by a shudder that you can almost feel ripple down his spine.
"Rhett?" Saying his name again is beginning to feel redundant, but it's the only thing you can think of.
His head shakes back and forth, unruly hair tickling your ear. Slow, the hand resting against his back glides up, smoothing between his shoulder blades. The left one has only just begun to swell, the muscle there still traumatized from suffering through a dislocation. Warm breath puffs against your collar, chased by a sniffle.
A hand presses against the small of your back. Jerks away as quickly as it got there.
"Is your wrist hurting again?" Whispering. Anything louder might set him off again.
"Never stopped," his voice is hoarse, so barely there that it cracks at the end.
You can already see his brace, the off-white material poking out of an unzipped duffel bag. Restricting the mobility of his only functioning arm isn't exactly ideal, but maybe it'll only be for a night or two. A little extra time to let that old strain temporarily sort itself out before it rears its head again in the next month or two.
"Don't—don't let go of me," his arm cinches you in before you've even moved an inch. "Please."
"I'm not going anywhere," speaking gently, your fingertips find the knobs of his spine, pressing into the grooves of them. "I promise."
But he doesn't seem so sure about that, eyes darting between you and the bag, haphazardly discarded on top of the spare bed. It's only a foot or two away, but the squeeze of Rhett's arm suggests he might not let you move an inch.
"'m gonna look a little funny with somethin' on both arms, don't ya think?" He mumbles. A little too easily, his hand slides out from behind you, falling to dangle at his side. Limp.
Your fingers blindly brush against his brace, haphazardly lifting it by the velcro strap. This old thing has seen better days, dirt staining the edges and seams frayed from the regular abuse of being worn on a cattle ranch. But it still works, and Rhett wouldn't be an Abbott if he didn't insist on reusing it 'till it breaks.
"I'd rather you look a little funny than you get hurt any worse," and if not for his own benefit, then for the sake of your heart. It's stopped enough times for one day.
You don't notice the swelling in his wrist until after he's lifted it, the dull bedside lamp illuminating the raised skin, so rounded and thick that you can no longer see the bony joint at all. It's a wonder you don't have to loosen the strap as you slide the old thing into place.
His hand twists, rolling back and forth, always has to be inspecting your handiwork, "think I look a lil dumb."
"No, you looked dumb that time you tried to wear a camouflage shirt with your dress pants," and even then, you're not sure if you'd classify it as anything other than funny—the things he does to avoid his momma's attempts at taking him to church.
Those pretty blue eyes roll, the corner of his lip wobbling with a smile.
It's hard to keep standing here when there's an open bed calling your names. Big, fluffy, and half the damn reason you spent the extra fifty for this specific room. The mattress doesn't so much as squeak under your combined weights, completely and utterly silent, unlike the talkative ones in Wabang's only hotel.
"Do y' know what town we're in?" Rhett's finding his way to you before you've even settled, his only usable arm draping over your side.
"I didn't think to look," pausing as your head hits the pillow; there's way too much stuffing in this thing, cranking your neck uncomfortably high. "I can't imagine we've gotten far, though."
Without getting up to grab your phone off the dresser, your best guess is that you've only made it thirty minutes away from Wabang. Maybe even thirty-five. If Rhett's injuries would have allowed it, then you'd likely still be on the road, driving until the days events properly caught up with him.
His brows knit together, a thought visibly flickering through his mind. You can hardly stop your hand from wandering up to his face, fingers smoothing across the dirt that mottles his cheek. A shower might do him good once his jaw quits shaking like it is.
"Y' think..." Rhett's mouth opens. Closes. Then opens again. Gaping like a fish out of water. "Never mind."
Your index finger trails across the unshaven scruff clinging to his cheek, still short enough to feel like sandpaper. "You can say it."
"Do y' think they'll miss me?" There's that glassiness to his eyes again, remaining even as he tries to blink it away. "My folks, I mean."
Words gather in your throat, pushing and shoving to be the first to land on your tongue, but not a single one does. Slow, your head nods, and it's just enough movement to rattle a few out of the traffic jam. "I'm sure they will," your voice is barely there, a ghost of what it was a moment ago. "Is that what's bothering you?"
His shoulder rises with a shrug. Almost instantly, his eyes are scrunching shut, hissing through his teeth. "Kinda."
There are things you should be saying, arranging sentences to comfort him, but you haven't got a single thing to start with. What do you even tell him that his momma is probably sitting in the kitchen and wondering why he hasn't come home yet? That Amy is going to be asking where her only Uncle is?
The mattress dips as he squirms closer, fitting himself into the space beneath your chin. His nose bumps into the side of your neck, so close that you can smell the faint odor of sweat, still clinging to him from his ride. And it should be enough to stop you from squishing your cheek against the top of his head, but for reasons unbeknownst to you, it's not.
"'s just..." his voice rumbles through your body like thunder, the beginnings of a thought that he doesn't know how to finish.
Your eyes dart to the window, peering out the open blinds. Wabang is far too small to house a single chain restaurant, never mind enough to create a neon array of colors along the street. Didn't have these new-fangled flashing crosswalks or the sharp screech of a sportscar tearing down the midnight streets. Try as you might, you don't think you can hear the rumble of a single farm truck.
"Too much at once?" Finishing his sentence after a second. Now that you give it some thought, he's never spent more than a week away from home before.
The hair atop his head tickles your neck as he nods. You're starting to think that the feeling might be mutual. This whole idea sounded wonderful at first; running away together, never to be seen again, but your daydreams never depicted the unease that rests in your bones.
At least this mattress is somewhat familiar. Softer than what you've grown used to, but a bed is a bed. The air conditioner doesn't squeal like a wounded animal when it kicks on, not even a distant thumping of old country music from the bar next door. Maybe that's what makes it so easy for the silence to drag your eyelids to a close, the edges of your consciousness slipping away.
A horn blares outside. Poorly muffled voices shout.
"We should've stayed in town for the night," you mutter; whatever heaviness was keeping your eyes shut has entirely dissipated.
Why do you dislike Wabang, anyhow? Is it the ack of your favorite fast food chains? The memories that haunt every corner? The overwhelming blanket of silence that sprawls across town once night falls? Whatever the reason was, it's not coming to you.
Rhett's lips find your collar, lingering for a moment before drawing away to press a second one nearby. "We should've?"
"At least it's quiet in Wabang," your fingers slide into his hair, tangling in the long strands resting at his nape, the ones he keeps saying he'll trim.
Another kiss presses into the corner of your jaw. Another right next to it, and another, inching across your cheek, kiss by kiss. "I can think of a few distractions if that's what you're implyin'," you can hear the smile in his voice, getting closer and closer to his final destination by the second.
His arm shifts in its sling, hand thumping against his chest in what was supposed to be an attempt at reaching out to you. He doesn't say anything, too focused on meeting the corner of your lip, and then—
Rhett's bitten lips meet yours for the first time this hour, hardly enough pressure to count as one to start with.
"For god's sake," he grumbles against your mouth, "can't do a damn thing like this."
You draw back, peeking at his face. That nose of his is wrinkled, the slightest bit irritated with his situation. "Is there something you're wanting, cowboy?" Teasing.
"Bet ya can't guess," he winks, maybe the slightest bit cocky, despite his lack of functioning arms.
Sitting up isn't the easiest thing, elbow uncomfortably digging into the mattress, and it's all you can do to keep from accidentally bumping into any of his injuries. The bruising along his collarbone and the swelling in his shoulder blade, still agitated from that unceremonious dislocation. But Rhett doesn't seem to be thinking about any of that right now, too focused on leaning up to meet your mouth. Your hand drifts to his jaw, tilting him down the slightest bit.
Finally, those thin lips find yours, solid and there and unbroken by an uncomfortable angle. He tastes like that goddamn Rainier beer he loves so much, chased by the obscene notes of dirt and sweat that ought to make you gag and point him to the travel-sized mouthwash sitting on the sink.
But Rhett's humming like he's just come home from a long day at work, lips softening, melting into the delicate dance of yours, and you suppose that today...today he gets a pass. That desperately needed shower isn't so urgent anymore. His nose bumps into yours, both tilting in the same direction as gravity begins to drag your body down.
Your leg swings out, clumsily straddling his hips as he twists onto his back, only breaking apart to twist your head to the other side. His fingers lazily trace their way to your spine, ambling up it until he can comfortably splay his palm against the middle of your back, pressing just enough to inch you closer. Chest to chest, so close that you think you can feel his heart beating away in his chest, wild and alive.
A siren screeches to life outside the window. So shrill that you jolt, teeth clacking together.
You could have sworn that ambulances were quieter than that. Or maybe that's just a Wabang thing. It's not like that town has a whole lot of people there to warn.
"Think 'm startin' to see your point," Rhett's lips bump into yours as he speaks, thumb drawing circles into your back. His body jerks upward, awkwardly bumping into your ass before falling back against the bed. "Fuckin'—ow!"
"There something you're wanting, cowboy?" Saying it as if you don't have a clue what he wants, feigning blissful ignorance.
"Yeah," huffing, dramatic as can be, "somethin' I can't have."
Your hand meanders down his chest, nails catching on the pearl-snap buttons of his flannel. The top two burst open, falling apart to reveal the beginnings of a milky white chest. "What makes ya think you can't have it?"
He lifts his wrist, brace on full display. "My arms don't work like they used to."
Before you can think twice, your eyes roll. "Well, mine do." And before he can say another word, you're reaching for the end of your shirt, tugging it up and over your head.
Rhett's eyes flutter, pearly white teeth sinking into his bottom lip. The cat must have gotten his tongue because, all of a sudden, he doesn't have a damn thing to say. Completely and utterly silent as you rake your finger through his remaining buttons, fingertip tracing against his belly the whole way down.
"Amelia County Bull Riding Champion," you muse, nail tapping against the metal of his buckle, so new that it doesn't have so much as a scratch on it. It's almost hard to believe that he's spent the past nine years chasing this one-of-a-kind trophy and its equally shiny title. Sure wonder how long it'll be before he's chasing a second one.
"'n my reward is two fucked arms," Rhett chuckles, the rough material of his brace skirting up your naked side, "they could've at least refunded me the entry fees."
Something thunks behind you. Chased by a second thing. And you think those might be his boots hitting the floor.
"At least you didn't get charged for letting the paramedic check on your shoulder," pinching the buckle open, you reach for his button.
If he were in any better shape, maybe you would have time for the theatrics of kissing down his belly and getting him worked up before you start tugging on his zipper. But he's down to half a functioning hand, beaten and abused from three rides in one night, and you're not sure if he'll even be awake if you stretch things out that far. Even clambering off of him feels like a dangerous task, as if he could possibly fall asleep in the span of three seconds.
One little tug is all it takes for Rhett to lift his hips. "Congrats on winnin'," his voice strained with the effort of keeping himself up. "Here's a bill that'll take all your prize money 'n then some."
The hem of his jeans catches on his boxers, and it wasn't your intent to take them down all in one go, but you're not making any effort to stop it, either. Haphazardly pulling the dirt-stained fabric past the thick fat of his thighs and down his ankles, tossing it to the side.
You suppose this means you'll be following suit.
"Shit," Rhett's knees knock into each other, squeezing close, "'s cold in here."
"We'll find a way to warm you up," hooking your thumbs beneath your waistband, dragging your pants and underwear down your legs, discarding them somewhere near Rhett's.
A spring chirps as his feet dig into the mattress, pushing himself up against the headboard. Maybe this bed isn't so perfect after all. "Can't imagine what y've got in mind," he grunts, head thunking against the smooth wood.
You don't need a response to that. Not when you can lift your leg and swing yourself back into his lap, arms lazily looping around his shoulders. Sparkles dance behind his eyes, like the glittering night sky, doesn't need to say a damn thing. His arm winds around your waist again, the other one jerking against his chest, held back by the sling.
There isn't much strength to be found there, but his hand flattens against your naked back, and that's all you need to find yourself leaning forward. Half-parted lips bump into one another, slow and steady, not quite willing to risk another clash of teeth.It's so much easier here, situated in the comfortable warmth of his lap, where you can curl your hands around his scruffy cheeks and feel them squish beneath your palms.
You're just tired enough to let yourself believe that you're floating. High above the clouds, lost somewhere between Neptune and bliss, twisting and turning, suspended in the depths of eternity. Not a damn thing separating you aside from this flimsy sling and his unbuttoned flannel.
Delicate, your hips roll back, the soft swell of your inner thigh brushing against his cock, half hard and resting against his belly. It's nothing but a haphazard touch, and yet he sucks in a breath as if it's something so much more than that.
"Keep doin' that," he murmurs, the tips of your noses colliding. And you do.
Hell, you were never planning to stop. A little too eager to draw your body up against his, feeling the pressure of him against your inner thigh, heat rushing up your belly and into your cheeks. He's already beginning to drip, leaving behind a shimmering wetness on your skin. But then he's shifting a little bit to the left, and his length is pressed right against your cunt, and it's too late to stop the noise that draws out of your throat, dancing in tandem with Rhett's.
You need...you need..."Did you—"
"In my back pocket," he's interrupting you before the question has even left your mouth.
Why you ever thought it would be in a different place, you're not sure. So used to this routine that you don't need to look as your hand blindly pats around the material of his jeans. The round outline of his Zyn can tells all you need to know; those little lube packets are always tucked right next to it.
"I thought you were quitting this stuff," commenting as you fumble with the plastic; there's a notch on it for easy tearing, but you can never seem to find it.
All of a sudden, the packets are gone entirely. Plucked from your hand, the culprit lifting the edge of one to his lips. "I did."
You're not sure you follow. That's definitely the can. You'd know that old hunk of plastic anywhere. "So why do you have the container?"
"Shake it." And he sounds so serious about it that you can't help but do what he says, fishing it out and haphazardly waving the plastic container back and forth. Something hard rattles around inside, a couple of somethings, at that.
"Are those rocks?" Shaking it again. Yeah, those sound like rocks.
"Found 'em on the ranch," Rhett pauses, biting the corner, pulling as hard as his hand will allow. Clear fluid is already spilling out the top, glistening on his fingertips before he can even begin to hand it back to you. "They're made of some weird black powder that would crumble in my pocket."
The lube is still warm from where it's been resting against the curve of his ass all afternoon, running down your fingers and dripping onto his flannel as you reach between your bodies. This stuff always makes a damn mess, but it's so hard to worry about stains when Rhett's sucking in a gasp, hips jolting, all from the way your hand wraps around him.
Loose. Just feeling the weight of him in your grasp. How he twitches when your index finger catches on his mushroom tip, hardening so fast that you can feel it. The way he grows a little wider, longer too, until he's once again the same menacing size you've come to know and love. One little pack of this stuff isn't enough to coat him, running down his length before you can spread it, but he's already tearing open a second. Drops of it scatter like rain, hitting your cheek and landing on the once clean sheets.
You've never been so thankful to have two beds.
"'m sorry," kissing at a wet spot next to your nose, "was tryin' t' help."
The remaining lube pours directly onto your palm, so much of it at once that it begins to squelch, loud and bouncing off the corners of this tiny little room. Any more, and you reckon it might travel to the neighboring rooms. At least out here, you don't have to worry about a distant acquaintance of the Abbott family overhearing and running their mouth to half the congregation come Sunday.
"Need any more?" Rhett shakes a third and fourth pack as if you could have forgotten how many he's carrying.
But you're in no particular mood to wait. Not when you can feel him throbbing in your grasp, desperate and leaking and ready for you. "That's plenty," any more, and you two may be swimming in it.
"Gon' be limpin' in the mornin'." Whatever sincerity he has is lost to the twitching of his mouth, rising up into a grin. Always has gotten a kick out of watching you waddle after it's all said and done.
"Good," winking, "It'll keep us in bed longer."
Those pretty blue eyes roll back into his head, as far as they'll go. Giggles sputter out of you, and that's all it takes to have them rumbling out of him, too. Foreheads knocking together, noses clashing once more, lips brushing in what might be a kiss.
"a'ight," he's speaking quietly, as if this air is too fragile for anything more than a whisper, "if that's what ya want."
You don't need any further encouragement, knees digging into the bed as you lift yourself up, guiding him between your legs. His tip slips through your folds, a little spark of heat jumping up your spine, and you really shouldn't stop to rub him against your clit, but you can't help yourself. Selfishly circling him around the little bundle of nerves, such a simple thing that has you growing just a little wetter.
An involuntary twitch in your wrist has him sliding back, nudging right where you've been craving him.
"Shit," gasping, your head tilts back, the ceiling blurring as you finally begin to sink down on him. A soft pressure that grows with every passing second chased by a sharp, stinging reminder of why you should have listened when Rhett tried to offer you more lube to open yourself up with.
But it's hard to focus on when he's leaning forward, the stubble on his jaw scratching as his mouth finds its way to your neck. Leaving behind a kiss so wet that you can hear it, swiftly chased by another and another and another. Your hand slips away from his length, too eager to wind your arms around his shoulders once more.
His tip slips into you without any more fuss, and you think there might be an ache from being stretched so wide, but you don't have the capacity to pay attention to it. It's too early in the night to be drowning in the lap of a wild-eyed cowboy, and yet here you are. The only two people in the world, if only for a few short minutes.
"You're sure y' don't need more?" Rhett's tilting his head up, chin brushing against yours.
"I'm sure," your voice is weaker than it was a minute ago. One of the many things you've left behind in Wabang, you suppose.
Oh, or maybe you do need it. Hands scurrying, nails biting into the thick muscle of his back. He never seems that big until he's between your legs, thick cock splitting you uncomfortably wide, just enough to send your cunt into a frenzy of spasms.
"Shit," Rhett's eyelashes flutter like the wings of butterflies, "'s fuckin'..." But he can't finish his sentence, cut short by a stifled grunt.
"You can feel that?" Your tongue feels loose in your mouth, heavy, and difficult to control.
All he can do is nod his head, breathing heavily through parted lips. "Uhuh."
His hand slips away from your back. Leaves a jarring coldness in its wake as it darts between your chests and up to his sling, pinching the plastic clasp until it comes loose. But his left arm falls from its mesh prison and lands limp against his belly, so unceremoniously that you nearly freeze.
"Are you sure that you should be...?" There's no point in finishing your thought. Not when he's already trying to move, the corner of his eye scrunching as he slowly lifts it.
"'m just holdin' ya," carefully winding his arms around you. Loose, but they're there, strong and secure as they've always been.
Tires squeal somewhere on the street. So jarring that you hardly notice the way your ass comes flush with his lap, perfectly seated on top of him. Nothing left to take. There's still an ache between your legs, but even that cannot take away from how full you are of him. Stretched to your very limit. Couldn't hope to take another inch of him, even if you tried.
One of your hands rises to tangle in his hair, pulling just hard enough to draw his head back. Lips melting together in some kind of breathy dance that shouldn't even count as a kiss. It would have lasted longer if you had the patience, but you don't, already beginning to lift yourself. Only by an inch or two before falling back into his lap.
Lube squelches, sickeningly loud.
A selfish part of you hopes that every person in this city can hear it. Spitefully rising a little faster now. Eyes almost crossing as he rubs against the sensitive nerves along your walls, and you can feel yourself getting wetter around him.
"Fuck," Rhett's moaning against your mouth, "y' feel so good wrapped 'round me."
You'd ought to be talking too, but you can't find a damn word in your head. Literacy be damned, all you can think of is the way his fat cock sinks back into your throbbing cunt, so big that he can't help but massage against all those little sweet spots. Works a soft noise out of your throat, then another, and you don't think you can stop them from spilling off your tongue.
"Promise I won't..." Rhett's hips jerk up off the bed, meeting you midway with a little 'smack.' Then, trying again. "Promise I won't make ya ride me all weekend."
As if you've ever complained about riding a cowboy.
"What?" Searching for words. Ones that don't contain expletives or variations of his name. "Have plans to break in the table by the window?"
A puppy caught stealing food has been less obvious. Big blue eyes and swollen, parted lips, staring up at you as if he can't believe you could foil his plan. Has the audacity to make that dumb, whimpering noise; all he needs are the floppy ears and the wagging tail.
Your nails rake against his scalp, swallowing up his raspy cry with your own. In the back of your mind, you're vaguely aware that you've got your lubed hand in his hair, and that's not going to dry prettily. Especially not with the thin sheen of sweat clinging to his skin, shimmering in the golden glow of the bedside lamp, little beads of it collecting on his forehead.
His hips tilt back, arms pulling you the slightest bit forward and—
oh.
"Rhett," you whine, pitchy and drawing out the vowel. Little sparks of fire tingle up your spine, spasming so harshly around him that your body nearly stalls entirely. Fuck, and his cock head is kissing your g-spot head-on, nailing it with every stroke, sending a galaxy of stars glittering behind your vision.
"'m close, " Rhett's sputtering, his head shaking back and forth as if he can somehow ward it off, "darlin' 'm gonna..."
There's an ache in your thighs that wasn't there before, a wildfire burning deep in the muscle, the flames licking up your spine and into your lower belly. A heated coil winds tighter, but you can't stop moving. Chasing that broken rhythm, every fall of your hips punctuated by the lewd clap of skin against skin.
"Cum," it's the weakest order you've ever given in your life, pulling on the ends of his hair, desperate to hold on to something. "Cum for me, Rhett."
He's so close that you can hear the way the air catches in his throat as his eyes roll back. The arms around you shiver as he cums in you with a cry. Body jerking up into yours, and you can feel the way his cock twitches, painting your poor cunt with white, absolutely powerless to do anything but give it to you.
And your thighs are screaming for you to slow down, ache burning all the way down into your knees, but you just can't help yourself, too wrapped up in this dizzying up and down. Panting against his lips, lost in the sickly loud squelch of cum and lube.
"Fuck," grunting, Rhett's forehead knocks against yours, keening high in his throat, "fuck, fuck, fuck, you're still—"
He doesn't get to finish that, cut short by another whine. Sensitive. So, so sensitive. His hand squirms between your bellies, arm caught in a horribly awkward angle, a shivering thumb pressing against your clit.
Your whole body jerks, that fire roaring up into your face. "Hang on for me," leaning back onto your haunches just far enough for you to catch a breath of air that isn't his. "You can do it."
But his head is shaking like he doesn't think he can. Thumb spiraling against your clit like he's getting paid to do it, a wateriness building behind those big blue eyes. "Please cum," babbling, his thighs quaking beneath you, "please, please, please."
Maybe it's his thumb on your clit, or the dizzying massage of his cock against your g-spot, or maybe it's the babbling, but that coil in your belly is winding tighter and tighter. Rhythm crumbling into a jerky, impossible-to-control pace, skin prickling. And someone is shouting in the hallway, but you can't hear it.
Not when your ears are ringing from the smack of Rhett's thighs against your ass and his pitchy voice, chanting your name like it's the only thing he knows. Sweat and tears rolling down flushed cheeks, his shivering arm weakly cinching you into him.
His mouth clashes with yours, moaning into your mouth, and it's as if you've been thrust into heaven. Head spinning as your orgasm washes over you, cumming around his softening cock without a sound. Or maybe you are making noise, vaguely aware of the melody of whimpers tumbling off your tongue, a shiver rolling up your spine like an ocean wave.
Rhett's thumb is still going, working in loose circles that seem to push you higher and higher into the clouds, and you think you're about to float right on out to space. Can feel yourself falling to the side, weightless for the briefest moment, before a cloud rises to break your fall. Soft and warm and squishy, your very own bed, all the way up in the sky.
A warm wind tickles your nose.
Or maybe that's the breath of a cowboy. Doe-eyed, lips wobbling with a lazy grin, gazing back at you. The scruff of his facial hair tickles your skin as your hand curls around the side of his jaw, feeling the hard bone and soft fat hidden there. You're not entirely sure when you landed on your side or when he wrapped you up in his weary arms, but you're here, and he's so, so warm.
Another voice shouts from the hallway. Masking the squeal of the bed springs as you squirm closer. Rhett's head tilts, nose bumping into yours. A third shout appears, and you're fairly certain that it's a whole group, but you can't pay them any mind. Too lost in the eyes of this dumb cowboy, who's almost too eager and willing to throw everything away and go to the ends of the earth for you.
Your mind jumps back to the corner of the room. The hazy recollection of turning around to see him backing into the wall, face whiter than the paint, floundering like a fish out of water. You'd known something was off when he quit talking mid-drive, but that was...
Maybe he isn't ready to leave Wabang. Not right now, at least. Not when he's never spent more than a week away from his folks and has only ever known that tiny, minuscule town. Why did you never think of that?
Frankly, you're one screaming sports car away from abandoning the idea of leaving, too. At least the nights there were quiet and not...this.
"For what it's worth," your tongue feels too big, struggling to shape around the words, "I don't mind the idea of staying in Wabang."
His mouth opens, the corners of his lips rising before quickly falling shut. Then, opening his mouth again.
"Yeah?" That twenty-four karat smile working its way across his face. "You'll stay in that stuffy ol' town for me?" And either your ears are playing tricks on you, or you may have just heard a giggle bubbling out of him.
"Yeah," parroting him. There's more you should be saying; your reasoning behind changing your mind, asking what he thinks, about what his folks will say when you come back, but you can't be bothered to say that many words. The future version of you can have that conversation. "I don't see why not."
You blink, and suddenly, you're being pulled closer into some kind of makeshift hug that squishes your face into the crook of his sweaty neck. A good, long shower is what he needs, a faint stench of sweat meeting your nose, but again, you can't be bothered to try moving away.
"What changed your mind?" He's so close that you can hear the way his voice rumbles in his throat.
"A lot of things," saying anything more would require you to think. As if you didn't do enough of that in the passenger seat of his truck.
He hums, some grumbling noise that sounds like thunder rolling in the distance. "Was it that obvious that I ain't never done somethin' like this before?"
"Just a little bit," kissing the scar beneath his collarbone, the one from when he fell off a bull and got caught on a sharp horn. So much blood for such a small injury.
For a moment, the room is quiet. Just you and him, wrapped up in each other, tangled in these messy sheets. Two fingers walk across your back on their own little journey down the curve of your spine. Some mindless little thing that you can't help but mirror, using the knobs of his spine as stepping stones.
"Was a little excited for the whole wakin' up next to each other thing," he murmurs, fingers stopping at the base of your spine, the end of its imaginary road.
But you don't mind going off-road, making your way down the soft curve of his ass, pressing harder just to feel the way the fat gives. "We can still do that," grabbing a handful of it.
"My bed ain't that big, darlin'," snorting, Rhett leans back, sleepy blue eyes meeting yours once more, "'n we can only afford so many hotel rooms."
You don't think heeven fits in that bed, now that you think about it. Maybe he did when he was fourteen and hadn't been hit by that whirlwind of a growth spurt, but those long legs and broad shoulders aren't quite meant for a twin-size mattress. But by that logic, he also shouldn't fit in the bench seat of his truck...
"That little house on Floyd Street is up for rent again," you find yourself saying after a while.
Rhett must have learned to read your mind because you don't need to finish your sentence for that grin to appear once more. An apartment together should have been your first step, but who's keeping a record of things like that? Certainly, not you, and definitely not Rhett, too busy dipping his head down to rub your noses together.
"Think y' can help me wash my hair?" He whispers, brace scratching your skin as he tries to flatten his palm against your cheek, thumb swiping back and forth beneath your eye.
Your nod is all that he needs. Bones popping and cracking as he sits up, before sleep can begin to overtake him, flannel slipping from his shoulders and pooling around his waist. Miles upon miles of freckled, milky white skin, exposed in the blink of an eye, the left side stained by blotches of black, blue, and purple.
Kissing them won't make it any better, but you've already found yourself leaning up, mouth pressing to the darkest of them. His head tilts, hair tickling your face as you work your way up his shoulder, peppering over the swollen joint as if you can possibly kiss away his injury altogether.
"Kissin' it better?" He asks, red cheeks and all.
"Trying." Kiss. "Too." Kiss.
There would be a third, and a fourth, and a fifth, but Rhett's already turning around, catching your lips in his. Those big hands rise to cradle your cheeks, fingertips squishing into the fat of them, almost purring into your mouth. Your head is spinning again, senses tingling with the beginnings of something warm. Hazy.
The bed rises up to meet your back, and this cowboy obediently falls right along with you, legs parting to straddle your hips, palms still resting against your face. Weight settling on top of you, nothing but lean muscle and bone. The same cowboy who's a little too eager to jump the gun for you. The diamond to your gold. Sweet as honey.
And could really use a bath, but that can wait a few more minutes.
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Rivalry: Chapter One
[masterlist][Ch2]
Regulus Black x Fem!reader
Mutual Pining and Academic Rivals are like my favorites so I’m throwing them together for Reggie🤭
I wanna try a slowburn, so this series will have some short parts that i can update easily between parts of Caught because I hate just not uploading for so long at a time. Fair warning I am going to include a bit of a love triangle later on(there will be NO cheating).
Warnings:Arguing,Language,Angst, Pining, Rivals, “Enemies” to lovers.
You and Regulus never liked each other. Actually, a good way to put it would be to say you hated eachother. But for some reason you were always clouding the brunette’s mind, even when you were yelling back and forth in an empty corridor he absolutely loved it. And despised that he loved it.
Despite the years he spent wanting nothing more than to one up you in any situation, suddenly every time your eyebrows furrowed at him as you began an argument, he’d imagine those eyebrows furrowing below him behind the curtains of his four poster bed. He thought at first it was simply because of your beauty that he was lusting after you, but after months of patrolling the corridors together as Prefects, he came to realize he genuinely liked your presence. Whether you were silent or bickering or yelling, he didn’t mind.
He denied those feelings for as long as possible, deciding instead to observe you from afar, acting as though he hated you while at the same time ensuring you were stuck with him as a partner in every class and during all Prefect duties. He didn’t understand why he shooed away every thought of you or hid his true feelings up until the last possible second, but he was a fool and a coward, he already knew that. As your seventh and final year at Hogwarts began, it dawned on Regulus that he’d likely never see you again once the year ended, making the dreadfully long school year suddenly seem far too short.
He could no longer deny he felt something real for you as he stood in the corner of the Slytherin common room, seething while he watched you dance against Barty Crouch Jr. The welcome back party was in full swing as you enjoyed yourself before you inevitably needed to become an image of responsibility.
You could feel his eyes on you, you could always feel his eyes on you. Almost immediately after you and Regulus became Prefects in your fifth year, it became increasingly difficult to avoid spending time with him. Though secretly you weren’t complaining, you’d always imagine what it would be like if he wasn’t so closed off. He was down right mean to you at times, and yet he clouded your thoughts all the same.
You always found yourself locking eyes with him in class, cursing yourself as you rolled your eyes away from his. You hated that you felt the way you did, but honestly you hated that he didn’t feel the same much more. This time, as your eyes locked, there was something new behind his irises. Something you never would have expected only two years earlier, jealousy.
You knew it couldn’t be a good idea, but after plying yourself with copious amounts of liquor you didn’t mind making a few bad decisions. You winked at Regulus’, biting your lip and making him go rigged in the corner before you turned yourself in Barty’s arms and captured his lips in yours.
Regulus wasn’t a jealous person, he’d accepted long ago that any girl wanting a member of the Noble House of Black would simply run to his brother, but you never did. You never even seemed the tiniest bit interested in Sirius, or anyone else for that matter. Maybe thats why it was so easy to stay calm all these years, his girl never seemed to have eyes for anyone. Until now. He never would have imagined the pure rage he felt as he stormed through the party, yanking you off Barty as you smiled drunkenly up at him with swollen lips.
“Come on, we have a project in Potions tomorrow and you can’t be hungover, I won’t be failing,” Before you could register what was happening he was pulling you down the stairs as you stumbled after him to the girls dormitory. To your surprise he immediately distinguished your dorm from the others and pulled you inside.
He dropped your wrist as he grumbled to himself, walking to your dresser and pulling out one of your oversized t-shirts and a pair of leggings, “Take these, get out of that dress, and go to bed.” He demanded in a stern voice.
“But I wanna go back to the partyyy” You practically whined in a beg, too drunk to care about the boy standing in your room with a glare.
“You can barely stand y/l/n, I am not letting you back into that party like this.” He grumbled as he shoved the clothes into your hands, turning away as you eyed the back of his head.
“Come on Reggie, let lose, you don’t always have to be the golden boy,” You teased as you began to remove the straps of your dress and shimmy it down your body.
“What did you just call me?” He snapped, turning around without thinking, his cheeks growing a bright red upon seeing your slightly exposed bra as you struggled to remove your dress in your drunken state. He quickly swiveled back around as you huffed and puffed with slurred statements of “stupid thing” and “tight ass dress” making him chuckle.
“Help me out here Reggie,” You sighed, dropping your hands to your sides with a slap as he arched his eyebrows at the wall in front if him, turning to see your dress halfway down your body as you stared up at him with hooded eyes.
“Um okay,” He mumbled as he moved to stand behind you, keeping his eyes upward as he gently pulled the zipper down with a soft chuckle, “It would be a lot easier if you unzipped it,”
“Yeah yeah,” You grumbled as you pushed the dress off of you without a warning, showing him your underwear that didn’t match your bra. He felt like all the oxygen was escaping his body as he watched you struggle to put on the shirt he picked out, your head popping out of the neckline with messy hair before you were hopping onto your bed, disregarding the leggings on the floor.
You yawned once, and then fell into a deep sleep as Regulus stood, shell shocked in front of your bed. For some reason he felt rather creepy being alone in your room hovering over your bed despite his very wholesome intentions. He neatly closed the curtains around your four poster and left a full glass of water on your bedside table before blowing out your candles and slipping out the door.
The next morning when you woke, you had absolutely no clue how you got to your room, or out of your clothes and into knew ones. The last thing you could remember clearly was getting your sixth, or maybe seventh?, cup of punch before dancing with Barty.
“Uh Black, can we talk?” You asked in a shaky voice as his friends eyed you up suspiciously, “It’s really important,” As Regulus took in your disheveled appearance and worried face he mumbled a later to his friends and directed you to a rather quiet section of the corridor before turning back to you.
“Did we….y’know….do anything last night?” You rushed out without meeting his eyes as you stood in front of him, bouncing nervously. “I just….I barely remember anything and….and Barty said….” You stopped, not wanting to believe nor accuse him of what Barty had suspected.
“You think I did something to you while you were drunk?” He asked in a soft voice as he watched your watery eyes meet his. He was hurt, for the first time in a long time he was hurt. “I didn’t. I helped you to bed, got you some water, and left. That’s it.”
You let out an audible sigh as tears slipped past your lashes, “Thank you, I-i was so messed up last night, I don’t wanna think about what could have happened if…” Regulus watched you with a mix of relief and annoyance, you had just almost accused him of the same thing you were now thanking him for preventing?
“You’re lucky y/l/n. Because guess what, Barty was the one all over you last night when you could barely walk properly, I’m sure he jumped to tell you how I pulled you away from him. You could have just come to me, y’know.” He scoffed as he walked past you and into Potions class taking the seat next to yours as you followed suit.
“I didn’t believe him Black, but I had to ask okay?” You whisper shouted as everyone began taking their seats around you.
“If you had to ask than part of you thought I was capable of that.” He said, eyes focused upfront as you watched the side of his face. His jaw clenched so tight you could see the muscle protruding on the side of his cheeks.
“I’m sorry Regulus, you may be a git sometimes but I don’t think you’re a monster.” You whispered as you pushed your chair closer to his.
“I don’t care what you think of me and I dont need your apology” He snapped, making you flinch and jump back as he turned to look at you. His eyes softened as regret began seeping into his stomach at the sight of you scared in front of him.
You looked away from him as soon as you felt your eyes begin to water, focusing solely on Professor Slughorn as Regulus tried to apologize beside you, something that shocked you greatly but didn’t make you waver.
“Just look at me,” He whispered, ignoring his notes entirely and looking only at you. “Come on, I’m sorry I didn’t mean to scare y-“
“Oh my gods just shut the fuck up!” You shouted, silencing Slughorn and drawing the attention of every student around you as you went red from embarrassment.
“Care to fill us in on your conversation Miss. y/l/n? Mr. Black?” Slughorn’s voice was calm bit stern as you both shook your heads and mumbled “no”.
“Well, you can pick it up in detention tonight then” He said with a tight lipped smile as he turned back to his notes on the blackboard. You dropped your forehead onto the table with a sigh as Regulus watched you with narrowed eyes.
After dinner you slipped out of the Great Hall undetected, fully intending to run to the library and “study” through your detention. Being a teacher’s pet came with some perks after all.
“I knew you’d be here,” Regulus chuckled as you approached the door he was now leant against. “Come on, we have detention little miss perfect….or did you intentionally plan to avoid me?” His smirk was so annoying you would risk another detention just to smack it off if it weren’t for your lack of any movable muscle as his eyes bore into yours.
“Slughorn wants us to clean Professor Binns’ class since he never does.” You eyed him suspiciously as he waited for you to walk in front of him, “Well go on then you little liar, can’t trust ya now can I?” He chuckled triumphantly at your eyes rolling as you walked past him towards the History of Magic classroom.
Regulus shamelessly watched you as you walked in front of him, deciding you were his whether you realized it yet or not. He’s never had a reason to defy anyone before, but as he watched your hair bouncing behind you and your cloak moving in the breeze giving him glimpses of your legs below. He knew you were the girl he’d marry, whether his Mother was okay with it or not, he’d either die alone or marry the beautiful girl in front of him.
~~~~
#harry potter#smut#hp#regulus black#enemies to lovers#slow burn#fluff#harry potter fandom#regulus black x reader#marauders era#sirius black#remus lupin#james potter x y/n#james potter#regulus x reader#the marauders#harry potter fluff#hp fanfic#harry potter fanfiction#regulus x y/n#regulus black x you#regulus black smut#timothée chalamet#aaron taylor johnson#andrew garfield#remus lupin smut#remus lupin x reader#remus lupin x y/n#remus lupin x yn x regulus black#love triangle
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Unexpected 2
Sequel to Unsolicited
Warnings: non/dubcon, pregnancy, Lloyd being the worst, and other dark elements.
My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.
As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.
Those two dreaded lines. Mocking you as you stare at the plastic stick. You snap it in half with a growl, wishing it was Lloyd. Or at least the part of him that got you into this mess.
You toss the test and wash your hands. You enter the bedroom. His room. Your cell.
You go to the bed and lay on your side. Hopefully you fall asleep before he decides to drag his ass up here. A better idea would be sleeping on one of the many couches in this oversized place but the last time only got you tossed over his shoulder. You don’t have the energy. At least now you know why you feel like such absolute shit.
You shut off the lamp and close your eyes. It’s early but what else can you do but sleep through the misery. It’s the only time you feel anything close to content. Not happy, no mad or sad, neutral. The vague dissonance of your subconscious is preferable to your grey reality.
You only manage a tenuous limbo before he comes in. You listen to his footfalls as he makes no effort to be quiet and flips on the lamp on his side. You refuse to open your eyes and keep your back to him. The rustle of his clothing fills the silence. The bed dips and there’s a light tug on the blanket above your shoulder.
“Peaches, you know the rules,” he pulls the duvet back completely, “no clothes in bed.”
You huff and shimmy up the silk nightie, lifting yourself slightly to get it past your chest, and making an ungainly effort to shed it. You fling it carelessly and flop back down, pulling the blanket around you once more. You watch his shadow as it moves above your own as he continues to undress.
He folds the blanket back and lowers himself behind you. You go rigid and stare at the wall. He slips down the duvet from your shoulder and brushes his stash against your skin. You curl your posture forward and cross your arm. He grabs your elbow and pulls you back, grazing his teeth against you.
“Don’t do that, baby face,” he warns, “whatsa matter?”
You don’t answer and growl at the empty space of the room. His hand crawls under the blanket and he traces the curve of your side, pinching a love handle meanly so you yipe and swat him away. He grabs your wrists and pulls, forcing you onto your back. He hooks and arm over you as he props his weight up on his other.
“You take the test?”
You sneer at him and the dimple in his cheek betrays his victory.
“So we got a little Hansen Jr. on the way, huh?”
“Doesn’t have to be,” you say, “I’m too old–”
“Ah,” he warns, placing his hand firmly around your chin. “Let’s not even mention that.”
“Lloyd,” you swallow, “I’m too old. I can’t–”
“If you were too old, you wouldn’t be knocked up, now would you?” He squeezes, “I don’t want to hear another word about… that.”
“Still, won’t know for sure until I see the doctor–”
“Which you fucking will be,” he draws his hand down and tickles your neck, “make sure you’re in tip top shape to carry a Lloyd Hansen special.”
“Ew,” you turn your face away and curl your lip.
He pushes the blanket further and fondles your tit. He buries his face in your chest, nipping at you as he purrs. You tense and hold your breath, irritated by his dismissal. Of course, it’s not up to you. Nothing ever is. Nothing ever will be.
He gets to his knees as he shoves the blanket off your entirely. He rips your legs apart and climbs between them, sliding flat on his stomach as you grit your teeth at the ceiling. His breath fans across your pelvis as he hooks his arms around your thighs.
“Sweet cheeks, don’t be like that,” he teases, “what’s up, baby?” He bends and bites your thigh until you whimper, “you think daddy’s gonna lose interest? Mmmm,” he purrs against your leg, “fuck, I’m ready to fucking blow just think of how big your gonna get. Tits, already spectacular, and they’re gonna get even bigger–”
“Shut up—”
“You don’t believe me.”
“I’m pissed at you,” you push on his head before he can bow against your cunt, holding him away from you as you lift yourself on a single elbow, “you’re a fucking psychopath.”
“But I fuck good,” he grins, “so, like, that’s one redeeming quality.”
He snakes his arm out from under one leg and pushes your hand away. He clings to you as he holds your wrists against your stomach as he drops his head down. He delves into you without patience, without shame as his tongue glides between your folds. He breathes you in greedily, lapping at you wildly, only to suck cloyingly on your clit.
You exhale through your nose, voice catching in your throat tightly as you arch into him. You slap his head and snarl. It’s never a very long argument, it always devolves to this. What can you do against this man who can walk into a jewelry store and decide to buy a woman’s dignity as easily as he picks out a new rolex?
Your fingers twine unthinkingly into his hair, your other hand grazing the soft short buzz along the side of his head. You groan as your toes curl, his arm still looped around one leg as his other hand creeps up to grope your chest. He kneads you as his tongue flicks furiously.
Fuck him and the way he plays you so easily. Mentally, spiritually, physically. You will never get a step ahead of him.
His arm tightens around your thigh and he rolls you over, bringing you up onto his face. You squeak at the sudden shift and push yourself up. You feel as if you're suffocating him as he devours you from below. You look down at his hair, set askew by your grasp, his face nestled firmly between your legs.
He hums into you and brings his hand up to your hip, gripping and rocking you over him. You clamp onto your own calf as your thighs strain and your lower back aches dully. You follow his motion, driven by the swirling sensation seeping from your core.
His other hand remains on your chest, tweaking and fondling blindly. You hang your head and shudder, shaking as you try to resist the surge. Pleasure erupts and scatters your nerves, breaking the last of your resolve as you ride out your climax.
He lets you slow, his hand slipping down your ass as he wiggles his face free of your cunt. He puffs as warm wet breath up your pelvis as his hand brushes down your stomach. He licks his lips lewdly as he catches his breath.
Before you can think or speak, he flips you again. You bounce against the mattress as he lifts himself from between your legs, slinging your knees over his elbow as he keeps you bent and splayed. He looks down your body as his tip bobs against your folds.
He slides free an arm, your leg falling around his hip as he frames your lips with his fingers and spreads them. He guides his dick down to your entrance with the vee of his index and middle finger. He dips into you as you claw at the blankets and growl.
“You can’t just fuck this… away,” you gasp.
“Not like I can knock you up again,” he snickers as he bends over you and impales you with a snap of his hips.
You whine and constrict around him as he wiggles his pelvis. He pushes deep until you squirm and hooks his arm under your head. You turn your face away so his lips meet your cheek. He growls and drops his head down to your neck, biting you sharply.
He rocks against you as his hand follows your arm to the wrist. He carries his motion as he leads your touch down his side and along his ass. He spreads your fingers wide across his firm cheek and snarls into your throat. He makes you squeeze him.
He raises his head and his breath glosses into your ear, “put your finger in my ass.”
“Wha–”
“Just do it, baby,” he purrs and curls your fingers tighter, “fucking do it!”
His weight smothers you as he lets your hand go, gripping your hip as he ruts into you, groaning long and low. You close your eyes and tilt your chin up. This fucking man. This pervert. The mustache says it all.
You slide your hand over and try not to think of what you’re doing. You’re not exactly a prude but your ex-husband certainly wasn’t the type and your college ex was a bit too open about his kinks. Still, you can’t compare Lloyd to either of them.
You touch his rippled ring and he growls as he grabs your face and turns it straight. He kisses you, tongue invading your mouth before you can react. You push your finger against him if only to try to deter him. You slip inside and he near bites your tongue, crushing his lips to yours with a snarl. His forehead remains flush with yours as his lips part.
“Deeper,” he urges you.
You obey and he jerks into you harder. He fucks you deeper the further you get. Soon, your flesh is clapping erratically as he throws his head back and unleashes. You feel him quaking as the friction of his thrusts thrum through your clit. You swallow your orgasm as it peaks at the back of your throat, gnashing your teeth as he speeds up.
He pounds into you, unrestrained as he groans and moans, “yeah, that’s it, baby. I’m fucking– gonna–”
He spasms and hangs his head down next to yours as he chases his release. You feel it inside you, slick and hot as he shudders to a stop and it leaks out around him. He falls onto you limp and you pull your finger free, holding it away from you as you lay prone beneath him.
“I wasn’t sure I’d like that,” he rasps as his heart races in his chest, “but damn if you didn’t just unlock something, peaches.”
#lloyd hansen#dark lloyd hansen#dark!lloyd hansen#lloyd hansen x reader#series#unexpected#drabble#dark drabble#dark!drabble#the gray man
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they all want your white body
5 times Alex defends Henry (and Henry is pleasantly surprised) (though he should really know better by now) + 1 time Henry defends Alex (and Alex isn't surprised) (because no matter what anyone says, Henry is the goddamn bravest man he's ever met)
title is from billy joel's 'everybody loves you now'. the whole quote i wanted to use for the title was, "they all want your white body/and they await your reply/but between you and me and the Staten Island Ferry/so do I," but i figured that was too long
cross-posted on ao3
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1. The Charity Gala
As much as Henry wished he could pretend he didn't know the man walking toward him, he knew that once those beady eyes latched onto him, there would be no escaping Mr. George Blackwell.
He had just enough time to whisper, "Run while you still can," into Alex's ear before Blackwell was upon them in all his glinting golden glory. Honestly, where did he find all that precious metal? "Ah, Mr. Blackwell. I'm glad you could make it," Henry bit out, raising his champagne flute to his lips and suddenly wishing for something a bit stronger. His words were at least a kernel of the truth for the man's only redeeming quality at functions such as this was his extensive bank account.
Blackwell gave him a once over. "Yes, good evening, Your Royal Highness." He turned to Alex. "And this must be-"
"Alex Claremont-Diaz, Henry's boyfriend," Alex interrupted, causing Blackwell's face to take on a delightful red color. When Alex stuck his hand out for a handshake, Blackwell hesitated but eventually took it for a fraction of a second.
"That's lovely." He turned back to Henry. "Say, did you hear that George Jr. just finished his enlistment?"
Henry put on his camera smile, the one Alex hated so much, and said, "Is that so?"
Blackwell nodded and continued to prattle on about his son and his particularly bland life with his particularly bland job after his particularly bland whatever, and Henry tuned him out, instead choosing to rub Alex's inner thigh under the safety of the table cloth, at least until one jab broke through the reverie.
"...But it's such a shame nowadays that some men won't take up their proper place to enlist. Real men are becoming few and far between."
Henry nearly rolled his eyes, unfazed by the unoriginal insult.
What did surprise him was Alex. The dark haired man set down his drink, leaned forward, and said, "You're right; it is a shame." Henry raised his eyebrows at him, but Alex didn't stop. "It's a real shame that men still think their masculinity is in jeopardy if they don't have enough dominance over other people."
Blackwell spluttered, but, again, Alex continued. "No, really, I'm so glad a huge chunk of the government's budget is going toward ensuring men like you can get off feeling superior to not just everyone else in your country, but everyone else in the whole world."
Henry didn't think his eyebrows could go any higher, but one look at Blackwell had them trying. Nevertheless, he thought it might be a good idea to take Alex out before he goaded this man into a fist fight.
"I'm ready to go, Alex. How about you?"
Alex glanced at him sheepishly, not looking a bit apologetic, and, honestly, Henry didn't want him to be. Watching Alex argue with bigots only got more fun the longer they were together.
The second they were out in the hall, they both broke down in laughter. Henry could hardly breathe.
"God, did you see his face?" Alex gasped.
Henry nodded, still laughing. "I thought he might hit you!"
"No way he was gonna punch me, not with witnesses."
Henry shook his head, though he was smiling. "I love you so much."
Alex put his hands on Henry's neck and pulled him in for a kiss. "I love you, too."
2. Philip
Henry woke to an empty bed.
Groaning, he flopped his arm across Alex's side in the hopes that his boyfriend was somewhere over there but regretfully came up with nothing.
He decided on a different approach. "Alex?"
There was no answer.
He really didn't want to get up.
David clearly didn't either as he had burrowed into Alex's empty nest of blankets.
Henry got up.
Groggily, he meandered around the upstairs, and, determining Alex wasn't up there, he walked slowly down the stairs and stopped when he heard Alex's voice, tense and angry.
"No, we're not going to do that," he was saying. "No - stop - stop talking...You're not listening to me! We're not doing that because we're not your happy little queers to parade around when you need media points, Philip!"
Ah. Henry sat down on the stairs. This was sure to be an interesting conversation, one that wouldn't make him feel guilty at all.
"Yes, it is. Whether you like it or not, that's exactly what you're trying to do."
There was a moment of silence as Philip said his piece.
"I don't care what your Gran thinks."
Oh, Philip was sure to love that.
"How the hell is this our fault, Philip? You want to control the tabloids? Get better libel laws."
There was the sound of something being slammed on the counter, and then Alex appeared at the bottom of the stair case. He did a double take. "How long have you been sitting there?"
Henry rested his elbow on his knee and his head in his hand. "Long enough. How long have you been up?"
"Only since Philip called, so about a half hour."
Henry winced. "I'm so sorry."
But Alex waved him off. "It's fine. You know how much I love yelling at people for you."
"Still." Henry hummed, then something occurred to him. "Did Philip call you directly?"
It would be incredibly odd if he had. For one, the two had always had a contentious relationship, barely speaking to each other when they were forced to and certainly never going out of their way to converse. For another, Philip knew full well that Henry would be far more willing to lie down and take whatever he had to say.
Alex shook his head. "Your phone started ringing, and I thought it was mine. I didn't want to wake you up."
Henry really should be used to it by now, how considering and amazing Alex was, but it still surprised him every time.
He got up and walked down the stairs, right into Alex's waiting arms. "Thank you for yelling at Philip for me, darling."
"Anytime, sweetheart." They stood there for a moment. "Let's have waffles for breakfast."
"Alright." They broke apart and began gathering the stuff for breakfast. "What did Philip want?"
Alex didn't look up. "Nothing important."
3. The Crown
Merely a week after his and Alex's engagement was released to the public, Henry came home from work to discover a ridiculously large envelope addressed from the Crown stuffed in their mailbox.
Had it been any other day, Henry would have waited until Alex got home to open it to, you know, preserve his mental health, but on this particular day, Alex wouldn't be home for several hours at least, and he was still riding the high from being newly engaged, so he opened it.
That was his first mistake.
His second was attempting to sift through the pages and pages of legal documents and wedding information after a full workday without caffeine in his system.
Immediately, he got a sick feeling in his stomach, the same feeling he used to get when Philip came to Kensington or when news came of Gran delivering her orders. The Crown was trying to control every last aspect of their wedding, from location to color scheme to wedding party.
He was just starting to feel the beginnings of a migraine when his eyes caught on one sentence in particular.
You are to live in Kensington once the honeymoon is over.
No.
They would have to give up everything they had worked for in New York. Alex would never be a politician or a lawyer. They would have to leave the brownstone permanently. No more dreams of a ceremony in Texas.
Just like that, Henry was done. He crossed his arms on the kitchen table and laid his head down. In the back of his head, he pulled out a thought he had been entertaining for weeks now, ever since he'd decided to propose.
There was the sound of the front door opening and shutting, and then David skittered into the foyer, presumably to bring Alex to Henry.
Sure enough, the next thing Henry heard was Alex entering the kitchen. He still didn't raise his head.
"Sweetheart? What's wrong?"
Henry felt tears prick at his eyes. How could he be so horrible, subjecting his wonderful fiance to people like this, people who were so determined to make them suffer?
A hand began carding through his hair, and he heard Alex start pulling papers toward him to examine.
The hand in his hair stopped, and Henry whined. Alex must've figured out what the papers were for because he didn't acknowledge his fiance's groans.
"This is bullshit, babe," Alex said, voice sounding incredibly restrained. Henry appreciated that Alex was trying to remain calm for him, but he'd honestly rather Alex be screaming. It's what he deserved. "They can't force us to do anything."
Henry laughed humorlessly. "As long as it's a royal wedding, they own it."
Alex shook his head. "Fuck 'em-"
"That's not how it works," Henry explained. "They'll make you convert to Anglicanism." His voice dropped. "They'll make us move."
His third mistake was believing the Crown could control him, or, better yet, Alex.
"Fuck that, babe. We can do whatever we want. We can fly to Vegas and elope under the ministrations of fucking Elvis-"
Alex continued like that for a while, and as Henry watched the man he loved most in the world nearly knock over their salt shaker as he gesticulated wildly, Henry knew what he wanted to do.
"I want to abdicate," he said.
Alex stopped suddenly, mouth open, hands still in the air. "You what?"
Henry sat up finally and looked Alex in the eyes. "I want to abdicate."
Looking a bit lost, Alex cleared his throat. "Okay, not that I don't fully support this, but," he paused. "If you're just doing this because of the wedding, there are other options. I wasn't kidding about Vegas-"
Henry shook his head, a fond look on his face. "No, I've been thinking about this for a while. I don't want the Crown holding themselves over us for the rest of our lives. First this, then what? When we have kids, they'll try and force us into surrogacy to preserve the line of succession. They'll fight you on all of your political opinions. We'll never get a break. At least this way, there'll be some degree of separation." He stopped himself, afraid he'd work himself up into crying again.
Alex took Henry's hands then and pulled him closer so he could whisper in his ear. "You're sure?"
Henry nodded, and Alex twisted so he was sitting in his lap. "Well, alright then."
4. Twitter
The article was a joke. It was the kind of thing one was only supposed to see at the checkout of a grocery store, but somehow, the internet got a hold of it, and now it was plastered on every social media site everywhere.
But seriously, who would believe that Henry has murdered someone? All of Twitter, apparently, because he had been getting notifications about it all day, even though he was the least likely of all the royal siblings (and the Super Six, really), to murder someone. The article didn't even name the person he had supposedly killed, simply saying it was a boy from Eton.
Henry tried to tell Alex it was just another rumor that would die out in a week, especially with as ridiculous as it was, but Alex insisted on saying something. At least Henry had convinced him not to address it directly, knowing acknowledging it would only give it power.
In the end, Henry turned off Twitter for a week and put Shaan in charge of his phone.
When he finally looked at Twitter again, the first thing he saw was a post from Alex.
[image of Henry reading on the couch with David curled on his stomach]
Happy Tuesday to the most amazing person I've ever met. Hen, I'll stand by you in everything you do because you've never done anything wrong in your life. Love you, sweetheart!
Little shit.
5. Henry himself
As soon as Henry woke up, he knew it was going to be a bad day. The distance from the bed to the hallway seemed like infinity, and he barely found the strength to roll over. Alex was nowhere to be found, and Henry hoped he would be gone at least until Henry mustered the energy to at least leave the bed. He hated people seeing him like this, even if having Alex here would probably make.him feel so much better.
He laid there for another hour? Two hours? Henry didn't know, but at some point, Alex quietly opened the bedroom door and came to sit next to Henry.
"Hey, sweetheart. How you feeling?" He set something on the bedside table and turned back to Henry, carding his fingers through his hair. "And don't lie."
Henry blinked his eyes open, awed that Alex knew something was wrong before Henry had even woken up. "Not great."
Alex hummed. "I brought you tea and Jaffa Cakes for whenever you're ready." He stood from the bed, and Henry watched him walk around to the other side. He closed his eyes and felt the bed dip as Alex laid down, curling around Henry in a parenthesis.
"How did you know?" Henry whispered, finding himself caring more about the answer than he really has any right to.
Alex made a confused noise. "Babe, it's 1:30." Henry didn't have it in him to be surprised, but he was sure when he was feeling better, it would hit him hard. "I figured you were either feeling bad or coming down with something."
An arm came down around Henry's middle. "I'm sorry. I know this isn't easy for you."
Alex shook his head against Henry's back. "It's the easiest thing in the world, sweetheart."
+1. The Queen
"I simply cannot allow this. You will release a statement in the morning rescinding the announcement.
Alex didn't have to look at the queen to know she had that stupid little smug look on her face, the one that meant she was being a bitch, a bitch to her grandchildren no less.
Alex also didn't have to look at Henry to know that he had one of his various press faces on, the one that signaled practiced neutrality. It was better than the press smile, but not by much.
"No, they won't be doing that," Catherine said. "For one, you can't control whether or not they're engaged." That's great, Alex thought, except she actually could. "Ignoring that, they can't rescind now without you coming off horribly in the press."
Again, that would be great if she didn't believe the entirety of the UK's population were huge homophobes, something Alex would say if he could get a word in without being interrupted by a certain someone.
Mary started again. "The country is simply not ready-"
Suddenly, Henry clutched Alex's thigh hard enough to elicit a gasp, and everyone's eyes turned to them. "That's enough."
And, holy shit, Alex's jaw fucking dropped because Henry just interrupted the queen of England. Well. Alex had always wondered what being beheaded felt like.
Mary opened her mouth to say something, but Henry held up a hand. Yep, they were 100% dead. "No, I've sat here and listened for long enough. You know what I came here to tell you today?" He took a deep breath, and, alright, this wasn't how they'd discussed breaking the news, but, apparently, this was happening. "I'm abdicating."
The room went silent as everyone processed the news. Bea, of course, already knew, and simply sipped her coke, but Philip's face was completely white. Catherine's eyes were wide, betraying a glint of pride. Queen Mary, though-
"Over him?" she said, poise slipping minutely. "You would give up your birthright and embarrass your family for this American man?"
She said it with such disdain that Alex tried not to be offended, and he had to try even harder to keep his mouth shut.
Henry, it seemed, was not taking the same precautions. Alex squeezed his hand in support. "Yes, Gran, I would." He stood, taking Alex with him. "I love him, and I don't want to have to hide my whole life. I don't need your prejudice. I'm done."
With that, he dragged Alex from the room, leaving behind the open mouthed stares. As soon as they were out in the hall, Alex had Henry up against the wall, mouths pressed together. It wasn't nearly the sexiest place or situation they'd ever been in, but goddamn if Alex wasn't hard as a rock.
"I love you so much," he murmured into his fiance's mouth. "You're so damn brave."
Henry pulled back abruptly to burrow his head in Alex's neck, and Alex brought up a hand to rub his back. "You did amazing in there."
For a second, Alex thought Henry was about to start crying, until he whispered, "It's all because of you."
That really made Alex's heart swell. It was too bad it was wrong. "No, sweetheart. That's all you."
#firstprince#rwrb#red white and royal blue#casey mcquiston#fanfic#rwrb fanfic#firstprince fanfic#ao3 link#my fic#my writing#my fanfic#alex claremont diaz#henry fox mountchristen windsor#henry and alex#henry x alex#alex x henry#rwrb fic#firstprince fic#5 + 1 things#5 + 1 fic#5+1 things#fluff#angst#humor#alex and henry
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