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#so i decided to make a lighthearted thing in my head

yanderenightmare · 3 months

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TW: noncon/dubcon, bullying, reader wears glasses

gn reader

Thinking about jock bully hunting you down after the bell rings...

You hurry – haphazardously shoving your books and pens into your bag before slinging it over your shoulder – ready to get out before the chimes are even done singing.

Thankfully, it seemed fine for now as you couldn't hear the roaring of buzzing students in the hallway just yet, only your own class packing up their belongings with movements rather lazy compared to yours.

But you couldn't afford to take your time – even with the free period following the end of your class. You needed to leave before he could find you.

"Where’ you off to in such a hurry, Specs?"

You ought to have knocked on wood before finishing your thought – you admonished yourself with eyes squeezed tightly shut and a punishing bite to your lower lip.

It's funny – you winced – how his voice is so casual, so breezy and laidback, all cool and friendly – funny how it sends such spiky goosebumps down your spine.

You ignore him, trying to squeeze past him – quick and dexterous as you attempt to slip away and disappear out the door – maybe be so lucky to lose him in the crowd.

"Whoa, whoa- you tryna run off on me?" He joked. His large hands held up to block your way.

You watch the rest of your classmates leave – leaving you to fend for yourself. But you couldn't really blame them… none of you wanted to explain new bruises to worried parents at home.

He was like a shark circling, and if he smelt blood in the water, you were as good as done for. And you were like an open cut.

"Now, what did I do to deserve a disappearing act, huh?" He pouted. His head tilted, blocking out the lights in the ceiling, shadowing his already scary face.

You nearly squeaked instead of speaking. "Please- I- I-"

"Calm down, will yah?" He dismissed. Flashing you a wide smile – the one that nearly fooled you into believing he was a good and decent guy. "I ain't come to pick on yah…"

You didn't listen. Once again, you bravely tried to push past him with your bag squeezed tightly to your chest – trying to rush to the door.

But his size was like the door itself. Big and squared. Muscly and tough as he blocked your way effortlessly. Though, no less bothered with your insistent attempt at running away from him.

"Now, when I tell you to do something-" He laughed passive-aggressively as his hand reached out to clutch the handle on your bag, yanking you back. "You should perk up and listen, yeah? Use that head of yours for something useful for once."

His knee rode up between your thighs – making you whimper where you stood, caged between his thick arms and the desk behind you.

"Wouldn't wanna make me angry now, do yah?"

His breath tickled your face, and you bowed your head under his gaze – unable to take your eyes off of the veins flexing along his beefy arms as his large hands gripped the table’s edge, sleeves rolled up like usual – the sight of his knuckles whitening, making you queasy with unease.

You tried ducking away once again. "Please, I need to-"

But he just clicked his tongue at the measle effort. Cutting you off yet again.

"You don't need to do anything but stand here and entertain me." He decided with a voice a bit more biting than before.

You jolted, your eyes round and wide as you looked back up into his glare.

He laughed out a lighthearted chuckle before his hand broke off from marring the desk – scratching the back of his neck with an apologetic smile – serving a small effort at easing your worries where you stood tense and rigid in your place in front of him.

"Thing is…” He started once again, his tone back to normal – or whatever he wanted you to think was his normal. “Coach is gonna kick me off the team if I don’t get my grades in order.” He explained. “So’s thinkin’ since you’re such a good little nerd, you wouldn’t mind helpin’ me out.”

His hand reached out to tickle your chin.

“M’sure havin’ a cute little nerd-tutor like you is exactly what I need.”

Your throat was so tight you thought you might just choke. “I don’t-”

“Good!” He boasted over your pitiful protest. “Since y’got nothin’ better to do, how ‘bout we just head straight for my dorm right now?” He asked – though you knew better than to think it was a question. “Le’me carry that for yah-”

He yanked your backpack from your chest, ripping it out of the tight hug before throwing it over his own shoulder.

“I can carry you too if yah want?” He posed – smirk loud on his face as he placed his large paws at your waist – followed quickly by you shooting your arms forward to shove him off in protest.

But though you thought you’d put in some strength behind it, the boy in front didn’t budge at all.

He just arched a brow as though asking if that was really all you had. And you hoped dearly he couldn’t see how the stiff muscles of his shredded chest had actually strained your wrists instead.

“What do you say, short stuff?” He leaned in, his breath foggy on your glasses and hot on your cheeks, as his hands clawed themselves into the fat of your waist, pulling you off your feet just a bit.

“N- no, thank you.” You stuttered out, stumbling a bit as you braced yourself against him. Your eyes squished close as you bowed your head away from him in a mix of fear and embarrassment while you suppressed the mortifying feeling of nearly pissing yourself.

But the tall boy realized little of your inner turmoil – rather enjoying it as he scoffed out an amused laugh at you. “A'ight then, come on.”

He yanked you along – his large paw gripping your arm as you struggled to keep up with his long strides. Nearly needing to resort to jogging where you otherwise tripped when the gap between the two of you became so large you had to skip a step or two to catch up – and before you even realized it, you were already standing outside the boy’s dorm waiting for him to find his keys.

He unlocked the door and welcomed you inside with the same grace of a warden showing a prisoner to their cell – with the weight and breadth of his warm hand on the small of your back as he nudged you inside.

The room had an overwhelming dank scent of both bodyspray and sweat and other things you’d only expect to smell in a boy’s locker room.

“Yo.” Came another voice from inside.

“Sup, roomie.” Your bully replied lazily. Grinning at how you gripped his shirt, all but jumping into hiding behind him.

You’re cute…

“Who’s that you got there?” His friend arched a brow at you, where you peaked at him from behind your bully’s sleeve.

“I’mma need the room.” He announced, not really answering the question.

The roommate then scoffed with a grin, beholding you with slim eyes for a moment, then scoffed once more before he got up to leave.

“Don’t hit the books too hard – Coach’ll have your ass if you don’t bring your A-game later.” He warned, pulling his gym bag up on his shoulder as he excused himself.

You looked around once he was gone, spotting dumbbells and other equipment – and quickly realized how there must be many more muscles beneath his shirt than what you’d already borne witness.

“So- uhm-” Swallowing the lump in your throat, you awkwardly turned to the boy. “Where're your books?”

Your bully smiled, taking a casual step toward you. “My books?” He asked, nowhere near even trying to sound the least bit genuinely confused.

“Your- uhm...” You paused, feeling uneasy. “Textbooks?”

His smile sharpened. “That’s cute.” He mocked sweetly while buttoning up the small black buttons of his white uniform shirt, giving a flash of those muscles you’d been anxiously anticipating. “You actually thought we were gonna study?”

BNHA – Bakugou, Kirishima, Shigaraki, Dabi, Hawks

JJK – Sukuna, Geto, Gojo, Naoya, Toji

HQ – Bokuto, Iwaizumi, Sakusa, Miya twins, Tendou, Ukai

AOT – Eren

DS – Akaza, Sanemi

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krkiiz · 4 months

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sly swordsman . luke castellan x reader

luke decides to distract you by confessing in the middle of a duel

luke castellan x f!reader , reader is the daughter of apollo , luke being head over heels , confessions , fluff , slight teasing

note : sorry if there are lots of mistakes, i wrote this on my phone with nail extensions and it’s so hard to type pls help 😭😭 apologies for grammars n errors, i’ll edit them tmrw hehe (also this is my first time writing pjo n fight scenes so i hope it’s decent!)

let me know your thoughts ! likes, reblogs, and comments appreciated <3

“Let’s go Kayla! Beat his ass!” Shout one of your fellow half-siblings along with boos from the opposing side.

Clanking of swords can be heard from miles away. Today the children of Hermes and Apollo are scheduled to a joint swordsmanship practice. Where the two cabins will have to engage on a 1v1 duel against another.

Right now stands in the center of the battlefield is your half sister Kayla, along with one of Hermes’ son. Kayla is known to be a skilled archer just like any of Apollo’s children. But that doesn’t mean she can’t beat the swift son of Hermes.

The battle ends her sword pointed right at his throat as he gives a sign of defeat to his opponent. The children of Apollo cheers with glee as they congratulate their half sister.

The two retreat, their places soon replaced by none other than their head counselors. Luke and you approach the center of the battlefield as your fellow half-siblings watch in anticipation.

It is so secret that Luke is an outstanding swordsman. As his skills rivals Ares and Athena’s children themselves, you knew he was a challenging opponent.

Well that’s a good thing you love challenges.

“I admit my defeat on our archery battle last week. But now, let me show you how good I am with the blade, Yn.” He smirks as the two of you start circling one another.

“Must’ve hurt your ego, Castellan.” A chuckle left your lips like honey and Luke suppresses the butterflies swarming in his stomach.

“Let’s see how good you really are, Son of Hermes.”

The two of you got in your positions, fingers tightly gripping on the sword and the shield, waiting for a sign to charge.

The hornet blows and Luke wastes no time to charge forward. The point of his blade almost piercing the epidermis of your skin before you block him with your own sword.

Luke knows better than to underestimate you. Sure, you are the daughter of the god of Archery, not swordsmanship. But everyone knows that you are an outstanding dancer and you treat the battlefield like it is your stage.

Your movements swift and laced with elegance. It’s always extremely difficult to predict your next moves. Your footing carefully calculated as you deflect all of his upcoming attacks.

Luke is also quick to encounter your offense as he blocks the side your blade that was aiming at his neck.

With such close proximity, Luke can see how the sun compliments your e/c irises. Complimenting every contrast and detail of the pupil.

Gods were your eyes always this beautiful? Were you always this beautiful?

Luke feels himself caught in a trance just for a second before earning back his composure. But one second is enough for you trip his leg leading him to fall right on his back as he looses his grip on his sword.

The sides of your blade nearly makes contact with his neck as you lay above him giving him a look of triumph.

“Yn, have I told you how beautiful you look on top of me right now?” The boy starts causing you to roll your eyes and scoff at his antics.

“Yeah, try again because that’s not going to work on me, Luke.” You press the blade against his adam’s apple causing him to wince slightly.

The crowd wonders on what was happening and why hasn’t Luke gave a sign of defeat knowing well that being under your sword doesn’t give him a good chance at winning.

They fail to see how his right hand is slowly reaching discreetly trying to get ahold of his fallen blade.

Luke lets out a lighthearted chuckle, his eyes never leaving yours. “I like you, Yn. Let’s go on a date.”

Now this caught you off guard. “What?”

The sly swordsman took your state to his advantage as he unclasps his knee from your hold and flipped your positions, your sword disregard in the process.

With his blade firm in his right hand, now it’s his turn to reside his sword against your neck, just like you did to him a few seconds ago.

You try fighting back but he just tuts and starts applying more pressure to his blade before you finally give the sign of defeat.

The Hermes cabin roared with glee congratulating their win, knowing that their head counselor will never fail them.

Luke quickly stands his ground giving you a helping hand, in which you accepted with a smile. He pulls you up against him, the sudden movement made you loose your footing but he’s quick to steady you with his free hand placed on your waist.

“So, about that date.”

©️ sirena | krkiiz 2023

#luke castellan x reader #luke castellan x you #luke castellan #pjo x reader #percy jackson x reader #percy jackon and the olympians #percy jackson #pjo series #pjo tv show

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vivmaek · 6 months

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ASTROLOGY OBSERVATIONS PART EIGHT (positive vibes only <3)

This was originally going to be another roast. But tbh, my heart has been feeling heavy the past few months. I'm sure some of you can relate, especially with all the events currently occurring in our world. So, I decided to focus on what I love most about certain placements in an effort to spread a little positivity.

✿ Aries Moons stand up and fight for the people they care about. They won’t let their friends be belittled within their presence, they have your back. They’re the first to speak out on injustice and will take action to make things right.

❀ People who have Gemini in the 8th house ask questions that matter. They invoke deep thoughts within other people and are unafraid to explore topics that are uncomfortable or taboo.

✿ Those who have a Moon Sextile Venus aspect know how to make others feel loved. They pay attention to their loved ones, and give each and every one of them the special attention that they deserve. These people are relationship builders.

❀ Libra Venus, how does it feel to be god's favorite? These types invoke good feelings in other people. They’re so sweet and have hearts of gold. Good friends and romantic companionships are easy for them to find because their affection comes from a place of authenticity.

✿ People with Saturn in the 7th house wait for what's right for them. They take their commitments seriously and don’t play around with people's feelings. They respect their romantic partners. Their firm boundaries lead to successful relationships.

❀ Walking earth angels have a Sun trine Neptune aspect. They have a divine presence and they don’t get tied up within their own ego. People look to them for spiritual guidance. They uplift the souls of others.

✿ Aquarius Mercurys aren’t afraid to evoke controversy. Sometimes this is needed in the world. If there's an elephant in the room, they’ll point out the obvious. They formulate their own unique thoughts, and are not easily influenced.

❀ People who have their Moon placed within the 4th house know how to make a home. As someone who was raised by a person with this placement, I truly reaped the benefits of this. They keep family traditions alive, or even start new ones. They understand the importance of family and act as the glue that holds everything together.

✿ Those who have a Uranus trine Ascendant aspect make life more interesting. Without them, the world would be a boring place. There is no one like them, and they cannot be replaced. Their quirky nature is endearing. They are such a breath of fresh air.

❀ Taurus Mercurys are so level headed that it has a calming effect upon the people who surround them. They take things slow and are not quick to jump to conclusions. Within group projects or endeavors, they are at the heart of it. People can depend on them.

✿ People who have Uranus in the 10th house prove to others that you can lead an unconventional life and still find success. They don’t follow the rules, and don’t rely on tradition for stability. They inspire others through their free spirit.

❀ When someone has a Venus sextile Saturn aspect within their birth chart, they make relationships that last a lifetime. These people are loyal friends and they know how to maintain the longevity of a relationship. They show up for people when needed and they never make a promise that they can’t keep.

✿ People with a Gemini Venus teach other people how to have fun within relationships. They love innocently and there are no strings attached. They make their friends and loved ones feel like a kid again when in their presence. Their lighthearted approach to love is comedic, they live life as if it were a rom-com.

❀ Cancer 1st housers are quiet leaders. They approach life with a healthy level of confidence. As a leader, they still treat their subordinates with the respect they deserve. They don’t forget about the little people, and are attentive to people who are struggling.

✿ A Saturn trine Neptune aspect allows the native to grow significantly when faced with opposition and challenge. They understand the importance of spiritual lessons, and go out of their way to right their wrongs. They don’t lose sight of what they’re working towards, and won’t lose their sense of morality once they achieve success.

❀ Libra Moons remind people how important it is to incorporate pleasure into life. Working hard means nothing if you don’t stop and appreciate the benefits you’ve gained. Having an appreciation for the little things doesn't mean they’re materialistic.

✿ Uranus 7th houses maintain independence within relationships and don’t lose sight of who they are. They are not going to change who they are just so a relationship can function. They march to the beat of their own drum, you can dance to the music or move along.

❀ People with a Mercury trine Ascendant aspect bring humor into this world. Of course, they’re incredibly smart and their academic skills are impressive. However, they still don’t take themselves too seriously and are full of witty remarks. They share the best memes and are always in the know.

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talkdutchtome · 5 months

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Do you know this tiktok trend where girls tell guys about paying at the mechanic's for premium air for their cars 😭 could you write a fic where y/n does that prank to Max?

"Premium Air?" - Max Verstappen

pairing . . . max verstappen x reader )

genre . . . fluff )

wc . . . 825 words )

read my other work . . . here )

request something . . . here )

“Oh Maxy, I was supposed to mention, I took your car to be serviced. I know you’ve been so busy lately I thought I’d do that and give you one less thing to worry about” You said to your boyfriend, trying your hardest to suppress any giggles that wanted to escape. Your phone sat propped up on the bookshelf, strategically hidden so Max didn't notice.

You had been seeing so many videos on TikTok where girls would prank their boyfriends or husbands by convincing them that they had bought “premium air” for the tires of their cars; and you decided that since so much of Max’s life revolved around cars, it would be the perfect way to prank him.

“Oh, thank you very much baby, that’s kind of you, everything okay with it?” he said, never lifting his head up from his phone.

“You’re welcome, yeah everything was okay they just said something about low tire pressure or something? I don’t really remember but I sorted it.” You said, fighting the mischievous grin that is trying to take its place on your face. At your words Max finally lifts his head up and looked at you, his brows furrowed.

“Really are you sure? They seemed to be fine last time I drove it” his voice has a hint of concern lacing though it, clearly unsure where this is leading.

“I’m not sure, that’s what the man said anyway. But I got it sorted. I even sprung for the premium air for you!” Your excitement was clear and the second the words left your lips, Max put his phone down, his full attention now on you. Confusion was etched on his face, his brows furrowed, and his lips pressed tightly in a fine line.

“Premium air?” he questioned

You nod enthusiastically, maintaining your poker face. "Yeah! It's the latest thing. It makes your car run smoother, improves fuel efficiency, and who knows, maybe it even adds a few extra horsepower."

Max looks at you like you’ve got two heads and you come so close to ruining the whole prank and bursting out laughing.

“Premium air?” he asked again, like he couldn’t find any other words to respond to your ridiculousness. “How much did this premium air cost you?” he asked with a bemused smile, that smile however, dropped as soon as you answered his question.

“Oh, it was a steal! Like €150 a tire.”

His eyebrows shot up in disbelief. "€150 per tire? Are you serious Y/N? There's no such thing as premium air!"

You feign innocence, "Oh, come on, Maxy, it's a special service they offered. You can't put a price on a smooth ride” Max sighs, a mix of frustration and amusement on his face.

"Baby, I think you’ve been scammed. There's no such thing as premium air. Next time, let me know before you spend money on something like this."

You play dumb, widening your eyes in mock surprise. "Scammed? But how could I buy it if it doesn't exist?"

Max laughs, shaking his head. "You're too precious. Next time, let me come with you to the garage, okay? I'll make sure you don't fall for any tricks."

You're left feeling a bit confused. Most of the prank videos you’ve seen end with frustration or annoyance, but Max seems more amused than anything else.

As you sit there, still feeling a bit bewildered by Max's surprisingly lighthearted reaction, you gather the courage to ask him the burning question. "Hey, Max," you begin cautiously, "why aren't you mad at me?"

He looks at you with genuine confusion. "Mad? What do you mean?"

You take a deep breath and decide it's time to come clean. "The whole premium air thing—it was a prank," you admit, pointing discreetly at the camera you had strategically placed in the room to capture his reaction.

Max's eyes widen in realization, and he breaks into a hearty laugh. "You got me!" he exclaims, playfully pushing you.

You can't help but smile at his reaction, relieved that he found it amusing. "Seriously, though, why aren't you mad? Everyone else in those prank videos gets upset."

Max wraps an arm around you, pulling you closer. "I didn't want to make you feel bad," he confesses. "You were just trying to do something nice for me, and I didn't want to ruin that by getting angry over a harmless mistake” You look up at him, touched by his understanding and kindness. "But I wasted money on something that doesn't exist. You could have been really mad." He leans down, placing a gentle kiss on your forehead. "Money comes and goes, but you trying to make me happy means the world to me.”

"I love you," you say, a mixture of gratitude and affection in your voice.

Max smiles, his eyes filled with warmth. "I love you too, baby. Just remember, next time you decide to prank me, I'll be one step ahead."

#f1 fanfic #f1 x reader #formula 1 #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen #max verstappen x y/n #formula 1 fanfic #formula 1 x you #formula one x reader #f1 imagine

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wordstome · 4 months

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könig as the nutcracker 🥹🥹

you just brought some terrible sleeping beast out of me, anon.

nutcracker prince König x fem reader (mostly gender neutral but you're wearing a dressing gown)

tw: mouse murder???

He's a very odd looking nutcracker, all things considered, but you can't take your eyes off of him.

"If it's a nutcracker why does it have that stupid veil over its face?" Your brother asks, noisily crunching candies between his molars. You glare at him, both for the rude remark and for chewing with his mouth open.

"This is a special one," your aunt gushes. "He's based off of a legendary soldier who never showed his face on the battlefield. One of a kind, from a specialty toy shop.”

"How interesting..." You muse, gently rubbing the fabric of the veil between your fingers. It's sturdy fabric, but still soft to the touch.

"He was probably ugly as hell," your brother declares. You swat him, and he only cackles and gets up to graze at some more sweets.

"Maybe you should try covering that ugly mug up once in a while," you call after him. He pelts you with a walnut shell.

Your aunt shakes her head fondly. "This one's not just decorative," she says. "He's a real nutcracker by Steinbach."

You look at her, wide-eyed. "So he can crack nuts?"

She nods and tosses you a hazelnut. "Try it."

You lift the wooden man's veil a little to put the hazelnut in his mouth. You could just pull the whole thing up and out of the way, but that feels almost...forbidden? You're not sure why you feel this way—he's just a piece of wood, after all, and he probably doesn't even have anything painted on underneath the veil other than those vibrant blue eyes. But even so, you're hesitant to unmask him.

Cracking the nut works like a charm, though, and some childish excitement bubbles up inside you as the remnants of the cracked hazelnut spill into your palm. "That's incredible!" you gush, running your thumb over the nutcracker's lacquered uniform.

"What do you mean incredible, that's what nutcrackers are for." Your brother returns, a few walnuts rolling around in his palm. He holds his other hand out. "Give him here."

"No. You called him ugly, so he's mad at you," you say, teasing him by holding the nutcracker out of his reach.

Your brother rolls his eyes. "Give it here, you little shit."

"Crack your own nuts," you shoot back. "This is my nutcracker."

He makes another grab for it, and this time he manages to grab the nutcracker's arm. It's only a lighthearted tussle between siblings as you shove at your brother and he refuses to let go of the nutcracker's arm—until it's not.

A terrible snapping of breaking wood causes you to gasp. The two of you stumble away from each other from the force, your brother holding a tiny wooden arm in his hand. He's just pulled it clean off. On closer inspection, your idiot brother has somehow managed to Hulk-rip the arm piece off of the piece that fits inside the socket. "This is a brand new nutcracker, how did you fuck it up?!" you cry.

"Hey, you should have—" Your brother takes one look at your expression and decides not to give you a hard time. "Look, I'm sorry. I was too rough on it. Sit tight for a second." You sit there, numbly staring at the pieces of your poor nutcracker. Really, it's your fault too—why didn't you just let him have the damn thing?

And why is this upsetting you so much? The nutcracker's just a decoration, albeit one with a little more function than most. You feel a sort of attraction to this little wooden man in your hand, though. Maybe it's because his unique design is interesting, or maybe it's because you're intrigued by the idea of a masked soldier who never shows his face. Either way, he was your gift anyway, so it's not that unusual that you're attached to him...right?

"Here, let me see him." Your brother's back, but to your horror, he's holding a pair of needle-nose pliers. "Absolutely not," you respond, jumping up from where you were sitting on the floor. "You are not getting anywhere near my nutcracker with those things. You're just going to fuck it up even more."

"It'll be fiiine," he insists, clicking the pliers open and closed like some maniacal toy surgeon. You're not sure you like the devious glint in his eye. Your brother's a nice guy for the most part, but sometimes he gets this look in his eye that you imagine Dr Frankenstein must have had when he was assembling his creation.

You hold the nutcracker and his detached arm protectively to your chest. "I'll figure out how to fix him in the morning with glue or something," you insist. "I don't need you poking around with pliers and splintering the wood."

"Are you sure? I am sorry, for what it's worth."

You wave him off. You're still kind of mad at him, but you're both adults. You'll live. "Don't worry about it. I think I'm going to head to bed soon, anyway."

"You should keep his arm with him, dear," you aunt pipes up. She had gone into the kitchen during the whole ordeal, but had probably heard everything go down. "Tape it to his side or something. You wouldn't want to lose it."

That's a good idea, you muse, examining your poor amputated nutcracker. You're just about to take her suggestion when you get an idea.

Your brother checks in with you later, right before he goes to bed as well. "You can't be serious," he says. "You made him an arm sling?"

You tie the knot on the little scrap of cloth around the little wooden man's arm nice and snug. "Oh, I'm dead serious," you say. "Doesn't he look cute?"

Your brother lets out a resigned sigh. "Yeah. Sure."

The rest of the evening is relatively uneventful. You put the nutcracker in your room, right on top of the dresser, while you go about your bedtime routine. It always brings you a bit of joy to walk out of the bathroom and see him there, standing tall and proud.

Well, your evening would have been uneventful...had you not bolted awake in bed an hour or two later.

You're groggy and confused, trying to figure out what the hell is going on, when you hear the cacophony of noise. It sounds like footsteps, dozens upon dozens of them, stampeding through your walls. And then the mice show up.

They crawl up from the corners and the floorboards, swarming across your room. You're too terrified to move or even scream out, sure that you must be having some terrible nightmare or hallucination.

And then your nutcracker moves.

You're absolutely positive now that you must be dreaming, watching frozen from your bed as your nutcracker leaps down from your dresser as if he's a living, breathing man and beginning to fight the mice. And he's even...talking?

"Finally, some worthy adversaries!" you hear him cry. You gape at this bloodthirsty little soldier as he beats through mouse after mouse with his tiny sword.

It's an impossible battle, you think. There's no way he can take all those mice alone, and with one injured arm aside...you're usually pretty squeamish when it comes to dubious little animals, but you can't just leave your nutcracker to be overwhelmed. Besides, this is all a dream, so nothing matters, right?

There's one mouse, larger than the others, who's at the back of the pack, squeaking as if giving orders. You're having quite a wild dream, honestly, because the mouse is even wearing a little crown. Like a king, you think with some amusement. You reach over the edge of your bed to pick the mouse up by the scruff.

You're not quite sure what happens next. One moment, the mouse is chattering angrily at you, the next you're on the floor. At first you think you've simply lost your balance and fallen onto the floor, but when you scramble to your feet, you nearly fall over again as you take in your surroundings.

You've shrunk.

Your bedroom is cavernous above your head, your bedposts and furniture as tall as skyscrapers. And worse still, the mice are huge too: the once palm-sized mouse king is now as large as you are, sneering down at you from his snout. You didn't even know mice could sneer.

You yelp and throw yourself to the side to dodge one of the mice lunging at you. "It's time to wake up," you mutter to yourself through clenched teeth. "It would be really really nice to wake up right about now...!"

The mice are unrelenting, a vicious gleam in their eyes as they nip at your heels. They manage to corner you against a piece of furniture, snapping their jaws menacingly. All you can think to do is pray as they draw ever closer, their breath hot as they crowd around you—

A sword neatly lops off the head of one of the mice in front of you.

You gasp and look upwards to see your nutcracker looming above you, his sword gleaming in the low light of your bedroom. He's incredibly menacing at this size, his veil becoming intimidating rather than charming. You're far smaller than him now—if he had been a normal sized man, he would have easily cleared six feet. His eyes are vibrant and intense, staring down at you for a brief moment before they turn back towards his enemy.

You sit there, stock-still in awe as you watch him mow through his adversaries. It takes you a moment to realize you probably shouldn't be hanging around and gawping. Good thing, too, because your knight in shining lacquer is too distracted to notice he's being snuck up on. The larger mouse is creeping up behind him, a wicked glint in its eye.

"No!" you cry. Thinking fast, you pull off your slipper and chuck it at the mouse's head, stunning it. I can't believe that actually worked, you think.

You have to give your nutcracker some credit, his reflexes are wicked-sharp. In a single heartbeat, he's run the mouse king through with his sword. He cuts an imposing figure, his eyes sharp and deadly. But there's a sort of glee in them as well, the kind of thing that should make you uneasy.

It doesn't.

The rest of the mice, seeing their leader fallen, beat a hasty retreat, tugging the corpses of their fallen comrades along with them. You watch them, fascinated, until all that remains of the bloody conflict are a few tiny pools of blood streaked along your floorboards.

"I must thank you," comes the voice of your nutcracker. You look at him, unsure of what to say. You're welcome for throwing a shoe at a giant mouse to keep it from killing you?

"I...of course," is what eventually comes out. You smooth out your dressing gown in a futile effort to look presentable. "I couldn't let him hurt you."

The nutcracker tilts his head curiously. "You don't know me."

"Of course I do. You're my nutcracker," you say, instantly feeling silly once the words leave your mouth. You just received him as a gift, and you only just found out he was sentient anyway. You don't know why you feel so protective...

He shifts his injured arm, the sling still in place. "You bound my arm, as well."

You flush with embarrassment. "I-it was the least I could do," you stammer. "I shouldn't have let my brother do that. Really, it was my own fault—" Your words die in your throat as the nutcracker moves in close to you, so close that you can feel his body heat. Since when did he have body heat?

"Pretty," he murmurs under his breath. You stare at him, dumbfounded. Is your nutcracker...hitting on you?

Suddenly, you snap back to your senses. "Oh my God," you exclaim, staring down at yourself and then back towards your surroundings. "I'm still small. And I haven't woken up yet. Am I dreaming? I must be dreaming. Please tell me I'm dreaming." You pinch your skin, letting out a small exclamation when it hurts. But you still don't wake up.

"Hmm...you won't solve your predicament that easily, little one," the nutcracker muses.

"Wha—do you know how to fix this?"

"I have a hunch," he responds, brow furrowing. You hadn't noticed eyebrows on him when you were examining him earlier in the evening, you note.

"Do tell."

"You've had a curse placed on you, but I don't know how to break it. I do, however, know someone who might know how."

"Well then take me to them!" You stare at him beseechingly. You watch as several indecipherable emotions run through his eyes, then he nods.

You visibly relax. "Thank you."

"You'll have to trust me. You may find the whole process a little...fantastical."

"More fantastical than my nutcracker coming to life and fighting an army of mice on my bedroom floor?" you ask, cocking an eyebrow. His eyes crinkle in a way that must mean he's smiling.

"More fantastical than that," he says. He offers you a hand like a true gentleman, and to your shock, it feels like flesh, not wood. His grip is firm but soothing, his hand so huge it dwarfs your own.

"Let's do this, then."

uhhhhhhh wow this got kinda long I had to cut it short. I'll probably write a part 2? But it's gotta wait because I've got a gazillion other things to write first :P Thank you for the inspiration, anon! 🥺

#yes this König has blue eyes #könig #konig #könig x reader #konig x reader #könig x you #konig x you #könig fanfiction #konig fanfiction #könig cod #konig cod #könig call of duty #cod #call of duty

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mysacredmuse · 2 months

Text

more about loser in love Aventurine <3 (hopefully this is more articulated, last thing I wrote was literally a 2 minute brainstorm with no coherency lol), kinda a mix of pre-relationship and loser in love bf Aventurine :3 of course, this is all lovingly and lighthearted :)

let me know if you'd like more or share your own thoughts! also, I want to write a bit about soft bf! Aventurine, biting my hands so hard not to do it here because . . . thoughts are too loud

dividers by @/cafekitsune :)

Panics with no filter as soon as you are out of his sight. You could be walking down the street together when suddenly something catches your attention making you quickly run away from him. Aventurine will literally freeze for a moment, anxious eyes looking for you as the only thing that slips past his lips is "where are you? where did you go?" as he turns his head around hoping for the best. As he finally spots you, a huge sigh of relief leaves his body. He would scold you with such seriousness, how dare you leave him behind without a word? He isn't a babysitter to watch your every move, so try and behave!

As soon as you reply to him, explaining that you don't need a babysitter, fully capable of taking care of yourself and that he is just an overreacting drama king...he just gasps. How dare you ruin his only method of making himself seem semi-normal? Anyhow, he ignores your rationality and the fact you are not dependent on him in a way that he is on you, in the process making a new decision - as this happens...a lot, he decides to use it as an oppprtunity and a lame excuse for you to hold his hand every time you go out together.

He tries to act like it's not a big deal, but internally he is all over the place as the two of you walk holding hands. (he will get teased for this years later)

He is also a needy for attention type of loser with no personal space who texts you all the time. When he isn't texting, he would call you anytime he can, which seems to be a lot. Even if there is nothing to have a conversation about, he is just asking the same questions...over and over again.

"so, what are you doing?"

"mhm, have you eaten?"

"how are you feeling?"

"mhm, is there anything new going on?"

"mm, sooooo, what are you doing?"

"that sounds fun! anyways, do you miss me?"

You can swear that he kicks his feet anytime you talk over the phone or text. But when you explain to him that you don't have to talk to each other all the time, he is slightly offended and sassy. What do you mean by that? Are you bored of him? Is he simply not worth your time anymore? Fine...he will stop doing it so much. . .for about 2 hours perhaps (his personal record! are you proud?) and then he will continue in his old ways.

Don't be mistaken, he does understand that you need your own time and if you put up a genuine boundary he will certainly respect it. It's just that when it's more playful and chill time, he uses it to the fullest because he is a needy man.

Bonus: Aventurine loves sending you videos that remind him of you or the two of you, especially those little cute animals videos where they cuddle, the little art videos and those adorable encouraging pics (definitely not a loser for this, just thought it was cute as hell)

Bonus 2: anytime you send him a picture of yourself, he puts it as his background. Replies "screaming crying throwing up, pls one chance pls pls pls", somehow you manage not to take it seriously which makes him even more desperately in love

Bonus 3: he saves your contact by some silly, yet cute nickname while adding 50388383 emojis and hearts (preferably the ones that are in your favorite color). He says it's a joke, but...but...well.

Desperate, pathetic, miserable, needy, so sickly in love, he absolutely NEEDS you. He can't take it.

Once you get more comfortable with each other, not even fully in a relationship, this man clings onto you like it's his last day alive. Wrapping his arms around your forearm, playing with your fingers if you are distracted, hugging you from behind anytime you stop walking (yes, even while waiting for a green light to cross the road), throwing his thigh over yours anytime you sit somewhere together, takes any chance to lay on your lap and begs you to play with his hair. He is the type of mess up something, get on his knees and hug your legs until you forgive him. He is also the type to do that...for no reason at all actually. Simply because he wants attention and he loves being close to you.

Anytime he has to go and do something by himself, you can tell how pissy he is afterwards. He walks up to you with an evident disappointment and annoyance on his face, quickly grabbing your hand as he mutters how idiotic it is to have to use the toilet. Let's not even mention when he needs to be by himself for longer periods of time.

Speaking of that, he would also question whether you missed him or not after 2 minutes of separation. You sure did? Hm, is that sarcasm? He doesn't care, he will take it as long as it confirms it. He just wants you to miss him and need him as much he misses and needs you.

Bonus (not really a loser): Now, in a relationship, Aventurine needs you to have eyes for him only as he does for you. Only him and nobody else. He wants you to want him, he needs you to need him and he must feel the desire and love you have for him. He mentions multiple times, you can do whatever you want with him however you want, if you wish to use him as a plaything for a while - he is perfectly okay with that, but the one rule he has is to be your only plaything. His desperation comes cute in certain departments, however...there is a lot of work awaiting in order to teach this man what is a healthy relationship.

He actually confesses his love for you properly when he gets sick. A mild cold, slight fever - should be gone in a few days, if not less. But no! He is certain that this is the end. Immediately sends you tons of panicky messages how you need to come see him immediately. So you do, first time taking him quite seriously.

Only to be met with his red stuffy nose twitching as he tries not to sneeze in the middle of his confession. He is so serious and determined that it makes a laugh stuck in your throat as he slowly explains himself, barely able to take deep breaths, not even looking at you. Talking about all the memories, the feelings, the thoughts he ever had with or about you.

"The only thing that I regret is that I am doing this too late."

He is so melodramatic, coughing loudly afterwards as he finishes up his actually heartwarming confession.

You can't help but giggle at the man in front of you, gently urging him to lay down, not exactly replying to his confession yet, but only mentioning how you will make him some soup and tea. He just nods, a bit exhausted from the all-nighter he pulled to come up with his excellent (miserable) confession. Next thing you know, he is fast asleep, hand mindlessly reaching for yours and as soon as he finds it - he brings it to his chest, almost hugging it. Moments like these are very special to you as he becomes more vulnerable and more himself. He will certainly get your own confession as soon as he gets better and least to say, you are the one to make the full first move since he is just...in shock the whole time. But, that's something to unpack some other time.

#aventurine x reader #aventurine x you #aventurine x yn #aventurine fluff #aventurine x reader fluff #hsr fluff #hsr x y/n #hsr x you #hsr x reader #hsr imagines

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lewmagoo · 7 months

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to my heart, he carries the key | bob floyd

sequel to someone to watch over me (i recommend reading the first part beforehand so this makes more sense)

description: in which a threat is made against the president’s daughter’s life, and agent robert floyd is tasked with carrying out ‘operation hidden angel’

characters: secret service agent bob floyd x f!reader, pete mitchell, beau simpson, dagger squad as their own respective characters

warnings: 18+, mentions of domestic terrorism, military, secret service and us gov’t inaccuracies, smut, unprotected sex, forbidden love, gun violence, attempted kidnapping, hospitals, broken bones, angst, hopeful ending

Things had changed in The White House.

It had been three months since that fateful night during a charity event, where a man in the crowd targeted the First Daughter of the United States. Agents Robert Floyd, Jacob Seresin, and Reuben Fitch intercepted the perpetrator, and he was disarmed before he could harm anyone. He had been taken into custody, and after weeks of extensive questioning and investigation, The Department of Homeland Security had determined that this man was not working alone. He was a member of a homegrown terrorist organization.

The only thing they couldn’t get out of him was the location of the organization. He refused to give them up, but he was adamant that in a few short months, they were going to go through with their next act of violence. And this time, people were going to die.

It was very calculated. Every last detail was planned out. How they would get the attention of the American public. How they would carry out their threat against the US government. And the way that they planned to do that?

Why, kidnapping the president’s daughter, of course.

During the time it took to obtain that information from the perpetrator, there was unrest in The White House. A changing of the guard, so to speak, was taking place. Tragedy had struck in the personal life of Pete Mitchell, head of White House security.

His husband of over thirty years, Tom Kazansky, had passed away after a bout with cancer. Pete took it hard. Hard enough that after the funeral and the burial and everything in between, he decided that it was time to retire from his decade long position as head of security.

It was not a decision that he took lightly. In fact, he’d agonized over it before finally biting the bullet and placing his letter of resignation upon the president’s desk.

“The truth is, I’m getting too old for this,” he told his team of agents, as he addressed them on the day he left. “I know, I know, it’s shocking to most of you,” he teased, as lighthearted chuckles filled the room. “But…it’s time for me to step down. Tom’s death showed me how fragile life is, and how much I should be cherishing it. I have grandchildren on the way, and I plan to be here to watch them grow up.” He glanced at Bradley Bradshaw, and the pair shared a silent understanding. Bradley’s wife was expecting. Pete didn’t want to miss a moment of that little one’s life.

“So, in my stead, Beau Simpson has agreed to take on the position as the new White House Head of Security.”

And thus, new leadership walked onto the stage.

At first, things weren’t that much difference. Your personal security detail, with Bob as the head, remained the same. Everyone missed Agent Mitchell, but life had to go on. And go on, it did.

Bob, for one, wasn’t the biggest fan of change. But change was part of the job, it was part of life, so he couldn’t make a big deal about it. When Simpson began to implement subtle changes into the way things were done, Bob bristled, but he didn’t speak out. He held his tongue, because he had a sneaking suspicion that if he were to rebel against Simpson’s leadership, he’d lose his job faster than he could even blink.

So he simply observed silently and waited to see just how many changes Simpson was going to make.

And then, one day, Bob was called into the president’s office, where he stood before Agent Simpson and POTUS himself. “Do you know why we’ve brought you in, Agent Floyd?” Beau asked.

“No sir,” came Bob’s simple response. He didn’t get the sense that he was losing his job, so he had no idea why he was standing here in the Oval Office.

“I’m sure you recall three months ago, when a threat was made against the president’s daughter.”

“Yes sir, vividly.” He’d never forget that night. Never forget the terror in your voice as you called out for him.

Then, the president interjected. “As Agent Mitchell previously briefed you, the perpetrator was part of a domestic terrorist organization here on our soil. Recently, he confessed to agents that this group will be carrying out an act of violence upon the American people. We aren’t sure where, or when exactly, but what we are sure of, is that they’re going to go after my daughter again.”

Agent Simpson picked up where the man left off. “Listen very carefully to what I am about to tell you. What we talk about here is strictly confidential. It is a matter of national security.” Then he leaned closer toward Bob. “I am going to give you a set of coordinates. No one else but you, me, and the president know them. Once I give them to you, I want you to be prepared for my signal. When I deem it necessary, you will go to the Residence, retrieve his daughter, and escort her to this location. You will not bring any other agents with you. Just you, and herself. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes sir. But why am I being given coordinates contrary to the location of the safe house that was already put in place?”

“Because that location has been compromised. You must only escort her to the coordinates I give you. Her life depends on it.”

“And when we get there?”

“You wait for my all clear. It won’t be safe to bring her back home until the threat is neutralized. Can you carry out these orders?”

“Yes sir.”

“Good. Now memorize these coordinates.” Agent Simpson recited the numbers twice. Bob had an excellent memory, and stored away the information easily. Once he confirmed the coordinates by reciting them back to the man, Beau nodded. “From here on out, you will be prepared at all times to carry out Operation Hidden Angel.”

Bob breathed in, then out. Then he nodded. “I will be standing by awaiting further orders.”

The president stood from behind his desk. “I trust you to do whatever it takes to protect my only child, Agent Floyd. Don’t make me regret it.”

“Whatever it takes, sir.”

He was dismissed from the office, and his head was spinning. Suddenly, he was burdened with a deep sense of pressure. The need to do his job well. Not because your father and the entire country was depending on him, but because you were depending on him.

He had taken an oath to serve and protect. And he meant it. Even before he knew he loved you, he had made good on that oath. And now, even more so. You were infinitely precious to him, and he would do whatever it took to ensure your safety.

Even if it meant giving his life to ensure it. He was fully prepared to go to that length if he needed to.

That night, he couldn’t sleep. His mind kept drifting to you. To how much he loved you. How much he missed you. He saw you everyday. He escorted you to wherever you needed to go. But those moments did not allow him to be alone with you in the way that you both wanted. There were always prying eyes. Other members of your security detail. Cameras. Nosey reporters. Your relationship had remained secret all this time, and you couldn’t risk exposing it.

So he would continue pining for you, desiring you, hoping for a private moment to at least hold you in his arms. Little did he know he was about to get that opportunity, just not in the way that he was expecting.

The orders came one Friday afternoon. The work day was coming to a close. At that moment, you were in your quarters getting ready. That evening, you had a dinner engagement with a friend from college. Bob had only just finished briefing the rest of your detail on what the itinerary was for the night. Everyone was prepped and on the same page.

And then, Agent Simpson’s voice spoke into his earpiece.

“Agent Floyd, it’s time to enact Operation Hidden Angel.”

He tensed, his heart seizing in his chest as a shock of dread shuddered down his spine. This was it. His worst fear was coming true. Your life had been directly threatened, and it was time to take you to the designated safe house deep in the Virginia mountains.

And when Bob received that command, he had no choice but to act on it. He touched his fingers to his earpiece and responded. “Copy that. Operation Hidden Angel commencing.”

And then he was off, his shoes tapping rhythmically against the polished wooden floors as he rushed down each hallway and corridor. Adrenaline drove him forward, and he soon came to the entrance to the residence. Breathing in deeply to steady himself, he knocked twice before he opened the doors.

He knew where you were. He didn’t have to search. You were in your bedroom, readying yourself for the night ahead. For propriety’s sake, he knocked softly. If he hadn’t been afraid that someone might see him, he would’ve just burst into the room.

He still had to keep up the appearance that you were not romantically involved.

On the other side of the door, you were just setting out the outfit you would wear that night. You were entirely oblivious to the looming danger, eager for an eveningof catching up with an old friend. “Come in!” You called out as you debated which accessories to add to your outfit.

You were surprised to see Bob in your doorway. You smiled at the unexpected visit, but your smile soon faded when you saw the urgent look on his face. “You need to grab your emergency bag and come with me. Now.”

Your stomach dropped. “Bobby, what—”

“Just come. It’s not safe for you to be here right now.”

Deciding it best not to ask any further questions in the moment, you rushed to your closet, trembling hands yanking out the bag of packed necessities you kept for emergencies such as this. Then you shoved your feet into your shoes and rushed after him.

“What’s happening?” You asked as you followed Bob out of your room and down the corridor that led out of the residence.

“Can’t tell you the details. Just need to get you somewhere safe.”

“But-”

He turned, stopping you in your tracks. “Do you trust me?” He asked, blazing blue eyes locked with yours.

“With my life,” you replied without hesitation.

“Then stick with me. I’ll keep you safe.”

So you stopped asking questions. You followed Bob through the back hallways of the White House, allowing him to lead you, trusting in his guidance. You knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that he would protect you. He always had. When there was a threat against your safety, he was the first to run toward the danger.

But now, you were both running from it. You knew it had to be serious if you were being removed from The White House. Someone had likely made a significant threat, and Agent Simpson had advised you be removed from the premises until the threat was neutralized.

But would the danger ever be gone? Even if this particular instance was taken care of, others would come up in the future. You would never be safe, because that was just your life as the president’s one and only child.

You did, however, feel safe with the man in front of you. His large, warm hand engulfed your own as he led you down beneath the building. There was nothing he wouldn’t do to ensure your protection. Not only because it was his duty, but because he couldn’t live with himself if something happened to you. He loved you too much.

And that was the sticky part of the situation. No one knew about your secret love for one another. Well, that wasn’t entirely true. Someone did know. Bradley Bradshaw, Bob’s secondhand man on your security detail, had silently put two and two together. He’d never outright told either of you that he knew, but there seemed to be a silent understanding between him and Bob. A way of communicating that had come with years of working alongside each other in the same military branch. Neither one of them had to say a word, but they knew what the other was thinking.

Bradley had kept your secret all this time. You were often surprised that no one had found out, and both you and Bob lived in fear that one day, your father would find out. And if that were to happen, you would lose Bob. He would be dismissed from his duties and you would likely never see him again. The thought broke your heart.

But for the time being, you were able to slip under the radar. Now, especially, because it was just the two of you. And for a moment, you wondered why the rest of your detail wasn’t with you. “Bob, where’s the rest of the team?” You asked as he pulled you to a stop outside a sleek black sedan. He grabbed your bag and threw it in the backseat before motioning for you to climb in alongside it.

“I’ll explain later.” He ushered you into your seat before he scurried to the driver’s side and slipped into the seat. The engine roared to life seconds later, and he glanced back at you. “Buckle up.”

You did.

Then he was taking off, headed out of the parking garage. As he hit the gas, he spoke into his earpiece. “Angel is flying.”

“Bob, why is it just the two of us?” You reiterated your question from a few moments earlier.

He glanced at you through the rearview, debating just how much he should tell you. “The more people that know where we’re going, the more danger it puts you in. Only your dad and Agent Simpson know where we’re going.”

“Where are we going?”

“Just…just don’t ask questions, okay, honey? The less you know, the safer you are.”

You heeded his words and settled back into your seat, your heart racing against your ribcage. This was more serious than you realized, wasn’t it? And as you thought about it, the more fearful you became. Your life was in danger, and it was an odd feeling.

Who were you, that someone wanted to kill you? Your father’s decisions were not a reflection of your own morals or beliefs. You had no control over the way he chose to run the country. But there were times when his decisions put a target on his family’s back. Yours especially, because as his child, you were his biggest weakness. Remove you from the equation, and one would have the President of the United States in the palm of their hand, willing to do whatever they asked just to get you back.

This was why proactive measures were being taken. You couldn’t be used as a bargaining chip if you were in hiding. But oh, how you hated it. This was your father’s second term. You had been living in the White House for much too long, and you were tired of it. Tired of the world’s eyes being on you at all times. Tired of the politics and the responsibility. You had never asked for this. This was your father’s endeavor, you were just along for the ride.

But it had resulted in you being placed into the back of a bulletproof car and driven off to some top-secret location just to keep you safe. And from the back of that seat, your eyes observed the singular agent in charge of maintaining that safety. He wasn’t looking at you through the rearview, his eyes were on the road where they belonged. But you could see the conflict in those beautiful blues. You could see the fear.

Whatever this threat was had scared him. And that was saying something, because Bob Floyd didn’t scare easily. But when it came to protecting you, he did get scared. Terrified, even. He just didn’t let you see it. He wanted you to trust him, to feel secure. And you did. In fact, no one else made you feel as secure as he did. Yes, the rest of your detail did a wonderful job. You knew you could trust them with your life.

But because you loved Bob so much, you sought him out for shelter and protection. He was the first you turned to when you were frightened or felt unsafe. And he loved being that for you. Loved that you looked to him for those things.

However, he sometimes thought about the day he might fail you. Would his feelings for you hinder his ability to protect you effectively? Would he be blinded by love? It hadn’t happened yet, but he knew if he was even a smidge off his game, Agent Simpson would be able to sniff it out. And he would not let Bob off the hook for it, either. He’d instruct him to end his relationship with you immediately. And there would be no second chance. Beau would tell the president, and Bob’s position would be terminated.

But it had not gotten to that point, and you prayed it never would. You much preferred sharing this intimate little secret. It did make maintaining your relationship a little difficult, because there were times when you wished you had the guts to tell your father, to tell the world. But the thought of the repercussions that would follow always made you decide against it.

You wanted to relish in this secret for a little longer. If the time ever did come to reveal your relationship, you would know. Until then, you remained under the radar, stealing private moments when you could, and otherwise keeping your distance when it was appropriate.

But now you were entirely alone. No prying eyes. No risk of being caught. You were alone, because Bob was the only one your father trusted to watch over you. Because some unhinged madman had made a threat against your life and Bob would sooner die than let any harm come to you.

“You’re taking me to the safe house, aren’t you?” You spoke up. You had no idea where the house was located, but you had heard of presidents in the past utilizing safe houses. If you were being physically removed from The White House and taken elsewhere, a safe house was the only logical destination you could think of.

Bob caught your eye through the rearview mirror. His expression was bleak, and he said nothing, but it confirmed what you were asking.

The drive to the safe house was two hours. You left behind the bustling area of Washington, D.C. and headed into the mountains of Virginia. And as you went, the sun began to sink lower in the sky, allowing eventide to grace the land.

You and Bob hardly spoke, which was uncommon. But you could tell he was harrowed by this situation, and in turn, you were just as scared. It rendered you both silent for the rest of the ride. Instead, you stared out the window, watching the landscape go by, wondering how long you would have to stay here. A night? A week? A month? How serious was this threat made against you? How immediate was the danger?

All these questions swirled in your mind as Bob drove up a winding, dirt drive. It seemed to go on forever, and the farther he went, the darker it got. But he kept going, until finally, he was pulling up outside a small cabin.

You stared in confusion. Surely this couldn’t be it, right? When thinking of a safe house, you imagined concrete walls and impenetrable security systems. This was just a cabin in the middle of nowhere.

Bob was confused as well. An odd feeling churned to life in his gut. Something didn’t feel quite right about this, but these were the coordinates he was given. He had not made a mistake in his navigation. You were where you were supposed to be.

“Are you sure this is the place?” You asked as he pulled the car behind the house, intending to keep it hidden from view so as not to raise any suspicions if anyone were to happen upon the place.

“These are the coordinates I was given. I followed orders,” Bob replied, a little sharply, but his annoyance wasn’t directed at you. It was at whoever had designated this as a safe house. Surely the US government could afford something more than this, right?

“I just…was expecting something more grand. A fortress or something,” came your explanation.

Bob softened. “Honestly, me too. I didn’t know what to expect. They gave me the coordinates when I first took charge of your detail. I always assumed the safe house was a bunker.”

Both of you were wrong. Instead, it was a quaint cabin that looked like any normal cabin in the forest might look. However, when you got up to the porch, you found a keypad on the door. It had to be unlocked by a code.

Bob spoke into his mic. “Angel has landed safely.”

Seconds later, Agent Simpson’s voice crackled to life in his ear. “Copy that,” he said. And then, “zero one zero two nine three.”

Bob typed the numbers into the keypad, and the sound of a lock turning reached his ears. Seconds later, the door was unlocked. He opened the door and took a look inside, scoping out the place.

It looked like a typical hunting cabin, except more well furnished. a seating area off to the left, complete with a bearskin rug. A small kitchen off to the right. An old oak dining table in the middle of the main room.

“Let me see,” you spoke up from behind him.

He stepped forward into the house and allowed you to follow suit. As soon as you were both safely inside, he shut the door, manually locking it. He was surprised at the addition of windows to the cabin. As you wandered around and explored the place, he parted the blackout curtain that hung upon one of the front windows, tapping the glass with his fingertips. It was bulletproof.

He eyed the architecture of the house, assessing what it was made out of. It he had to guess, there was also bulletproof material within the wall panels. Although the cabin looked normal, it was anything but. It was designed to blend in, to not raise suspicion.

And then his eyes traveled to the bearskin rug, and something told him to check it out. As you were rifling around in the kitchen, he stepped over to the seating area and kicked at the rug with his foot. It seemed to be fastened to the floor. So he knelt down and pulled at each edge until one gave way, lifting up to reveal a hiding space beneath the floor.

He grabbed his small utility flashlight he kept on his belt and shined the light inside. This was the bunker he’d assumed he was taking you to. It was very clearly designed to withstand any sort of disaster. I hoped he wouldn’t have to utilize it.

“What’s that?” You came up behind him, peering over his shoulder.

“Bunker.” He slammed the door shut. With the rug overtop of it, it didn’t look out of place at all. Bob turned to you, his expression serious. “If anything happens, we go down there.”

You held his gaze, your own fearful. “Bobby…how bad is it?” You wanted to know the severity of the threat. You wanted to know if you’d be forced to hide in that bunker.

Bob stepped closer to you, allowing himself the physical connection he’d deprived you both of in his haste to get you here safely. His hand came up to cup your cheek. “Bad enough that your dad was spooked. Bad enough that Simpson thought we should bring you to the safe house.”

You closed your eyes for a moment, lifting your hand to rest it gently overtop of his own. “I’m tired of this,” you whispered.

“I know,” he whispered back. He wanted to assure you that he’d protect you. That you were safe with him. But the words felt so insignificant. Yes, he would protect you, but that didn’t change the fact that a threat had still been made to your life. You, the most precious soul he’d ever known. You, kind and giving and compassionate. You, the one who loved him. How could anyone target you?

You leaned in close, and his mind ceased its wandering. Your free hand was placed gently against his chest, over his heart. And then you spoke. “Do you think that maybe…we could pretend, just for a little bit, that life is normal? That we’re just two people living in their little cabin in the woods, who aren’t actually in danger of a terrorist trying to take their lives?”

Bob’s mouth curled into a halfhearted smile. “Yeah…yeah, we can do that, little love. Whatever you want.”

Little love. The endearing nickname always made your heart warm in your chest. You nestled yourself against him, lifting your head and seeking out his kiss. He gladly returned the affection, mouth fitting against yours like it was always meant to, lips meeting in a tender kiss.

For a fleeting moment, everything felt alright. There was no looming danger. No president’s daughter and secret service agent. It was just two people, very much in love, sharing an impassioned kiss in their living room.

And then you parted, and as Bob rested his forehead against yours, you said, “You hungry? I found a box of MREs stored away in the kitchen.”

He smiled, humming softly in amusement. “Mm, my favorite,” he teasingly replied.

Your hands now rested on his chest. “I’ll get them ready.”

You shared one more kiss before you slipped away to saunter over to the kitchen. As you did so, Bob grabbed your duffel bag and carried it to what he assumed was a bedroom. When he opened the door, his assumption was confirmed.

A double sized bed was positioned in the middle of the sparsely furnished room. There was a nightstand on one side of the bed and a dresser along the opposite wall, facing the bed. An empty closet was across the room.

Bob set your bag down on the bed, and he assumed the two of you would be sharing this bed. His heart yearned for it. It had been a while since the two of you had shared a bed and spent the night snuggled up close. He missed it so.

Although the situation that had brought you here was less than ideal, at least you would be able to spend time with each other, without having to sneak around.

With a soft sigh, Bob stepped out of the bedroom, pulling the door shut before he quickly made his way back outside, with intentions of doing a perimeter sweep to make sure the area was secure. Once he was satisfied, he made his way back to the house, stopping only to grab his own overnight bag that had been stashed in the trunk of the sedan.

Moments later, he was inside with you again, the door locked securely behind him.

In the meantime, you were at work in the kitchen, reading the directions on your MRE packet. When he entered the room, you looked up, and then motioned to the bin of pre-packaged food kits you had found.

“Take your pick. There’s macaroni in tomato sauce, chili, spaghetti, and some bean and cheese thing.”

He chose the macaroni in tomato sauce, assuming it would be the safest option. Together, you prepared your respective meals, and you couldn’t help but find it a little humorous that your first time cooking together consisted of making military grade survival meals.

“I haven’t eaten one of these in years,” Bob mused, as he activated the heating element. A memory flashed in his mind. A not so happy one. “Last time I had one was when my plane went down during a mission. Natasha was flying with me then. We were stuck in the woods for days.”

You frowned softly at his admission. “How did you make it back?”

“Some nice farmer saw us along the road and we were able to hitch a ride with him into the nearest town. We radioed for help.”

“Why didn’t search and rescue come for you?”

“Partly because we went down in enemy territory. And because our plane literally exploded into a million pieces. We were presumed dead.”

Your previously chipper mood was dampened a bit as you imagined him and Natasha, yet another trusted agent in your security detail, lost and potentially injured in unfamiliar territory. “Did you get hurt when the plane went down?” You asked.

He nodded. “Got some nasty cuts. Some burns, too. You know the scar on my side?”

You hummed in realization. You did know it. You’d run your fingers over the six inch long scar many times while laying in bed with him.

“That was shrapnel from the blow. Cut me pretty good. Nat stitched it up for me, actually. Kind of embarrassed to admit I passed out during it.”

You reached out, touching his arm gently. “Nothing to be embarrassed about. I can’t even imagine, Bobby. That must’ve been awful.”

He nodded. “But we got through it. Nat’s one determined gal. She told me she was gonna get me home safe. And she did. If it wasn’t for her, I wouldn’t be alive right now.”

Your hand moved from his arm, resting against his back, thumb stroking circles along his spine. Your touch grounded him. “Remind me to thank her.”

He smiled softly as he finished preparing his food. He was beyond grateful that the Fates had decided to spare him. Had they not, he never would have met you, the best thing to ever happen to him.

Joining the Secret Service had never been part of Bob’s plan. He’d never even considered it. But Agent Mitchell had recommended him to the president, and after Bob had fulfilled his commitment of time to the Navy, he’d moved over to The White House, where he became part of security.

In fact, the entirety of your personal security detail had been recommended to your father by Pete Mitchell. With you making more public appearances and doing charity work, it put you on the radar. Your father wanted the best security detail possible for you, and because he trusted Pete’s judgment, he brought them in to begin the interview process. In the end, all of them were hired.

But only one was the head of your detail. Only Bob was entrusted with every minute detail of your safety. Not because the others couldn’t be trusted, or because they were incapable. Far from it. It was his sharpness and his ability to assess threats quickly. It was his respectfulness and penchant for following the rules (or so everyone thought). Out of the group of agents assigned to you, Bob stood out above the rest.

In the words of your father, Seresin was too cocky, Bradshaw too aloof, and Trace too emotional. You strongly disagreed with his words. You didn’t like the assessments he’d made of each agent. You thought he was being unfair and harsh. Especially with Natasha. Calling her too emotional was crossing over into sexist territory, you felt. If anything, Bradley was the emotional one. But you didn’t argue with your dad. Whatever POTUS says, goes.

None of the supposed “downfalls” your father saw in each agent affected their ability to protect you. All of them put their lives on the line every single day to ensure your safety.

But in the end, they hadn’t been put solely in charge of your security team. Bob had. And now here you stood, in safe house in the middle of the Virginia wilderness, eating survival food and pretending everything was fine. Just you and him.

Strangely enough, you were grateful. Grateful that he was the one you were with. And maybe it was for selfish reasons, but you didn’t care. You just hated that your only opportunity to be alone with him as of late was because of the imminent danger posed to your life.

But you would cherish the time you were allotted.

That night, in the quietness of that little cabin in the woods, the two of you sat at the oak dining table adjacent to the kitchen, with your feet resting in Bob’s lap. You drank the electrolyte drink mixes that were provided in your MREs, pretending they were some sort of fancy alcoholic cocktail, if only for your sanity’s sake.

For the rest of the evening, you didn’t acknowledge the circumstances that had brought you here. Instead, you talked of anything and everything. It wasn’t often that you had a chance to have such meaningful conversations with one another. Your time together was usually short. Secret meetings under the cover of darkness. Stolen moments of passion in hotel rooms. Intimate embraces where no prying eyes could see.

But flashes of reality still shocked you like a splash of cold water to the face. Such as the fact that Bob’s gun was still strapped to his hip. Or the fact that he went around the house making sure all the blackout curtains were drawn, and double checking the lock system on the door.

You tried to ignore it. Focused on cleaning up your haphazard dinner instead. But there was still a feeling of unease in your gut. Bob seemed to notice your anxiety, ever observant, and he approached you as you wiped down the table with a dish cloth you’d found in one of the drawers. His arms encircled your waist, and you sighed, leaning back against him, letting your eyes flutter shut.

“Hey,” he whispered, nuzzling his face against the back of your neck. “You’re okay. You’re safe.”

You turned around in his hold, placing your hands upon his chest. “I know. I just…I’m trying to pretend everything is fine but it’s hard when there’s a literal bunker beneath us, and you’re walking around with your gun on your hip, and checking the state of the art locking system on the door over there.”

Bob glanced down at the weapon in its holster. “Here,” he said. He stepped back, removing his belt, and taking the holster along with it. He took the gun and carried it into the bedroom, where he placed it on the singular nightstand beside the bed. Then he rejoined you in the main room.

“Is that better?” He asked.

“A little,” you replied with a nod, welcoming him into your arms again.

He dipped his head low, capturing your lips in a tender kiss. “I love you, sweet girl.”

Your chest warmed. “I love you too.”

A large hand lifted up, fingers stroking your cheek. “You want to play pretend? We’ll play pretend.” His arm then came down to wrap around your waist, palm pressed into the small of your back. “This is our homestead, right? And you…you are my pretty little wife.” His free hand tapped your nose with his fingers.

“Oh? I like the sound of that,” came your soft reply.

His arm tightened around you. “Mhm. And I just came in from a long day of workin’ the land. Looks like we’re gonna have a good harvest, too. Won’t go hungry this winter.”

Your mouth curved into a fond smile. His accent was coming through. Picked up from summers spent on his granddaddy’s ranch. “Take such good care of me,” you said. “My strong, handsome man.”

He kissed you again, this time more languidly. “Always gonna take care of my wife.”

That promise translated outside of this silly little roleplay, too. You knew he’d always look out for you. “What would I do without my Bobby?” You asked.

He gently bumped noses with you, enjoying the closeness. It made you a little dizzy. You hadn’t been in his big, strong arms like this in a while. You’d missed it more than you realized. The close proximity of your bodies had you growing breathless, and your fingers grasped at the fabric of his button down.

“I…can we…” You couldn’t get the words out. But he knew what you wanted.

“You need me, honey?”

You nodded, caught off guard when tears welled in your eyes. “Please,” you whimpered pitifully. It hit you hard, like a blow to the chest. You hadn’t expected the feeling to be so intense, but now you were leaning into him for support, afraid your knees would give way if you tried to stand on your own.

“I’ve got you. Let’s go to the bedroom, okay?”

With his arm secured around you, he led you to the room. There, he guided you to sit on the bed before he turned on the little beside lamp on the nightstand. It didn’t give off much light, but it did cast a soft, warm glow over the bed.

And then he was in front of you again, but this time, he was kneeling, placing his hands on your knees as he looked up at you. “If you want to stop at any time, you tell me, alright?”

You nodded.

“Words, lovey.”

“Yes sir.”

He wanted to be a little more careful with you in this moment. Not that he wasn’t careful with you all the time, but he had a feeling you needed a little more tenderness than usual. Having your life threatened was a harrowing experience. He wanted to give you the intimacy and closeness you needed. He wanted to be a comfort to you.

As he rose to his feet, a big, gentle hand cupped your cheek. You lifted your head, gazing up at him. His thumb lovingly stroked your bottom lip, and you instinctively opened your mouth, wrapping your lips around the digit.

He watched in awe as your eyes began to grow glassy, and your gaze softened. All it took was his thumb in your mouth to turn you pliant. He smiled fondly, his eyes twinkling.

And what beautiful eyes they were. You gazed up into them, so clear and blue, but somehow dark in the lowlight, as if the bright blue had turned brown. You could feel the tension leaving your body as you suckled on his thumb. The taste of his skin was familiar and soothing.

“Poor thing. Just needed to shut your brain off for a bit, huh?” He murmured.

“Mhm,” you hummed around his thumb.

“I’ve got you. Don’t have to do any thinking with me. I’ll do it all for you.”

You liked the sound of that. You could let go of the stressors. Your circumstances. Your position as daughter of the President of the United States. Your political commitments. All of it could be forgotten, if only for a little while.

So you gave yourself to him. To your Bobby. You let him take care of you, because he knew what was best at that moment in time.

“C’mere,” he said. He took a seat on the bed, his back leaning against the headboard. As you scrambled over to him, he caught you, pulling you into his lap so that you were straddling him. His hands rested at your hips. Your own fell to his broad shoulders. The muscles rippled beneath your touch.

With your body slotted against his like this, you felt so warm and secure. Like you were meant to fit together. In the warm glow of the lamp, and in the softness of the bed, it all felt so domestic. As if you truly were husband and wife, living in your little cabin in the woods.

And then your mind began to wander, and you considered what it might be like if he truly was your husband. If you were allowed to live out your relationship without fear of being found out.

You wanted that, you realized. You wanted it so badly. But you couldn’t have it. Not yet. So instead, you played pretend. You dove forward, connecting your lips with his, kissing him deeply, pouring all the passion you had into it. And he kissed you back with just as much fervor.

Your hands moved from his shoulders to rest upon the sides of his neck. Your fingers slipped through the hair at the nape of his neck, nails ever so lightly scraping at the skin, making him shiver against you and moan into your mouth.

You rotated your hips downward in the process, and he gasped, his grip tightening on your waist. So you moved your hips again. And again. Soon, you were rutting against him, searching out that delicious friction. The seam of your shorts caught against you in just the right place, and the stimulation had his cock hardening beneath you.

He let his head thunk back against the headboard, biting his lip and closing his eyes. “Oh, just like that, honey,” he encouraged, breathless.

“Feels so good,” you whined.

“I know. Been too long, hasn’t it?” he cooed, bringing you closer so your forehead was pressed to his.

“H-how long?” you wondered, shivering as he lifted his hips to meet your own.

He remembered. Of course he did. “Last month. When you visited that one university.”

Oh, yes. Now you remembered. You’d really gone an entire month without touching him? No wonder you ached so terribly inside. You needed him.

“Bobby,” you whimpered then.

“I know, baby. I know.”

He was kissing you again, except this time, he rotated you, gently easing you onto the bed so he could hover over you. Then he began the reverent undressing of your body. He pulled your shirt over your head, leaving a kiss against your clavicle as he easily rid you of your undergarments. Then came your shorts and panties, tossed aside carelessly.

This left you entirely bare to him, and oh, how naked you felt. But he distracted you from any trepidation you felt. He took your hands in his own, lifting them to his shirt, prompting you to unbutton it. Those big hands hovered over yours as you did, there to help if you were trembling too much to do it.

In no time, the shirt was unbuttoned, and he tossed it to the floor before he made quick work of removing his white undershirt. Immediately, your hands splayed across his chest. Well-defined because he worked his ass off staying fit. His job was not for the faint of heart or body. He had to stay on top of his game.

“If ya can stop ogling my chest for a minute, I’ll get my pants off,” he teased.

You looked up at him before turning your head away shyly. He couldn’t help but hum in gentle amusement. You were just the most precious thing.

Quickly, he shoved his pants and boxers down his legs, kicking them asunder, leaving you both naked as the day you were born. As soon as his body was slotted against yours, you sighed in deep relief. Finally.

His mouth was on yours again, and his arms were at either side of your head, effectively caging you in. He overwhelmed your every sense, and it was glorious. In such close proximity, you could smell his cologne, and that natural, heady scent that could only be described as him.

“Pretty girl,” he whispered in awe, his mouth trailing down your jaw, across your neck, over your collarbone. Reverence. Worship.

As he kissed your heated skin, he moved to slip his hand between your thighs. Deft fingers tenderly parted your delicate folds, prodding at your entrance. First one finger, slid in deep. Then two. You whined into his mouth as he crooked those fingers upward, intent on locating that spongey little spot that made you shiver.

It didn’t take him long. He knew your body so well. Knew exactly what to do to have you purring for him. You were so responsive to his touch as it was.

“Gotta open you up for me, lovey,” he soothed. “Been a while since you took all of me.”

Those fingers pumped in and out of you, and his thumb came up to swirl around your clit as he did so. You were oversensitive. Not only had you not been touched by him in over a month, but you hadn’t touched yourself, either. You’d hardly had any downtime, and when you did, you spent it resting. Now, you were so pent up that Bob’s gentle stimulation of your neglected pussy was already beginning to overwhelm you.

In the meantime, he continued to trail searing kisses across your skin. Over the softness of your breasts. Teeth gently tugging at your pebbled nipples. Tongue soothing the sting.

In the meantime, you grew wetter around his fingers, your body opening up to him, welcoming him in. And then he added a third finger, and you squealed, jolting against him. You felt his mouth curl into a smile against you.

Then he lifted his head to gaze down at the way your cunt stretched around those fingers. “Oh, look at this sweet little pussy. My fingers barely fit. I don’t know if it’ll be able to take my cock.”

He was teasing you. But in your hazy state, you took him seriously. “No! No, I can take it! Please, I need it!” You gasped.

This prompted him to place his thumb in your mouth again. “Shh, I know. I’m gonna give it to you, I promise.” A gentle kiss to your lips before he leaned back. He removed his fingers from you, and you watched as he used the slick of your arousal as lubricant for his cock, smearing it over the velvety skin. You whimpered at the sight.

You so desperately needed that cock inside you. Thick and heavy, with a blushed tip that was dripping with his own desire. You found yourself reaching for it, wrapping your fingers around him, longing to feel the heaviness in your hand.

He gasped softly as your grip tightened and your thumb brushed over that pretty pink head, gathering the wetness that had gathered at the slit. You found yourself salivating, suddenly wishing he was in your mouth, warm on your tongue. But at the same time, you wanted to be filled by him so badly. It made you ache.

Gently, he lifted your hand away, replacing it with his own. He slid the underside of his cock through your slick, and you both moaned lowly when the plush head caught at your clit. Again, he thrust his hips forward, teasing you. When he pulled back, he positioned himself at your entrance, slipping in only ever so slightly, enough to pull a desirous whine from you before he pulled back.

“D-don’t tease,” you squeaked out.

“I know. Just tryin’ to savor it. Might not get to do this again for a while.”

You pulled him down, kissing him deeply. “Don’t think about that right now. Just fuck me, Bobby. Please.”

“Uh-huh.” With his mouth open against your own, he finally inched his hips forward, moving so his arms were at either side of your head again, and his chest was pressed to yours. Forward, forward, forward, until…

“Oh!”

He was fully sheathed inside you, every last inch. It was the thickness that took your breath away. He felt so big, yet at the same time, it felt as if he was made to fit inside you in this way. You would never tire of the feeling of his body connected to yours.

Bob couldn’t help but glance down, marveling at the way you stretched around him. He allowed himself a moment to bask in the feeling of the snug warmth. He had missed it so much. Missed you so much. “I love you,” he said with conviction. It warmed you to your core.

“Love you too,” you sighed out blissfully, eyes fluttering shut as you wrapped your legs around his waist, and your arms around those broad shoulders of his.

His hand caressed your face as he began to move, nudging his hips into yours. He kept things slow to begin with, intending to build up to a glorious crescendo. All the while, he held you close, resting his weight upon your body, grounding you, surrounding you. He cherished it all. The feeling of your warmth, the beating of your heart. A reminder that you were safe, that you were alive, that you were here, with him.

His mouth found its way to yours again, trailing down further to lave his tongue against your pulse point. “You are everything to me,” he breathed against your feverish skin. You were his life, his love, his angel.

You couldn’t speak, for you were too overwhelmed. Your heart sang, and the true reason for being here in thise safe house seemed to fade into the background as white noise. Your Bobby was on the forefront, infiltrating every one of your senses, wrapping you up in his love and adoration. You never wanted it to end.

As he began to quicken his pace, you held onto him tightly, every inch of your bodies touching, warm and familiar, safe and secure. You let yourself be vulnerable, let him chip away at the armor you always protected herself with. Oh, how good it felt to let him be your protector. He encased you in his warmth, and that warmth began to radiate throughout your body, thrumming deep within your belly. He kissed yu repeatedly, lips ever brushing against yours, swallowing your precious whimpers and moans, holding onto those sounds, locking them away in his memory.

In the back of his mind, he partly wondered if this would be the last time you were able to make love to each other. What if he slipped up and was dismissed from his duties, effectively barring him from ever being with you again? He hated that his mind went to such a morbid place, but it was hard to ignore.

But then you were drawing him in again with those soft sounds, sighing out his name, and your sweet pussy was fluttering around him, and he was brought back to the present moment. How could he let himself be anywhere else but here, with you in his arms? How could he let himself be distracted when the love of his life sighed and shivered in pleasure beneath him? Because of him?

“Feel so good,” you squeaked. Your eyes were closed, your brow furrowed in utter bliss. You looked rather adorable this way. He was so in love.

You were so wet, and he realized that you were quickly growing wetter by the minute. He could feel you dripping down against his heavy balls, and onto the bed covers below, and it only urged him to change his pace. You tightened your legs around his waist, inviting him deeper inside. As he thrust particularly deeply into you, you cried out softly. He’d bumped into that wonderful spot within you, sending you tightening around him, arousal slicking down the base of his cock.

“Oh, right there!” You exclaimed, fingernails pressing crescent shapes into the skin of his back. He ducked a hand between you then, stimulating your sensitive little clit in such a way that your eyes rolled back, mouth falling open. The way you clenched around him again had him growling lowly, the heat of impending release already beginning to warm in his pelvis. How was he already so close? And then he remembered how long it had been since he’d had you like this, and it made sense.

He applied more pressure with his fingers, driving his hips forward with more force. He was hit with a sudden wave of desperation, wanting, needing you to come before he did. He’d stave off his own pleasure for as long as possible if it meant making you feel good. Beneath him, you were on fire, arousal rushing through your very being like raw electricity, consuming every part of you in its wake. And you let yourself be swallowed up in the feeling, suddenly overcome with intense emotion as tears began sliding down your cheeks.

Bob cradled you against his chest, though he didn’t slow down. You needed him to keep going, and he wasn’t going to stop until you fell apart. And it was so close you could taste it, building and building and building. A vibration that began in your core, a peak that you were hurtling towards but couldn’t quite reach yet. It was a height that only your lover could bring you to.

Sweet, tender love making turned into something so much more primal. His chest heaved against yours, and he growled deeply, teeth nipping at your bottom lip as he kissed you. Warmth blossomed between you both, growing into a wild flame. Your bodies fell into a desperate push and pull, faster and harder and deeper, chasing the pleasure high that you knew was inevitable.

He could feel you tighten around him like a vice, and he knew you were close. He let his forehead rest against yours, though he never stopped his movements. “You’re close, I can feel it,” he spoke in a broken whisper.

“I-I am,” you whimpered pathetically, clinging to him tightly.

“Then come for me, my love. Just let go.”

He continued to work you over, carrying you toward that edge. You trembled fiercely, breathing labored, growing even more so. Pleasure began to fizz through you like a firework brought to life, or a pack of Pop Rocks sprinkled on the tongue. Starting at your core and bubbling all the way to your fingers and toes.

Your body went taut against his as the first waves of it began to hit you. Almost there, almost there, almost there. And then, without warning, it hit you. Washing over you like an enormous wave, intense as could be. Seconds later, you came with a wail, convulsing beneath him as the fire of your orgasm ravaged you, surging through the entirety of your being. You cried out his name, and he was there, holding you in his arms as he watched you come apart, losing yourself because of him.

And as you came down, you sobbed. You buried your face against his chest, crying openly, still wrapped tightly around him. And he let you cry, keeping you close. But he also needed to find his own release, you realized. Even in your state of emotion, she pulled back a little, looking into his face. His cheeks were flushed and his eyes were blown, but there was still a tenderness in his gaze. He wouldn’t pressure you for more if you weren’t ready to move on yet.

“P-please, Bobby. Wan’ you to come in me.”

How could he ever say no when you asked so sweetly?

Satisfied with your plea, he began moving again, finding the rhythm that he needed to bring himself to his end. “Yeah? Want me to fill you up, lovey?” He breathlessly spoke.

Glassy eyed, you nodded, bottom lip quivering. “Need it so bad,” you begged.

His face contorted into a look of beautiful euphoria. His jaw went slack, his eyes fell shut, and he let his head fall to the crook of your neck as the climax began to overwhelm him entirely. It washed over him with great force, rendering him absolutely boneless as he keened, your name falling from his lips in a soft whimper. Beneath him, you relished in the feeling of his essence seeping into you, even as tears continued to stain your cheeks.

His hips stuttered a few more times against yours as he made sure to fill you with everything he had to give. And as he came down, trying to catch his breath, you made no move to part from one another.

There you lay, holding each other, basking in the afterglow as the weight of his body settled atop yours. When your tears ceased, Bob very carefully slid out of you, soothing your mewl of protest with an open-mouthed kiss. As he moved to rest upon his back, he tucked you into his side, and you rested your head on his chest, right over his still racing heart.

Gentle fingers traced circles along your arm. You hadn’t realized that you’d zoned out a little, still drunk off pleasure, until his touch brought it back down to earth.

You placed your hand against his chest, eyeing the rise and fall of each breath he took. For a while, neither of you said anything. And when the silence finally did break, it was Bob who broke it.

“Need to get you cleaned up, lovey. Can’t let you fall asleep like this.”

Despite your murmur of protest, he gathered you into his arms and carried you out of the bedroom and into the bathroom just a few feet away.

You were so sleepy, it seemed that the events of the day were finally catching up with you, paired with the romp in the sheets you’d just gone on with Bob. You were in a haze as he tenderly cleaned you up and urged you to use the restroom.

“I’ve got you,” his low, comforting voice assured you. You could allow yourself to remain in that hazy state, because you knew he would take care of you. He always did.

He led you back to the bedroom, where he helped you change into the pajamas you had brought. Once you were taken care of, he tucked you into bed and kissed you on the forehead before he proceeded to ready himself for bed. A shirt and a pair of sweatpants. Easy, in case he needed to jump out of bed and tend to a threat in the middle of the night.

Then he slipped into bed beside you, and you immediately snuggled into him, content to be in his arms, enjoying his warmth. You would cherish every last moment you had with him. Safe and secure, your head on his chest, listening to the steady thumping of his heart. Oh, how you loved him.

You were lulled into a deep, comforting slumber. In fact, it was the best sleep you’d gotten in weeks. Just his presence alone gave you rest.

But while you slept peacefully, Bob remained awake. He couldn’t sleep, not when he had to watch over you. He was tempted to get up and do a perimeter sweep outside, just to make sure everything was safe. But you were sleeping so peacefully in his arms that he didn’t want to disturb you.

At some point during the night, he did drift off into a light slumber, still partially alert, always ready to address danger, should it come knocking on the door.

And, unfortunately, it did.

At around 0400 hours, Bob was alerted to movement outside. It wasn’t loud. But there was a strange rustling in the woods, and the snapping of twigs. Instantly, his eyes were open, and he held his breath, hoping he’d just dreamt the sounds. But then he heard it again, and his heart seized in his chest.

Without hesitation, he eased you out of his arms, and you remained sleeping while he slipped out of bed, grabbing his gun from the nightstand and rushing to put his earpiece back in his ear so he could communicate with White House security if need be.

There were no windows in the bedroom, so he quickly and quietly scrambled to the front of the house, where he stopped at the window and discreetly lifted the edge of the curtain to peer outside. Sure enough, he saw two figures dressed in black gear approaching from the tree line.

And that’s when he realized one of them was already at the door, working on the security keypad. Bob knew, in that moment, that he should have trusted his gut feeling from the beginning. Where the hell had Agent Simpson sent the two of you? Because there was no way this was a safe house if it was this easy to get into.

But there was no time to debate the security of the house. Danger was right on the doorstep, and his first priority was protecting you. So he sprang into action, rushing back to the bedroom where you slept peacefully.

“Safe house is compromised,” he reported into his mic, just before he leaned down to shake you awake.

“Copy. Get into the bunker. Sending backup now,” Simpson’s voice crackled to life in his ear.

Bob didn’t reply. He was too focused on waking you. “Hey, hey, need you to wake up for me, honey.” He shook you vigorously until you stirred from your slumber.

You stared up at him in confusion, your eyes bleary. “Bobby? Wha-?”

“No time. Get up, we need to get under the house now. They found us.”

That woke you up. Your eyes widened, and you sat upright, throwing the covers from your body as you swung your legs over the side of the bed. “How?!”

“I don’t know! Just come with me!” He yanked you to your feet, hands tight on your arms, catching you when you stumbled.

Adrenaline coursed through you, wiping away the sleep-induced fog that had been cast over your brain. Bob’s remained closed firmly around your wrist and he pulled you after him out of the bedroom, intending to take you down into the bunker. But in a split second, he stopped abruptly, and you ran into his back with a surprised gasp.

He could only just catch sight of the door coming open. There was no time to make it to the trap door that would lead you to safety beneath the house. Going for it would result in the two of you being spotted and killed instantly. He had a split second to make a decision. This was life or death.

He whirled around, and in the darkness, you could see the wildness in his eyes, and it sent an icy shock of terror through you. Without a word, he clamped his hand over your mouth, silencing you before he pushed you back toward the bedroom.

Your heart pounded against your chest, your entire body trembling with fear as he released you and turned to shut the bedroom door silently. Thank God there was a lock on it, which he promptly turned, careful to do it silently. Then he whirled back around to face you. “Get under the bed. No matter what happens, you do not come out unless I tell you to.” His voice was so low it was barely audible, but you heard every word. And then, “I love you.”

“I love you too,” you whispered, your eyes filled with tears. You didn’t hesitate to follow his instructions, sinking to your knees and maneuvering your body underneath the bed. Bob yanked the covers down so they were hanging from the edge of the mattress, effectively obscuring you from view. It was only a temporary solution, but it would do.

Then, his hand closed around the cool metal of his gun, which he pulled from his waistband and positioned himself a few feet away from the door, weapon drawn, hands steady as he flipped the safety off. He could hear Simpson’s voice in his earpiece, asking for confirmation that the two of you had made it down into the bunker. But Bob couldn’t answer. Silence was what was going to keep you alive at the moment.

He placed his finger against the trigger, ready to pull it at any second. Whoever was on the other side of the door was quiet, but he could still hear them. Creeping closer and closer, inch by inch. And then, the doorknob rattled, and Bob felt his breath catch in his throat.

You pressed your own hand over your mouth, squeezing your eyes shut. Bob’s eyes never left that door. He counted down in his head. Five. The silence was broken as the person threw their weight against the door. Four. Again, their body thudded against the door. Three. Two steps backward. Two. Bob realized what was about to happen. One. He threw his body to the side just as the sound of a gunshot rang through the house. Wood splintered. Smoke curled through the air.

Bob had moved aside just in time. A second too late and he would be suffering from a gunshot wound. But just as quickly as he moved, his gun was in the air again, held steadily in front of him. As soon as he had the assailant in his sights, he fired.

Beneath the bed, your hands came up to your ears, protecting them from the awful sound. You couldn’t see around the quilt obscuring your vision. You prayed silently that Bob was unharmed. And he was. He’d just put one perpetrator down. You’d heard the thud of the body hitting the floor.

But he had no idea how many more there were.

He would soon find out.

Seconds later, more footsteps. Bob fired. But the second man was expecting it, and kept his body partially hidden by the doorway as he lifted his rifle and aimed it at Bob. The secret service agent ducked quickly, firing his own weapon in retaliation.

He put up a good fight. Really, he did. Bob had always been seen as a pacifist, and by nature, he was. But that didn’t mean he shied away from a fight. And when he did have to utilize physical force, there was a calculated tenacity with which he fought. He was a worthy opponent.

He disarmed the second man quickly. Grazed his cheek with a bullet and used that split-second distraction to dive for the gun that belonged to the dead man on the floor. But then, a voice stopped him.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

Bob looked up to find three men pointing rifles at his head. He was cornered.

“Drop the fuckin’ weapon.”

He did. He was severely outnumbered. If he tried anything, he’d be shot dead on the spot. That would leave you entirely vulnerable and alone.

The one in the middle stepped forward. He was tall. Dark hair. Beard. couldn’t have been much older than Bob himself. Dark eyes stared murderously at the agent kneeling on the ground. He never lowered his rifle.

“We’re just here for the girl. Tell us where she is.”

“She’s not here,” Bob lied through his teeth.

“That’s bullshit and you know it. We staked you out. We know you brought her here. Now where is she, huh?” Then, he called out into the room in a singsong voice that made your skin crawl, “come out, come out wherever you are!”

“She’s not going to come out, because she’s not here!”

The stranger rolled his eyes. “Alright, then you won’t mind if I fire a couple of precautionary shots, right? Just to make doubly sure?” He aimed his gun at the bed you were currently stowed beneath.

Bob’s stomach dropped. “Hey, there’s no reason to waste ammunition on–”

“Ah! So she is here!”

And just like that, it all fell apart.

One of the assailants forced Bob into a prone position on the floor, his gun pressed to the back of his head. He reached down and ripped Bob’s earpiece out of his ear, tossing it to the hardwood floor and stomping on it, effectively cutting off any and all communication with The White House. And then, Bob watched helplessly as you were dragged from beneath the bed, kicking and screaming.

And all he could think, was that he’d failed you.

“Bobby!” You wailed.

“Hey! What is it that you want, huh?! Money?! We’ll give it to you, I can make a call to Washington, get it wired to–”

“Shut your goddamn mouth,” the man above him snarled, smacking him square in the back of the head with the butt of his rifle. Bob’s vision went white as searing pain radiated through his skull.

“It’s not about money,” said the one who had wrestled you from beneath the bed. “It’s about sending a message to her daddy.”

You whimpered in fright as he grabbed your face, squeezing your cheeks hard. His expression was full of hatred. It chilled you to your very core. “We’ll make him wish he’d never taken office.”

“Let her go!” Bob cried desperately from the floor, though he was in no position to be making demands.

“No, I don’t think we will.” The man began to haul you out of the room, his hand clamped over your mouth to muffle your screams. He glanced at the one standing over Bob. “Make sure he can’t follow us.”

As you were dragged into the hall, you heard the sound of a single shot ring out, and you sobbed behind the hand pressed to your mouth. No!

But Bob wasn’t dead. He was very much alive, his teeth clenched so hard he was sure he would break them, letting out a muffled, tormented scream behind them. White hot pain traveled up his thigh, and with it, a violent sense of nausea overwhelmed him. His assailant had shot him in the leg.

And then he was left alone in that bedroom, helpless to do anything as you were carried away, putting up a fight despite being overpowered. Crying out in absolute agony, Bob fought to drag himself upright, though his head spun and his leg throbbed wickedly. He had to stop them. Had to get to you.

It took every ounce of strength in his being to pull himself upright, but by that time, it was too late. They had taken you outside. He’d never reach you in time. After everything he had done to keep you safe, he had lost you in the end. He would never forgive himself as long as he lived.

But then, hope.

All of the sudden, the sound of a helicopter approaching could be heart, and not long after, blinding white light shone through the front door. Moments later, a magnified voice called out, “Homeland Security! We have you surrounded!”

What happened next was a blur. There was shouting. So much shouting. Outside, you were blinded by the lights, reaching your hands up to shield your eyes. The sounds around you were deafening. Someone fired a shot. Then another. Hands grabbed at you. You had no idea who they belonged to. But they pulled you away from the men who had taken you, guiding you to the sidelines, away from the danger.

But you didn’t want to go to the sidelines. You wanted to run back to your Bobby. “Let go! I need to see if Bobby’s alright!”

“Miss, we can send someone to check on him, right now I need you to—”

“No! They shot him! I have to know that he’s okay!”

You argued back and forth for a moment before you got the drop on the agent trying to restrain you. You threw your weight downwards and she released you out of surprise. You didn’t feel bad when you elbowed your way past her. You probably should have, because after all, she was just trying to do her job. But nothing else mattered to you in that moment than knowing Bob’s fate. If he was dying, you needed to be by his side to say goodbye. You weren’t about to miss your last chance to be with him.

So you made a dash for the house, ducking back inside, frantic.

“Bobby!” You cried out, scrambling toward the bedroom. Sickening dread coursed through you. What were you about to walk in on? Would you find the love of your life dead on the ground?

But then, you heard it. “I-in here!”

As soon as you burst into the room, you saw him. He’d tried to stand, but had crumpled to the ground in severe pain, and was now leaning back against the side of the bed, injured leg stretched out in front of him.

“Oh dear God.” You rushed to his aid, dropping to your knees beside him. “I’m here! I’m right here!”

His pant leg was soaked with crimson, and he’d placed his hand over the wound, in effort to slow the bleeding. “I-I’m okay,” he assured you, gazing into your frightened face. “Can you get my belt for me? It’s on the floor on the other side of the bed.” It sounded as if it took great labor for him to get the words out.

You didn’t hesitate. You jumped up and ran around to the other side of the bed, grabbing his belt. As soon as you handed it to him, he got to work tightening it around his thigh as a makeshift tourniquet.

Voices could be heard out in the main room of the cabin. You knew that you would soon be separated. It sent a terrible wave of dread through you, and you reached for Bob.

“Bobby,” you tearfully spoke.

“Hey, it’s okay,” he assured you, his tourniquet finished. His clean hand came up to cup your cheek. “You’ll be in good hands. I’ll see you again real soon.”

“But I don’t—”

“Honey, listen to me. Need you to be my brave girl, okay? I can’t go with you. They’re gonna take me to the hospital. And after that there’s a whole protocol I have to go through. But those agents out there, they’ll get you to safety. I promise you.”

Weeping, you wrapped your arms around his neck once more before you pulled back, just as none other than Agent Simpson walked into the room, his gun drawn.

Bob protectively placed an arm in front of you. “It’s all clear!” He called out. The assailant on the floor a few feet away from you both had long since been dead and did not pose a threat. Simpson still turned him over with his foot just to make absolutely certain that he was dead.

Beau approached you, kneeling so that he was eye level with you. His expression was neutral, but there was sympathy in his eyes. “I need you to come with me. I’ll see to it that you get back home safely. The threat to your life has been neutralized.”

“Agent Simpson, he’s been shot,” you whimpered, motioning to Bob.

“I see it. I’ve got a medic chopper on the way. We’ll transport him to the hospital. Right now, you’ve got two parents who are worried sick about you. Let’s get you back to them.”

“But—”

“Go with him,” Bob gently coaxed. “There’s nothing else you can do for me here. I’ll be fine.”

You gazed into his face, tears blurring your vision. “O-okay,” you whispered.

You wanted so badly to kiss him goodbye. But even now, you were hyper aware of Simpson’s presence and you knew you couldn’t openly show romantic affection to Bob in front of him.

So you allowed Agent Simpson to escort you from the room. You cast one more glance over your shoulder at your injured lover, before you finally left him behind. It felt like your heart was being torn in two. You longed to stay by his side, to board that medical helicopter with him and wait at the hospital while they tended to his injury.

But you supposed you did have one thing to be grateful for. At least he wasn’t dead.

As you were led outside, the early morning light was just beginning to peek over the horizon. It illuminated the carnage that had taken place. You gasped as you realized that the three remaining men who had tried to take you were dead. But there were others. Others you hadn’t seen. They were in custody, ready to be taken in for questioning. In one night, Homeland Security had succeeded in taking down a homegrown terrorist organization.

But that begged the question: why on earth had they been after you? It didn’t matter, because no one would answer your question, anyway.

You were led to a waiting car, where you realized Bradley Bradshaw and Natasha Trace were waiting for you. After what you had been through, you were relieved to see them.

“Hey kid,” Bradley greeted you.

“I sure am glad to see you,” you breathed.

“We’re glad to see you, too,” Natasha replied.

Bradley opened the door, and Nat slid into the seat first before you took your place in the middle, while he brought up the rear and closed the door behind him.

Javy Machado, who was driving, glanced back at you. “Good to see you safe and sound,” he said with a small smile.

You didn’t feel safe and sound. You felt harrowed and anxious.

The entire drive to The White House, you didn’t say a word. You stared out the window and fought to hold back your tears. What had gone wrong? How had those men found you? It seemed too easy. As if you and Bob had been nothing more than sitting ducks.

You were fortunate that all he had sustained was a shot to the leg. And you were even more fortunate that you had not been physically harmed. You were more emotionally scarred than anything. You weren’t sure how long it would take you to recover, but you knew you needed time. And most of all, you needed Bob.

But that was out of the question.

Instead, you had to hold your head high as you climbed out of the car once you had arrived at The White House. Waiting for you were Jake, Reuben, and Mickey. They reported your safe arrival through their mics, and then carefully led you into the building.

“Glad you’re home safe,” Jake softly told you.

You didn’t say a word. You couldn’t muster one. You were already steeling yourself for being reunited with your parents. You knew your mother would be teetering toward hysterics, and your father would likely be stoic, as he often was. You loved them, but you were overwhelmed.

Your mind was elsewhere, longing for your Bobby.

Meanwhile, he was just arriving at the hospital, where a team of medical personnel had already been warned of his arrival. He was a little delirious from the blood loss and the pain, but he could hear the terms they were throwing back and forth.

They were going to operate immediately.

“Agent Floyd?” A woman’s voice filled his ears. She was strawberry blonde, with kind blue eyes that reminded him of his mother’s. “I’m Doctor Vitarella. We’re gonna get this bullet outta you as fast as we can, alright?”

He mumbled something in reply, but his tongue felt heavy in his mouth. Then an oxygen mask was placed over his face, and he found himself slipping into a dark and dreamless slumber. The first thing he noticed when he woke a few hours later was the cast.

As consciousness washed over him, he gazed down at it, stretching from his foot to the top of his thigh. Still groggy, he glanced around the room, and saw a nurse walking into the room with a clipboard in hand. She looked up and realized that he was awake.

“Welcome back to the land of the living, Mr. Floyd,” she said with a smile. “I’ll go get the doctor. She’ll want to talk to you.”

She scurried away before he could say anything. About five minutes later, the woman he vaguely remembered as Doctor Vitarella walked into the room. “You, sir, gave me a run for my money in the operating room,” she said.

Bob looked at her confusedly, still not fully out of his anesthesia-induced haze.

“When the bullet entered your leg, it fractured your femur. I inserted a rod into your leg to provide solid support to the bone. But you should know that the second it came in contact with the bone, the bullet broke into a bunch of tiny little pieces. My team and I did the best that we could, but I must inform you that there are still leftover fragments in your leg. I could not get those out without causing more damage.”

As he mulled over her words, Bob only had one question. “Will I be able to use my leg again?”

“With proper physical therapy, yes. But you’ll likely live with lasting pain. I wish I had a better prognosis for you, but what matters is that we stopped the bleeding and set the bone.”

He nodded solemnly. There were still bullet fragments in his body. A constant reminder of what he had been through. He felt as if he hadn’t let it fully sink in yet. Everything had been such a blur. Being carried on a stretcher out of the safe house because he couldn’t walk. Being placed into a helicopter and then rushed into the hospital.

And now here he was, on his back in a hospital bed, his leg aching something fierce. No, not aching. Throbbing. As the fog began to clear from his brain, the pain set in, and he groaned softly. His head was pounding. His leg hurt enough to prompt him to clench his teeth. “Could I get some, uh, pain meds?” He asked.

“I’ll have the nurse bring you some.”

A while later, he had been given his medicine, but it just barely took the edge off the pain. There was no distraction from it. He didn’t want to watch whatever mindless show that was playing on the television. He didn’t have his phone to scroll through. He had nothing. The only thing that made it even slightly bearable was the thought of you.

He wondered how you were faring. He wondered if you even knew of his condition. Had anyone updated you? He imagined that you were demanding to know how he was.

And you were. You had informed Agent Simpson yourself that you wanted a report of Bob’s health. You had to know that he was okay. Thankfully, as soon as Beau knew something, he called you right away.

“He’s gonna be okay, kid,” he said, “bullet fractured his femur, and they put him in a cast. But he’s gonna be okay.”

You breathed a sigh of relief, thanked Beau for the update, and hung up the phone. Seconds later, you burst into tears. Your Bobby was going to be okay.

But his worries were far from over.

He was given a couple days to rest, but on his third day in the hospital, Agent Simpson walked through the door of his hospital room, and he knew it had begun.

“How are you feeling?” He asked, making courteous small talk.

“Like hell,” Bob muttered in reply.

Beau nodded. “Sorry to hear that.” And then, he brandished a folder from a briefcase. “I hate to jump right into business, but…I have no other choice.” He pulled up a chair and sat at Bob’s bedside. “There are a few things I need to clear up.”

“Go ahead.”

“First and foremost, why did you not utilize the bunker beneath the house? The two of you were sitting ducks where you were.”

Bob stared at his superior. “I tried. But they were in the house before I could get her there. So I hid her under the bed.”

“And why were you not aware of the threat before then? Did you not do a thorough enough perimeter sweep?”

His tone was slightly accusatory. At least, Bob took it as such. His eyes narrowed. “No disrespect, sir, but what the hell kind of safe house was that? They never should have been able to breach it that easily.” He paused for a beat, awaiting an explanation.

“I think you might already know the answer to that, agent.”

“It wasn’t a safe house at all, was it?”

Beau sighed, shaking his head. “No, it wasn’t.”

Now Bob was angry. “Y’know, my gut told me that something wasn’t right, and I just brushed it off. But I should’ve listened. You used her as bait, didn’t you? And I went right along with it like a fool.”

“Floyd, this was a tricky situation we were dealing with here. We’ve been tracking this group for months. Our only chance at luring them out was to use her as a decoy. By doing that, we in turn saved her life.”

“How is that any better?! You can’t just use someone as live bait!”

“I didn’t like doing it either, in fact it was my absolute last resort. But it worked, didn’t it? President’s daughter is safe and sound. Terrorist group has been disbanded. We have the few remaining ones in custody. It’s over. The threat to her life and our government has been neutralized.”

“And what if it didn’t work? What if she’d been killed?”

“But she wasn’t. There’s no use thinking about the what ifs. What’s done is done.”

“Does she know she was used as bait?”

Simpson shook his head, his gaze hard. “No. And it’s going to stay that way.”

Several moments of silence passed. Bob processed what he’d just been told. This entire time, he had tried so hard to keep you safe. Tried so hard to keep the danger away. And yet, the danger had still found you, all because the very administration he worked for had led them right to you.

A sick feeling churned in his gut. He felt dirty. He hadn’t been protecting you at all. He’d been offering you up to the very men who were after you, and he didn’t even know it.

“What did the president think about his daughter being used to lure her potential killers in?” His tone was bitter. He couldn’t help it.

“He was in agreement that it was the most effective way of eliminating the threat.”

“So I was the only one who wasn’t clued in to this plan?”

The agent looked him dead in the eyes and said, “Yes, because just from my own personal assessments and observations of you as an agent, I knew you wouldn’t go along with it otherwise. And she needed to be kept entirely in the dark. It was better that way.”

Bob’s head was spinning. “So really I was just used as a pawn?”

“You have to understand that this was a matter of national security. And sometimes you have to play dirty for the sake of the greater good.” He firmly believed that this had been the most effective course of action.

“I…I’m gonna need a minute to sit with this,” Bob continued.

“You don’t have a minute, Bob. I’m going to need you to fill out a report about what happened. You do not say one word about what I just shared with you. Just report what you saw, how you reacted, and nothing more or less.”

“So you want me to lie.”

“Some things are meant to be confidential. This is one of those things. Just report what you witnessed, agent. I’ll handle the rest.” He placed the folder, marked CONFIDENTIAL, onto Bob’s lap. Then he clicked a pen and set it on top.

Bob stared at it. Could he really do this? His superior expected him to. The president expected him to. But his mind wandered to you, and the senseless trauma you had endured because of it. In his heart, he knew that if Agent Mitchell was still in charge, this situation would have been handled differently. He would have done everything in his power to ensure you were not used as bait.

But Pete Mitchell’s days in The White House were over. Bob had no choice but to follow the new leadership put in place. So he went along with what was being asked of him, even though it went against everything he stood for, everything he believed.

He penned a lie on that report. Described what had happened, as if he had no idea about the plot to use you to lure your attackers straight to you. He dotted every i and crossed every t. And when he was done, he shoved the file back into Beau Simpson’s hands.

“You got what you came for. Now get out.” Bob didn’t care that he was speaking disrespectfully to a superior. It didn’t matter anymore.

Simpson left without a word. And Bob was alone again.

That interaction changed everything for Bob. It made him question his very morals. Could he really allow himself to be part of an administration that purposely put the very members it was supposed to be protecting in harm’s way? This left him with much to consider. He had a decision to make.

He finalized that decision the day you came to visit him.

Escorted by Bradley, Jake, and Natasha, who all respectfully waited outside the room once they brought you to it, you came through the door, so eager to see the man you loved. You shut the door behind you, allowing you both some privacy.

As you took in his form, tears sprang to your eyes. His left leg was in a full cast. There was a bandage around his head from the injury he’d sustained from being hit in the head with a gun. But what mattered was that he was alive, and he was going to be okay.

“Oh, Bobby,” you whispered as you approached him, unable to keep the tears from sliding down your cheeks.

He mustered a smile. “Hey there, sweet girl.”

You leaned down, oh so carefully wrapping your arms around him in a hug. “I’m so sorry.”

“Nothin’ to be sorry about. I’m okay.”

You pulled back, looking into his face before you lovingly stroked his cheek. He let his eyes flutter shut, relishing in your touch, so comforting and familiar. It distracted him from his pain and made him feel less alone.

“They told me the bullet fractured your femur?” You finally found your voice a few moments later. As you spoke, you took a seat on the edge of the bed. Bob’s hand lifted to rest in your lap, and you placed your own hands over top of it.

“Yeah. They put a pin in me. Got a bionic leg now,” he teased. But then, he grew serious. “When the bullet hit my bone, it broke into a bunch of little fragments. They took out most of them, but I’ve still got some floating around in there.”

You frowned, wiping at your tear dampened cheeks with the back of your hand. “How does that work? Will they ever be able to get them out?”

“The doc told me she couldn’t. Said it would cause more damage if she tried. So I’ll just have them inside me forever.”

Your heart broke for him. “I’m sorry they did this to you. All because you were trying to protect me.”

“Hey,” he interjected, hand moving to tip your chin up. “Don’t you ever think of blaming yourself. I’d do it again a million times over as long as it meant that you were safe. You’re what matters most to me in this world. I don’t want to live in one without you in it.”

“And I don’t want to live in one without you in it, either,” came your reply.

His fingers wiped away your tears. There was so much he longed to say. He wanted so badly to tell you the truth. But he couldn’t. He wouldn’t. What good would it do? It would only bring more grief upon your shoulders. He didn’t want to cause you anymore pain than you’d already been through.

But, with his next words, he ended up hurting you anyway.

“I need to tell you something.”

His tone gave you pause. He was serious. “What is it?” You cautiously asked.

“I…I’ve decided to step down from my job.”

You stared at him. “What?”

He sighed softly. “This injury’s going to have me out for months. And honestly, by the time it does heal, I just have this feeling that it won’t ever be the same again. I won’t be as effective at my job as I was before. So I’m making the decision to resign.”

But you were shaking your head, a fresh wave of tears filling your eyes. “Bobby, no. You can’t leave. I need you.”

“Sweetheart, my mind is made up.”

“Why? Because I know this isn’t just because of your leg. What happened? Did my dad threaten you?”

“No, nothing like that.”

“Then what?”

He sighed, shaking his head. How could he word it in a way that wouldn’t expose what he’d just sworn to keep secret? “I…I was asked to do something that goes against everything I believe. And I just can’t remain with this administration while knowing I was asked to do it.”

Your brow furrowed in confusion. “What—”

“That’s all I can tell you. I’m sorry.”

“Then what? You’re just going to leave? What does that mean for us?”

“We’ll figure it out. I know we will.”

You paused for a moment, looking down at your intertwined hands. More tears welled in your eyes. “I don’t want you to leave,” you whimpered. “You’re the one I feel safest with. I-I know everyone else is just as capable of looking after me but I want you, Bobby.”

It broke his heart to do this to you. And it filled him with uncertainty, too. He wasn’t sure what this would mean for your relationship. But he knew he couldn’t keep going on in secret. And he couldn’t continue to serve an administration that could potentially put you in danger again in the name of national security.

“I don’t want to leave, either. But I have to.”

You squeezed his hand. “I’m sorry. I’m being selfish. You should be allowed to make this decision without me causing a fuss about it. Do what you feel is best. I’ll support you no matter what.”

He lovingly stroked your cheek. “That means the world to me, honey. I’m sorry to break the news to you like this, after everything you went through. But I just wanted you to know before anyone else. I haven’t even told your dad or Agent Simpson yet.”

“Well, thank you for telling me. But I don’t know what I’m gonna do with myself, not seeing you everyday. God, I’m going to miss you so much, Bobby.” Your voice wavered. You were barely holding it together.

“Hey, c’mere.” He pulled you in, wrapping his arms around you, letting you rest your head on his chest, over his heart. “We’re gonna be okay, you and me. We’ll figure it out. Somehow, some way.” He kissed the top of your head.

You hoped he was right.

After that initial visit to the hospital, you tried to visit him as often as possible. Your security team was more than happy to tag along each day, because they loved Bob, too. And you cherished those quiet moments in that hospital room, without the eyes of the world on you.

Outside of that hospital, you had to face the public. Had to deliver statements about what happened that night in the safe house. Had to assure the American people that you were just fine, that the brave United States Secret Service and Homeland Security agents did their jobs well. Because of them, an entire domestic terrorist organization had been quashed. In America’s eyes, it was a great victory.

But you couldn’t help but feel like a spectacle. The girl who’d survived a harrowing attack on her life. You were made to relive that night over and over and over again. And finally, in the end, you’d had enough. In the following weeks, you came to terms with a lot of personal things.

Namely, you came to terms with wanting to separate yourself from your family’s administration. You would never be able to erase the fact that you were the president’s daughter. And your life would never be normal. You would need a security detail for the rest of your life. But you were done living within the confines of The White House.

The only time you had ever been away from it was when you were at college. After graduation, you came back to work as part of your father’s administration. But for your own sanity, you knew you needed to step down and find your own path.

So you told your parents as much. You informed them that your mind was made up, that you were going to buy a home for yourself and live your life separate from them. You no longer wanted a foot in the door of politics. It was time to pursue your true passions.

And that was just what you did.

You bought a house deep in Wyoming, of all places. A nice plot of land, spacious enough for owning horses or cows, and for planting a nice sized garden. It was quiet and secluded and the perfect respite after spending the last six years in The White House.

In the time leading up to your move, Bob was in the throes of physical therapy. His leg was healing well, and he was working hard to regain his strength. During those months, the two of you decided that it would be best to distance yourselves from one another, only because you did not want to raise suspicions about your relationship. You attending each one of his physical therapy sessions came across as suspicious, in your mind.

So you allowed him to focus on getting better, while you focused on starting your new life. You missed him so deeply, but your separation was only temporary. You planned to meet again, as soon as he was ready to travel, and you were situated in your new home. You also wanted the media attention on your safe house to die down.

Eventually, it did, and the world moved on to something else to panic about.

But you? You tuned it all out. You stayed out of the news, you stayed out of politics, and you tried to bring some sense of calm normalcy to your life. You no longer needed a full security detail. It was with a heavy heart that you bid farewell to a few of them, leaving only Natasha, Mickey, and Bradley as your remaining security. They helped ensure that your home was always safe, and that you were protected.

But there was still one part of your life that remained incomplete. A void that could only be filled by your Bobby.

And finally, after several months, the day came that you would be reunited. He was strong enough to travel again. He had officially resigned from his job in The White House. He returned to civilian life, and packed up the minimal amount of belongings he had, placing them in the trunk and backseat of his car.

He drove over fifteen hours just to get to you. And it was worth it to him. After not seeing you for months, all he wanted was to hold you in his arms and never let go. So he drove. And he drove. And he drove. Until finally, he was standing at your front door, his hands trembling as Natasha let him in, and informed him that you were out back, in the stable.

So he ran. Ignoring the residual ache in his bad leg, he dashed behind the house, where the stable was, and he kept going into he was standing in the wide doorway. His feet skidded against concrete and hay, and his eyes searched. There you were. Dressed in jeans, riding boots, and a t-shirt. One he recognized as an old shirt of his, which you had snagged from him in the early days of your secret relationship.

You heard him approaching. Heard his feet skid to a halt at the doorway. And your heart quickened in your chest. You turned in what felt like slow motion, your gaze falling upon the man you loved, standing at the entrance of your stable, breathless.

“Bobby,” you whispered.

You weren’t sure who moved first. But in an instant, you were both running toward each other. You met halfway, arms coming out to catch the other, to embrace the other. “You’re here! You’re really here!” Came your cry.

“I’m here.” And then he was kissing you. Arms secure around your body, lips soft and familiar. He kissed you and kissed you and kissed you. And you kissed back. Not even your mingled tears caused you to part. You didn’t want to. It was as if you were afraid this would all be a dream if you pulled away.

When you did part, he was smiling. That sweet smile that made his eyes disappear behind his cheeks. That sweet smile that made your heart sing. “Oh, I missed you!” you sobbed.

“I missed you too, honey. So, so much.”

You embraced again. He spun you around in a circle, and you giggled musically, overjoyed. He was finally here, with you, where he belonged. After months of waiting, months of agony, months of uncertainty, he was in your arms. No longer as the head of your security detail, but as the man you loved.

“I just can’t believe this is real,” came your soft confession.

“Believe it. This couldn’t be more real,” he assured you.

You held his face in your hands. “Oh, my sweet, beautiful man. I’m never going to let you out of my sight again.”

“Good, because I’m here to stay.”

You shared several more moments in that stable, holding each other, still in disbelief that it was finally over. The years of secrecy, the sneaking around behind the scenes. You didn’t have to hide anymore. You were allowed to love each other freely and openly.

Together, you walked back to your house that night, arms around each other, swaying as you walked, happy and content and relieved. You enjoyed a wonderful dinner, just the two of you, as the three remaining members of your security team had excused themselves to their own quarters to allow you privacy.

A lot had changed in the time that you’d been apart. You told Bob all you’d been doing, and he informed you what stepping down from his job, and enduring all that physical therapy, had been like.

He was no longer part of the secret service, and he never would be again. The fear of being found out and losing his position was no longer on the table. There were no superiors to appease. No presidents to serve. He was free to be his own man. To live his life. To love who he wanted.

To love you.

Things were not automatically perfect now that he was with you. But they were better. You would have to figure out some things. And eventually, you would have to tell your family that you were in a relationship with him. But for now, you could live in peace, if only for a brief moment in time. You were safe, on your little farm in Wyoming, with the man you loved. It was your own little slice of heaven.

And after all the difficulty you had endured, you were more than content with that. You could figure everything else out later. For now, you would live in that domestic bliss for just a little while longer. You’d earned it, after all.

Finally, it was your turn to live your life the way you wanted to, and not the way others dictated you should.

taglist (a mix of those already on the list/who might be interested):

@bradshawsbitch @sebsxphia @rhettabbotts @delopsia @milesmillergf @ohtobeleah @purelyfiction @honeymurdock @ihavealewproblem @high-speed-r @happyrebelruins @chasing-fics @roostersgirlfrxend @bradshawsbaby @whisperofsong @hangmanapologist @callsign-magnolia @callsignmedusa @withahappyrefrain @up-thereinthesky @peachystenbrough @damrlova @lovinglyeternal @laracrofted @bobfloydsbabe @nobody7102 @agentorange9595

#bob floyd x reader #robert bob floyd x reader #bob floyd x you #bob floyd fanfiction #bob floyd

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calummss · 9 months

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Do You Get Déjà Vu | Thomas Shelby

masterlist

summary: thomas doesn’t come to pick up his daughter. you decide to take her home only to find a man of a table with a bullet in his chest and a lot of deja vu

pairing: fem! reader x thomas shelby

words: 1.6k

a/n: just fluff and comedy tbh… not my usual angst i promise also, this takes place in 1919 because season 1 tommy has my heart. helena is around 9/10 years :)

How you disliked summer. Sweat pearls dripping simply sitting and breathing. Delicate fabric sticking to you like a bee and its honey. It was simply too hot for a woman to be wearing layers of modest clothing but here you were, sitting in front of your desk; no countertop in sight, too many different documents sprawled across the surface, each waiting on your eyes and conscious to scan it and then evaluate whatever category it fell into.

‘Miss Verys?’ Katie’s voice pulled you out of your slump, yet your heart skipped a beat when you saw her come closer with an arm full of newer papers that acquired your attention.

‘Please tell me you are joking…’

‘I fear not, Miss,’ she pressed her lips together as she placed them onto the right corner, the surface area with less than ten documents. ‘But these are all for the week.’ She smiled.

‘Finally some good fucking news,’ you huffed, ‘Sorry,’ you tilted your head when you realised Katie was taken aback by your choice of words.

‘Also I don’t wish to add more to your plate but Helena is still present. It seems Mr. Shelby has yet to pick her up. Do you want me to stay and wait with her?’

‘Katie you are truly an angel, really, I am so grateful but you are being paid to work on from eight to three, I couldn’t let you do that. Legally and from my heart.’ You curled your lips, fingers rubbing against the sheet of paper you were waiting to flip. ‘Just tell Helena to pack her things and to come to my office. Since I will be busy reading through all of these I might end up staying for quite a while.’

‘Of course. And thank you, Miss Verys, have a good day.’

‘You too.’

Katie left and you were stuck in front of an ocean of paper. If you had known that directing a school was so strenuous you might’ve thought about inaugurating a school twice. But it was a lovely institute. A school for girls with the most brightest and innovative minds, no runner up to men but competition with finest ideas.

Momentarily Helena came through the door and patiently stood at the door frame, her bag in her grip.

‘Hello Helena,’ you smiled at her. ‘Your father is not here yet?’

‘No.’

‘That’s okay, just wait here with me. I have much work and since we’re the only ones here I thought company would be nice, no? Sit,’ you pointed to the chair, Helena still standing at the entrance barely having moved.

Helena hummed in response.

‘So,’ you grabbed one of your quills to start signing documents that needed your signature. ‘What do you like to do when you’re not at school or doing homework? I am pretty sure you like horse riding?’

‘I do.’

‘Something else perhaps?’

‘Recently we bought a family car,’ Helena had sat down in the chair, laying her bag beside her as she relaxed into the seat. ‘When we got it we drove through the countryside…it was so thrilling. The wind on my face felt different to when I am riding. Daddy looked so happy too. I like cars.’

‘My my, what a riveting experience.’ You glanced at her from your work. ‘I remember my first time in a car. Felt exactly like how you described it.’

Helena beamed back you, her bright blue eyes gleaming with excitement, ‘My uncle Finn liked the car ride at first too but we had to stop because he got sick,’

‘And did you?’

‘No, I felt great. I love cars.’

‘I too think cars are the greatest innovation since the marvellous idea to roast and ferment cocoa beans to make chocolate.’ You let out a lighthearted laugh, infecting Helena with the same giggle.

‘I like chocolate.’

‘You do?’ Your lips curled. ‘Do you want one? I might have a bit stashed somewhere between all this energy-consuming work,’

‘I’ve only had it twice,’ Helena began another story, ‘It is very expensive and my father says it is bad for your teeth and that you mustn’t eat too much of it. He said that when he was visiting London he met a man outside of the sweet shop who became so round, simply for eating a lot of chocolate.’

‘Well best you have only one piece then,’ you put a piece into your mouth before giving her her piece. ‘This is my favourite. Got it from Cornwall. They make the best sweets.’

Taking the piece you handed her, she started eating it, her eyes in awe.

‘What about your father, Helena?’

‘What about him?’

‘What does he do for work?’ You asked, amusingly raising your eyebrows before taking the second heap of documents before you.

Helena hesitated. ‘I don’t think I can say.’

‘Why not?’

‘Family business…’

‘Family business?’ You looked up, Helena nodding her head in response. ‘I’m just curious that’s all. When you speak of him, you speak endearingly. You seem to have a very good relationship.’

‘We do.’ She ate the last bite, looking around the room. ‘If he wasn’t my father he would be my best friend.’

‘How sweet.’

With an easy lead conversation, time passed quicker than expected. But an hour later and Mr. Shelby still hadn’t come to pick up Helena.

With minutes passing you realised that Mr. Shelby wouldn’t show up anytime soon. It was also way past closing time so you had to start locking up the building. You thought it best to walk Helena home to see if anyone was there and if not you’d take her back to yours so she would have a safe place to stay until anyone got in touch.

‘Hello?’ You knocked against the door, the hard wooden door aching your knuckles as you repeatedly hit against it. ‘This is Miss Verys from Small Heath Institute for Girls. I have your daughter Helena with me as she has not been picked up yet.’ Your breath ricocheted off the door.

Seconds later you could hear the lock turning and were greeted by an older woman, her hair all over the place as her dark eyes burned into yours. Feeling as if she were about to take a jape at you, you quickly jumped back into your sentence. ‘I’m so sorry to intrude but I grew worried when Helena still hadn’t been picked up yet. I hope that all is well.’

Your eyes left her frame, seeing figures surrounding a table where there seemed to be a man laying down upon, quick huffs and puffs echoing from behind.

‘Arthur, shut up and just get this out of me.’

‘Drink this, Tommy. It’ll help with the pain.’

The unravelling scene before you had your full attention, completely forgetting the woman at the door.

‘I—oh no don’t do that!’ You raised your voice, pushing past her, now standing in the living room with three men staring at you. ‘I’m sorry to intrude but I was a nurse at the front and seeing you just stick your fingers inside his wound just rang my bells.’

The man on the table had blue eyes that protruded from the dim light within the room, his chest covered in dry and fresh blood, sweat dampening his skin and clothes. You overheard that his name was Thomas Shelby, Helena’s father.

You stepped closer and examined his wound. A bullet wound. Minimal surface damage and easily removed.

‘If someone could get me some bandages, an unopened bottle of alcohol and some tweezers with a bowl of warm water.’

‘I’ll get it.’ Helena walked past you to what seemed to be the kitchen.

‘The cheap one, Hallie,’ the light haired one yelled after her, his toothpick sitting between his lips. ‘If you open that rum from the Caribbean, I swear to you that I won’t give you any more sweets.’

‘You give her sweets?’ Thomas lifted his head.

‘Sometimes.’

‘Mr. Shelby if you could just relax for a short time longer. I will get that bullet out of you as swiftly as possible.’

Further taking in his naked chest you noticed his tattoo. Similar to sun rays just above his right chest. You had seen this tattoo before…

‘Mr. Shelby, can I ask you something?’

‘Yes.’

‘Do you perhaps have a scar on your lower back? On your right just above your glutes?’

‘How do you know that?’ He stared up at you, holding your gaze as Helena came back with the supplies you needed.

‘Given it was a back injury you were transported to the tent on your stomach,’ you grabbed the alcohol to clean the wound, a hiss escaping him as you grabbed the tweezers, ready to pull out the metal embedded in his flesh. ‘I was the nurse that treated you. I was covered in ugly drapes and bloods, can’t say you could recognise me,’

Thomas winced as the ends of the tweezers dug around to grab the piece of metal, a small smirk on his lips. ‘You don’t say eh?’

‘I’m sure you’ll be having a déjà vu when I pull it out,’ you grabbed it and pulled it out, a loud growl escaping his lips as air pushed past his lips.

‘Thank you again.’

‘No problem, Mr. Shelby.’ You disposed of the bullet in a dish Arthur held out to you. ‘Next time Helena is not picked up I’ll bring her home and bring my first aid kit with me.’

‘That’s actually not a bad idea,’ he pulled himself up, grabbing a cigarette and lighting it. ‘Small Heath is starting you feel like a battlefield,’

‘Then I’ll be your nurse ready to care you to health.’

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suzukiblu · 5 months

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Day twenty of fic NaNoWriMo, obligatory sugar daddy Tim/sugar baby Kon AU.

“Maybe just an outfit or two,” Kon says, blushing furiously in the direction of the mall fountain. Tim considers pressing his luck with jewelry, but figures he can sneak accessories in later. Like, subtly. Or just incredibly blatantly and shamelessly, which is probably likelier to work on Kon anyway. And shoes, while he's at it.

“You did promise me a fashion show,” Tim reminds him. Kon manages to blush darker, but also grins.

“Guess I did,” he says, then wags his eyebrows at him. “Think they'll let us in the changing rooms together?”

Tim's brain instantly self-liquidates and leaks out his ears and ruins his shirt, or at least it really feels like it does.

“I think you can always sneak me in if we have to,” he says with a smirk, using every single drop of his Bat-training to look and sound like a normal person making a lighthearted joke and not a desperately horny five-alarm fire who is suddenly thinking thoughts.

Kon laughs, so apparently it works, thank god.

Tim takes advantage of the granted permission to get Kon to the closest department store and clothes-hunting, which to be honest he's not particularly sure how to do correctly because he mostly shops while thinking things like “how do I make myself look like a normal teenage civilian from Bristol?” and less things like “what would my very attractive teammate who doesn't know how to be a normal teenage civilian from anywhere most like to wear?” He mostly just nods encouragingly while Kon looks at things and helps him pick the right sizes.

Also he tries not to be reduced to a desperately horny five-alarm fire every time Kon asks his opinion about a shirt or whatever and then listens to it.

He has no idea why he's so into the idea of Kon wearing clothes he suggested or picked out, but Jesus, he just really is. Note to self: never let himself pick out Kon's clothes if the team has to go undercover or incognito or anything like that. Outsource that one to Cissie or maybe Cassie, just for the sake of his focus.

. . . actually, maybe not Cassie. Cassie might have similar issues to his current ones, if they let her dress Kon.

. . . . . . then again, if he lets Cassie dress Kon, then he has plausible deniability if Kon ends up in–never mind.

He probably needs to just stop thinking about this, he decides. Though that’d be easier if Kon stopped asking his opinion, probably. Like–just a little.

“What about this?” Kon asks thoughtfully, looking at a mannequin wearing a fitted bright red tank top that’s half mesh and a pair of black leather pants so tight that they could pass for leggings. There are belts. And buckles. And . . . straps.

Tim is pretty sure he’s not going to manage to stop thinking about this.

“If you try that on in front of me, we’re getting banned from this store,” he says frankly, telling himself he’s joking. Kon laughs, so that helps.

Tim is definitely not joking, though.

“Maybe the fire engine red is too obvious,” Kon says, giving him a sly grin and walking past the display. “Gotta stay classy, right? Go a little subtle.”

Tim’s traitor of a brain pictures various takes on Kon dressing up “classy” and he suffers for it. Goddammit.

“We should get you something dressy too, actually,” he says, and Kon looks briefly puzzled.

“What for?” he asks.

“Well, what if I want to take you somewhere with a dress code?” Tim says with a shrug. Kon probably wouldn’t be into, like, live theater or any kind of formal concert or art gallery event or anything like that, but a nicer restaurant or something, at least.

“I don’t think places with dress codes want me there,” Kon says with another laugh, shaking his head.

“I don’t care,” Tim says. “I want you there.”

Kon lets out another abrupt laugh, then flees between two of the taller racks as his face reddens again. Tim hopes that’s because he’s flustered, not because he thinks he’s being weird.

He really needs to work on his flirting. He’s kind of just fumbling around mostly-blind here and hoping he hits on something Kon’s into. It’s not like Tim Drake is actually Kon’s type, but if Kon’s just testing the waters with a guy for once, well, he probably wouldn’t care about that anyway. Tim’s still not sure if this is just him experimenting or not. Kon hasn’t said anything about not mentioning all this to anyone, but that doesn’t necessarily mean he wants anyone knowing either.

Kon had looked a little weird when Tim had made that crack about explaining him to his dad earlier, come to think. Being nervous about being mentioned or ID’ed would explain that reaction.

Tim peers into the racks after Kon and finds him with a messy pile of clothes in his arms, doing a very committed job of pretending to be very invested in a table covered in T-shirts with either superhero emblems or cheesy puns on them. Tim has to repress a snort of laughter, but the idea of Kon wearing a “talk nerdy to me” shirt is objectively hilarious. He's pretty sure Kon would sooner eat kryptonite than listen to nerd talk.

“Find anything good?” he asks. Kon grins sheepishly at him.

“Maybe,” he says. “Wanna hit the changing rooms?”

Tim desperately does but also probably should not. However, he also probably shouldn't be a teenage vigilante who lies to his dad about what he does all night and fights random Gotham rogues with an extendable bo staff and obsessive detective work and very little else.

“Sure, yeah,” he says because of the part of him that stalked Batman and counted flips and broke into a memorial for a Robin costume, and then he follows Kon to said changing rooms. Kon beelines right for them, which seems weird because it's not like he's been to this mall before and they definitely didn't pass them, so–“How did you know where they were?”

Kon grins slyly at him, adjusting the pile of clothes in his arms.

“‘Versatile’, remember?” he says. Tim's confused for a second, then realizes–

“Did you check the store layout with TTK?” he asks in bewilderment.

“You kidding?” Kon asks with a laugh. “More like the mall layout.”

“Like . . . right now?” Tim asks, still more bewildered. Kon looks smug.

“They just made a new batch of pretzels back at that pretzel stand,” he says.

. . . Tim needs a moment. Or a lifetime.

“You can just . . . do that?” he asks. “Feel whatever’s going on in your range?”

“Yeah,” Kon says. “Honestly, it's kinda distracting sometimes. Makes it hard to focus, you know? So I try to tune it out when I can, but sometimes it comes in handy on the job when there's, like, a hidden door or something. Though it's easier when I'm just walking around like this, ironically.”

Tim has absolutely no way to explain how useful “can make an accurate map of an entire mall and possibly then some just by standing in it” actually is as a skill, to say nothing of spotting secret doors or hidden safes or concealed assassins or anything like that. If he'd known Kon could do that sooner, he'd have been starting every single mission in an unknown environment by making Kon do that.

Crap, now he has to trick Kon into telling Robin he can do that as soon as possible. Tim has no idea how Kon didn't lead with that trick, though. That is like–that is just–he thinks maybe TTK is just broken. Like, as a power. He thinks Cadmus gave Kon a literal cheat code for life, in fact. If this were a video game, Kon would need to be immediately nerfed or no one would ever play any other character.

Tim despairs for his capacity to ever be normal about this bastard and follows him into one of the bigger changing rooms, resigned to his fate. Kon has no apparent concern for the five-item limit and there isn’t an attendant around to stop them, so he just takes the whole pile of clothes in and dumps it on one half of the bench. Tim’s not sure if he’s leaving the other half free for discards or for him, so–

“Sit back and enjoy the show, man,” Kon says as he flashes him a bright grin before peeling off his sweater, which answers that question pretty quick. Also, nearly evaporates Tim’s sanity. Kon’s literally still wearing his damn suit underneath and it nearly evaporates his sanity; what even is that?

He is in so, so much trouble here, isn’t he.

#timkon #tim drake #kon el #conner kent #dc robin #superboy #young just us #young justice #long post #rinfic #wip: obligatory sugar baby kon

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princeloww · 4 months

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DAVID TENNANT ROLES STARTERPACK

(Different roles, where to find them and what they're like!!!) (+ more that I didn't go into included at the end)

*disclaimer: this is sort of UK orientated, 'cos I don't know any American streaming services or where stuff is available in other countries, so PLEASE comment other places you can watch things!!!!

- Takin' Over the Asylum (CAMPBELL BAIN)

Follows a DJ and a group of patients trying to keep a radio station going in a mental hospital. David plays one of the main characters, Campbell Bain, a mostly upbeat and energetic young boy with lots of enthusiasm and spirit. Some angst!

☆ YOUTUBE (free)

- Blackpool (PETER CARLISLE)

A body is found in an arcade run by Ripley Holden, and him and his entire family are pulled into the murder investigation surrounding it. DI Peter Carlisle is working on the case, and highly suspicious of Ripley. He's a pretty major character and has a romantic plot - as well as a few funny musical numbers. Includes sex scenes.

☆ UKTV PLAY (free in UK), AMAZON PRIME VIDEO

- Casanova (GIACOMO CASANOVA)

The (mostly sexual) adventures of Giacomo Casanova, a charming and fraudulent man who falls in love very quickly and very dramatically with a lot of people, all while essentially bullshitting through life and jumping on every opportunity to make money. Includes sex scenes but also angst, such as illness, injuries, some violence, and general suffering.

☆ MYFLIXERX.TO (free), AMAZON

- Recovery (ALAN HAMILTON)

A man and his family coping with the recovery and rehabilitation process after he (Alan, David Tennant) suffers from brain damage. Angsty. Lots of crying, suicide references, head injury stuff.

☆ YOUTUBE (free)

- Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire (BARTY CROUCH JR)

I recommend pirating this one so you're not supporting JK Rowling. DT plays Barty Crouch JR, an antagonist and the son of Barty Crouch. He's kind of a minor character, as he's not actually in a lot of scenes.

☆ Probably on most pirating sites (my go to is MYFLIXERX.TO)

- Learners (CHRISTOPHER ??)

Lighthearted movie about a woman trying to pass her driving test. David plays Chris, her driving instructor. He's a bit of a dork, very sweet and kind. Has a love plot, briefly fights a guy. No major angst.

☆ YOUTUBE (free)

- Hamlet (HAMLET)

Hamlet. Prince of Denmark wants vengeance after his father's death. I haven't actually watched this one yet but I assume it's got the same amount of angst and drama as Hamlet typically does.

☆ AMAZON PRIME VIDEO

- Single Father (DAVE TYLER)

After a fatal car accident, Dave Tyler (DT) is left to parent four children on his own. Still struggling through grief, Dave falls in love again and attempts to hide it. Has LOTS of crying, lots of kissing, sex scenes, DT being miserable and sobbing, etc.

☆ MYFLIXERX.TO (free)

- Rex Is Not Your Lawyer (REX ALEXANDER)

Unaired pilot. Only 40 minutes. Show wasn't picked up, but it is very good. Rex is a successful and skilled lawyer who is forced to stop practising when he starts having panic attacks every time he speaks in court. He decides instead to coach people who want to represent themselves. Lots of DT in very tight suits. American accent. Not MAJOR angst but he does has daddy issues and a panic disorder, so.

☆ YOUTUBE (free)

- Fright Night (PETER VINCENT)

A kid discovers that his neighbour is a vampire, and he seeks out a famous vampire slayer to help him. Peter Vincent (DT) does not live up to his name, and turns out to actually be sort of pathetic. No major angst, not a lot of clothes, no romance, but lots of eyeliner. He's very bisexual. Violence, vampire horror, creepy neighbour.

☆ DISNEY+, AMAZON PRIME

- The Decoy Bride (JAMES ARBER)

Celebrity Lara Tyler tries to get married to her author fiancé James Arber, but the paparazzi interrupts the wedding. Desperate to keep it private, she takes James to the island that he based his book on. Somehow, the paparazzi still find them, and they hire a decoy bride to pretend to be Lara. Romance, kissing, light hearted, minimal angst. David in a funny outfit. Fake dating trope?

☆ AMAZON PRIME

- Nativity 2: Danger in the Manger (Donald and Roderick Peterson)

Sequel to Nativity, but you don't need to watch the first one. Primary school teacher Donald Peterson (DT) is forced to take his class to Wales to participate in A Song For Christmas, a festive singing competition. Here he is put against his twin brother, who is a successful composer and with whom he has a strained relationship. Light angst - lots of daddy issues, but generally sweet.

☆ AMAZON, I think its on NOW TV???

- The Escape Artist (WILL BURTON)

A defence lawyer, Will Burton, gets a murderer off free, and very quickly grows to regret it, when his client comes after his family next. Lots of murder. Like three murders I think. Hot lawyer DT.

☆ AMAZON (I can't believe I forgot this one)

- What We Did On Our Holiday (DOUG MCLEOD)

A family go to Scotland for their grandfather's 70th birthday. Doug (DT) and his wife (Rosamund Pike) are getting a divorce, but are hiding it from the rest of the family. Movie is mostly focused on the kids and their grandad, but David has a few moments, and he's generally present throughout. Funny, slightly shocking at times, family film. No major angst. Character death.

☆ AMAZON PRIME

- Richard II (RICHARD II)

Shakespeare's Richard II. David plays the titular character, the extravagant, heartless and cold King of England, Richard II. We see his fall from grace as he is stripped of everything he owns and knows. Quite angsty. Long hair, androgynous David. Queer kiss scene (although they are cousins, soo...)

☆ you can find a link in a REDDIT comment if you search for it, AMAZON PRIME

- Broadchurch (ALEC HARDY)

An eleven-year-old boy is murdered in a small town, sending shock-waves through the community. Story follows both the family and communities response to the crime, as well as the investigation done by DI Alec Hardy (DT) and DS Ellie Miller (Olivia Coleman). Lots of angst from Alec. He is sick and hiding it. Injury, dizziness, panic attacks, that sort of thing - as well as a heart attack. He has a lot of trauma and daddy issues. Season three touches on topics of rape (warning).

- Mad To Be Normal (RD LIANG)

Biopic about RD Liang, a Scottish psychiatrist. Sex, misogyny, mental health topics, some self-harm (done by another character)

☆ AMAZON (sensing a pattern)

- Good Omens (CROWLEY)

An angel (Michael Sheen) and a demon work together to stop the end of the world. Queer romance (canon), some angst. Drama, comedy, LGBTQ+. David plays Crowley, the demon (who "sauntered vaguely downwards" rather than fell from heaven)

☆ AMAZON PRIME

- Staged (DAVID TENNANT)

A COVID lockdown comedy about David Tennant and Michael Sheen talking via Zoom during the lockdown. Actually quite sad at times? Mostly silly, though. Features Georgia Tennant and Anna Lundberg.

☆ BBC Iplayer (UK) (or VPN)

- Around The World in 80 Days (PHILEAS FOGG)

Phileas Fogg, a quiet and reserved man, decides to travel around the world in 80 days, after he receives an anonymous postcard calling him a coward. Cute found family, drama, angst (ex-lover stuff, internalised cowardice, illness, near death experience), some violence. There's a scene where Phileas gets flogged (whipped, essentially) quite violently, and it's somewhat graphic. Touches on themes of racism. Phileas is 100% neurodivergent.

☆ BBC Iplayer (UK) (or VPN)

- Inside Man (HARRY WATLING)

DT plays a vicar, Harry, who is involved in a murder after trying to protect his son - who was accused of having CP. Suicide themes, murder, self-harm - explores the idea that any person can murder, if they're pushed the right way. Includes topics to do with CP and pedophilia.

☆ NETFLIX, AMAZON

- Litvinenko (LITVINENKO)

Biopic about Alexander Litvinenko. A group of detectives investigate the poisoning of Litvinenko. David is bald in this show. (Scary)

☆ ITVX (UK) (or VPN)

- Doctor who (10TH AND 14TH DOCTORS)

Do I need to explain Doctor Who???? David Tennant plays the tenth and fourteenth regenerations of The Doctor, a Time Lord from outerspace. He travels around in the TARDIS with human companions.

☆ BBC Iplayer (UK)

I think I'm gonna leave it there, but there are a LOT that I have not touched on. This post is a very accurate and long list of everything on DT's filmography, so i recommend you check that out.

Other things I didn't mention (off the top of my head):

There She Goes, Bad Samaritan, Einstein and Eddington, Rab. C Nesbitt, Bright Young Things, LA Without a Map, Much Ado About Nothing, Duck Patrol, True Love, Gracepoint, Camping (US), Nan's Christmas Carol, Mary Queen of Scots, (You, Me and Him), Secret Smile, Deadwater Fell, Jessica Jones, Dramarama, Spies of Warsaw, AND A LOT MORE. (+ voice acting roles, and also his narrating work on Spy In The Wild (2017)

#david tennant #good omens #takin over the asylum #campbell bain #broadchurch #takin' over the asylum #alec hardy #crowley #taking over the asylum #david tennant roles #casanova #phileas fogg #im not tagging them all #tennantverse #david tennantverse #david tennant fandoms #YES i left out a lot of very popular ones #dont come at me #this was just the ones i wanted to write about

282 notes · View notes

shawnxstyles · 1 year

Text

rough-up

DATE: DECEMBER 19, 2022

summary: tom overhears you say that he’s never made you come. shocked, he becomes determined to make it happen. he’s even more surprised when he discovers how to do so.

request: yess

words: 4.2k

warnings: SMUT (f- receiving [fingering, slight degrading, slight breast/nipple play], dirty talk, mentions of porn) language, fluff

note: sorry i’ve been inactive. i just had surgery on my knee, so i haven’t had the energy to write. this is unedited and probably bad 😭

(kind of mean) dom!tom

—

After seven long months of keeping the biggest secret ever, you finally decide to tell your best friend about your boyfriend.

Of course, Anna already knows about Tom and that you two have been together for months. You guys even live in a condo together! But she doesn’t know what goes on behind the scenes.

She’s been begging for you to tell her anything about your sexual relationship with Tom. She wants to know every miniscule detail if she can because that’s just how you two are. After every boyfriend she’s had and every guy she’s slept with, she always comes running to you with new drama and information. You guys told each other everything.

So, why was it so hard for you to tell her about Tom in a sexual way?

It didn’t feel wrong, it felt… mean. What you wanted to say wasn’t the most ego-expanding thing for a man. Tom wasn’t cocky or arrogant— he was charming and gentle, which is what made you fall for him. He’s lighthearted and funny, and you couldn’t ask for anyone better. But when you guys had sex for the first time, it was really good, but not completely satisfying for you.

All of Anna’s partners were relatively good, so you guessed it embarrassed you that Tom wasn’t as good. He was your first after all, and first times are never good. So you assumed after so many times you would finally come, but it just never happened.

You knew she wouldn't say anything harsh to you, but you had a feeling she would pity you and that sounds a bit worse.

“So how is your love life going? You seemed pretty thrilled about it over text,” You chirp through the phone to Anna as you wipe the kitchen counter.

Since it was Saturday, you decided to do a bit of cleaning. Tom went out to do some grocery shopping around an hour ago, so you assumed he would be back soon. You loved the days where neither of you worked too late and you could relax together before the day ended. This was one of those weekends.

Anna rants about her new friend with benefits while you discard your wipe and go to grab your duster in the laundry room. You put your phone between your ear and shoulder as you reach up in an attempt to grab it. You sigh to yourself, climbing on top of the washing machine. When she’s finished, she takes a deep breath.

“Enough about my life, how’s Tom? I don’t care. Have you guys had sex yet?? PLEASE DON’T TELL ME YOU’RE WAITING FOR MARRIAGE!” Anna talks quickly, yelling through your speaker. You always have to set your phone aside for a minute when she shouts like that. You roll your eyes, even though you know she can’t see you. “And don’t roll your eyes!”

“Look,” You take a breath as you think about how you’re going to say it. You stop reaching for the duster and stay seated on the machine for a moment. You put your phone down and on speaker. “Tom and I have had sex, okay–”

“OH MY GOD, I totally knew it! I was just waiting for you to tell me. I have so many questions. How long? How many times? Did it feel amazing?!–”

Tom shoves his keys into the lock and opens the front door. He picks up his few bags of groceries and lightly kicks back the door. He heads straight for the kitchen and places the bags on the counter. Before unbagging all the items, he goes to announce that he’s back, but is alerted by your sudden yell. Tom is naturally attracted to the sound, so he hurriedly makes his way over to you.

“Anna!” You shout, shutting her up. If you were a pushover, she would never stop talking. Ever. “It’s… fine.”

Fine? What was fine?

Tom stops and thinks, overhearing you. He didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but now he’s curious. Clearly you weren’t in trouble, so he’ll just pretend like he’s not here yet.

“Fine? Fine is a word you use to describe a pen, not sex. Sex shouldn’t be fine,” She replies in disgust and you try not to laugh at how dramatic she is. You keep your eyes fixated on the cabinet, forgetting about the duster.

“It’s… it’s good. I mean everything feels right. I get aroused, so it’s not like I don’t like it. It feels fantastic. Just… you know at the end when you’re supposed to feel amazing?” You try your best to explain your situation to her and you can hear the cogs spinning in her curious head. “Well, I didn’t feel that.”

Is… she talking about sex? She doesn’t hate it, but it wasn’t good?

Tom’s eyebrows furrow in immediate confusion as he leans against the wall near the laundry room. He crosses his arms, continuing to eavesdrop.

“So, you didn’t feel amazing, even though it was amazing. But did you come?” Anna asks, not caring if her question is too explicit or personal. She wasn’t afraid to ask or say anything and that’s what made your friendship so real.

“Um… I don’t think so? It’s different when you’re with somebody than by yourself. How do you know?” You cringe at your unsureness, a hand lifting to rub over your temple as you close your eyes for a moment.

“If you did, you would know. So you’ve never had the experience of coming before. Okay, woah,” Anna says, shock lacing her tone. She sounds almost speechless, and that is something you thought you’d never hear.

“Well, no, I’ve masturbated before and I’ve come. I think. So I have experienced it, just not with Tom,” As you come to a conclusion. It was a lot simpler now that you’ve explained it to Anna. “What do I do?”

She’s never come? That’s… fuck. Horrible.

Tom quietly creeps into the kitchen, making sure you don’t see or hear him. As he unloads some groceries, he wonders what he should do. Does he ask you? If he does then you would know he was listening to you and invading your phone call. So, he mentally settles for searching it up in his down time. For now, he is going to have to resist you as much as possible until he is confident enough.

He hates knowing you aren’t completely satisfied, and that he isn’t giving you everything you want when that’s all you deserve.

“On a scale of one to 10, how much do you like him? Because you could–”

“Anna, I’m not breaking up with him! I love him. So much. I just… don’t know how to bring it up,” You bite your lip and sigh. You extend yourself from a kneeling position and reach up toward the duster. You grab it while Anna contemplates. For once, the line is silent.

“You know I hate beating around the bush, so you might as well just get to the damn point. “Hey, person that I love so much, remember all those times we had sex? Well, I never came, so get your shit fixed!” Something like that should work.”

You roll your eyes as she mocks you and creates new ways to confess to Tom. After too many minutes, you hang up the phone and tell her you’d call her another time. You hop off the machine and waltz into the kitchen. Your eyes light up when they notice Tom, nearly finished unpacking the groceries.

“Oh, hey, baby, I didn’t even hear you come in,” You smile after kissing him softly on the cheek. Tom melts every time you even look at him, so your kisses practically kill him. He smiles in return before sliding some cereal into the top cabinet. “I know it’s still early, but what are we thinking for dinner?”

—

After a nice, relaxing dinner you both mustered up, Tom admits that he’s feeling a bit tired. You were a bit disappointed because you wanted to cuddle and watch your show. Ever since your talk with Anna, Tom has been on your mind all day. Even if you don’t come with him, you still love the feeling of him. He gets you to the edge every time, you just never get all the way. You love the feeling of his fingers on your skin and how full his cock makes you feel, you wished that you would meet the finish line just once.

“‘m sorry. We can cuddle in bed. You can be the small spoon,” Tom suggests and you can’t help but giggle. He knows you love being the small spoon, but secretly so does Tom. You find it adorable that your big, muscular boyfriend likes to be cuddled. It makes your heart flutter.

Tom didn’t want you to know he was avoiding sex, but it was for a good reason. He was determined to get better, to be better for you. He is honestly disappointed in himself that he didn’t realize this earlier.

As you guys complete your nightly routines together, you huddle under the thick comforter. With a full stomach, the heaviness of the blanket, and the warmth of Tom’s skin, you were destined to pass out like a sleepy baby. Once Tom was sure you were asleep, he slowly untangled himself from your gentle frame and tiptoes to the bathroom. You were a pretty deep sleeper; if there was a fire, you would burn alive.

Tom quickly searches up Pornhub in a private search, analyzing all the videos. He hasn’t seen porn by himself for a long time. He didn’t need to. He had the most beautiful woman in his bed every night. And he was about to ruin it because he couldn’t satisfy her. This motivated him to continue his research.

The erotic images and clips of women spread wide open didn’t appease him like it used to. He scrolls and finally clicks on a video of a man fingering a woman. Simple. He connected his Airpods, making sure you wouldn’t hear him.

Tom skimmed through multiple videos, paying close attention to how and when the men curled their fingers. He took note of how they teased the slits, and massaged the clit a lot throughout each orgasm. Tom assumed he did all of these, pretty well in his opinion. The few people that he’d been with in the past never had any issues with him because they’d always come back when they didn’t have to.

So why couldn’t you come?

Finally, after watching about fifteen videos, Tom noticed the particular pace. Tom was always gentle and soft when you two were intimate because he never wanted to hurt you. He’s had rough sex in the past, during one-night-stands, but he never would have thought that’s something you enjoyed. During those selfish nights, he didn’t care what the other woman liked.

Yeah, Tom used to be pretty selfish before you.

He would never do anything you didn’t ask him to do. Maybe you were too scared or embarrassed to mention it and that’s why you told Anna, not him.

Focusing a bit more, he feels a wave of confidence flow through him. He watches a few more, concentrating on the speed.

“You like it rough, don’t you? Dirty slut.”

The video talks in his ear, but he ignores it while he watches all his movements.

Tom’s going to have some fun with you.

—

A pleasant scent interrupts your sleep, waking you up gently. You take a deep breath, inhaling the heavenly smell. You hurriedly brush your teeth before following the smell, leading you to the kitchen.

You witness Tom’s sculpted back facing you as he cooks breakfast. Specifically pancakes, which were your all-time favorite. You always slept deeply, and there were few things that would wake you up. One, pancakes. Two, Tom’s mouth. Blaring alarms weren’t even worth it.

As you creep into the kitchen, you ogle Tom’s muscles. His build is so perfect, sometimes you don’t believe it. His shoulder blades are wide and strong while thick layers of muscle coat his arms. He’s wearing gray drawstring shorts, and the overall sight leaves you drooling.

You were still a bit horny from yesterday. Now, that familiar warm feeling tingles in your tummy as you wrap your arms around your boyfriend’s waist. Your cheek presses against his toned back.

“Morning, gorgeous,” Tom roughly hums, flipping the pancake easily. You'll never get over his morning voice and how his gravelly tone never fails to turn you on. You hear the click of the stove as Tom shifts to the counter. You release your hold as you go across the kitchen to grab some coffee.

“Morning! What motivated you to make pancakes?” You ask, pouring the hot coffee that has already been brewed.

“Well, I woke up early and I thought I’d do something nice for my girlfriend. Is that so wrong?” He fixes two plates and sets the pan away. He cleans up his mess and then you both sit on the counter stools. You withhold a huge smile, while your heart pounds lovingly. It was such a tiny thing he did, but he always made your heart flutter. That warm feeling covers your lower stomach again.

“You’re too sweet,” You kiss his cheek as you guys continue to eat. Tom knew you saw him as a softie, especially for him. But he wanted you to know that he can be rough, too. After his conclusion from last night, you needed it. “Nothing but.”

“I can be mean,” He adds, finishing his plate.

“Pff, you don’t have a mean bone in your body,” You joke, chewing your warm pancake. “I bet you can’t even be mean for a day.”

“Says who?”

“Says anyone who’s ever known you?” You quirk like it was the most obvious thing in the world. Tom was way too nice. He was incapable of being mean to anyone, ever. That’s what made you fall for him. Once in a while, you guys would banter jokingly, which you enjoyed. But you loved Tom for who he was.

“Fine. I’ll show you mean,” Tom rose from his stool and headed toward the kitchen sink to discard his plate. You rolled your eyes with a bit of a chuckle.

His plan was working perfectly.

He was going to make you upset. Angry. And then when you didn’t expect it, he would fuck you. So hard, and you would come so many times, you would never have to complain to Anna again. He felt… evil. But he was excited.

—

Tom wasn’t lying.

You really thought he was. You didn’t think he could be so careless. You two always do laundry on Sundays, but he made you do it alone. When you asked him what he wanted for dinner, he said he didn’t care. All of these things annoyed you, but what irritated you the most was when he denied giving you kisses.

Tom had looked so good all day. You were practically dripping in your shorts from lack of attention. Your blood boiled at his arrogance, but also intensified that burning feeling in your tummy. You wanted him so badly. Even if you didn’t come, you just needed to feel him.

He crossed the line, so you put your foot down.

“Tom, what the fuck?” You stood directly in front of his view of the TV, smoke coming from your ears. You’ve never been this upset at him before, but your hormones were aiding your fury.

“What?” Tom asks simply, innocently like he hasn’t been a complete jerk all day.

“What? That’s all you have to say?” Your eye twitches and you huff a breath. “You’re being a dick! What is wrong with you?”

“You said I couldn’t be mean. Isn’t this what you wanted?” He tilts his head condescendingly. His puppy dog eyes don’t fool you, while your hands ball up into little fists. He tries to look around you, eyeing the TV to avoid looking at you. You reach over and rip the controller from his hands, shutting the screen off. “Hey, I was watching that!”

Impulsively, you start punching his arms and torso. Tom did weekly boxing lessons, so your puny punches might as well have been kisses. Tom attempts to hold back a smile at your anger, surprisingly enjoying it. After a few seconds, Tom grabs your wrists in an instant. He hovers over you, pinning your arms above your head on the couch.

You breathe heavily from punching him, chest heaving up and down. Although you were beyond pissed at his demeanor, you felt yourself getting wetter. His thigh slightly spreads your legs and you wouldn’t be shocked if you had a visible wet spot from how aroused you’ve been all day.

“Feisty. What’s really got you worked up? Hm?” Tom provokes, a small metal chain dangling right above your face. He shoves his thigh roughly between your legs, causing you to gasp.

“You! Y-you have been making me mad all day! You’re being a dick!” You shout, nearly straining your neck, while he smirks at your mercy. Instinctively, your hips grind on his clothed thigh and you moan, finally getting some attention down there.

“Oh, so you just wanted my attention?” He tsks, moving one of his hands down your body. The other stays trapping your wrists over your head. His hand lifts the small band of your shorts and you inhale impatiently. He lowers his head toward your ear. “I bet you’re fucking soaking under here.”

You whimper at his words, waiting for him to just yank them down. Reading your mind, he does just that. He pulls both your shorts and panties down, revealing your soaked cunt. Your skin is on fire, but your wetness causes goosebumps along your arms. His free hand immediately goes to your slits, spreading your arousal messily around. Your breathing gets heavier, anticipating his thick fingers.

“What do you want?” Tom asks, so demanding you don’t even know if it’s Tom anymore. You’re not used to this side of him yet, but your body was loving it. His voice got deeper, and each word came out as a growl. He was almost animalistic, which was completely different from the soft, cuddly Tom who made love to you.

This Tom– wanted to fuck you.

“Your fingers! Please,” You beg, becoming desperate for anything. He smirks, obeying your pleas. He sinks his middle finger into your cunt, ripping a needy moan from you. You push your head into the couch cushion, hips grinding hard against his hand. He traps his knees on your thighs, halting your movements.

“Don’t be greedy,” He growls.

You whine, frustrated because he’s teasing you. Tom never really teases you. He does it subconsciously like when he walks around the house without a shirt on. But in bed? Tom was sweet and gentle, and always gave you what you wanted. But this Tom– he made you work for it. Beg for it.

And you loved it.

His finger curls slowly inside of you, skimming that special spot inside of you. His rugged thumb massages your clit too softly. Without warning, he adds a second finger and you moan out. Your back arches off the cushions, your body desperate for more friction. You hoped you would come this time.

Tom was about to stop. He didn’t want to hurt you. Maybe you didn’t really want this and it was all in Tom’s head. Just before he was about to drop everything– you begged him to keep going. Fuck. His cock pulsed desperately in his cloth shorts.

“More, more, please,” You plead in hopes he’ll give in, but you don’t know how easily he will. Your eyes are screwed shut in pleasure, but you can’t quite reach it. You’re not surprised because you never can anyway. But what does surprise you is when he speeds up his pace. He never goes too rough or too fast. Your heart beats rapidly in your chest as his fingers thrust in and out at a sinful speed. You gasp loudly, fingernails digging into your palms.

“Keep your hands there,” He demands, releasing his tight grip and bringing his hand down to continue to rub your clit. You obey, holding your own wrists. His fingers twist deliciously, and poke your G spot, causing you to scream his name. His other hand rubs your clit dangerously quick, flicking the sensitive nub as well.

You were overwhelmed with the amount of pleasure he was giving you. It was different from everything you’ve experienced with Tom. You were floating in a haze of lust and you never wanted to leave. He gropes your breasts harshly, flicking your pebbled nipples. The rough pads of his fingers tickled your silky walls so perfectly, you nearly passed out from the feeling.

“Are you going to come for me? Huh? Since you never have?” Tom taunts, as you clench around his thick fingers. You gasp, holding your breath.

How did he know?

“H-how did–”

“I heard you talking to Anna. If all you needed was a bit of a rough-up, why didn’t you just say so, love?” His voice was gritty and his actions were harsh, contradicting the sweet nickname. Your head was spinning and your heart was thumping swiftly against your ribcage.

So, so stupid. Of course he heard you.

Tom may be soft, but he wasn’t naïve.

“I thought you wanted slow and passionate, but no. You’re a filthy slut, aren’t you?” Tom degrades, eliciting a whine from your throat. He pinches your nipples through your thin T-shirt, the sensitive nubs causing you to hiss at the pain and pleasure. “Answer me.”

“Yes, yes I am!” Behind your closed eyelids, you see stars. Your muscles tighten and breathing increases rapidly. Your palms were probably bleeding from your nails, begging to pull on his silky, brown hair and kiss him passionately. Sex or masturbating has never felt like this before.

His pace never slows down, and your arousal continues to drench his hand. His attack on your clit is nearly torturous, but God, did you crave more.

Suddenly, when your stomach squeezed tightly and your legs tensed, your orgasm was in sight. You tried to close them, but Tom wouldn’t let you. A burning sensation exploded in your core, all your moans getting lost in the process. It was unfamiliar and overwhelming, and it made you wonder if this was your first orgasm ever.

Tom watches as you wither away with your orgasm, a nosy moan echoing throughout the living room. Your white liquid slowly coats his digits as he finally begins to decelerate his speed. He rubs your clit thoroughly, causing your body to jerk from the overstimulation.

“Oh my God,” Your chest heaves and your body rests limp on the couch. Tom immediately licks his fingers, tasting all of your juices. He peels off his tank top and wipes you down. He crawls back over you and absorbs your weary expression.

“You did so good, baby. Did you like it? Or was it too much?” Tom questions softly, caressing your face. He places a delicate kiss on your cheeks, waiting for a response. If he hurt you, he would never forgive himself.

“Tom,” You try to catch your breath. “That was incredible.”

He smiles, finally kissing you on the lips for the first time all day. He assumes now is the best time to ask the question of why.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t paying closer attention to you. But why didn’t you tell me first?” Tom slightly furrows his eyebrows, while you both sit up. You didn’t bother putting your underwear or shorts back on, since they were soaked through.

“I didn’t want you to feel bad. Or think you weren’t making me feel good because you were! I just… I didn’t know how to bring it up. I didn’t want you to feel uncomfortable,” You answer honestly, Tom listening and comprehending. He rests his arm over the couch while his hand fiddles with your hair. “I guess I have never really come before. I also didn’t know that’s what I needed…”

Tom laughs and you join in, slightly embarrassed. “Everyone has a secret, love. Yours is that you’re sweet as pie to the public, but a freak in the sheets for me.”

“Tom!” You gasp, swatting at his bare chest. He laughs again, catching your wrist. He moves it to the side and leans in for a kiss. You don’t deny him and attach your lips together, melting into his touch. You swear you tasted yourself on his lips, but it only made you smile more. “Doesn’t that make you a freak, too?”

“I guess. But I’m a man. Men are dirty. I didn’t know you were so dirty, Y/N,” He teases with a smile and you roll your eyes. You deflect his words, but even the teasing turned you on a bit. You cross your arms, acting annoyed. “And I thought you were so innocent–”

“Oh, shut up!” You groan while smiling, throwing your head on the back of the couch. He chuckles because he loves riling you up a bit. Now that the air was cleared, you secretly wanted more. Even though you just came for the first time with him and you should be exhausted, you felt the opposite. You felt energized. You wanted to go again and again until you fell asleep under him.

Maybe you were a bit of a freak…

If his fingers felt that good, you couldn’t imagine what his cock would feel like while he’s ramming into you harshly. You imagined him sinking deep into you and fucking you into oblivion with his dangerously quick pace. You nearly drooled at the thought. You swiftly stood up, going toward the bedroom.

Okay, you were a freak.

“Where are you going? Sleeping already?” Tom shouts as you slowly continue to back pedal away. He peers at you over his shoulder with furrowed eyebrows and a small smile.

“Sleeping is the last thing I want to do right now,” You wink and head straight for the bedroom. Tom raises his eyebrows and immediately launches himself off the couch to follow you, understanding your innuendo quickly.

“Yes ma’am,” He whispers to himself as he closes the bedroom door with a giant smirk on his face.

—

hopefully you like 🫠

#shawnxstyles #tom holland #tom holland fan fiction #tom holland fics #tom holland fic #tom holland fanfic #tom holland smut #tom holland x reader #tom holland x you #tom holland recs #smut

2K notes · View notes

cordeliawhohung · 2 months

Note

Here’s a few drabble ideas for you for my fav couple you wrote as of date aka shy reader x mafia!simon ft the most cliche tropes in fandom ever but I eat every single one of these up anyways 🥰🥰🥰

-patching him up when he finally comes home after god knows how many hours/days from god knows where, covered in the blood of other men and his own. Bonus if this happens for the first time and it confirms your suspicions about the true nature of his job he tries to shield you from. You don’t ask questions bc you’re just happy he’s home and safe in one piece, but at the same time you’re worried sick and fear that you’ll live to see a day he may not come back home to you (the potential for angst!! Love to see it tbh)

-cooking or baking something together, trying to follow a recipe and failing to follow through bc simon keeps distracting you throughout the whole process. Just seeing you being all domestic, cooking/baking for him, providing for him in that way, and just how much warmth and love you bring into his kitchen, his home. It feels so right. You belong here. You are that missing piece that completes him, makes his life whole

-and just to add a little ✨spice✨, you know those couples games right? W the dice and the cards that lead from one thing to the other😽👀. ShyReader gets one of those from a friend as sort of a gag to “spice up things and maybe finally get past 2nd base” (since it was established that she’s a virgin) and at first she’s unsure of how he’ll react to it, but then figures well maybe just go for it?? Initiates, only to discover halfway through that of course everything this man does is intense, devoted and all consuming including a silly fun lighthearted game she wanted to play and she feels she’s maybe bitten off more than she can chew 🫨🫠

"maybe finally get past 2nd base" DID OUR GIRL DIRTY (but it's true)

but that second one? about them baking together? i'm??? (it turned out to not be as sweet and more devious but ya know)

"simon?"

"hmm?"

"you aren't being helpful."

and really, he wasn't. you had been in the middle of baking bread when your boyfriend had returned home from the gym, and instead of hopping straight into the shower like he usually did, he decided to lean against the counter and watch you work. at first it was fine. you loved his company, and it was nice to be able to chat while you gathered your ingredients to bake. however, the moment you had gotten the dough started and ready to knead, he turned into a menace.

Simon stood behind you with his hands on your hips, gaze peering over your shoulder as you worked at the dough, but his hands didn't stay still for long. they began to wander along your waist, across your stomach, and even up towards your chest where he let his thumbs graze the underside of your breasts.

"'course i am," he retorted.

"no you're not."

as if to prove you right, his hands shamelessly covered your chest fully before he gave your tits a firm squeeze. heat rose to your face as if you were a mercury thermometer, and you groaned as you leaned your head against him.

"Simon," you whined.

"alright, alright," he chuckled as he finally left you alone.

he moved a few steps back before he wandered towards the hallway, seemingly having finally decided to shower the sweat and musk off of him. before he vanished around the corner, he leaned in the doorway with a content smirk on his face.

"by the way, i like your shirt," he said.

confused, you stopped kneading the dough for a moment to glance down at your shirt. two flour stains in the shape of Simon's hands marked right over your tits, leaving behind proof of the way your boyfriend had groped you moments before.

"Simon Riley you are not getting a single slice of this bread, you dog."

#core responds #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #mafia!ghost #f!reader

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hannieehaee · 6 months

Text

18+ / mdi

content: friends to lovers, sub!seungkwan, sub!reader (but not as much as him lbr), smut, f reader, non penetrative sex, grinding, too many run on sentences, etc.

wc: 1521

masterlist

bestfriend!seungkwan and you, who have insane underlying sexual tension that neither of you is willing to talk about but everyone else can see.

the way you two jokingly argue with each other, constantly scolding the other one second, and cuddling chest-to-chest the next.

kwannie who envies any type of attention you give his members because you're HIS best friend and you should be doting to him only.

kwannie who gets annoyed at the sight of you giggling endlessly at chan's jokes and unknowingly flirting with vernon, who doesnt realize his best friend is in love with you and is wishing him a very inconvenient evening for even daring to steal you away in his presence.

kwannie who gets fed up of watching you go to yet another member and strike up conversation (flirting with mingyu ?? seriously ?) from afar and drags you away under the vice of 'why are you hogging my friends? get your own!' and leads you to a more secluded area.

you, annoyed (but not really) at his antics, start to pick a fight with him, enjoying the unserious back and forth you tend to have with each other.

it's all going as usual; both of you still in denial about the tension between you and the reason for your constant discomfort at seeing the other in near proximity to anyone else. that is, until things take a shift.

the atmosphere seems different somehow. this time, kwannie seems to be taking your lighthearted flirting with his members to heart; something that you had never encountered in your years of friendship.

"why are you always flirting with them?", he whines. "do you think its fun watching MY best friend ditch me the moment she sees a pretty boy walk by? what about me??"

this is now a good ten minutes into the argument. one that is usually light-hearted enough to take place in front of the other members and ends in the members teasing seungkwan about his dependency on your attention. this time, however, seemed different.

"what about you, kwannie? you know it doesnt mean anything. theyre my friends too, they know its not serious," you argue back, feeling nervous at the serious tone of his complaints.

"its not that, its just..." he cuts himself off. "even they see it, but you dont. why is it always them? .. why wont you look my way?"

that last sentence stops you in your tracks. whatever rebuttal you had in your mind suddenly going away, not knowing how to respond.

unsure as to whether that was a confession or simple frustration at having to share his best friend, you stare blankly at him, breathing heavier than ever.

"kwannie .. of course i look at you. i love you, you're my best friend," you try to salvage the situation in the most ambiguous way you can, not knowing where this is going.

he lets out a heavy sigh, looking down at your shoes, unwilling to make eye contact with you, something very unlike the seungkwan you know.

"kwannie .. ?", you inquire and step towards him.

"we'll always be friends, right?", you nod at his question, urging him to continue "so it's okay if i talk freely? we'll always be there for each other, right?", he asks rhetorically, nodding at his own question to reassure himself.

he takes a deep breath as he walks towards you. "you know .. jeonghan hyung told me over and over to just tell you, that you would love me regardless and that i'd never lose you. but i guess you might already have some sort of idea, don't you?", he smiles sadly at you, timidly extending his hands towards yours.

you accept the embrace of his hands and nod back; head down, feeling vulnerable at the situation.

seeing as he's already put his cards on the table (kind of), you decide to walk the rest of the way for him.

you step forward and run your hands from his hands to his arms to his shoulders, closing any distance between you. he seems slightly surprised at what seems to be your reciprocation, but quickly recovers, not wanting to ruin the tender moment.

like in any teenage movie, you both stare down at each other's lips, breathing heavily at the thought of finally getting something you've wanted for years.

you make the first move and softly press your lips against his, causing you both to instantly moan against each other's mouths. it escalates quickly after that. with mouths open, and tongues desperate to get a taste of one another. your hands moving from his shoulders to his hair, pulling him as close as possible. his landing on your waist, finding their way under your shirt softly but desperately scratching at your skin.

your kiss becomes so needy and desperate it's almost impossible to call it a kiss anymore. incessant moaning into each other's mouths and spit covering both your lips. your resolve breaks first, causing you to push him into the nearest surface, which takes form of a sofa bed located behind seungkwan. you push him down, readily straddling his waist and pressing yourself even closer to him.

if seungkwan had any thoughts in his mind prior to you kissing him, theyre even further gone now. he has no control of himself as he runs his hands all over your back, wanting to remain respectful of any boundaries you may have, but going insane at your lips on his and your crotch laying so so closely to his.

you take notice of his desperation and pull off your shirt, making sure to take your bra off with it. you receive a reaction you had only ever dreamed of before.

seungkwan's desire and desperation are clear in his eyes, with his eyebrows furrowed and a whine escaping his mouth at the view of his best friend's chest bare in front of him.

"p-please, god. fuck. can i- please. please let me ..." he whines nonsensically, hands and mouth nearing your tits but not quite touching them before getting your permission.

with no verbal answer you grab his hands and fondle your own breasts with them, moaning at his whines and pleas to get his mouth on them; something which he does soon after.

grinding your crotch against the very obvious bulge in his navy shorts, you whine at the stimulation from his mouth desperately licking your tits, teeth softly pulling at the sensitive buds as he whines at the taste of your skin.

"kwannie .. fuck kwannie dont stop fuck please ..." you breathe out, shoving his face closer to your chest, grinding even faster.

despite your frustration at wanting even more pleasure from seungkwan's body, you disconnect yourself from him to remove your pants and instruct him to remove the rest of his clothes. he whines at the sudden interruption, but hurries to undress himself as soon as he sees you expectantly watch him with just your panties on, wanting you back on him as soon as humanly possible.

with now only two thin layers separating you and seungkwan, you feel the pressure of his dick against your clit even more, causing you to whine into his open mouth.

you know your grinding may be more pleasurable for you than for him, but the pleasure makes you so delirious you cant bring yourself to stop, grinding even faster and shoving your tongue in his mouth, hands harshly grabbing onto his shoulders for better accuracy in the rutting of your hips.

"kwannie- fuck please i promise i- shit. i'll do whatever you want, just let me- please let me finish. it feels so fucking good," you cry, speeding up even more, completely drunk in the feeling of your clit deliciously grinding against his pulsing length.

he seems to not mind it, even helping you meet your undoing by grabbing onto your hips and pushing them against his crotch in order to optimize your pleasure. his mouth is open, letting out whines at the thought of all the pleasure he's causing you by just sitting there.

unbeknownst to you, seungkwan is also nearing his end, felling insane pleasure at the friction caused from the canting of your hips against his. he's the first to find his high, whining into your neck as your never ending grinding continues its course atop his sensitive dick.

it's soon after that you also reach your high and deflate against his warm chest, weakly running your hands into his hair, pulling him for an uncharacteristically sweet peck.

"thank you," you breathe against his cheek. "i wasnt sure where that argument was going, but im glad it ended here," you giggle as you feel his chest shake from his own chuckle.

"sorry i was so dramatic, but i guess it worked in both of our favours so .. you're welcome," he jokes, running his hands up and down your back soothingly.

after a few more teasing comments back and forth, you help clean each other up with whatever wipes and tissues are at your disposal and dress yourselves back up.

it was safe to say that after this, flirting with his members was strictly prohibited.

a/n: i love seungkwan more than life itself which is why i feel kinda bad writing such filth abt him but i also want him so bad so .. anyways this was not proofread bc im too lazy to reread this many words over again. pls lmk if theres anything that makes zero sense that i should change tho <3

#seventen #svt #seventeen smut #seungkwan smut #svt smut #seventeen oneshot #seventeen fanfic #seventeen fic #svt fanfic #seungkwan #seungkwan x reader #seventeen x reader #svt x reader

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sleepiexx · 11 months

Text

Cops ‘n Cartel Leaders

Valeria Garza x fem!Reader

Note: any irls that follow me, you do not have to read this imma preface this now. I don’t wanna be hearing any judgment abt my ass getting freaky on the internet!!

Summary: One off-handed comment turns into a steamy afternoon spent together.

Warnings: smut, afab reader, reader and Valeria role play that reader is an undercover cop who’s been caught and tied up, reader isn’t actually a cop, light knife play, no one gets cut, degradation. Also reader at one point asks Valeria what she’s doing, this is not like dubcon or anything, they have a pre discussed relationship with boundaries in place.

Word count: 2439

There was no telling how they got here, all that they knew was that they could sit there for hours like this, just talking.

“I love you,” (Y/N) murmured, running her fingers over Valeria’s knuckles.

Valeria hummed in recognition, deciding to tease the other girl, “Do you?”

(Y/N) knew she was just messing with her, lord knows Valeria loved to push her buttons, but still she took her words to heart.

“Yes, you’re literally my everything. I love you so much.” She whined, flashing the saddest looking puppy dog eyes Valeria had ever seen.

Valeria laughed at how easy it was to get to her, only making her want to defend herself more, “I’m dead serious, i would do anything for you. I would be your little housewife and stay home cooking and cleaning all day if you asked me to.”

Valeria scoffed at the idea, “(Y/N), if I didn’t wake you up every morning, you would stay in bed until 3pm. You wouldn’t survive as a housewife.”

“I could survive, I’m resilient, it’s like my only skill,” (Y/N) pouted.

Valeria nodded, “I’ll give you that. But you wouldn’t thrive, I think you’re better off with me spoiling you.”

The comment was lighthearted yet (Y/N) still felt the need to prove herself— to prove she wasn’t just with Valeria for her money.

“It’s nice to be spoiled, but I’d love you even if you didn’t. You could drive me out to the middle of nowhere and drop me off and I’d hitchhike for thousands of miles just to beg at your feet for you to take me back.”

Valeria’s expression turned sour at the thought, “I could never just get rid of you like that.” She shook her head, but as she thought more about what (Y/N) said, a smirk made its way to her face, “I wouldn’t mind the begging though.”

(Y/N) grinned, “I love you so much that I would beg as much as you wanted.”

Valeria figured it was her turn to say how much she loved her, if only to quiet the cheesy laments from (Y/N)’s mouth.

“I’d kill for you.” She muttered, voice dead serious.

Despite her drop in tone, (Y/N) kept up her joking. “Oh yeah? Well I’d die for you.” And of course, she was serious too, she just wanted to rile Valeria up too. It worked.

Valeria grabbed (Y/N)’s face and turned her head to make eye contact. Her intense eyes burned holes into (Y/N)’s.

“If you told me right now that you were an undercover cop sent to take me down, I’d let you.”

And god, Valeria’s voice was so serious, just daring (Y/N) to fuck with her. Valeria wouldn’t be one-upped, that much was true, yet (Y/N) never knew where to end a joke, always taking it too far and getting herself in trouble.

“Good thing,” (Y/N) giggled, quickly straddling Valeria. Holding her hands above her head, she smiled, “because you’re under arrest.”

Her reign on top was short lived, in one swift move, Valeria flipped over and switched their places. Her grip was tighter than (Y/N)’s had been, and she made sure she was planted on top of her. There was no way in hell that she was letting (Y/N) get out.

Valeria leaned in close, “Oh that’s adorable. You wanna play officer, sweet girl? You wanna arrest me?”

All the words evaporated from (Y/N)’s throat. She tried to stutter out some semblance of a sentence but Valeria wouldn’t let her, instantly cutting her off.

“Too scared to speak, officer? Maybe instead we can play ‘undercover cop who gets caught by the big bad cartel leader and gets punished for her betrayal.’”

Valeria slowly grinded her crotch against (Y/N)’s, drawing out heated huffs and sighs from the girl’s mouth.

“Valeria?”

Valeria grabbed her jaw harshly, “It’s Sin Nombre to you.”

She used one hand to continue pinning (Y/N)’s wrists as she dug around the drawer on her bedside table, looking for something. (Y/N) had no clue what, and Valeria made sure she was too preoccupied to notice until she heard a click.

(Y/N)’s head snapped to look at her hands above her, now cuffed to the bedpost, “W-What are you doing?”

“Oh mi amor, you didn’t think I’d give you a chance to escape your punishment, hm?”

(Y/N) didn’t answer, too lost in the sensation of Valeria’s crotch rubbing up against her own.

Her jaw once more ended up in Valeria’s tight grip. Their faces were so close that (Y/N) could feel Valeria’s breath on her face. “I asked you a question, officer.” Valeria purred.

(Y/N) raked her mind, trying to remember what had been asked. “N-No ma’am.”

“Well then there’s your answer.”

Valeria spread (Y/N)’s legs, putting her knee right up against (Y/N)’s clothed sex. (Y/N) rolled her hips to grind up against Valeria’s leg, taking a shaky breath after doing so.

Ever so slowly, Valeria ran her hands along her lover’s sides, leaving goose bumps in the wake of her touch. Her knee stayed firmly pressed against (Y/N)’s covered cunt to provide some stimulation as her hands wandered. (Y/N) tugged her lower lip between her teeth, waiting in anticipation of Valeria’s next move.

As her hand reached the bottom of (Y/N)’s shirt, Valeria realized the predicament she found herself in. How to take off her girlfriend’s shirt and bra without uncuffing her? The solution came in the form of a switchblade in her pocket.

An intoxicating feeling of fear washed over (Y/N) at the sight of the knife in Valeria’s steady hands. This fear pooled straight into her clit, twitching with lust. The fact that a knife turned her on so much made her feel dirty, but the ache in her lower region overpowered the shame.

Her whole body shivered as Valeria carefully sliced through her t-shirt, pulling the scraps from her figure.

The knife slid to the strap of (Y/N)’s bra, nearly connecting until (Y/N) spoke up, “Wait, I like this bra.”

Valeria stopped for less than a second, hardly hesitating to sever the material separating her from her girlfriend’s tits.

“You should have thought about that before you double crossed me,” she hissed.

After throwing the bra to the side, Valeria folded her switchblade and put it away into the night stand. Her hands instantly gravitated back towards (Y/N)’s body. She left teasing touches all around (Y/N)‘s breasts, conveniently missing her nipples every time.

(Y/N) started to whine but was cut off as Valeria quickly pinched her left nipple. All that left her mouth was a squeak in surprise.

Valeria stimulated (Y/N)’s nipples in all the right ways. She rubbed up, down, side to side, circles, every way you could imagine, not forgetting to pinch them so she could hear the sweet little squeals that left (Y/N)’s lips.

“I could make you cum like this,” Valeria threatened, “only touch your nipples, leave your pussy aching for me. This is a punishment, after all.”

(Y/N) shook her head, panic evident in her facial expressions, “please,” she begged.

Valeria smirked, the sound of begging akin to music in her ears, “please what?”

“Please Sin Nombre.”

Valeria’s breath hitched, she had meant for (Y/N) to ask for what she wanted out right, to beg to be touched, and yet this was so much better. The name coming out of her swollen lips sounded so sweet, and so dirty.

But still, Valeria was on a mission to torture the poor girl, “What? What do you want Sin Nombre to do to you, officer?”

Shame was tossed out the window at this point, “Fuck me! Please Sin Nombre, please fuck me.”

“Was that so hard, pretty girl?” Valeria’s hands shot to the hem of (Y/N)’s pants. She tugged them off at an agonizingly slow pace, going down with them. Then came the underwear, tugged down slowly from thigh to calf then pulled off altogether. From her new position by (Y/N)’s ankles, she kissed her way up (Y/N)‘s legs. Stopping at the top to bite a chunk of the plush inner thigh.

(Y/N) moaned, squirming away from Valeria’s vicious teeth to no avail.

Valeria finally let up, only to free her mouth so she could speak to her lover, “You may be a cop, but you are also my fucking bitch. I’m going to mark you up so everyone who sees you knows you’re mine.”

(Y/N) clenched around nothing, grabbing Valeria’s attention.

“Aww, am I not giving her enough attention?” She condescended, lightly tracing a finger across (Y/N)’s vulva.

(Y/N) nodded, sealing her fate as Valeria’s lips near-instantly latched to her clit.

Any composure she’d maintained before was thrown out, moans spilled from her lips as Valeria flicked her clit with her tongue. Her face felt hot, mortified at the idea of cumming too quick as her guts twisted at the euphoric feeling.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!” She breathed. With that, Valeria finally let up on her intense ministrations, switching to firm, long licks on (Y/N)‘s clit.

Just when (Y/N) thought she was safe, Valeria started sucking on her clit once again. The pace was increased from the other time, making it hard on (Y/N) not to cum.

“Oh god, oh please. Please, ‘m gonna cum.”

With one last tug from her lips, Valeria separated from (Y/N)’s cunt.

“Wait, no, please, I was gonna cum.” (Y/N) cried.

Valeria roughly grabbed her chin, “Not without me you weren’t.”

And all at once, (Y/N)‘s vigor returned. She stared with glossy doe eyes as Valeria stood and rid herself of her clothes.

Valeria caught on to (Y/N)’s staring, scoffing and stepping towards her, “What a little pervert. How often do you let someone you try to detain fuck you? How would your higher ups feel if they saw you like this?”

(Y/N) shivered at the thought of her imaginary higher ups seeing her all fucked out at the hands of the big bad Sin Nombre.

“Fucking slut.” Valeria muttered as she situated herself in front of (Y/N). She placed her left leg under (Y/N)’s right, and her right above (Y/N)’s left, pressing her clit right up to (Y/N)’s.

“You cum when I tell you to cum, understand?”

(Y/N) nodded, giving Valeria the go ahead to start rocking up against her. The warmth of Valeria’s cunt pressed up against hers drove (Y/N) crazy. Paired with the stimulation on her clit, she was doomed.

“Fuck, please.” She begged.

“Not until I tell you.” Valeria growled.

Soon after, she buried her face in (Y/N)’s neck, making good on her promise to mark her up. One thing about Valeria: she was mean with her hickeys. It wasn’t a simple kiss and suck, no; Valeria bit, hard. It wasn’t a hickey from Valeria if it didn’t feel like having sex with a vampire.

The best thing that resulted from her bites— apart from the bruises that could last for weeks— was the honey smooth sound of Valeria’s moans, muffled by (Y/N)’s neck and sending vibrations up and down her throat.

Valeria separated from her neck, nipping up to her jaw and slowly to her ear. “Such a good girl, making me feel so good,” she whispered huskily.

Like the fear of Valeria’s switchblade had done earlier, her words dove straight into (Y/N)’s throbbing clit.

“Please, Valeria, don’t know how much longer I can hold it.”

And though (Y/N) had broken the ‘only call me by my official name’ rule, Valeria was lenient sometimes. “Give it to me, princesa, cum for me.”

All the tension in (Y/N)’s abdomen snapped, leaving her shaking as she came hard. The sensation washed over her in waves of pleasure, truly fucked out.

Once it passed, she was left to lay helpless as Valeria continued rutting against her, chasing her own orgasm. She let out a low whine at the overstimulation.

“I know, sweet girl, I know, just gotta stay still till I cum, okay?” Valeria coo’d, brushing hair out of (Y/N)’s face.

(Y/N) nodded pathetically, just wanting to make her girlfriend feel good, to let her use her for her own pleasure.

“Good girl, good fucking girl.” Valeria groaned, eyes rolling back as she finally came. Her hips slowed but continued rolling against (Y/N)’s.

(Y/N) stared in awe at the beautiful woman above her, nearly cumming again at the feeling of Valeria’s cum running down her cunt.

As Valeria’s high passed, she separated herself from (Y/N) and flopped down right next to her on the bed.

A dirty thought ran through her mind and she followed through with it, gathering her own slick onto her middle and ring finger before plunging them deep into (Y/N)’s vagina.

(Y/N) let out a loud moan, clenching around Valeria’s fingers, trying to suck them back in as she pulled them out.

“So cute.” Valeria laughed, as if she hadn’t just essentially cum in her girlfriend.

They sat in silence for a beat, allowing the two to catch a breath. Once (Y/N)’s heart stopped beating a mile a minute (now only going .9 miles a minute), she spoke up.

“Can you uncuff me so we can cuddle?” (Y/N) asked, eying her cuffed hands.

Valeria reached over her, into the drawer she’d originally retrieved the cuffs from, pulling out a key. “Of course.”

The cuffs came off with a click as Valeria unlocked them, leaving (Y/N)’s raw wrists bare.

“I really did like that bra.” (Y/N) pouted, snuggling into Valeria’s side.

Valeria ran her thumb over (Y/N)’s irritated wrists, “I will buy you 10 new ones.”

(Y/N) smiled, nuzzling further into Valeria and pulling the covers up. “I love you,” she murmured, closing her eyes.

Valeria tightened her grip around (Y/N), “I love you too.”

And as (Y/N) fell asleep, Valeria stayed awake counting her lover’s breaths. When she got tired, she pressed a kiss to the crown of (Y/N)’s head.

“I would kill for you,” she whispered, “and, mi amor, I would die for you too.”

#valeria garza x fem!reader #valeria garza x reader #valeria x reader #valeria garza #valeria cod #valeria garza cod #call of duty valeria #call of duty fanfic #smut #call of duty smut #valeria x fem!reader #call of duty x reader

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cheapshrimpysheep · 2 months

Note

CONGRATS FOR YOUR MILESTONE!!! I'M SO HAPPY FOR YOU!! And you're one out of the only 5 twst/om writing blogs I have notifs on for, your writing and blog aesthetic makes me so happy!!!

For a request, could you write Kalim sparring with a reader who's a good fighter? It's my personal hc that Kalim can throw a punch of two due to Jamil drilling various self defense techniques into his head. But the whole sparring thing is very lighthearted and fun, since Kalim is not really interested in fighting anyone (especially the person he has a crush on, wink wink 👀) and his fighting partner is not interested in hurting him either. Everything just turns into them being silly and getting into a tickle fight instead or something.

If it's not something in your comfort zone, that's okay! I still wanted to drop by and congratulate you for your hard work. Requests or no requests, writing is content that deserves to be praised and celebrated to thank you! Sorry for the long ask erifidnwyrkd ~ray

COMMENTS: THANK YOU! 💖 I'm always so happy when people tell me they like what I write that much. That's why I love writing this. This is where I feel most appreciated. 🥰

In fact, I am a coward. 😅 So I'm not very familiar with knowing how to fight. But still, I hope I got around it well. As you can see from the number of words, I ended up having fun writing it. I hope you and all have fun reading it too. 😉

CHARACTERS: Kalim Al-Asim x Reader

TAGS: Fluff; GN Reader

WORD COUNT: 1.150 words

CONTEXT: Jamil and Kalim used to train from time to time. One way for Jamil to guarantee that, in an emergency, where he wasn't present, Kalim would have any chance of defending himself and escaping or something like that.

But that day, due to some complication at the basketball club, Jamil couldn't train with Kalim. However, he remembers that he already saw you defending yourself against some NRC students, and thinks you might be a good replacement. And maybe, in a way, it would be an interesting idea to have Kalim fight against you, knowing that he has a crush on you.

So, he calls you and asks you for this favor, and assured you that he would somehow repay you.

You arrive in Scarabia, without Grim. He knew that in Scarabia they liked to have banquets from time to time and he loves to eat. But Jamil wasn't there to cook a feast and probably most of the food he would get is the food that Kalim likes to shove down his throat. So he decided he would be better off with just tuna in Ramshackle.

You've just walked through the front door when...

“HIIIIIIII!” Kalim greets you, while running towards you. He has the cutest smile on his face. “How was your day? Do you want to eat anything? Jamil left some really good things in the fridge.”

You tell him that you already ate some time ago, so you would be ready to train with him as soon as you arrived in Scarabia.

“Train? Train what? AH! Is there a test I forgot?!”

You say no and ask if Jamil hadn't told you what he had told you.

“Oh! That. Ha ha HA HA! Sorry, I guess I got so excited when he told me you were coming that I forgot to pay attention to the rest of the conversation. Hum... Don't tell him that, pleeease.”

You promise you won't say anything and he thanks you with an appreciative smile. You remember that Jamil had said that he had left some papers with instructions for training somewhere. When you ask Kalim about this, he doesn't know where they are, but he can guess by knowing Jamil. Or maybe Jamil only knew where to put them because he knew Kalim would forget.

You see the papers and as you would expect, they are all self-defense techniques, where you would be Kalim's aggressor. Techniques for him to defend himself from punches, knives, being grabbed by the arm, neck, etc. You didn't like the idea of even pretending to attack Kalim, but it was the instructions and it was for his own good. Right?

“Can I see the papers?” Kalim asks you when he sees the slight discomfort in your expression. You hand him the papers, he takes a look at them and smiles. “Ah, the same as always. Don't worry, this seems to be just a review. Jamil does this a lot since he says I'm very forgetful. It's okay. Nothing very difficult. You just have to pretend to attack me.” But your discomfort doesn't leave your face. “Hum? What's wrong? You're not feeling well?”

You tell him that you don't want to hurt him and that you don't really like the idea of attacking him, even if it's just pretending.

“I don't want to hurt you either. Not even Jamil, despite what he tells me to do. But we don't need to do this training like the ones I do with Jamil, right? I really hope not, otherwise I'm going to lose all the rounds.” He says with a slightly embarrassed smile. You ask why. “Because like I said, I don't want to hurt you, so I think I'll end up letting you win every time. Ha ha. AH! That's it! Why don't we play fight? Some of my siblings like to do it. We don't need to take this so seriously, we can just have fun. Right? What do you think?”

You think about it and agree. And both of you also agree that it's okay as long as Jamil doesn't get upset. Or finds out.

The "training" started normally. But it was when he got to the part of training to defend himself from knives that Kalim had an idea. He went to get one of those thick markers, took off the cap and said: “You know paintball right? The goal is not to get hit by the paint. Why don't we try to do something like that?” He hands you the marker. He removes his coat and other accessories from his torso until only his white shirt remains. “You're going to try to paint me and I have to dodge it. It'll be fun, you'll see.” he says with a big amused smile.

You ask if he doesn't think Jamil will be upset with him for ruining his shirt.

“Maybe, but don't worry, I can buy lots more where this one came from. Ha ha ha.”

He was right, that was fun. You forgot that you were training self-defence and looked more like a couple playing. At one point, Kalim managed to grab your wrist and steal your marker. And he looked at you with that rare mischievous smile of his. “My turn!”

You seemed surprised. What does he mean his turn? Weren't you the attacker? But then he looks at you and straightens up.

“Oh. You should take off your coat first. I'll get a better see if I catch you with the marker on your white shirt.” You hesitate. You don't have many shirts like that. “If I ruin the shirt I can buy you a new one, or two, or as many as you want. No problem!... Pleeease? I'm having so much fun with you!” He's making puppy eyes.

You agree and take off your coat and accessories. You continue that "training" until there comes a time when both of you have kind of given up on defending yourselves and are already covered in paint streaks on your shirts, arms and even your face. You realize you dropped the marker and can't find it.

“You lose your weapon?” Kalim says “Well, it looks like there's now only one way to find out who wins.” And he attacks you with tickles. “Surrender!”

You try to resist, but end up really surrendering. Kalim was too good at tickling. And as soon as you know it, the two of you were on the floor, practically hugging each other. He smiles affectionately at you.

“I wish you were in Scarabia. We could have fun like this every day. I could see you and be with you every day for much longer.”

Your noses were almost touching when Jamil appears and drops his training bag to make a noise that would get both of your attention. He looked bothered. “WHAT?! Why are you two-? OH, for the patience of the great seven.” he sighs.

If you dropped in here out of the blue and want to read more from me, you can find it in my pinned post: INDEX

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